Day 12: Chilly Fog, Highway Patrol Encounters, and Surreal Check-ins
If yesterday was about high-altitude heat and desert climbs, today was the complete opposite. We woke up to a brisk, gray California morning that felt a lot more like late autumn than the middle of August. It was a day of heavy marine layers, unexpected weather lessons, roadside chats with law enforcement, and one of the strangest hotel check-in processes we’ve ever encountered.
Here is how our run from Oxnard up the Pacific Coast Highway to Santa Cruz went down.
The Morning Log: Donut Runs and Park Pass Roulette
We woke up to a crisp 58°F morning. Pete and I made a quick breakfast run to grab a box of donuts, then headed back to the room to huddle over the maps and finalize the route.
Our main logistical hurdle was securing passes for our upcoming run through Yosemite National Park. After a bit of refreshing and clicking, we managed to get email passes for three out of the four of us. The system is incredibly tight, but Dean and I have our annual park passes anyway, so we’re confident we can make the logistics work out when we hit Highway 120.
When we finally fired up the bikes and pulled out, the coast was completely locked in by a thick, heavy fog. The tops of the mountains to the north were totally swallowed by the clouds, and visibility was a real challenge as we traced the water.
The Pismo Beach Pivot and Rain Suit Layers
Needing a break from the gray soup, we pulled just off the highway to grab lunch at the Ventana Grill in Pismo Beach.
[ THE PCH 2025 FORECAST: THE REALITY ]
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The Expectation: Cruising the sunny California coast in August.
The Reality: Temperatures plummeted from 69°F down to a chilly 63°F along the beach, and the wind chill at highway speeds made it feel absolutely freezing.
The Pivot: Blake admitted he never in a million years thought he’d be celebrating a hot bowl of soup in August. I had to dig into my bags and pull on a jacket—my rain suit was the only heavy layer I had. Nobody warns you how cold a “summer” trip out west can actually get!
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While at the restaurant, we walked out onto the scenic overlook point. Despite the chill, it was beautiful—tons of pelicans and coastal birds were putting on a show, flying low over the water, and we could see a wild, atmospheric view right up the jagged coastline.
As we packed up and kept heading north on Highway 1, the fog only thickened. It turns out that massive inland desert heat acts like a vacuum, pulling the freezing air right over the ocean and creating a massive, blinding marine layer along the asphalt.
Hearst Castle and the California Highway Patrol
Pete wanted to check out the legendary Hearst Castle, which was originally finished back in 1947. Because of local restrictions, the estate itself was completely closed down to visitors, but we pulled off the PCH just outside the main gates to stretch our legs and snap a few pictures of the grounds.
While we were parked, a California Highway Patrol officer rolled right into the pullout. Instead of giving us hassle about parking, he pulled a turnaround, cruised over, and was incredibly friendly. His name was Officer Michael Egan, and he’s a fellow rider. We ended up talking shop with him for a good while, and he even showed us some incredible photos he’d taken from his patrol routes on clear days when the fog wasn’t masking the cliffs.
Right after we left the castle gates and hopped back on the highway, the trip served up another classic, random moment: a stray yellow balloon floated right out of the sky and smacked me dead in the helmet as we rode past. You can’t make this stuff up.
The Majestic Twists of the Big Sur Coast
As we pushed higher up Highway 1, the wind began to howl, occasionally ripping the fog apart and revealing absolute magic.
The geography through this stretch is unbelievable—massive, towering rock faces hanging directly out over the Pacific, with huge white-water waves crashing violently against the boulders far below. The sun would break through in random bursts, illuminating the mountainsides before the fog swallowed them up again. The asphalt was a relentless, high-focus roller coaster, twisting up, down, and around the edges of the cliffs all the way into Santa Cruz.
[ HOTEL LOG: THE SANTA CRUZ COMPLIANCE CHECK ]
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The Obstacle: The hotel parking lot featured these absurd, six-inch-tall speed bumps that were absolute oil-pan killers for heavy touring bikes.
The Bureaucracy: Checking in was a trip. They made us sign three separate legal forms promising that we would:
1) Strictly wear our masks.
2) Keep completely quiet.
3) Explicitly promise not to participate in “any illegal activity.”
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It was an incredibly bizarre vibe, especially considering Melissa and I were just out this way a few months ago and things felt completely different.
Cinema and Bunkering Down
By the time we got through the paperwork, we were completely wiped. Blake volunteered for a food run, jogging off to find a local spot and bringing back a massive pile of burgers.
We bunkered down in the hotel room, crushed our dinner, and put on the movie Zombieland. Incredibly, we discovered that Dean had never actually seen it before, which blew our minds. Needless to say, it was an absolute hit, and it was the perfect, low-key way to wind down after a cold, high-concentration day of riding.
Tomorrow’s Mission: We are pointing the front fairings straight for San Francisco. The iconic Golden Gate Bridge is officially on the menu!
Until then, keep the shiny side up and the layers zipped tight.