“I love the freedom.” “I ride to avoid traffic on the commute”, “I ride because it helps me clear my head,” or “I just love it!”…We have all reasons why we ride. And, we all know these reasons can change depending on the person or situation. For example, this past weekend, I needed a cinnamon roll bad. That’s right, real! These cravings are beyond my control. The only way I know to satisfy this particular demon was to indulge it. Now, I know what you are thinking, ‘What the fizzle does this have to do with riding motorcycles?’ Stay with me. I had this craving once before, and I satisfied it. Luckily, I knew the place. It’s called the Julian Café and Bakery in Julian, California. According to Bandit, Julian is also the Peach Pie capitol of the world. As it so happens, the tiny town of Julian just happens to be smack dab in the middle of one of my favorite local riding loops.
It was still cool at 7:00 a.m. that morning. Also, the marine layer was thick. I knew from experience the coastal marine layer can hang around for hours. That being the case, I decided to wear my leather jacket with the liner, as well as some gloves. I could always shed layers of protection as the weather warmed. That’s Bandit’s rule, “Always over-dress goddamnit,” he said. Minutes later, I was cruising East on California Highway 76 out of Oceanside, thankful for the jacket and gloves. The wind felt good on my face, cool and refreshing, and instantly, I was invigorated. I love that time of the morning; very little traffic, the world is just waking up, and it’s just me and Rogue (my ’06 Street Glide).
As I headed up into the mountains toward the Pala and Pauma Indian Reservations, the weather warmed slightly. The growl of Rogue echoed off the mountain walls as I continued east. Along the way were several local casinos vying for a shot at my wallet. Not me, not this time…I was ‘in the zone’. The road was wide open and I began to have that same feeling I had 20-something years ago when I first tackled this twisting stretch, like a warrior wrestled a Lion! ‘Man, I love this!’, I thought.
At the base of Palomar Mountain, I noticed the clouds were thinning out. When I pulled over to unzip my jacket liner, I was struck by the beauty all around me. The damp smell of the marine layer as it dissipates, rugged Palomar Mountain in the background, and the sunlight breaking through the clouds all made for an experience mere pictures can never capture. These are the sensations you can only experience while on a bike. Tom Cochrane’s version of, “Life is a Highway” began to play in my head. I continued past the La Jolla Indian Reservation and Lake Henshaw toward The Hideout. This is a local biker hangout where you can find dozens to hundreds of riders of all sorts on any given weekend. As I rode by I spot a few fellow early risers parked out front. I had a great burger there not too long ago, but it’s too early for a burger. Besides, I still had a major ‘cinnamon roll’ problem.
I rode a bit further until Highway 76 ended perpendicular to Highway 79. I turned right (south) toward the tiny town of Santa Ysabel to maintain my course for Julian. Turning left (north) would have taken me toward Warner Springs and the beginning of another wild local ride. But, that’s for another time. This section was a smooth stretch of asphalt road with very few travelers at that time of the morning. An easy rambling highway, it beckoned me to open up the throttle, just to see what Rogue could do. Resist that urge!! It was also a favorite speed trap for the California Highway Patrol. I found this out first hand. Luckily, the officer was a bike fan, and in a good mood that morning. He checked my license and gave my bike a good ‘look-see.’ With a hint of a grin, and a “nice bike,” he let me go with a stiff warning. Some of our CHP brothers and sisters are cool!
The road once again came to a “T.” I turned left (east) and headed up into the mountains. This was where Highway 79 and 78 merged for the next few miles and became one, before they branched off again and slip into their own separate ways. After some fun twists and turns of mountain road the city of Julian appeared.
‘Ah yes, I could almost taste it now.’ The Julian Café and Bakery was waiting. The interior of the café has a rustic western feel with lots of cowboy flair. On the walls and all around there are old pictures of miners, cowboy paraphernalia, and antiques. The food is great American fair and the portions are huge. Whether you go for breakfast, lunch or dinner there is sure to be something to tempt you to blow your diet. Southern style biscuits and gravy, pumpkin-apple pie, fried chicken and mashed potatoes…yes, they are all here and they are all delicious!
The owner, Kara, is also one of the servers and oftentimes the cook. That’s right, folks, it is her own magical hands that help to create one of the most sinfully delicious cinnamon rolls to be found in southern California. If you plan a trip here on a weekend, be early or be prepared to wait. Julian is a very popular place for the two-wheeled crowd. In fact, I had to stifle a laugh as the first wave of bikers was heralded into town by the cacophony of car alarms set off from their big V-twins. The tourists hustled out to click their key fobs while about 20 of my fellow brothers and sisters backed their bikes into parking places. Within a few minutes, the restaurant was packed and there was a line outside.
I was not disappointed in my quest. The omelet was wonderful, the coffee was hot and fresh, and I was able to satiate the cinnamon roll demon. With a smile and wave I bid Kara farewell. I kicked up Rogue’s side-stand and rolled out of town, back down the mountain road to Santa Isabel. The memory of my CHP encounter was still vivid, so instead of turning back onto Highway 79, I continued westward on Highway 78 through the town. Suddenly the sugar rush hit me and a new, more sensual drive replaced the cinnamon hunger. Where was she? When I arrived in the city of Ramona, I had to keep an eye out for the right turn onto Pine Street.
This is part of Highway 78, but easily missed if you are not aware of it. This took me into San Pasqual, past the San Diego Wild Animal Park and on into Escondido. Here, Highway 78 became more elusive, but the notion of wild women wasn’t. I had ridden this way many times, but realize that it can be confusing if a rider is trying to follow the road signs for the first time. Suffice to say there are signs, but keep a weather eye, as they are easy to miss. The highway often meshes with other roads like Ash Street and Washington Ave before it emerges once again as Highway 78. I was beginning to move around in my Le Pera seat. A severe itch was growing. I needed the touch of a woman more than Cinnamon or Peach Pie. Wait a minute. I wonder what Bandit referred to when he said Julian was the home of the Best Peach Pie?
I maintained my heading and quickly found myself back in Oceanside where I began my initial quest. It was a perfect ride, lasting a total of 4 ½ hours including breakfast. Yes, we all have different reasons for riding. “Ride to live, Live to Ride” and so on, but Peach pie or her pie, my philosophy for riding was more basic, the reason more tangible. That’s right… I rode to eat! Eat? Are her peaches sweet? I had another ride ahead of me. The day wasn’t over and I was burnin’ daylight as Bandit would say. See ya.
Trip Information
City of Julian, California
http://www.julianca.com
Julian Cafe And Bakery
2112 Main St, Julian, CA
Tel: (760) 765-2712
