Kawi C14 Super Sport Trip Report Part III: Palm Springs

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V
I had expected to park next to the GS Chris rode through Cuba on his Mi Moto Fidel trip when I arrived, but I hadn’t knows he sold it. "I really really miss it!" he said, looking longingly at the C14. "Now you’ve made me want to get a bike, now." His choice is the GS Adventure – 1200cc’s with a 35" seat height – a bit out of my comfort zone, I thought, but then, I am feeling pretty comfortable on this 1400cc Concours. It’s the seat height that daunts me.

We enjoyed a martini and a meal at a trendy, air-conditioned hotel
bar-restaurant in town, then sped around under the stars in Chris’s
little red Porsche convertible, touring the neighborhoods. "This was Liberace’s house," Chris said. "You wouldn’t believe what they found in there after he died. What debauchery!"

"And here’s Liz Taylor’s old place, and here Ronald Regan, Lily Tomlin,
and Frank Sinatra were next-door neighbors. Sinatra would raise a flag
when it was time for martinis."

"There’s where Brad Pitt, Angelina Jolie, and George Clooney stayed when making the Oceans movie . . ."

Then we were passing the Palm Springs Art Museum, "Really a first class museum," Chris said.

The list went on and on. I loved riding around in the open air, the temperature was perfect at around 80 degrees. I’d seen few people walking around town in the daytime, but at night, it was alive. Restaurants flashed neon and sprayed cool mist to attract patrons. We sat on a bench and ate ice cream just people watching, trying to guess who were the residents and who were the tourists. There were many very young couples, looking like first or second dates. In each case, the woman was dressed in skirt and heels, done up with jewelery and makeup, and the man was in shorts or jeans and a t-shirt.

A gaggle of young blond women in identical black dresses tittered by, following the tipsy bride in a short white lace dress and a veil. A Hindu grandmother sat patiently, draped in a bright orange silk sari, as her children and grandchildren, all in Western garb, skittered about trying to chose among restaurants.

The next day we took the Palm Springs Ariel Tramway up to Mount San Jacinto State Park to hike around and look at the views from 85,000 feet. It was also a nice escape from the 100-degree heat in the town far below.

The tram holds 80 passengers and travels at 21 mph to ascend 5,873 feet in 15 minutes. We loaded up and bumped along over five towers, which sent the tram swinging so much that the passengers let out an involuntary "oooh!"

We emerged into a 70-degree oasis, which seemed chilly when we started out onto the most walked of the 54 miles of hiking trails. After about 15 minutes we found a lookout point where we sat on a rock and contemplated the valley below. We were so quiet that lizards scrambled around us and Chris even glimpsed a tarantula spider — harmless but not looking so.

"If I lived here I’d be up here a few times a week," I said to Chris after a sturdy-looking local strode by with her walking stick. She looked like she hiked the mountain every day.

"I know I should get up here more. It’s only when people visit that I remember to."

I think that Palm Springs is probably a great destination for the motorcycle traveler – but not in August! The next morning I rose at 5:30 am to beat the heat on Highway 10 north to San Bernadino and home, and found Chris snoozing on the couch downstairs where he said he usually ends up because he was reading something. "It’s actually more comfortable than my bed," he claimed, when I laughed.

A prolific writer and addicted researcher, Chris never seems to rest, juggling half-a-dozen projects at a time.

"When I get my GS, we should think about leading a tour together," he said.

"Yikes! I don’t know . . . being responsible for a group? I don’t know if I could handle it."

Maybe we’ll try it. Don’t know where that would be, yet. I’m always exploring new places and am hesitant to repeat journeys, while Chris, a guidebook writer, returns to places again and again.

I took off as the sun was rising, coloring the mountain in front of me a deep orange. The air was cool as I passed the windmills, so much so that I stopped to zip up all the air flow zippers on my jacket. "I should enjoy this," I thought to myself. "Later I’ll be steaming."

Next installment: Yep, more motorcycle action than this dispatch — some fabulolus twisties on Highway 2 through the mountains above San Bernadino, Mojave, Highway 5 (ick) to 101 to Skyline and Highway 1 and home.