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.
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