The sweaty leathers are laying on the bed in a near human pose and the helmet is airing out as the last drips of a ten year old Talisker slide down the back of my throat. The salty single malt starts sweetly before smoothly finishing with a bold and spicy burst of smoke. It’s both brash and ballsy. The kind of dram that kicks you in the pants and makes you take note. A seemingly appropriate conclusion for a day built on the backbone of astounding visuals, tremendous corners and one hell of a cathartic release.

Today has been absolutely marvelous. Truly a day to remember. Something that right now seems so obviously profound that it is begging to be cherished and appreciated just like a great single malt. Weeks and months from now I hope I’m able to sit back and recall this feeling. This sense of awe. The ease and comfort of how it feels. Both within my soul and in the scenery at large. Because it’s something worth remembering.

California is simply a gift if you’re a motorcyclist.

There’s just no other way to put it. The landscape holds such an amazing diversity and immense scope that you can’t help but feel that you’ve touched greatness when you ride here. From the ocean to the mountains to the totally horizontal valley floors and the rolling hills that connect them all, there is just something absolutely mesmerizing about snaking your way around this geography. I can’t help but wonder what the first settlers to this region must have thought they peered out into these vistas. Did they acknowledge the greatness that lies here? Did they see it? Did they feel it deep in their guts and in their souls?

Today, in just under 300 miles of riding, I was able to carve every kind of corner that exists and then some. On every species of road. Each asphalt surface its own unique conduit for the spectacular.

My day started out around 7:30 in the morning, I dashed up to the 101 and headed North. Subsequently got stuck in an hour and half’s worth of traffic. So I jumped off the freeway and took Ventura Boulevard all the way to Topanga Canyon. A few miles later I shot off onto Mulhulland and headed towards the coast. After grabbing a quick bite, I picked the 101 back up again in Agoura and shoot straight up to California Route 33 (CA-33).

As you might recall the old man and I hit Route 33 the other day. It’s better the second time around during the same week. Free, smooth flowing curves that just go on forever. And ever. Yet as good as it was, the day got even better.

After coming down the backside of Route 33, I picked up Route 166 and headed East. Usually I pop back towards the coast when I make this trek, but not today. Instead I headed out towards Maricopa and Taft. Two towns that I know nothing about, but which are important because they lead right to the doorstep of one of California’s great rides, CA-58.

It is a magical road. One that starts off cutting through the truly rural farm country - rural as in 3 cows on a twenty acre farm rural - before curving up a series of minor mountains, which of course lead to bigger mountains and greater curves. They are some of the best curves I’ve ever hunted. But they go by fast - faster then you’d like, but just when you’re ready to give up on the road, you realize that it continues in a big, but different way. Instead of blazing a trail around a mountain, the road blasts through a quizzical valley floor where speeds easily reach the triple digits. Just when you’ve had enough of the flat lands, rolling hills pop up out of nowhere and provide an awesome roller coaster effect. Suddenly the road surface articulates up and down, over and over, until you’re damn near motion sick. And bang, just like that you’re back carving corners in a coastal wonderland, before dropping down into San Luis Obispo. If there’s one road that encapsulates the California road surface aesthetic, it’s CA-58. An asphalt paradise place that’s worth airline fare to see and too ride. It is beyond a ‘wow’ road.

Just riding CA-58 is a phenomenal personal experience, but having the chance to do it on the ST3 was even better. The bike is everything that I had hoped it would be; fast, lightning quick to steer, nimble, light, comfortable, and secure. Thus far the baby diva and I have gotten on famously. Perhaps it’s because of the time I’ve spent on Ducati’s literbikes, but everything on the ST3 feels just as refined but much less wicked. On 300 mile days that’s an absolutely perfect compromise and it leaves me thirsty for more.

The mid point of California Route 33 (CA-33)

Into the distance on CA-58

The back half of CA-58

More CA-58

The beginning of CA-33

CA Route 166

CA Route 166

CA-58

My final destination, Morro Bay… One of my personal favs