End of the journey (for now)

We arrived in Basye safely. We'll stay here for a week, then Paul and Chuck will ride back to MN. I will ride north to visit relatives, then to work at a client for week before heading home.

So long for now!

Lunch in Bastow, WV

So far today the ride has been uneventful. Cold, wet, and thus slow. But we rode through some pretty valleys and over a 3700ft ridge.

Last night we picked up three more riders, for a total of 15 riders

Princeton, WV

Once again, riding through West Virginia is like riding through a hilly trailer park. I suspect this is one of the few places where we can retire on Social Security. Perhaps a new state motto should be 'if its broke, put it on yer lawn.'

Apart from riding many miles of windy mountain roads, we got some excitement when a national guard truck spread lots of gallon jugs of water in a corner. The low would be sitting in construction for 20 minutes in 85f.

ATGATT (all the gear, all the time)

During lunch another rider from Taos, NM stopped in. He was on his way to Cleveland, and was a tour director for Aerostich tours. It was the multiple aerostiches in the parking lot which drew his attention to us.

After lunch we continued riding on the now wet roads. They were still very twisty and scenic, especially highways 213 and 52.

The rain was starting to 'float' the oils out of the road surface, so we were careful. Unfortunately one of the slick spots got Paul.

The combination of lean angle and suspected diesel spill contributed to a lowside which resulted in scratching the side of the VFR and some gear damage. Paul was not hurt, and the Honda fired right up. If you follow the photobucket link on top right side of this blog you can see the photos. The Aerostich knee was worn through but the underlying armor padding and plastic remain intact (his knee was the first to touch down). There was a small tear in his glove and when trying to stand up while still sliding his helmet tapped the ground. The gear did its job. This is why we wear all the gear all the time, because there are conditions we cannot control and an impact at any speed can be life-altering. Plus we don't want to leave our loved ones a vegetable.

The remainder of the ride through Kentucky's Natural Bridge area was wonderfully scenic and relaxed and we arrived safely at our hotel room. Then a guest staying at the hotel backed into Joe's ST1100, breaking the mirrors and an auxillary lamp. The driver was forthright about it.

Today we ride more great roads, 241 miles to Princeton, WV

Lunch in Inez, KY

You must be tired of me writing that we rode a bunch of windy roads. Well... We did. We dodged dogs and turtles and a goat.

...and then the skies opened up.

Stopped for lunch in Bath, ky after 165 miles of wonderfully windy roads. There were only a couple wet spells, and temps stayed in the mid 70's. Hundred miles left today!

Held up by a scooter!

We left St Louis early with overcast (but warm) skies. The town was still dead - there was almost no traffic at all in the city. Yesterday Paul commented that maybe it was a zombie town ...

We rode on I64 east with little rain and temps about 75F. To shake things up we decided to go south on 66 in Indiana that was a great choice! Excellent surface, very little traffic, and lots of tight corners.

We did get slowed down by a scooter though ... he didn't get any faster than 45 mph, but I bet he was having fun!


And at one point there was a delivery truck parked in the middle of the road with skid marks behind it .. as if it had hit a deer, but there was no deer to be found.



Going through Louisville was hot, and we got stuck in slow traffic for about 30 minutes.

The rest of the interstate riding took us to our hotel where we met up with the rest of the FrientSTOC crew and had dinner at Ruby Tuesday's.

Georgetown, KY

Paul Chuck and i have arrived safely at our hotel in Georgetown and met the rest of the group. More updates later... DInner first!

Hwy 66 South Indiana

We just finished running hwy 66 in south indiana...ecxleent road, despiytethe theavootr and atopped truck.

Is it illegal to pass in Missouri?

Another rainy morning. We got up and rode .. there's not really much more to it. Chuck bought some rain paints at the first Walmart we found and we had a dicussion with a local regarding the best roads in the area.. he suggested taking 19 north from Winona, which was our plan.

And that road was fantastic! 88 miles of moderate sweepers and smooth pavement. For the most part the it remained dry. At one point we got stuck behind ~ 15 cars behind a truck with a camper, going 35 mph. Despite several passing opportunities the other cars never passed .. they just tailgated each other for 20 miles. That was the point Chuck and I decided to start passing them (actually I was leading so I made the decision and Chuck followed). We managed to do it in three passes, but not without angering the local drivers. Their response was to tailgate us. Are all Missourian's asshole drivers? Do they, like Minnesotan's, feel the need to force everyone else to be miserable like them, and just tailgate and not pass when the opportunity arises?

Anyway .. after enjoying hwy 19 we continued to ride to St Louis and met Paul at Phil's BBQ. He rode down from Rockford through a lot of rain. Anyway .. Phil's BBQ .. the ribs were dry, but the pulled pork and sweet potato fries were very good.

After the BBQ we made our way to the hotel and clowned for the camera.


A quick walk found us at Schlafly's brewing company. Although we had just missed food serving hours, the bar was open for a few more minutes. We had our samplers and a beer (most of which were EXCELLENT!) and then walked downtown.

St Louis itself was pretty quick. No, I take that back .. it was DEAD. Traffic was non-existent. We could hear some heavy metal from the downtown area, so we walked down there and found a sculpture fountain. We made Chuck take some measurements (after all, we are software engineers).


and I had to get rid of some beer.

The music we heard was a Memorial Day festival and it was pretty dead. They were charging for a band we had never heard of (Paul suspected it was Jackal, with the chain-saw song) and they were charging $5 to get in. It was all pretty lame.

In the end, the only place downtown that was open for business was a Hooters, so we stopped in there for a beer and had a Budweiser "knucklebuster". This is AB's attempt at a dry irish stout ... it was 'ok'. It had a little bit of roastiness to it, but there wasn't enough sweetness to say it was a 'true' stout. Sad to say, this is the best Anhueser Busch I've ever had.

Back at the hotel we hopped into the hot tub where three people had already taken up positions. In an amazing display of dialectical knowledge, Paul managed to guess thier home state of West Virginia based on thier accent .. that's quite impressive!

Tomorrow we ride to Kentucky. We're not expecting anything exciting to occur ... it will probably rain and we have some south Illinois/Indiana prairies to put behind us.

Impassable During High Water

This morning we left Fayetteville to ride Hwy 16 to Clinton, AR. This is one of the two roads we came here to ride. Paul and I have ridden it twice before, and found to be anything but straight. It has fast sweepers, tight corners, and pavement quality that varies from good to excellent. Nor does it have much traffic, and no enforcement.

The day started well. We got about an hour and a half on Hwy 16 before the rain started in. It wasn't a hard rain, so we managed to stay dry and maintain decent speeds. Once again the 'stich kept me dry, no leaks at all. The Joe Rocket 'waterproof' gloves slowly stopped being waterproof... oh well ...

As we passed through Deer, AR, we came up on a pickup going quite slow, pacing a small dog running alongside the road. The dog then met up with more dogs .. wierd .. to top things off, the local school bus yard was full of mostly short buses. Lake Wobegon it ain't.

On a frequent basis we encountered fog and lighter rain. We could see the clouds thinning, promising mere overcast, but then our hopes were dashed as we entered another downpour. Fortunately I continues to stay wet, and as the temps remained above 64F we weren't miserable.

The weather put a damper on enjoying the road, so after 120 miles we bailed and headed north to our hotel in West Plains. Just before the Bull Shoals ferry we stopped for lunch (well, we had breakfast food, but it was lunch time) at a park resort cafe. The food was excellent and the prices even better.

Reluctantly we left the cafe and rode, in the rain, to the ferry.


Once on the ferry it REALLY started raining. Since we weren't moving, the rain just came right down and soaked us. Well, it soaked Chuck. I was nice and dry in my 'stich (except my hands).


This is when Chuck said he was officially miserable. At least it wasn't cold.

Once off the ferry we had to choose: go east to West Plains and a dry hotel room, or go north on Missouri 125. We've heard great things about 125 .. and with the weather primarily south of us, we went north, hoping to stay away from the worst of it.

As we went north we saw several signs stating "Impassable during high water". These were accompanied by scales indicating how high the water was, up to three feet. I'm thinking I can do 4 inches before the water touches the exhaust pipes .. I suppose if it does, they might crack due to the immediate cooling effect. Eight inches and my wheel bearings would get soaked (and perhaps the engine oil pan .. ) Luckily they were all passable ...

Yet the rain fell, and it fell hard. Top speed was 40 mph through many sections... but it eventually started to let up and the road was drying in patches.

Hwy 125 was excellent, even when wet! From Protem to Bradleyville it was 24 miles of tight, beautifully banked corners. The speed limit was mostly 55 mph yet the corners were rated at 25-15 mph. The northern 21 miles (to Oldfield) wasn't as tight but was still a VERY good road. In the future we'll have to include this on our rides...

From Oldfield to West Plains we took T then 14. These were fast roads... we made good time. Are there ANY bad roads in this region?

At the hotel we spread out our wet stuff and went in search of food .. which was Chinese takeout (wierd sauce but awesome chicken) and a sixpack of Schlafly's Oatmeal Stout. Oh yeah .. and Simpson's, Family Guy and American Dad ...

Tomorrow .. Saint Louis, where we'll meet Paul and continue our ride to the east.

Hog Haus, Fayetteville, Arkansas

So we made it to Fayetteville. It rained, but we had some dry periods, especially when we were on 90. But then it started raining and we made a bee line for the hotel.

About the hotel. I picked it because I thought it was near the Hog Haus brewpub. Turns out it was 2.5 miles away. Grrrrrr! So we had a 45 minute walk.

It was definitely worth the hike! The stout, irish red, and IPA were delicious! I think we might have to take a cab back to the hotel....

Soaked in Joplin

We are holed up in a Subway south of Joplin, waiting out the hail and rain. First it came from the front, which was fine. Then it got dry and we were drying out. Then ... Bam .. Sideways rain! And hail! The stich kept me 95% dry - had a little come in the hip zippers and no crotch leak. But Chuck ... In jeans and a mesh jacket... Was soaked to the core. We'll sit out the storm a few minutes and then move on.

Lamar, Missouri

The morning was cool and dry. I35 from Des Moines to Missouri was bumpy and had quite a bit of construction. From Iowa to south Missouri things were smooth and sort of boring, except when a long ladder fell out of a pickup a couple hundreds ahead, right ahead of a big semi. Somehow the ladder slid to the side of the road, missing everyone.

Temps are getting up to 85 and we stopped here to change into shorts.

After Joplin, in about 75 miles, we will head up into the Ozarks for the final leg into Fayetteville.

Des Moines, Iowa

I am glad i have redundant systems.

Shortly after leaving Chuck's, i realized i had forgotten to load my garmin routes into the Zumo GPS -DOH! Those routes are in my laptop, which is on a Ups truck somewhere. Argh! All is not lost... I have a printout of the hptel addresses, and paper maps of the states. Tonight i will need some alone-time with the zumo and Arkansas roads....

Other than that, the ride wasn't very eventful. I had forgone the large VStream shield vor the stock shield in anticipation of potential heat issues, and within 100 miles i think i regret that decision. The stock shield is very noisy with some buffeting in any position. I should be ok though... I managed to to ride 20k with it last year...

The weather wasn't too bad. North of Mason city it was wet and 63f, then it warmed to 86 in west des moines.

Don't ask me why ... But Iowa has some slow drivers and a lot of tailgaters. On entering des moines, traffic was going 80mph and most people were 3-4 feet behind the car in front. Except the old folks going 10 under the limit. But the roads are nice and smooth ... Crossing from mn to ia was going from expansion cracks to smooth sailing. Why can't mn makes roads they do in ia, wi, or the dakotas? The only place with worse roads than mn is canadia.

We got checked into our room and started our walk to rockbottom.. (yes, We choose hotels based on walking distance to brewpubs) aAs we approached rock bottom, we realized it didn't have any signs... Or cars parked out front... OMG are they closed? Do we have to go to outback across the street and suffer with mainstream ozzy brews? We weren't n the mood to jump on the bikes and ride to granite city... So we walked around the corner and found... ROCK BOTTOM! Yippee! So here we are, drinkin great beer, reading the economst, and updating blogs.

More tomorrow!

The day is finally here!

I'm loaded up and ready to leave on our trip east!

Said goodbye to Jennifer as she left for work, and now I just need to get through some work before riding to Rochester and picking up Chuck. Then we'll ride to Des Moines for the night, before continuing on to Fayetteville, Arkansas.

Today will be a short and boring day, slabbing it all the way. We could go along the Mississippi river to make it a little more interesting, but that will double the time we need and we've ridden that many times. Like most long rides starting in the midwest, the goal is to spend as little of our precious time close to home.

And .. we're off!

Back to the present

I've just finished posting my trip through the southwest from 2004. I would recommend that you scroll all the way back to the first post ("Day 1") and start from there. The sequence of events and my reflections on them build as you go - if you jumped into the fray with the following epilogue things might not make sense.

Regarding my ruminations to ride to the north rim of the Grand Canyon: That trip did not happen. Instead we rode to Northern California, "we" being Ray, Ron, Ken and I. It started out great. We rode south through the Cascades, taking our time with no particular schedule, agenda or route other than to get to Northern California.



By "Northern California" I mean the north quarter of the state, not San Francisco or even Napa Valley. Imagine the pictured road below, with hundreds of miles of that. Perfect pavement, perfect weather.


Not a perfect ride, though. Once in a while I hear the comment that "every ride is a good ride". That is not the case. While I was waiting for the the rest of the gang to ride up the very road pictured, they were five miles back trying to save Ken's life.

It turned into the worst ride I have ever had.

Ken is a childhood friend of Ron and was riding the Superhawk pictured above (it's the red one on the right). While faster than all of us, he had less experience and we were afraid that he was riding beyond his abilities. This proved to be true. Typically he will get several miles ahead of us, turn around to enjoy the road again, passing us in the opposite direction. Then he'll turn around, catch up, and pass us. There was no doubt he was enjoying the trip. It was his third time through this particular section of rode when he failed to negotiate the corner.



That helicopter took Ken to Redding. Unfortunately he was not revived before it took off.

--

My blog about my trip may seem excessively pessimistic, but looking back I have fond memories of it. It is something I will always remember, and every trip is different. The place may be the same, but subsequent visits are done at different times, with different mindsets, and different levels of maturity. The next time I am in the southwest, I may enjoy the scenery rather than tire of it. By far, most of our trips are positive and we come home excited for the next. That is the mood I am in now .. in several days Chuck and I will leave for FriendSTOC 2009. We will meet Paul in St. Louis, then ride east with other motorcyclists through Kentucky, West Virginia and Virginia. We will visit with family etc.

And I'll tell you all about it!

Epilogue - Spring 2004

Five days after arriving home, I’ve yet to take any of the bikes out. This is due mainly to the weather; overcast and some rain. I have replaced the Nolan helmet with a Shuberth Concept which I haven’t had a chance to try out yet, and ordered a Gerbing electric liner. With the Kanetsu vest, I need to wear a fleece layer just to keep my arms warm; I hope the liner will preclude the necessity for the fleece (and I got one for Jennifer too) thereby reducing the bulk some. The VFR needs to have its oil changed, the air filter cleaned, the whole rear end of the bike cleaned, the muffler repacked correctly, and probably the chain needs to be changed too. Generally, the whole thing needs to be cleaned. In addition to that, both the Magna and the ST need to be ridden – it’s been over a month since I had them out last, and to prevent drying up of seals and gas going bad, both bikes need a couple hundred miles. I’m hoping that tomorrow and this weekend it will be nice enough to do that.

On June 19^th we’ve planned another trip to the north rim of the Grand Canyon, but I’m not sure I want to bring the VFR. There are some very nice things about the Audi: Carry more gear for greater comfort, less exposed to the elements, and so on. However, every day I don’t ride I feel more inclined to take the VFR again, despite it’s shortcomings. I’m not looking forward to the 2 days of hard riding to get there, nor needing to change between riding gear and hiking gear, but traveling by motorcycling does immerse me into the area I’m riding in. In addition, we are planning to spend a few days at one campground, removing the need to pack/unpack every day. There has been talk of changing the trip to a shorter, touristy ride around the Pacific Northwest, but the whole ‘get off and back on’ the bike, with all the unplugging, earphones, etc. rigamarole would be increased. On the other hand, riding with buddies is quite a bit of fun and helps make severe irritations bearable if not completely dissolving them. I am fortunate to have such good people to ride with that I look forward to the campfire banter after the ride (not the mention the breaks during the day).

I have a week to decide.

In the meantime, Windy Ridge (behind Mt St Helens) has opened up again and I would like nothing more than getting back into “The Zone” on an unencumbered bike. I’m not giving up motorcycling, but I might not be making very many camping trips on it in the future.

In my mind I’ve been calling this trip the “Trip Of A Lifetime” because I don’t think I’ll ever make that trip again. I didn’t particularly like the southwestern landscape. Post-ride reflection really underscored that I felt out of my element in the harsh sage deserts. It was hard to see beauty in hues of brown littered with trailer homes surrounded by junk. While the terrain was more mountainous than the Midwest, it was not easy on the eyes like rolling hills and farmland speckled with golden wheat, leafy trees and green fields of maize. The roughness of the southwest just isn’t my thing. I was happy to be back in Oregon amid the lush green forested hills.

The other negative thing about the southwest was the lack of good coffee. Would you believe that Wichita Falls only has one Starbucks, while we have over 360 in the Portland area? Good beer wasn’t as hard to come by, yet not as prevalent as home. I was also going through McMenamins withdrawals – perhaps I’ll make a stop this weekend. Generally the meat was better in the southwest, I’ll give the area that much.

I suppose that this trip really underscored how nice it is at home, and how much at home I feel in Oregon. I don’t need to travel very far for great scenery and recreational opportunities. Among the many things I thought about on this trip was camping on the coast at Ecola beach, a mere 45 miles to the west of our home, or reaching the summit on a 6-mile hike up Elk Mountain 30 miles to the west. Or perhaps spend a weekend next to Mt Hood on Lost Lake. Make a 4-hour loop to the coast along twisty windy roads, or scrape up behind Mt St. Helens on a 350-mile ride – the best roads I’ve experienced are mere day rides from home. While there are some great roads in northwestern California, they’re not THAT much better than what we have here.

Thanks for reading!

Day 17: Home Sweet Home!

Today I slept in. I don’t need to find a campsite tonight, I just need to roll into the garage, so I just take it easy. I’m not out of the tent until 6:30am.

This first thing I do is repudiate the dog’s claim to my motorcycle. Not peeing on it but by saying “Motorcycle Mine”. Then comes coffee and breakfast and more coffee and then I type a little on the PDA (which I’m using to type most of this so I don’t have to try to remember it all when I get home). Pack up camp, donate $7 to stay here, and on the road again. It’s about 80F degrees so I dress accordingly.

The road leaving the area is less scenic than entering it, because I’m not looking into the canyon. I also see a lot more rattlesnakes – dead and alive. They must be warming up in the sun. As I climb out of the canyon the temperature goes down but I endure it, thinking it will warm up. In Vale I stop for gas and catch myself trying to get it myself – now that I’m in Oregon I need to participate in employing marginally employable employees by letting them swipe my credit card at the pump and hand me the nozzle. I guess that took real skill to do.

Highway 20 is called The Central Oregon Highway because it runs east/west through the middle of Oregon. At this point, it passes through sagebrush high desert where the antelope roam, the pavement is smooth and consists mainly of high-speed sweepers. It’s a very nice place to ride, and I enjoy it. At around 10am the temps have dropped to 64F and I need to stop and put on a few more layers, and while I’m at it I break out the MRE and have some beef stew.

I cut off from 20 just before Burns and head north on 395. I’ve been on this road a couple years ago and I know it goes through the Malheur National Forest. It’s nice to be in the trees again. I can smell the Ponderosa. Traffic is light and the tires grip very well. The last ten miles before getting into John Day has some really curves but unfortunately I’m stuck behind a slowpoke. I get from another slowpoke in John Day and continue north on 395. The scenery is still wonderful and there is a long straight section where I pick up some speed. At these more sane altitude levels (4500 feet) I test the bike’s fuel mapping again and still note some hesitation. Bummer. Still plenty of power at the top end but lacking in response. I back off from 110mph to 70mph (I’m in a 55mph zone) before cresting a hill.

There’s a state trooper there.

Boy did I get lucky. He doesn’t move … just waves at me.

As I continue north I see that there are some clouds forming, but I had expected that. I am planning on running west on NF53 to Heppner and then taking 74 to I-84 from there. These are all new roads to me. As I approach NF53 I note that gas is 1.25 miles to the right (not that I need any) and turn left on NF53. ¼ mile down the road I I get hit my heavy rain. Ok. I’m still about four hours from home and I know it’s raining there I might as well get the rainsuit on, and I want to do it under a roof like a gas-station so I turn around and zoom to the gas station. Instead I find a row of Wings with trailers and a BMW GS1150 lined up outside a restaurant. Hm. I’m hungry too, so I stop in. I forget where these guys are riding to, but they said the pie here is good and that they came from Portland through several storm fronts. Great. They take off … the rider on the BMW (with passenger) really abuses his clutch on takeoff, and I see he has an “Alaska or Bust” sign on the back of his pack. I hope his clutch holds up.

Outside the restaurant are a number of signs. One says something about “too lazy for a job? Write a roach check!” and “The queen of France, at the insistence that the tax-slaves went cake instead of bread, said let them have bread!” and such. I was the only person in there, and even though it was 2pm they managed to get me a shortstack of pancakes. I took the opportunity to put on the rainsuit and call Jennifer and then I was on the road again.

NF53 is a wonderful road. It’s a part of the Blue Mountains Scenic Route and goes through ranchland then a national forest. At one point there was a stubborn cow in front of me, which I stopped in front of and took a picture before scaring it away. The pavement was excellent and nearly dry the first 20 miles and traffic was scarce. These tires (Metzeler Roadtec Z6) grip in the wet and dry very well, and don’t have much of a flat-spot even after 6000 miles on lots of interstates with a heavy load. Their shortcoming is on tar-snakes. When dry, these tires slip on the snakes like other tires do when they’re wet. The second half of the road to Heppner is chip-sealed so I slow down for that. After Heppner, on 74, the clouds are getting darker and darker with the occasional splatter. Then, suddenly, I’m looking at a wall of water. This is the kind that hits with big hard blobs, I’m almost expecting it to turn into hail. The road ahead is a white froth as the drops hit and bounce back up three inches. The tires have no problems and neither do I, except my head is getting wet with water coming down the back of the shield (where I can’t wipe it off). I know I’m ok as long as I’m moving, as soon as I stop my helmet will be worthless as the cool temps (52F) will cause instant fogging of the shield and glasses. When the truck in front of me pulls over and the riders jump out to dance in the deluge I continue. Eventually the rain lets up as I ride through Oregon’s wheat fields. I think this area is similar to Washington’s Palouse area around Walla Walla, WA. The temps are riding to 70F and I’m sweating so I stop to remove the rainsuit and uncomfortable breath-deflector. Last fall the deflector (which deflects my breath from my nose/mouth away from the shield) lost its felt lining and now it rubs my nose raw. A new one is $15 plus shipping so I’m reluctant to purchase another. As I pull it off, it also takes with it a plastic chunk that was clearly not supposed to come off. Off with the helmet, remove earbuds (because taking off the helmet dislodges those too) and try to fix the helmet. This is the piece that the shield seals it’s lower edge against. I manage to push it back in place, reinsert the earbuds, don the helmet, and continue. As I near I-84 the wind picks up. I’m heading north, and the wind is from the west, and at times it feels like the bike will blow out from underneath me. It’s quite strong and the large pack on the back of the bike is catching the wind like a sail very nicely. I deal with and miserably endure it until I get on I-84 – and turn directly into the wind. Now I have 150 miles riding directly into the wind.

I can no longer hear the music so I shut it off. I’m getting tossed around like a doll in the jaws of a Rottweiler. If I lower my torso down and hug the tankbag I’m not as affected by the wind by the noise is greater, deafening. I alternate that crouch, sitting up, and occasionally standing to relieve my posterior.

In Arlington I stop for gas and remove the worthless earbuds. I pause for a moment to listen to the ringing sound (tinnitus), and put in 34-db earplugs. I hate earplugs, They never go in the first time, and this is no exception. It takes 3-5 attempts before the seal correctly. Just before I get on the bike I notice that the chain is sagging so much that it’s rubbing my centerstand. This was a new chain and sprockets 6000 miles ago which I lubed every night after riding. What a piece of shit. I have always gotten 12,000 to 20,000 miles out of a chain before it’s stretched beyond specs, and this one last a fraction of that. Nothing to do about it now – I’m no mood to unpack the bike to get the tools under the seat to take the wheel off and tighten the slack. It got me this far, it can get me the remaining 150 miles home. Just another $150 expense before I can go riding again.

Back on the road it’s noticeably quieter but I’m still battling the wind, and in Hood River it starts to rain. You may recall that I took off the rainsuit earlier. I don’t feel like stopping to put it on so I just ride through it, feeling the wetness of rain occasionally sneak in between the drytech liner and leather pants (oh how I wish I a full-circumference zipper between the jacket and pants, not just the little 8-incher. To make matters worse, Joe Rocket put that zipper on an elastic band. It’s dumb and marginally useful.

At one point my nose itches, and it’s not raining, so I pop open the visor to scratch my nose and something flies off the helmet. Huh? Yeah, that piece that came off earlier came off and flew away. Now the shield doesn’t seal well at all, I have air blowing right into my right eye, up under glasses. This sucks. It royally sucks, and I have at least 50 miles of city traffic left. Why the hell am I on a motorcycle? I ride through this crap through Portland to Hillsboro and realize I have no food at home, no beer, no chocolate, so I stop at Safeway to get some. It’s raining again, and I’m standing in the parking lot trying to figure out this latest challenge. So I’m standing in the rain trying to figure out this situation: Can’t leave helmet on bike because it will get wet (liner is already soaked, I’m concerned that the inside shield will get wet which will fog up everything and then I can’t see), can’t leave tankbag on the bike because it has $1000 of electronics in it, and there’s no room in the topcase to shove it in there. I can carry my helmet and tankbag all over the store, but since I only have two arms it will make shopping and paying for the food quite difficult. One option is that when I get home is to shower and change and get in the car and coming back to the store that I’m standing in front of. Not that I want to do that, there’s too much effort involved. Fuck It I said audibly, this shouldn’t be this damn difficult, and rode home, threw away the helmet, and regret that I had done this trip on the motorcycle.

Day 16: Back in Oregon!

Morning came, I packed up the bike and ate too many waffles. Today I have nothing to stop and look at, the goal is to ride west on I-80 to Nevada, north to Idaho on 93, then taking the backroads into Oregon and finishing at Lake Owyhee State park in the eastern part of the state.

Unfortunately I am hitting the Friday morning commute between Provo and Salt Lake City. At the least I can see the mountains now – tall and craggy Wasatch range to the east, some brown things to the west, and a visibly smog-choked valley to the north. Yuck. Visibility, due to this smog, is about 5 miles. I’m glad I’m not going through SLC, and veer west on I-80. As I pass the southern rim of the Great Salt Lake I can smell the salt, and it’s not pleasant. There’s also an even less pleasant smell of rotting things. Ick. I’m not impressed. As the interstate heads due west, straight as an arrow for what seems like 50 miles, I pass dried tan salt lakebeds and one some that are pure white. When I finally reach Wendover there are signs for the Bonneville Salt Flats – now I know where they are.

Heading into Nevada the scenery improves somewhat, with some grand snowcapped Ruby mountains to the south. However, road construction is in full swing and that means I sit in stop’n’go traffic for many miles. Hwy 93 at Wells could not come soon enough. There I got a refill of my water bottles and fuel and headed north.

93 is more interesting. It is a fast road, going through rolling desert hills with light traffic. Before it crosses into Idaho there’s a nice rest stop along Salmon Falls Creek and I enjoy a snack there. Getting closer to Rogerson, I turn off 93 and take 3-creek-road west. After 40 miles the GPS tells me to turn right and take a little dirt road up towards Brunaeu. Yeah, right. The signs says the shortest distance on that road is 30 miles, no thank you. I turn around and ride the 40 miles back to the interstate very quickly, in 25 minutes. I’m somewhat peeved, that added an hour to my day and I’m eager to get home. Plus, it’s Friday, and campgrounds fill fast so I need to get there early.

In Twn Falls I give in my hunger and stop for lunch at Idaho Joe’s, then continue on the boring interstate 84 to make up for lost time. Once again I would like to underscore how much I hate interstates, and this is no exception. The interstates usually are routed along the easiest and straightest routes and that’s where the bad winds are. I fight the wind for 130 miles, cursing my decision to do this on a motorcycle. My neck is aching from fighting the wind and my butt feels like it is sitting on needles. I’m not happy.

Getting through Boise in the afternoon rush was no fun either.

Near Nampa I got off the interstate and followed the GPS directions to past Lovell Lake to another dirt road with a sign indicating 24 miles to Lake Owyhee State Park. Dejectedly I head north to Highway 20, considering riding the rest of the way home tonight. It’s 6pm and I have 490 miles to get home. Then I pass another sign pointing down a dirt road indicating another 13 miles of dirt to the park. Hm. Nah. I’m miserable, I’m not going to make myself even more miserable. There has to be another campground here someplace. Back towards Hwy 20, After a few miles there’s another sign for the state park, and it’s paved (so far) so take that. I’m riding through irrigated farm fields and it’s surprisingly green here, considering that eastern Oregon is a drab brown.

The road starts dropping in elevation and enters a canyon – the Owyhee canyon, no doubt – and along the Owyhee river there are quite a few fisherman. The scenery improves dramatically as I approach the Owyhee dam. There’s a picnic area by the dam and more fisherman. Five miles later I reach the first campground – McCormack – but it’s full. No surprise … a fellow camper indicates there’s another one about a mile up the river. He points it out, and we can see it from here. It looks like only one camper is there, but it’s not lush and green like this one. I ride down there and find there are orange cones near the entrance of the park. There is no-one else here but the RV. Strange, the boat launch nearby is half-full. No obvious signs that the campground is closed. This is strange. Pulling up to the closest tent site, I dismount and jump nearly a foot into the air when a brown snake with the telltale diamond pattern on it’s back slithers from a rock near the picnic table into the weeds. Uhoh. Walking back to the bulletin board, there’s a sign for a cougar sighting in September… aha, “beware of rattlesnakes”. Screw this, I’m not camping with rattlesnakes. Not in a tent.

Back over the dam and down to the picnic area I saw earlier I go. I saw a sign for a visitor’s center on the way up, and figured I’d ask there if there’s somewhere else to camp. There is BLM land all around us, and I camp on that, but it sure is nice to have a picnic table to sit at. Making breakfast in the dirt isn’t any fun. I could have survived if I had driven the Audi, then I would at least have a camp-chair.

The visitor’s center was closed but the sign said camping in the picnic area was allowed! Woohoo! We’re in business! And it looks like a nice place too – big trees tables, grass, firegrates, even firewood. The sign indicated we should register at the visitor’s center and donate anything we’d like. I started the process of unpacking the bike and setting up camp. After dinner (can of soup) and typing on the PDA until the mosquitoes force me to quit, I brush my teeth and hit the restroom … on the way back I see I have neighbors.

I head over and say hello to Dan and Bev. They’re from nearby Vale, he’s a fisherman and she’s mountainbiking. He looks like he’s in his 30’s and worked for the Air Force in southern California training Iranian and German pilots to drop bombs (conventional and nuclear) and strafing. Which makes me wonder … aren't we trying to prevent Iran from acquiring a nuclear arsenal? Iran being one of the three members of the Axis of Evil, hopefully they haven’t shared it with that little gargoyle in North Korea. Bev looks 40’ish but she is a grandmother who moved to Oregon from Kansas four months ago. She loves the scenery and weather even though she hasn’t been west of the Cascades yet. We talked about the rattlesnakes (she nearly rode over a couple) and they share a beer with me. We start a campfire, and we notice there’s a chattering in the tree above us, and a big bird swoops into it. We suspect it might be a winged monkey. It sure sounds likes it. Using our flashlights we spot two 5-inch tall owls coo-ing back and forth. The big bird we can’t see must have been the mother. Neat. I’d get a photo but have no idea how to pull off nighttime photography. Use your imagination.

There’s also a chocolate lab at the site – I assumed it was Dan and Bev’s, they assumed it was mine. Ok. Must be with the house out back. Anyway, he’s really friendly but irritating. He wants keep trying licking me, the bug spray must taste sweet to him. I hope he doesn’t think of me as a marinating chunk of meat. Every so often I can hear him lick his chops.

It’s late and I head off to sleep. I manage to wash my hands near the water spout. The dog follows me, and I have to fend off his licking before I get into my tent. Once he pawed the tent wall, I yelled at him, he whimpered. Too bad. I suspect he sat out there a while; I heard him licking his chops right outside the tent a couple times during the night.

After a couple hours I wake to hear him barking and running around outside, and Beverly promptly shuts him up by telling him to “SHUT UP!”. Ah … sleep …

Day 15: Utah

I woke just in time to call Jennifer before she went to class, 7 am her time (6am my time). Jennifer's Verizon cellphone has been roaming since I left home (it barely has a signal at home), so if there's a payphone handy I'll use that instead.

More coffee and oatmeal, pack up camp, gear up for riding in the 40's, and I'm on the road. Ten short miles later I'm in Dolores and the temps are in the 70's. Doh! I pull behind a closed BBQ joint and peel off layers.

Riding up to the Mesa Verde national park the temps drop again, and I pass a cafeteria claiming "all you can eat pancakes" until 10am. As it's 8:30am and I'm still digesting oatmeal, I head into the park. It's 15 miles to the visitor's center where one can purchase tickets for guided tours into the cliff dwellings. I don't want to stay that long, so I take the short loop. The cliff dwellings are pretty neat - there are a couple large ones (100+ rooms) and even a few small ones (1-10 rooms) that can be seen from the road, and others that can be hiked to. The self-guided and guided hikes aren't long, but I have neither time nor good hiking boots with, so after sightseeing like an AARP member I leave the park. Where did the time go? It's already 10:30am and I missed the pancakes. Getting hungry, I find a local restaurant called Homesteaders that served up a good medium-rare steak sandwich with fresh fruit. Usually I avoid steak on bread, as low-quality meat it used, but this was a tender 6oz. top sirloin. And for less than $6 OTD I am a happy camper.

Heading west on US-191, the GPS shows the name of the highway changing to UT-666 but I see no signs to take photos of. I suspect someone got frightened and had them taken down. Silly. Nothing bad happened to me, other than having to ride in more of the arid high desert. Something good happened though - I found a gas station with Big Hunk nougat bars! These are big chewey lowfat bars that will give your jaws a workout. Chuck introduced them to me when he found the little bite-sized ones.

Eventually the road steers north, the temps climb into the 90's, and the scenery improves significantly. The sage desert changes to red slickrock and some arches appear every so often. It looks like the sand-laden wind has worn smooth the rocks. There was a huge rock feature, maybe 750-1000 feet tall, standing in the middle of nowhere with a manmade hole at the base. I think it looks like something out of the Fifth Element.

When I return my eyes to the road, I find two semi's approaching me, side by side, on the other side of the valley (about a mile away). We're on a two-lane road - one lane for me, going north, the other for vehicles going south. And there's a semi approaching me in both lanes, and they don't seem to be making much progress, so instead of continuing at 85mph I make an emergency near-stop and squeeze over onto four-inch strip of asphalt that passes for a shoulder. The semi's wooosh by. Whew, close call. Need to pay more attention.

Back on the road, going up the opposite side of the valley, when Idiot-Man in a pickup pulls out from the traffic approaching me, using my lane. Here we go again, onto the shoulder. I see he's wearing a baseball cap - he must be wearing it too tight. I have theory that baseball caps tend to trap heat in the hotter states like Utah, cooking the wearer's brain. Furthermore, the brim obstructs the wearer's view, causing them to bang their foreheads on low-hanging obstructions. All of this causes the wearer's brain to become severely damaged, resulting in veiwing ESPN excessively and making poor driving decisions.

Obviously my yellow bike and bright yellow jacket aren't visible enough (maybe too many bugs from Colorado?) so I flick on my high beams. Take that Idiot-Men, two 60w halogens right at you! If you can't see these you shouldn't be driving.

This whole time the elevation continues to drop and the temperature increases to 95F. At the next rest stop I take my shirt off and hold it under the water spigot to soak it. It takes a while; it's one of those fancy wicking polyester fabrics, Hydroduct by Duofold. Water sort of runs off it, so I have to knead the water into it to get it to 'stay'. Back on the road, the 95F feels like 35F for about five minutes, then I'm dry again. At least it cooled me off. A man asks me how fast my bike is, I answer I've had it to 140 but it's supposed to be good for 160. Do I do that often? No. Ten over the limit has kept me ticket-free since 1993.

A few miles down the road signs for the Canyonlands National Park try to lure me to go there. No deal. No time. It's south of me and I'm going north, to Arches NP. Once there the temperature is soaring at 100F. Ick. At the visitor's center I re-soak my shirt and fill up on water.

While in the park I check the coolant temp often and am satisfied everything is working as it should, even at slow speeds in hot temps. This winter I discovered that the thermostat was stuck open so it wouldn't warm up, and thus replaced it. Never having done that before nor tested the bike in hot weather since, I now feel confident I got all the air out of the coolant and hoses attached correctly.

I have many theories, most of which I think are accurate. A couple of them relate to heat. For instance, I think that 'dry heat' is easier to handle than 'wet heat' not only because evaporation is much more effective, but also because you're not trying to inhale what feels like air 'thick' with moisture. However, it's different for vehicles (I think). When moist air flows over a radiator, the moisture in it can absorb more energy (heat) than dry air. Along those same lines, thinner air at higher altitudes is less dense, i.e. has fewer molecules, thus can't cool a radiator as effectively either.

Arches NP is a red slickrock/sandstone area with many interesting formations. Just check out the photos! Temperatures continued to soar around 100F. I wish I had more time to explore the area - there are several descriptions of interesting hiking trails.

Back at the visitor center I ran into two Seattle riders, one on a Road Star and the other a VTX 1800. I noticed that the VTX had tire-fly's screwed onto the valve-stem (it lights up and looks neat) and the additional weight was bending the stem, just like mine did. When I pointed this out to the owner and told him my story he promptly removed it. We talked a little about riding, road, etc. They asked if I came in on Hwy 70, I said No, Hwy 666. They rode off into the park enjoying their choice to not wear protective gear (other than sunscreen lotion).

At the Visitor’s Center I asked about which route to the interstate is better – 129 or 191? With no hesitation the ranger answered “128” so down 128 I went. A great road, it had little traffic and wound it’s way along the Colorado river though about 30 miles of canyon. It was very similar to the Yakima River Canyon in Washington, but tighter turns, more greenery, and darker cliffs. At the end of the canyon I passed by Castle Valley – which had more of the interesting rock formations I’ve been seeing all day.

Coming out of the canyon was like waking to a harsh reality after a pleasant dream. On the plateau the wind was merciless and the temperatures rose from low 90’s into the 100’s again. Nothing to do but grin and bear it. I got on I-70 and continued west. It was about 6:30pm with the sun still high in the sky when, at the intersection of I-70 ad Hwy 70, I stopped for gas as signs indicated this was the last gas for 110 miles. I also stopped at the local Holiday Inn Express to find out where the next one is, in case I don’t find a campground before dark. Also, if it remains significantly hot after dark I’m not camping in that heat. Turns out the next Holiday Inn is in Provo, UT and another in Heber City, close to Salt Lake City. Heber city sounds good – my GPS indicates 140 miles, and the desk clerk asked if I’m taking hwy 6 or hwy 70 there … GPS says Hwy 6, and doesn’t even show Hwy 70 [after getting home none of the online or paper maps I have shows Hwy 70 out of Green River], and he said that once you get into the mountains on hwy 6, about 25 miles, there are campgrounds. So I’m off!

Highway 6 is quite boring until Price. It passed through the desert, straight as an arrow, with the tan mountains on both sides. Looking to the east I wondered if I should have taken Hwy 70. No matter, eventually Hwy 6 passes Price and gets into the mountains. I pass a couple RV parks (where the ‘mobile’ homes have no wheels) and eventually see a sign for BLM land campground. Ok .. it’s getting dark, so I set off on that road. It quickly leaves the roads and winds its way up the mountainside in tight turns and blind, unmarked corners. There are no signs indicating how far it is to the campground, but it is paved. I remember a time Ron Ray Ken Don and I were in the woods near Detroit, OR, looking for a BLM campground at around midnight, but when we got there the gate was closed. Knowing that BLM camps close up at 10pm (as most do) and it’s getting close to 8:30 I need to decide to continue to look for this one or cut my losses and find another. Every minute I spent up in this wilderness looking for this campground was time lost finding another, if this was full. After several miles I reached a ‘T’ intersection and a sign pointed left to the campground – still no distance indicator. The pavement had run out too, so I decided to return to Hwy 6.

It was getting darker and colder and I streaked through the mountains. Once the sun had nearly set I realized that I had missed a turn. Huh? The GPS said “turn around” so I did, and three miles later, where there was supposed to be a Tie Fork road from here to Heber City (forty miles away), there was a shut down gas station and a narrow dirt road snaking it’s way up the mountainside. Tie Fork Road. Great. Screw that. I’ll take the long way around instead of riding 40 miles in the dark on unknown mountain roads. Adding more layers as it was getting down to the 60’s (and cleaning off the ever-increasing bugs on my helmet) I continued west on Hwy 6. Holiday Inn, here I come!

Sometime after dark I arrived in Provo, UT and guided myself to the closest Holiday Inn. Instead I get to Western Inn. Huh? GPS must be using old information. No matter, Western Inn would have been fine but don’t have the $55 military/Government rate like Holiday Inn so I’d be paying $90/night. No way, down the road, north on I-15, I go. Knowing that Holiday Inn Express has peanut butter, jelly and bread available all day, I know I won’t have to stop for dinner. They also have a decent continental breakfast, so that’s not a bad thing either. Holiday Inn has a full hot breakfast though, but Holiday Inn is $10-$15 more expensive than the Express and that can get a big breakfast anywhere else.

I did eventually find the next Holiday Inn, right next to a National 9 motel which advertised their rates as $43/night. But the HI looked a lot cleaner so I go in there. Unfortunately they only have smoker rooms available, at $70. I’ll sleep in a smoke HI room with full hot breakfast but not for $70 – maybe $45. But the manager wouldn’t deal with me so we called a couple locations further north to find out I’d have to travel another one hour to find a Holiday inn Express with a gov’t rate room available. I go across the street instead, and get a military discount so the cost with all taxes is $44. Plus they have continental breakfast with make-your-own-waffles! Woohoo! I get a room (more like a small apartment) on the second floor. The stairs near the room are broken so I have to lug my stuff the long way around. At least the room was clean and quiet, and the stove allowed me to whip up some oatmeal for dinner. Ah. Sleep.

Day 14: Colorado

In the morning I felt refreshed. Either my fatigue from the night before was just exhaustion or I had actually an infection of sorts. No matter - breakfast and coffee and packing and I was on the road again.

I decided to skip Rock Mountain National Park because it was too far north in the state, and continued west to Durango and the San Juan mountains. This way I'd get some riding done in Colorado without spending the time crisscrossing the state. I'd be home on Saturday, instead of Sunday, and would have time to take the backroads most of the way.

Getting to Durango wasn't very memorable. The elevation stayed high, above 7500 feet, and the roads, hwy 160 and 151, had a lot of construction. I think I spent about an hour in construction delays getting to Durango. Just outside of Durango I found Becky's Café and ordered up some Granola and Nut Pancakes. Interesting combination ... I should try to make my own someday, perhaps with whole wheat pancakes instead.Durango is in a dry, very warm, part of the state. There's lots of traffic there too, so I was glad to have gotten through it and continued on my way north on Hwy 550, the so-called Million Dollar Highway. Well, let me tell you, if they spent a million bucks on this road, they got ripped off. Sure, the scenery is awesome as it climbs through the mountains, and over several 10,000+ feet mountain passes, but the road quality is rather poor. The pavement is potholed and tar-snaked, requiring more attention be paid to the road and less to the scenery. Too bad, because the scenery was breathtaking!
The VFR's performance was now suffering from three issues. It had always run slightly lean at sea level, due to government regulations and the exhaust system I haven't properly repacked. The higher altitude, and the thinner air, multiplied that effect. Finally, the weight of the camping gear, not only changing the center of gravity because I'm carrying it so high, is degrading performance too. The net result is that I need to keep the RPM's above 7000 for any significant acceleration to occur. It feels like I'm missing about 30% of the motor. This makes it difficult to pass cars, especially since hwy 550 has quite a bit of it.
After Ouray I took 62 to 145 and headed towards Telluride. Somehow, in Ouray, I managed to avoid a speed trap. Entering towns I usually slow to the limit and stay there. This time was no different, and quickly saw a member of the local constabulatory sitting there. On the other side of town was his compatriot, who pulled over the two vehicles in front of me. Whew.
The road to Telluride was very nice. Less traffic and smooth pavement with continued awesome views of snowcapped mountains entertained me the whole way. Telluride itself is nestled at the base of the mountains and is, for a lack of a better word, beautiful. The streets were lined with all those little cute shops women go nuts over. And for some reason there were a lot of teenagers here. All I wanted was a cup of coffee, and it took two passes down main street before I found one. While the coffee was good, the shop it reeked of anti-establishment liberalism. Every book on display denounced President Bush on some way. This felt more like California than Colorado.

Back on the road again, 145 to Dolores was wonderful, although the speed limits were a bit retarded. It's the old "set the statutory limit 5mph higher than the recommended speed" crap. Oregon has it's own retardedness - while we have high legal speeds in slow corners, our speeds on interstates never exceed 65 and local roads, even in the deserts, don't exceed 55mph. But the riding is good, no question about that.

The only downfall is that Colorado has a bug problem. Every time I stop to get gas, I need to clean my helmet visor. It's sort of irritating.About 15 miles north of Dolores I found a great little campsite - for $15 I got a secluded site right on the river, showers, pay-phone and fresh drinking water. I slept like a baby, despite the 8000 foot elevation and 45F lows.