Nova Scotia on a Ninja - Summer of 2009

Jul 03 – Home – The last day’s ride

2009-07-04T11:30:00.000-07:00

Bend, OR was awash with sunshine this morning, the air was crisp, maybe even a little cold but it was beautiful out just the same. Today would be my last day on this ride and I was grateful our infamous Oregon rain stayed away.

I woke early around 5:00am and was on the road shortly thereafter. My first stop was for gas and a squeaky-clean Shell station beckoned. In Oregon as in New Jersey we’re not allowed to pump our own gas; it’s always been that way and no one seems to know why we’re holding out on this issue. Oddly, if you’re riding a bike the attendant swipes your credit card, selects the grade you want, and then hands you the hose so you can fill it yourself. “Wouldn’t want to spill gas on your tank” is the most common statement given. I’ve been told we cling to this outmoded way as it provides jobs for several thousand people and maybe that’s so but it’s still a pain in the butt for most of us.

In this instance the attendant commented on the thick layer of bugs on El Nino and then asked “How far ya riding?” “I’m heading home to Bandon, it’s on the coast south of Coos Bay” I replied. “How far’s that?” he asked. “Oh, around 250 miles” I replied. “Damn, that’s a helluva long ride!” he said. I agreed, it’s a helluva long ride. I didn’t bother to go any further with this line of talk; it was time to roll out. Besides, I could hear the big golden arches calling to me…

After breakfast I paused on the highway south of town to take in the view of the Three Sisters range of mountains. Bend and its environs are a Mecca for winter sports buffs; folks come from all over the country to ski and play in the snow. A direct result of that popularity has been the understandable increase in population and its subsequent big-city issues, some of which are not so good. A few of the locals have made it clear what might happen to anyone of a criminal bent as illustrated by the sign seen along the south highway. There was a religious message on the opposite side. Go figure.

My riding outfit this morning had consisted of the Bohn Armor outfit, the top worn by itself and the bottoms worn under jeans. After 15 minutes of riding I realized I’d freeze to death if I didn’t bulk up a bit more so I stopped and put on the Draggin Jeans Kevlar shirt, another concession I’d made to safety issues. It’s a mesh type material like the Bohn product and it didn’t take too long for me to realize that wearing two such outfits still doesn’t provide much in the way of warmth. Stopping again I dug out my electric vest and plugged in. Ah, very nice I thought I thought as the heated material rose to its max setting. That was fine for a few more miles and then the stiff cold breeze flowing down through the open neck of all three layers gave me reason for one final stop, this time to put on my neck gaiter. At that point I figured enough already, no more stops or at this rate I won’t make it home today.

The route I had chosen led me along the highway towards Crater Lake and when I came to the turnoff I thought I’d drop in and shoot a few pics. I hadn’t been there for many years and I was curious about the changes made to the park. As I approached the gate the sign with the entrance fees jumped out at me like a lightning bolt: $10.00 per vehicle just to drive through and take pictures! Bummer, no way Jose, I’ll pass on that one, let the tourists take the hit. Barely slowing I did what I thought of as a well executed U-turn and got the hell out of there, wallet intact and more than a little disgruntled. After a lifetime of footing the tax bill for parks like these I feel I and all the others in my age group should be allowed free access. Maybe someday that will occur. Right after Santa brings me the pony I’ve been waiting for.

After that enlightening experience I followed what is known as the Rogue-Umpqua scenic route through the mountains, reveling in the clean air and scent of pine trees. Along the way I turned into the viewpoint overlooking Diamond Lake and the two volcanoes resting silently, Mt Thielson and Mt Bailey. Both long extinct; they remain part of the “ring of fire” located along the Pacific rim just waiting to be called up to active duty. Memories of Mt St Helens came to mind and I’d as soon not witness anything like that again. Rock formations along the Rogue-Umpqua route are incredible and it wasn’t easy to resist taking hundreds of photos. This simply has to be one of the most beautiful routes anywhere and if you’re ever in the area be sure to take time to see it.

As I continued down the mountains into the valleys where Roseburg is located the temperature began to climb. On the eastern edge of the town I stopped in the parking lot of a Chinese restaurant and shed the vest and Kevlar shirt. It felt like it was going to be a scorcher which is not unusual for this part of the state.

After working the I-5 slab for a few miles south I exited and headed west on Highway 42 towards Bandon, a distance of around 93 miles to my home. Leaving the freeway you soon come to Winston, a small town that’s home to one of those Safari parks where you can get eaten by lions, etc. I haven’t been there yet as a similar one is located close enough to our home that we can hear the animals. Sometimes it's a bit like living next to Jurasic Park...

Heading west there’s a small settlement located around 10 miles down the road that’s aptly named Ten Mile. Clever, huh? The TenMile grocery store has become one of my regular stops whenever I ride through the area and today I figured it would be mandatory; I needed a candy bar fix before continuing on. While there I met another rider on the cleanest BMW I’d seen in ages. We talked about our diverse approach to bike selections and how they suited our individual needs. When I mentioned riding to Alaska on the Ninja he agreed it was a good choice given the low center of gravity and light weight. I asked if he’d thought about riding there and although he’d like to do it someday he figured it would be on a dual-purpose bike. Smart thinking I thought, no use beating your bimmer to death on the rough Alaskan roads.

The ride through the countryside continued and I made one more stop before home. There’s a small BLM park located on Bear Creek Frontage road and I wanted to take a photo of the camp’s bridge. I haven’t stayed there yet but expect to sometime; it’s one of the few remaining places you can stay at free which has great appeal to me. It’s on the small side with just a handful of campsites and I doubt many people are aware of its location, just my kind of place.

As I approached the coastal area the temperature once again began to drop and rather than spend the next half hour uncomfortably cool I paused long enough to put my vest back on. It was a good call, today the Pacific Ocean breezes were making sweaters and wind breakers mandatory and that was for those who were just walking. As I passed through our small town of Bandon I didn’t see a single T-shirt wearing rider anywhere and I felt a bit smug for having my electric vest on. My ride was now down to less than 8 miles which passed quickly; I arrived home safely and without much fanfare. Both the dogs and even Linda remembered me and came to the gate to greet me. I was a bit surprised about the dogs as they sometimes exhibit a convenient memory loss given the opportunity to bark. Bark they did but it was more of a “Where the heck have you been?” version rather than the more menacing one reserved for strangers.

The ride to Nova Scotia was filled with lots of great moments and other than a few weather issues it couldn’t have been better. According to my odometer I covered nearly 11,000 miles and if you add to that the 600 mile false start to central Oregon it was more. El Nino performed flawlessly and my thanks go out to the people at Kawasaki for designing and building what has to be one of the most bulletproof bikes in existence. I’ve got a few maintenance things to do but then that’s to be expected on a bike that now has over 20,000 miles on the clock. I couldn’t be more satisfied, Kudos to Kawasaki!

This might also be a good time to express my thanks to all of you who have followed this blog and especially those who offered me their company and provided places for me to stay. It would have been a lot less enjoyable had you not done so and I will cherish those times; old friends and new friends alike, you were great to listen to and be with.

So what’s next? I’m glad to be home and looking forward to catching up on the homebody things that need to be done around here. This year’s journey is over but soon it will be time to start planning for the next ride to who knows where.

Stay tuned…

Jul 2 – Welcome to Oregon! Sonofagun, I’m almost home...

2009-07-02T19:59:00.000-07:00

What a terrific day today turned out to be. The sun was smiling on Gooding and the little Idaho town looked neat as a pin. I gambled on the breakfast special next door recalling their meatloaf hadn’t killed me last night and here I am alive it seems.

As I was leaving town I realized I hadn’t reset the bike’s digital clock and I’d been running an hour earlier than what I’d thought. That was a particularly pleasant surprise since it meant I wasn’t being as lazy as I’d thought. It also meant today would be 25 hours long. Neat, huh?

Garmin & Company ran me westward on the I-84 slab and for a change I actually enjoyed it. The truck traffic seemed lighter than usual and the few I encountered were obeying the truck speed laws. The rest of the automotive traffic was moderate and for the most part moving along in an orderly manner. I began to wonder if there was something amiss, like maybe I was dead and didn’t know it? The theme music from the Twilight Zone played in my subconscious and I waited for Rod to announce that awful conclusion. Such was not the case however, it was just one of those rare occurrences where everything works as it should and I enjoyed it greatly.

Crossing the Snake River into Oregon was pleasant as could be but I missed the Welcome to Oregon sign and had to ride back for the photo. I parked on the shoulder next to one of those “Emergency Parking Only” signs and climbed over the railing to hike back and do the pic. As it happens our state hasn’t seen fit to splurge on a really interesting sign like so many others have so we probably look a bit frugal to visitors. Following that sign however, there’s an interesting artsy sort of thing attached to one of the overpasses and I attempted to take photos of it too. Sadly my photography skills leave a lot to be desired and they all turned out crappy. I’ll include one just for grins, eh?

A couple of miles after crossing the state line I turned south onto highway 201 past the little town of Cairo, one I’d never even heard of. From the looks of things most of the farmers are busy growing green onions as there were acres and acres of them under cultivation. And I thought they came from Mexico…

Once beyond Cairo I turned onto Highway 20 which I would follow for miles as it meandered through scenic valleys along the Malheur River. Eventually it assumed a dual role as Highway 385, something I’ve yet to fathom but it doesn’t matter as the road was twisty and lightly traveled, as perfect as it gets. El Nino evidently remains unaffected by her shut-down outside of Casper the other day and continues to run 100%. I’d knock on something wood if such were available but in this plastic motel it’s not likely to happen.

Lunch was later than usual as I wasn’t particularly hungry but I stopped anyway. One of the things that occurs daily is I pass someone or several someone’s who are driving slooowww and then I stop to take pictures. Back on the road I pass the same people again who probably wonder what I’m doing and by the third time it happens I expect some of them begin to get irritated. That’s why I made the stop at Fast Eddies, home of the flaming gut burners. Their claim to fame is probably well deserved but I avoided it by sticking with simple food stuff and not eating all of the French fries.

The sole waitress was outside having a smoke and when it appeared she might be awhile one of the local lady patrons took pity and waited on me. She took my sandwich order and even brought me my diet Pepsi. The waitress showed up later just to see if things were up to par and perhaps encourage a gratuity but by then I was mentally down the road and not paying attention. What can I say?

As I continued west the topography gradually evolved into Oregon’s high desert and I was overwhelmed with the wonderful aromas of pine trees and blooming sagebrush warmed by the sun. Somewhere in the neighborhood of 25 miles east of Bend I came upon the old Millican Store, now defunct and up for sale. It’s in a sad state and vandals have been at it breaking out windows and destroying as much of it as possible. I shot a few pics of it and moved on. As the song says, “Another piece of America’s gone.” Too bad for us.

Arriving in Bend around 4:30pm I decided to spend the night rather than push the remaining 250 miles for home. Besides, Motel 6 was calling my name which I have yet to ignore and just up the road a few blocks was Bend’s very own Hardy’s cafe. Hardy’s is a tiny place focusing on burgers and spicy-hot chicken wings. The latter, aka Fiery Buffalo Wings, are apparently a gourmet item prized by the more adventurous folks of Bend. As part of Hardy’s marketing strategy they conduct an on-going contest to determine how many hot wings can be consumed in less than 10 minutes (or something like that), you probably get the idea. You have to be 18 or older to enter which should tell you all you need to know about the health risks involved. I elected to pass on the contest and ordered a sampling of their regular wings plus a Chef’s salad just to see how my innards might react to regular food. Back at the motel I discovered it’s possible to consume an entire container of food without realizing it while typing a blog report.

Is that what they call multi-tasking?

The Grand Teton range and Gooding, Idaho

2009-07-01T19:46:00.000-07:00

Boy I'm so pooped I think I'll just post a few of today's pics and call it good. No pun intended but I'm holed up in the little Idaho town of Gooding...

The ride getting here was long and arduous, just under 500 miles via too many back roads methinks. I now believe all of Idaho and half of the folks in western Wyoming are employed tearing up the highways, back roads or not. I spent what seemed like hours sitting at construction sites waiting and waiting and waiting. Then there were the detours, none of which Messrs Garmin approved of so I was constantly being redirected back to the non-accessible route.

Finally in desperation I programmed a direct route without any back road stops and that seemed to do the trick, at least for Garmin & Co. For me it meant getting back on the slab and hurtling along at breakneck speed towards my western goal of Mountain Home, ID. I may not go there after all.

The Craters of the Moon whizzed by but my interest level had waned to zip as I desired only to park for the day and not oggle old lava beds. One day if I'm in the area again I may have a closer look but for now I'll settle with the buzzy blurry one I got this afternoon.

Very late in the day, around 7:30pm Gooding, ID loomed in the distance and I elected to stay at the only motel with a vacancy left, The Lincoln Inn. It's not the sort of place I'd stay at given other options but I was too damn tired and didn't want to ride any further. Besides, they operate a restaurant next door and the meatloaf was fine. So was the gravy.

Jun 30 – It was a very strange day today Todo...

2009-06-30T20:40:00.000-07:00

This morning I got an early start for some reason or other; doesn’t matter but I was on the road by 8:30am local time and headed north on highway 385. Alongside the highway there were more trains hauling coal than I’ve ever seen before. Maybe it’s because there are lots of coal mines in the area?

The weather was as good as it gets; bright sunshine, moderate temperature not too hot, not too cold and very little breeze. I’m still wearing the Bohn outfit and my odd suntan/sunburn patterns are becoming more intense each day. I think I may have to fabricate some cock and bull story about being captured by rogue Hindus and tortured with firebrands or something…

Nebraska has quite a lot of historic places marked with sign posts so I’ve gotten into the habit of stopping to read them. The general mix is split between cattle drives and gold rush trails plus a lot of Indian skirmishes tossed in for good measure. I like what the state has done plus a lot of extra information has been posted by the DAR organization. All told it makes it easy for the tourist to learn a lot about the local history as you go along.

An abandoned church (I think) called out to me and I spent awhile going through it. Although the doors and windows were open I was surprised to find an upright piano still in place on the raised stage. Birds roosting in the rafters above have pretty well ensured the veneer is done but it makes for an interesting photo op.

Cowboys were out working their cattle herds and I paused to watch them awhile. Their cutting horses did most of the work and it was fun to see them react to any strays that happened to challenge them. It would be a momentary stand-off but the cattle always gave in and headed off in the direction they were supposed to. I liked the whole idea of what I was seeing; it’s great that part of our western heritage is still alive and well.

Moving on I enjoyed the solitude of western Nebraska’s open rolling highway system; posted at 65 mph I was able to cruise much faster without having to deal with the usual truck traffic. Maybe it was the out of the way route I was following but it was pretty darn nice. Ultimately I crested a hill and half way down, maybe a distance of a mile or so I noticed a small contingency of vehicles parked alongside the road. I throttled back to the legal limit just in time to recognize two of Nebraska’s finest were flagging vehicles over for a safety equipment inspection. I obliged and El Nino passed with flying colors.

Next I came to Crawford which was one of my way points and I toured the little town from one end to the other. It’s a neat place full of old west charm and the assorted fringe element citizens just like we have at home. Some of the signs were pretty entertaining so I took a few photos of them. My GPS has this odd quirk about it that once I’m into a way-point it seems to want to run me around and around the same circle until I ignore its instructions and break out on my own. Very strange thing indeed but I can live with it I guess.

After leaving Crawford I moved on to Lusk where I stopped for lunch at a café claiming to have “The best food in Wyoming”. Why do I get sucked into these things? The requisite hamburger I had was truly good, served up with a tiny bag of Lay’s Original Chips and black coffee. I’d rate the burger as very good albeit they left out the barbeque sauce which was why I’d ordered that particular version. The coffee was average restaurant fare and what’s to be said about a bag of chips? At $12.59 I doubt my old friends at the golden arches are quaking in their boots much but it was a nice lunch and the owners were friendly people.
Gassed up and back on the road to Casper I once more enjoyed a fair amount of solitude for a long distance. Then I hit Casper and that’s when my day started to get really weird. The city didn’t do much for me compared to other areas; it seemed stretched out in all directions seemingly without purpose or thought as to form or function and it was not a tidy place. Point in fact I found nothing attractive about it at all and I’m sad to say that as I like the people of Wyoming very much.

As I was leaving the general metro area I noticed what I thought to be a large whirlwind funneling down off towards the east a ways but when I got to where I could see better it was gone. The sky had darkened somewhat and the cloud structure was beginning to look a bit ominous so I expected either rain or more high winds. I got the latter just out of town; the air seemed charged with electricity and El Nino suddenly gave a severe jerk like I’d turned the key off and back on. Before I could react it happened again and this time it was a done deal, her fire had gone out and I was forced to pull off the road and park. I looked her over and could see no obvious issues and then I noticed the GPS had gone into a lockup format. All of its keys were dead including the off/on button. I tried all the tricks I knew to cajole it back into a normal operating mode but no luck, it was a done deal. El Nino however started right up and appeared to have suffered no ill effects at all; it was as though nothing had happened. I couldn’t guess what had occurred but I suspected there had been an electrical disturbance that had affected the electronics of both bike and GPS.

There are times when a solo rider has to decide whether to push on or fall back and regroup and I decided since the bike seemed alright I’d go on. I hadn’t the foggiest as to what the problem was; I’d seen similar things occur when the air filter had clogged on my Aprilia but I didn’t think this was the case, the filter was new and I hadn’t been riding in extreme dusty conditions.

Moving on westward I soon encountered the most violent cross winds of my ride so far, it actually became unnerving to continue but nothing would be gained by stopping. My only option was to ride slower and hope to find my way out of the area. Cars and trucks coming at me were swerving off the road and obviously having as difficult a time as I was. There didn’t seem to be any other traffic moving in my direction at all and I began to wonder if I was heading into an area of more violent weather. The severe winds continued for another hour or so until I must have reached the outer edge of their range and then things began to settle down to normal. I was thankful as it had been nerve racking to ride in those conditions but there was nothing to be done about it except go on.

Eventually I came to a rest stop and pulled over for a stretch and a drink of water. While there I met another rider from Michigan who had come the same way as I and although he had struggled with the winds he hadn’t experienced any issues with his electronics. His GPS mounting bracket had vibrated hard enough to break so he was carrying it in his jacket pocket but that was the extent of his damage.

I stayed long enough to look the bike over and tried to reboot the GPS but unfortunately couldn’t remember how to do it. Rather than risk screwing something up tinkering around I elected to run without the benefit of it and set out once again. Within a few miles the dreaded fuel reserve light came on and without the GPS I hadn’t a clue how many miles I’d traveled on that tank of gas. I knew I had around 35 miles on reserve but no idea how far it was to the next town wherever that might be. Eventually a signpost declared Shoshoni to be 28 miles away and given I’d already traveled 5 miles on reserve I knew it would be close. As luck would have it a slow moving group of trucks was holding a lot of cars up and the lower speed meant reduced fuel consumption.

As our group of vehicles approached Shoshoni there appeared to be an unusual dense cloud of dust whirling on the edge of town. The closer our group came the more intense it became and soon we were engulfed in high whirling wind gusts and rain splatters. Having no choice I rode through the middle of it and as soon as I cleared it I spotted the welcome sign of a Shell station. I pulled in without hesitation, whirlwind or not and parked the bike hoping the power was on and the pumps operative. By the time I dismounted the whirlwind had dispersed as suddenly as it had appeared and all that remained was a small cloud of dust particles falling on us. Grateful for not having to push her I pumped El Nino full to the gills with Shell’s finest and rejoined the fracas on route 26.

That was about as much excitement as I needed for the day and I pushed on to my ultimate destination of Riverton where I would spend the night. After splurging for a salmon dinner at the restaurant a few blocks away I returned to the Comfort Inn where I was staying and settled in. The good news for the night is the Garmin web site had posted a solution to the problem I was experiencing and my GPS is once again functioning.

Now if only El Nino behaves…

Jun 29 – The North Platte Canteen

2009-06-29T17:53:00.000-07:00

Riding out of Broken Bow this morning I stopped by the post office to mail a few post cards and noticed many of the neighborhood streets were made of red bricks. I’d seen this same thing in a few other towns and regarded it as a genuine luxury. Homes and streets constructed of bricks seem to be the norm in many places but not in the Pacific Northwest; we’re a bunch of tree farmers and that means homes are made of wood and streets are paved with asphalt. Bricks, for whatever reason are expensive and rarely used for anything other than an accent trim on our homes. Why is that I wonder?

I arrived in North Platte mid-morning ready to visit the North Platte Canteen or whatever was left of it. Not knowing where it was located I popped into the main library and soon had two elderly ladies busy bringing me up to date on it. They told me its building had been torn down more than 20 years ago as it was on railroad property and no one had wanted to save it as a landmark. How sad that is but at least many of the original fixtures were saved and are now part of a diorama depicting the canteen as it was in the 40’s during WWII. Located in the Lincoln County Historical Museum, it shares space with hundreds of artifacts garnered from all over the area ranging from arrowhead collections to automobiles, farm equipment, livestock dioramas, restored homes, cabins, barns, a church, one-room school house, barber shop; even a railroad station complete with caboose. All of this took most of my morning to see but it was worth it, especially the Canteen.

After a quick lunch at Burger King (groan) I set out for my next destination, Lusk, Wyoming. I chose Lusk because it’s located on highway 20 allows me to ride at a bit more leisurely pace. Today’s afternoon ride was mainly on US 80 with its 75mph speed limit. As you might expect most travelers up the ante by 5-10mph and after a hundred miles at that rate I was more than ready for a slower pace. Highway 385 runs north from Sydney through Bridgeport to Alliance and the reduced speed limit of 65mph was a welcome change. The traffic volume on 385 also fell way off which made for a much more relaxing ride.

I stopped for photos in a couple of places, one a grain elevator system and a few miles after that I noticed the sky to the west had turned an ugly black. I pulled off the road to watch the cloud activity in the distance and it looked like there might be tornado funnels beginning to form. Just what I need I thought and since there was nowhere for me to hole up I scooted out of there in a big hurry. With a total disregard for the posted speed limit I might add, and in another hour I was well beyond the nastier looking thunderheads. Rain had started to fall in a couple of places but when I looked directly up I could see I was on the outer fringe of the clouds so I rode on without stopping to put Big Red on. Besides it was too damn hot and I’d rather be wet from a little rain than sweltering inside the suit.

BTW, if you look directly up while traveling 80mph on a motorcycle your butt sends weird messages to your brain. Sort of the same thing as hanging partially out of a 6th story window; very strange how that works. But I digress; this may be more observational material than you wish to know so I’ll move on.

The miles passed quickly and I arrived in Alliance where I decided to spend the night. Another Days Inn with a Chinese Buffet place within two blocks fulfilled my basic requirements making me a happy camper. Once again I’m stuffed to the gizzard with Chinese grub and feeling bloated. I wonder how much adjustment is left in Big Red’s waist line…

Jun 28 – If this isn’t Kansas Todo it must be Nebraska!!

2009-06-28T18:05:00.000-07:00

Crossing over into Nebraska this morning I knew I was going to like this state. There just seems to be something about the way it feels, like the history of the place is just around the corner. Indian lore, open plains alive with tall grass, cattle ranches and endless fields of corn and soybeans overcome the senses. It’s easy to imagine harsh winters on the plains or vast herds of buffalo being hunted to extinction for their hides. And the Indians, hah! They’re out there somewhere just waiting for an old biker geezer to slip up just one time too many…
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I rode the back roads again, taking my time and wandering through small towns and villages, stopping for photo ops or just to look at things. One of the towns was Spalding and for all practical purposes it was closed, today being Sunday and all. That’s how the town I grew up in was, roll up the sidewalks promptly at 6:00pm sharp and don’t open on Sundays. Road signs and old barns continue to intrigue me, they say so much about the people who live in a place. I’ve also been feeling a bit down for the cattle waiting in the feeder lots for their turn to be slaughtered. There’s not much to be said about it though, we’re meat eaters by nature and will probably always be so. I don’t think I’m ready to become a veggie but maybe someday I’ll have a go at it, maybe limit myself to just eating fish and bi-valves and plants. Tofu too? Nah…
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This afternoon I rode into Broken Bow and as I was riding through town I spotted a nice looking motel without many cars in front of it. I’d planned on riding all the way to North Platte tonight and since it’s only another 75 miles it would have been easy but I decided I’d wait until morning. This is a nice place and although they recommended a restaurant where I had a truly DRY hamburger I’ll forgive them. There’s probably enough hamburger fat floating around in my system by now it’s a wonder any blood is getting through. Maybe I’ll try a garden burger sometime.
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Tonight I met a couple who are also staying here and they’ve been riding around on their Harley quite a lot. They’ve managed to put 20K miles on it in the two years they’ve had it which must be some kind of record. He claims the bike’s been absolutely reliable without any problems whatsoever. I wonder if the Harley folks know about his bike? Plus he doesn’t even have a huge beer gut.
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Methinks there’s something fishy here...

Jun 27 – Cedar Rapids to Missouri Valley, Iowa

2009-06-27T21:40:00.000-07:00

Last year when Mac and I were preparing for our ride to Prudhoe Bay a devastating flood engulfed downtown Cedar Rapids and more than 10 square miles of surrounding property. This morning he drove me through the hardest hit areas where many of the homes remain unoccupied or abandoned. I recalled our trip was postponed by a couple of weeks because his new Ural sidecar rig was inaccessible due to high water. The floods of 2008 were declared the fifth largest state disaster in US history and it’s still possible to see why. What a tragedy that was, but as you drive through the area you’ll see lots of people working on their homes as they continue the rebuilding process.

After that we returned to Mac & Lisa’s place where we said our goodbyes and El Nino and I set out towards North Platte. A lot of today’s ride was difficult due to heavy cross winds and as a result I didn’t stop for many photos. My travel was generally on highways surrounded on both sides by rolling green fields of corn and soy beans, signs of prosperity in a land that has suffered its share of losses.
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As I was leaving my lunch stop I was asked by an elderly lady where all the motorcycles were going today, seems she had noticed an unusually high number heading towards Cedar Rapids. I’m afraid I wasn’t much help as I didn’t have a clue but I proffered that she should avoid contact with bikers as much as possible, especially those who travel in groups. Am I gallant or what?
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Around 2:30pm I felt the first unwelcome splat of rain and decided I’d better climb into Big Red before it got nasty. The sky towards the west had been darkening for the past couple of hours and I fully expected I’d get wet before the day was over. Spotting an abandoned service station parking lot I pulled over and did my usual gear change, then got back on the road. It sprinkled lightly for maybe 2 minutes and that was it for the day. I love riding around in Big Red when it’s warm out, it's so, uh, sauna-like.
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The late afternoon found me in a town I’d never heard of, Missouri Valley, still in the state of Iowa but very close to the Nebraska border. Keeping an eye out for a decent looking motel I came across the nearly new Oak Tree Inn next to Penny’s Diner. To register you have to go to the diner which I did and checked in for the night. It’s the first one of this chain I’ve stayed in and I like their concept, they cater to the railroad crews so when you stay here they give you a voucher for breakfast at Penny’s. I ate dinner there – hot roast beef sandwich, mashed potatoes, GRAVY, followed by a slab of apple pie, and ice cream. Brrrap…
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I’ve got to get this food thing under control a little better, maybe I should take up a hobby or something?

Maybe I'll trim my toe nails...

Jun 26 – Phone Batteries & The National Motorcycle Museum

2009-06-26T16:12:00.000-07:00

Some of you may recall my cell phone battery went south after the beating it took in New Brunswick’s crazy rain storm. Since then I’ve been asking nearly every store about replacements but until today I’d had zero luck finding one. Mac knew about an outfit by the name of BatteriesPlus not far from his home so we drove to it and they installed a new one. The sales gal said to let it charge for 8 hours or so and I’m hoping it will do the trick. As I write this it’s been on the charger for nearly 4 hours yet still displays the message that says it needs charging… Guess it’s back to the store first thing in the morning. Bummer!
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Mac had wanted me to see the National Motorcycle Museum which is close by so off we went; me with my camera in hand and Mac patiently waiting while I took shot after shot. It’s really a great place, two floors of older bikes of all types ranging in age from modern bikes to many going back to the turn of last century. There are street bikes, racing bikes, streamliners, dirt bikes, sidecar rigs, even motor scooters plus tons of collectable items like posters and clothing items. Some of the most interesting ones were celebrity bikes that were owned by Steve McQueen and Evel Knievel. Movie star bikes like the Easy Rider chopper were also present. We were there a long time but it would probably take a couple of days to see it all. If you’re ever in Anamosa, Iowa and love bikes be sure to add this place to your list of things to see.
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After we left the museum we headed over to Joe O’Conner’s for a visit. Joe had ridden with Mac when he came to meet me in Bellingham for our Alaska ride last year. He was home dog-sitting his granddaughter’s fuzzy-faced little yapper, one of those hyperactive small breeds that are a ball of energy. I liked him a lot but he made Joe nervous with his running and jumping so he ended up in his crate. Poor baby. At least the weather is still very warm but not hot like it’s been for the past couple of days and it’s a welcome change.
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I’m heading out tomorrow in a westward direction, again meandering to my next destination, North Platte, NE. A couple of years ago Linda and I listened to an audio book about the role women played in the North Platte USO during World War II. Later we watched a special presentation on TV about the very same USO organization and now I find myself directly in line with that city. At the rate I travel it will probably take me a couple of days to get there but I’m very keen on seeing it. If you’ve never heard about it here’s a link you can follow for more information. It was a wonderful group of people, both men and women who worked the train stop USO club and eventually helped thousands of servicemen feel better. http://history.sandiego.edu/GEN/WW2Timeline/canteen.html
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Lisa fixed us another tasty dinner this evening so we’re all stuffed and kicked back relaxing. The chain on El Nino has been oiled, the GPS route for tomorrow has been programmed, and things couldn’t be looking better.

I even have new socks!

Jun 25 - The Great Hot Ride to Robins, Iowa

2009-06-25T20:54:00.000-07:00

Knoxville is the home of the National Sprint Car Hall of Fame and I was a happy camper to find it was open this morning. I was the first visitor so I had the entire place to myself for a couple of hours.

I’ve only been to one World of Outlaws race but it was one of the most exciting events I’ve ever seen. The noise and speed coupled with dirt flying everywhere gets your heart pumping like no other kind of racing.

After touring the museum I set out for Robins via as many small towns & back roads as possible. Places like Tama and Palo which barely make it onto the map offer intriguing sites and small restaurants for the casual traveler to sample. Cows were seen standing hip deep in river water in an attempt to beat the scorching sun. I wouldn’t have minded joining them. Old barns and bridges are one of my favorite subjects for photos and little towns provide lots of opportunities. Farm lands like Iowa cornfields are another. Small town main streets are always interesting too, you can’t help wondering what keeps some of them going.
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Riding out of Palo I came to a road closed sign and that really threw a wrench into Garmin’s sense of directions. After spending the better part of an hour riding in endless circles trying to find an alternate route I found myself parked in front of the road closed sign again wondering what to do. Another rider soon showed up, a local guy on a sports bike and he stopped to talk.

We were thinking about riding around the barrier when all of a sudden a guy in a pickup drives through from the other side. He yelled at us that we could make it if we wanted to as they were only paving the road and no one was working right then. He’d no sooner left when a young gal came blazing through from the same way only instead of driving around the orange barrier she went over the top on one end, hooked up part of it on her bumper and was dragging it towards us as she sped by. We both yelled at her but she just gave us an evil look and kept going full speed ahead. Lucky for us the barrier detached itself a few feet from us. We decided it was time to make the run so off we went.

I’d only ridden a short distance when I became aware of a certain inability to focus and realized I was still wearing the reading glasses I’d donned to look at my map. Duh… With my sunglasses on I returned to the business of finding Robins. The GPS was still confused and I soon found myself in a huge nameless metro area. Stopping for a moment to reorganize I asked one of the locals where I was. You get some very strange looks sometimes when you ask that sort of thing. “Cedar Rapids” he said. OK I thought; I can do this so I set up a new trip on the GPS with Mac & Lisa’s address as the destination.

With only a couple of minor hitches it got me to their street but not their house. Seems that when the addresses and street names were established whoever does those things must have been in a joking mood. It’s one of those “you can’t get there from here” moments but eventually with lots of riding through different neighborhoods I found them. "You can run but you can't hide" came to mind.

Dang was I ever hot and sweaty. Dehydration is always an issue when temps run above 80 so I carry a couple of bottles of water with me. That paid double dividends today, without them I’d have really cooked.

After brief greetings I headed to the shower for a quick rinse off and then it was time for a long overdue G&T with lots of ice. Mac had been expecting me to arrive yesterday and had laid in an ample supply of all the right stuff. What a deal for me, friends like these two are the best. Lisa fixed a great dinner, pot roast, potatoes, carrots, onions, the works. This is what I call comfort food and after all the Big Macs I’d had lately it was most welcome fare. We sat around afterwards nibbling on ice cream with fresh strawberries and caught up on what we’ve been up too recently. I like these guys.

Tomorrow it’s supposed to be hot again.

Jun 24 - Missouri back roads to Knoxville, Iowa

2009-06-24T19:48:00.000-07:00

Last night was almost too exciting for David, Noah, and I. David and I were standing in his kitchen talking and I noticed what I thought were lightning flashes going off. I mentioned it to him but he thought I was probably seeing lightning bugs which made sense at the time. A few minutes later he saw the flashes too and we stepped out onto his front porch for a look. It had started raining so hard it was difficult to see, huge torrents falling nearly straight down on his car. The lightning was distant at the moment but we could see it getting brighter. This was a little before 10:00pm and since our day had been a long one we decided to cave in and go to bed.
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David was letting me use his bedroom on the main floor and he was bunking with Noah downstairs. As I lay in bed I began to count the seconds between lightning flashes and they averaged around 2 seconds. Think about it, the lightning flashes, not the thunder. They seemed to be getting closer and more violent by the minute and before long they were hitting not far away. Just about the time I thought I might close the drapes to the patio a huge bolt hit one of the poplar trees in the backyard peeling the bark off of it from the top to the bottom. This was a substantial tree, not some little wussy thing and I was looking directly at it when it happened. Sparks of lightning went everywhere accompanied with flying bark and a small fire struggled to ignite part of it. The heavy rain prevented any real fire from starting but it was pretty scary to see.

Both David and Noah came running upstairs to see what had happened so we all gathered at the patio door to look. The storm continued and since the tree looked like it wasn’t going to come down we went back to bed. I lay there listening and watching for awhile longer, then closed the drapes and called it a day again. Within an hour or so the storm had moved on without further damage.
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This morning David and I had breakfast at The Corner Café near his home and afterwards we said our goodbyes and I headed north towards Iowa. The sun was out and it was a gorgeous day for riding. My route took me through more back roads and small villages, avoiding the big freeways as much as possible. When I spotted something interesting or unusual I stopped for photos and I’ve posted a few of them above. The camels really caught my eye and after doing a double take I U-turned and headed back for a shot of them. It was very strange to be riding along in the northern end of Missouri and see a barnyard with camels in it.
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Lunch was at Betsy’s Café in a small town where I had their special, fried chicken, mashed potatoes & gravy, corn & biscuits. It all tasted great going down but my gut was on fire a couple of hours later, too much chicken fat I think. Coffee with free refills was a mere $.61. Can you believe that?
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I continued on a zigzag pattern of small country roads for the balance of the afternoon and when I reached Knoxville, Iowa I gave it up and checked into the local Super-8 motel. It was hot as heck out and their air conditioning works like a champ so I was done for the day. Tomorrow I’ll be at Mac & Lisa’s in Robins, IA for a reunion visit. We’ve been talking a little about another ride north on our sidecars next year so who knows, maybe we’ll figure something out.

Dinner? A Big Mac of course...

Jun 23 – Hanging out in KC & El Nino gets new tires

2009-06-23T18:44:00.000-07:00

Ten thousand miles is a fair amount of mileage for motorcycle tires and that’s what the set on El Nino was approaching. The ride to Nova Scotia had accumulated nearly 8000 so far and that doesn’t include the trip to central Oregon or the miles spent riding around prior to leaving.

Bottom line is it was time for a new set and Kansas City was as good a place as any. David called the local Kawasaki dealer, Advantage Powersports and they had a set of Michelin Pilots which they could install today. Their price for the tires was competitive but I thought $127.00 for mounting and balancing the two tires was a bit over the top. Of course I crabbed about it and got the expected response of “Yeah, it does seem high but we can’t change it.” OK, so I’m cheap but I still think it was excessive. I guess I’m spoiled by our local Yamaha dealer at home who charges $20 per tire. Anyway, I’m happy they were available and the deed’s done so I’m ready to move on. Arrrggghhhh!

The past couple of days I've been riding with just the Bohn armored shirt up top which is made of a loose weave material. Sort of like cheese cloth only with larger holes so now I'm sporting a very odd suntan on my arms. Like a tattoo gone bad perhaps...

We left the bike at the shop and since I was missing my McDonald's fix we stopped at the nearest one for an early lunch or extended breakfast, take your pick. Finished with that we headed back to David’s place where we spent awhile laying out tomorrow’s ride towards Robins, IA, home of my friends Mac & Lisa. Some of you will recall Mac and I rode our sidecars to Prudhoe Bay, Alaska last summer and they had invited me to stop by for a visit.

This afternoon we picked up the bike and then bought chain oil at Lowe's; not where I would expect to find it but the http://www.webbikeworld.com/ web site said so and so it was. I guess that’s why they’re one of my favorite sites, eh? Once we were home again we oiled the chain and put El Nino away for the night. The new tires are made with a softer rubber compound and really stick well; I think I’m going to like them a lot.

Dinner this evening was a real treat; we went to Arthur Bryant’s Barbecue, a place I’d seen as part of an NPR show highlighting America’s best barbecue places. The show aired several months ago and after watching it I went on line and ordered a dozen bottles of their sauce. Who would have known I’d be eating dinner in that very restaurant today? I ate way too much and drank a lot of Bud, something I’m not used to so now I’m feeling bloated. Just deserts…

After dinner David drove us around town and gave me a wonderful guided tour of Kansas City. We saw lots of the older turn of the century buildings and more modern sights like a bust of Charlie Bird, one of Kansas City’s most famous sons. It’s a great place to visit especially if you know someone like him who’s well versed in the city’s history.

I’m a lucky guy. Boy is it ever hot today. Phew...

Jun 22 – On to Kansas City - It's getting hot out there

2009-06-23T10:06:00.000-07:00

Early morning heat was an indicator of things to come today. The sky was clear and the weather people were predicting the same all the way to Kansas City. Once the bike was loaded I didn’t waste any time getting on the road, it was the only way I was going to stay half way cool.

Not long into the ride I stopped to visit the Missouri Mines historic site. After seeing the giant elevator rig over the mine entrance I tried to imagine what it must have been like to ride that baby down into the bowels of the earth. It was depressing just thinking about it and once again I counted my blessings for the life of relative ease my career had provided. I’d worked hard to earn a living but nothing like what those miners must have faced.
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On a happier note I stopped to watch farmers in the field mowing hay. The summer smells were all around and I was transported back to a childhood when I spent summers on my Grandma’s dairy farm. At the time I didn’t particularly like it as there were no other kids to play with and I spent my days keeping an eye on a bunch of dumb cows chewing their cuds. Eventually my family moved into town and my herding days were over.
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The temperature continued to rise throughout the day and I stopped often for water and a stretch. The route I’d chosen on the map actually ran on 4-lane highways quite a bit which surprised me. When I set it up I thought it would be mostly on little 2-lane back roads but that proved not to be the case. I was riding with my visor up wearing my sunglasses and occasionally I collided with a really large juicy bug. A couple of them were especially yucky to the point I had to stop and clean things out. Ugh.

I arrived at my friend David Hutson’s house in Kansas City in late afternoon, hot and dry and ready for a cool G&T. I finally got to meet his son Noah, an up and coming Kart racer who’s been winning most of his races lately. I like him, he’s a nice kid and I think a lot of that is due to the special relationship he has with his dad. Later David cooked up some really great steaks on the barbeque and we had a super dinner accompanied with appetizers, salad, and a nice red wine.

Not a bad way to finish the day.

Jun 21 – Happy Fathers Day Dudes!

2009-06-21T18:31:00.000-07:00

I started the morning with my Nike T-shirt on inside-out. Izzat cool or what? A nice lady from Scotland pointed it out to me while I was wolfing down my Raisin Bran in the motel breakfast room. I guess the other people liked it, maybe viewed it as a fashion statement? Us guys from Oregon are so hip, eh? So why does Nike make their logo the same on both sides of their dang T-shirts?

The talking heads on TV said the local temp was 80 degrees at 6:00am, high expected to be 92+ which sounded like a really good reason to get the heck out of the area. As soon as I finished eating I packed it up and headed out. My general direction was towards Kansas City, MO where I expect to hook up with a bud and lay low for a day or so.

Since it’s so hot I’m carrying 2 water bottles instead of 1 and I’m riding a lot slower so the bike doesn’t have to work as hard. Today I wore just the Bohn armor shirt by itself and the pants underneath my Levis. It’s not the best setup for protective gear but it’s better than plain old T-shirts like the locals seem to favor. I doubt any of them have had the pleasure of an unscheduled dismount yet. As soon as they do they’ll be wearing all the gear just like me. Or maybe not riding at all?

I still haven’t found a new battery for my cell phone but it seems to work when it’s plugged in. That’s the pits but maybe I’ll find one in Kansas City tomorrow. Speaking of which today’s ride was not all that long, something on the order of 240 miles so I’m still 348 from Kansas City. In this heat I may not ride that far so it may be Tuesday before I get there. No big deal, my schedule is open, eh?

Hey, how about the food report! Breakfast was at the motel which I’ve already touched on. Raisin Bran & fat city mini-pastries, etc. Lunch was another matter. There’s a restaurant chain in the south called The Waffle House that I sort of got addicted to during my working years when I spent a lot of time in Atlanta. Today I figured I’d hook up with one of them for lunch so when I spotted one I pulled in, parked, took a photo just to prove they really exist, and waltzed in for a waffle fix. After waiting 30 minutes for my waffle to arrive and watching the only two cooks leave the work area for their “lunch break” I decided I could wait until another time for my waffle. What a bunch of clods those idiots were, but hey, that’s their prerogative, maybe they already have all the business they need. I cancelled my order, paid for the milk I’d drunk and moved along to the next available lunch source, the one with the big yellow arches. Mmm… No waiting in their places.

The balance of the day’s ride was evenly divided between back roads and the slab. One thing I noticed about Illinois was the lack of appropriate facilities at their rest stops. Maybe the presence of large trees precluded the necessity for anything else? Hey, it worked for me, I’m accustomed to stepping behind a large tree and the one I used today was very large indeed.

Moving along towards Missouri I spotted a truly elaborate sign beckoning the weary traveler to stop for a moment of relaxation. The part I liked best was the “’Who’s Ur Daddy” I'm so easily entertained... Unfortunately I was on the wrong side of the road so all I could do was photograph the sign and move along.

I arrived in the city of Farmington, MO in late afternoon and decided this was as good a place as any to spend the night. The monster Super 8 sign was 10 feet higher than anyone else’s so I opted for their place. Hey, it pays to advertise. Besides I hadn’t stayed at one of their places for awhile and their prices are low, low, low.

I checked in, unloaded El Nino, oiled the chain and put her to bed for the night. Email was the next item on my to-do list and then it was dinner time. An Italian restaurant was conveniently located within easy walking distance so the choice was simple. My meal was OK but not memorable, probably due to the huge quantity of steamed broccoli that accompanied the chicken breast. I mean, how much broccoli can one person consume in a lifetime? Assuming you’re not a goat? Think about it.

Jun 20 – On the road again, just can’t wait to get on the road again…

2009-06-20T18:41:00.000-07:00

Dick & Linda & I did our sad goodbyes this morning, it was hard for all of us as we’re at that age when it’s likely we won’t see one another again. Isn’t that something to think about? Prince, their Blue Heeler even let me pet him without his usual growl so maybe it’s OK.

When I set up the GPS for today’s travel I selected lots of back roads again. That meant instead of taking 600 miles to reach Kansas City it would take 825, which is a heck of a lot of extra back roads. I’ll stick to the plan unless I get bored out of my skull or winter sets in.

One thing has occurred to plague me, the battery on my cell phone got totally drenched during the time I spent in New Brunswick and it seems to have given up the ghost. Even though it says it’s charged it’s only good for a minute or so on line and then it’s done. This morning I stopped at the first Wal-Mart store I came to as they sell TracFones and I planned to buy a new battery. Not. They referred me to the local Radio Shack as they sell batteries for all kinds of cell phones. Not. Maybe I’ll have better luck in Kansas City.

I rode both the back roads and the slab today, allowing the GPS to move me along. The morning started out pretty neat, within a few miles I’d seen a really long snake crossing the road in front of me and a few minutes later a big doe was standing dead center in the road. She was nice enough to clear out before I got there. Later on workmen paused to wave as I rode by which reminded me how friendly so many people are to bikers. It’s a neat feeling.

One little bit of bad luck happened today, my AirHawk inflatable seat pad went flat again. When I first noticed it I thought things were riding a bit harsh as I’d not used any Anti-Monkey Butt power today but that was not the case. Arriving at the Madisonville, KY Days Inn where I would be staying I submerged it in the bathroom sink expecting the leak location to show itself. Nada, no apparent leaks or bubbles so now I’m not sure what’s going on. I rode over several rough sets of railroad tracks plus there were a lot of rough road miles that may have contributed but if it’s leaking it should show up under water. It’ll probably show up tomorrow when I’m 50 miles down the road. Or maybe my butt's going flat...

I haven’t looked up Madisonville to see where it’s at and since I don’t really care maybe I won’t. The Days Inn motel is nice enough and they have an attached restaurant where I ate an early dinner of fried catfish, beans & onions, hush puppies, and coleslaw. Real southern comfort food done right. Not as good as Linda's cooking but not bad for restaurant fare.

There were zip photo ops today although I'd have liked to have taken a picture of the snake I saw. Unfortunately my camera batteries had gone flat and I hadn't replaced them yet so the moment was lost. The rest of the day didn't have much to offer so this evening I took a shot of the Days Inn sign and El Nino under her cover, both in the dark. Pretty exciting stuff huh?

Jun 19 – Otter Creek, KY Taking it easy for a day

2009-06-20T17:35:00.000-07:00

Dick and Linda invited me to stay another day and I was glad to do so, their place is restful and they’re good company. Linda fixed us a tasty breakfast and afterwards they drove me into Hodgenville to visit the birthplace of Abraham Lincoln. Hodgenville is a nice quiet little town and the National Historic Site houses the actual log cabin President Lincoln was born in. It’s pretty impressive to see it and we enjoyed walking around the grounds awhile.

After that we headed home for lunch and relaxing plus I bit the bullet and washed El Nino for the first time since leaving home. Sadly she’s acquired quite a few deep scratches and her paint is rubbed through in several areas. Anyone seeing her for the first time would likely think she’s been treated badly but in truth she’s just showing the effects of long distance traveling. So far she’s running solid and her gas mileage remains right around 55 mpg, very satisfactory in my book. I think El Nino was made for this.
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We lazed around for a few hours and when we were rested up a bit we headed into Campbellsville for dinner at Garcia’s Mexican Restaurant where we had a really great meal. I had the best fish tacos since my last trip to San Diego several years ago. Then we made a bee-line to the local ice cream parlor for deserts, which after eating I felt like I needed to have a lie-down. It was still a bit early though, so we went for a drive by the park at Green River Lake and then stopped to visit with Dick and Linda’s oldest daughter and her husband. They’ve got two great dogs and I managed to get them both so wound up they’re probably still panting.
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On the way home I saw the first Lightning Bugs I’d ever seen; they were everywhere along the roadside, thousands of them. I’d read about them in stories but this was a real treat for me. Finally home for the evening I laid out my GPS route for the next couple of days as I head towards Kansas City. I’ll focus on back roads again and hope I don’t run into too much bad weather, I’ve already seen as much lightning as I care to.
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Man, this place is hotter than a pepper sprout!

Jun 18 – Kentucky Rain & Lightning – Wow!

2009-06-20T15:56:00.000-07:00

There was no rain this morning and it was already looking like another humid hot day so I dressed accordingly; Bohn armored shirt & pants underneath my Kevlar shirt & Levis. I figured if I got caught in a rain storm I could throw on Big Red but until it happened I wanted to be as cool as possible.

I left Paintsville via the slab around 9:30am and found myself alone most of the time. This allowed me to ride at a steady 55mph with my visor open and enjoy the mild breeze and fresh air. On occasion a car would pass by but not often and that was fine with me, I really like riding alone. The only thing that spoiled the ride was the sight of so many dead animals on the pavement, mostly small forest critters but today there were also two dogs. I’m not used to that and those of you who know me will understand how awful that was to see. Oregon must have provisions for removing dead animals from our roads as they’re usually gone within a day or so. Dogs, like livestock are another matter, drivers are required by law to stop if they hit one and report it to the authorities if they can’t locate the owner. Besides, dogs really are man’s best friend and that should be reason enough. Sorry, guess that’s my rant for the day.

So…moving right along I noticed the farther south I rode the darker the sky was becoming. At one point I thought there might be something going on with my sunglasses so I stopped and took them off. That wasn’t it of course, there was a nasty storm brewing and by 11:30am it was as dark as night.

Just outside of Lexington I pulled over to take a quick picture of a really elegant ranch home, complete with miles of white picket fencing. For someone like myself who’s never seen one of these places outside of a movie it was a special moment. Just as I was ready to leave I felt the first drop of rain splat on my hand. I rode a couple of miles further and decided it might be prudent to change into Big Red as the rain was beginning to increase in intensity. A wide driveway apron soon appeared in the distance and I pulled into it as far as I felt would be acceptable without trespassing, parked the bike and began the tedious routine of changing. The Bohn armored shirt would have to come off, otherwise I’d be underneath two sets of armor and that would be downright miserable to deal with. I guess it’s a good thing I’m not particularly shy as traffic was heavy and moving right past me when I stripped to the waist. Ooohhh....

While I was about to shrug back into Big Red a guy in a pickup stopped and asked if I was alright. I told him what I was doing and I’d be back on the road in a couple more minutes. As we talked the rain began to increase and the wind was kicking up. He told me there was a pretty bad storm in the direction I was traveling with 75-85 mph winds and severe lightning and if I wanted I could ride it out in his place. Winds in that range can be nasty to deal with but if you ride a bit slower than usual it’s not so bad so I thanked him for his offer and moved on.

Man was that storm ever something, lightning like I’ve never seen with blinding rain and cross winds that could blow you away if you relaxed even for a moment. Visibility was down to nearly zip and it couldn’t get much darker. This went on for mile after mile and the only good thing was traffic diminished to the point where I was just about the only one out there.

I’d slowed my speed down to around 55mph which was manageable and I figured I was making good time in spite of the weather when my GPS low fuel warning came on. I don’t have it calibrated exactly right so it’s been preceding the bike’s factory warning light by 15 or 20 miles so I don’t worry about it but I do start looking for a gas station. Noting my next exit and route change was only 28 miles ahead I would be well within the range of my reserve. I arrived at the exit and sure enough there was one lone fuel station and it looked like it was pretty busy, lots of cars & trucks were parked around it. I parked at an available pump, went through the business of removing the tank bag, unlocking the filler cap and selecting the fuel grade I wanted. I poked the button several times and then it hit me, the power was off. Inside the convenience store I could see a lot of people milling around and I couldn’t help laughing at myself for taking so long to notice what was going on. One of the gals inside told me they didn’t have any idea how long the power would be off but I could probably get gas at the next place up the road, around 12 miles so that was that. Judging the amount of mileage I had left on reserve I figured I could take the chance so off I went. I found the place and they were open with business per usual.

Once I finished with refueling I got back on the road south towards my friends Dick & Linda. They live out of town several miles and Linda had told me my GPS wouldn’t be able to find their place. How negative, Garmin knows where everybody lives I thought. Duhh.. So there I was, sitting in a McDonalds in Campbellsville, the nearest town to them and talking to her on the phone. “My GPS can’t find you” I said. “Told you so” she said, thinly disguised smirk in her voice. “So can you find route so and so?” “Yeah, that I can do I think.” She gave me an intersection to look for and I told her I’d give it a shot and call her back if I couldn’t find it. The Garmin found it right away and after a bit of wandering around and one more phone call I arrived at their house.

What a great thing it is to see old friends again, we spent the evening catching up on kids and grandkids and all the stuff we used to do, etc., then my clock ran out and it was off to bed. Tomorrow's another day.

Jun 17 – Paintsville, Kentucky – How the heck did I get here?

2009-06-17T18:30:00.002-07:00

This morning I just knew it was going to dump on me as all the weather forecasts said so. When I looked out the window at El Nino it had been raining during the night and the sky was still overcast. Luckily it had stopped for a bit so I hurried to get things packed and ready. I wore Big Red with just jeans and a T-shirt underneath as it was humid and getting hotter by the minute. I figured today might be the day I’d see some lightening storms along my route or at least some intense rain showers.

My general destination was the same as yesterday’s, head south to Kentucky to see my old Navy buddy Woody and his wife Linda. I’d known them for 50 years now and although we’d kept in touch we hadn’t seen one another since the late 60’s. I wonder if Woody still has hair?

The GPS put me back on the Interstate 70 slab heading southwest and after an hour or so of that I did my usual and bailed. I landed on 33 which I would follow all the way to Ashland, KY. I stopped for lunch at a Burger King and while there I got to talk to one of the local Harley riders about the weather. He confirmed they were expecting severe thunder and lightning storms over the next couple of days which I wasn’t looking forward to and hoped maybe I could out run them. Meanwhile it had grown too hot to continue wearing Big Red so I changed into the lighter leather jacket. That helped but it was still plenty warm and getting more so by the minute.

As I continued my ride through southern Ohio I couldn’t help notice how the appearances of the homes and properties along the way began to diminish. After spending time in rural Maine and Pennsylvania the differences were pretty dramatic; no more big well manicured lawns, the houses tended to look run down and there was a lot more junk lying around them. Once I got into Kentucky things changed and it was obvious folks were doing better.

I was taking my time as I wasn’t expected at Dick and Linda’s place until tomorrow so it was a leisurely ride for me. The weather had done the unexpected and no rain had occurred since morning despite the ominous looking black thunderheads hanging over me all day. Arriving in Ashland, KY the temperature had risen to the point I no longer wanted to wear even the lighter leather jacket so I stopped and changed into one of Fast Company’s Draggin Shirts that’s made out of Kevlar. It’s a very loose weave material that lets plenty of air flow through and still provides lots of protection against road rash in case you take an unscheduled dismount.

The afternoon was wearing along so when I arrived in Paintsville, KY and I decided I’d had enough for one day and checked into the Days Inn motel. Right across the street the Mandarin House restaurant was offering its buffet special dinner so after settling in I headed over and ate up my weight in some of the best Chinese grub I’ve had for a long time. By the looks of their other guests I’d say the word was out about their food, everyone there was going at it full steam ahead.

All told it’s been a nice day but it would be a lot better if the damn ice machine was working! Such is life.

Jun 16 – Across Pennsylvania to Cambridge, Ohio

2009-06-16T22:51:00.000-07:00

When I started today’s ride I didn’t think I’d get all the way to Ohio but that’s just what happened.

To begin with I thought it would be warmer than it was but after riding just a few miles I stopped and got into the electric vest and winter gloves. Besides being cold out it became foggy which only served to make me feel colder. Once inside the vest with the heat on full I was able to enjoy the ride again. What a baby I am…

The day’s route I’d set up was pretty basic, I’d entered the motel as a starting point and a city in Kentucky as a finishing point without specifying intermediate points. My desired direction of travel was to the south and the Pittsburg area stood between me and where I wanted to be. Wanting to avoid the crush of big city traffic as much as possible I hoped the GPS would circumnavigate the area but that was not to be; I soon found myself riding at a relatively high rate of speed mixing it up with semi-trucks and crazy drivers probably late for work. After an hour or so of that I thought the heck with it and bailed off at the next interesting looking exit. Getting where I wanted to be was not something that required me to hurry and freeway travel albeit efficient offers absolutely nothing of interest to see. Unless you’re into semi-trucks that is…

I don’t recall the exit number or the road but it went south and that was good enough. Following along it made the GPS crazy and it continually tried to get me back on the slab so I selected the mode that shows the direction of travel and basic information, but with no goal in mind. That worked better and I soon settled into enjoying the ride through the countryside.

Eventually the road I was on connected with route 551 south, apparently once the main highway serving all the small townships and farming communities in the area. Parts of it followed historical sites that were posted with informational signs about civil war sites and Indian battles. As I rode through the countryside I was again amazed at how well the residents maintain their places and at the size of their lawns. I thought our place in Bandon was a handful but these people mow multiple acre plots that seem to go on for miles. Even the farms keep huge lawn areas manicured. Another thing that I was surprised to see was the high percentage of single-wide trailers on individual home sites. Most of them were as meticulously maintained as the regular houses with beautiful grounds and landscaping, not at all like the ones at home.

Another thing I’d noticed the past few days is the large metal star a lot of houses hang on their walls. I’ve also seen them on barns and buildings but I don’t have a clue as to their significance. They look a bit like a religious symbol or possibly something political so I guess I’ll have to ask someone. I stopped in one little town called Strattonville to mail a couple of postcards home and should have asked there, they seemed to have an abundance of them in the area.

As I continued my ride through the countryside the day became warmer so I stopped and removed my long sleeved shirt and changed back into summer gloves. Big Red has some well placed ventilation zippers that help when the heat goes up but you need to be moving right along for them to be effective. This minor change helped somewhat but after riding a few more miles I realized it wasn’t enough so I did one of my parking lot changes out of Big Red and into a lightweight leather jacket. What a difference that made, but it was still pretty hot until I got moving.

Pennsylvania has no helmet laws so it’s common to see riders without any protection at all, no helmets or gloves, riding in shorts, T-shirts, and tennis shoes. I’d bet the ranch none of them have ever been down on a bike. I also doubt any of them ride more than a few miles from home and it’s always on blacktop. Yesterday while I was waiting for my bike to be serviced I listened to a couple of guys talking about their riding habits. One guy said he never rides at night and never, ever in the rain and the other guy agreed although he admitted he’d occasionally ridden at night, but not often. Neither one of them bothered to wear any protection. Hey, maybe they have thick skulls and calloused hands?

Getting back to today my back roads ride was terminated abruptly when I found myself again faced with getting past Pittsburg. Resigned to riding the slab I re-entered the fray and moved south, at one point encountering another toll road. This one was easy though, it only required a couple of quarters which I had ready. I felt sorry for the guy in front of me though, he apparently was new to the game and gave up, pulling off to the side. The booth gizmo went nuts for a few seconds saying he hadn’t paid and I wondered if it would count my coins towards him. It didn’t, instead I got a polite thank you and I moved on. As I pulled away I saw the guy marching back to the machine and wondered how it was going to know who he was.

Eventually I stopped for gas in the outskirts of Cambridge, OH. I hadn’t been aware of crossing into another state but I was glad to be away from Pittsburg. After gassing up I stopped at a grocery store to buy a few things and while there I asked one of the lady clerks about Ohio’s liquor policy. Hey, there’s no sense in running bone dry is there? Anyway her store carried the usual wine & beer items but their only gin was a product called “Diluted Gin”. That sounded a bit too much like non-alcoholic whiskey so I passed on it. She understood and explained about Ohio’s state owned liquor stores and where I could find one, giving me one of those “You can’t miss it” directions. I thanked her and hopped back on El Nino ready for the short ride to the store. Right.

After 15 minutes of riding around the same 3-block area I gave up, parked and went into the nearest open store which just happened to be a hock-shop. The ladies working behind thick bullet-proof glass eyeballed me suspiciously as I was wearing my helmet and sunglasses, obviously one of the standard get-ups used by robber types. Once they figured out I was non-threatening they got into a heated discussion about exactly where “Mr. G’s”, the state run liquor store was located, on this side of Pizza Hut or was it the other? I thanked both of them leaving them to their debate and headed back to the bike where I entered Pizza Hut into the GPS and off I went. Mr. G’s was just past it a few blocks and my search was over. The male clerk told me which direction to go to find motels and I soon found a cluster of them including the Comfort Inn where I am staying tonight.

Now all I have to do is locate Cambridge, OH and I’ll know where I’m at. I’ll do that first thing in the morning…

Jun 15 – Back roads to Buttonwood, Pennsylvania & Country Fried Steak

2009-06-16T14:39:00.000-07:00

Sunshine was once again present when I set out for the day and things were looking pretty darn good. The evil weather person had predicted a 40% chance of showers which at home usually means it’s going to rain 40% of the time, not bad odds if you’re dressed for it. It never happened today, at least not where I was.

I’d decided to follow a back roads route that would take me from Apalachin, NY to Somerset, PA which would be a fairly long ride if I did the whole deal in one day. That’s really never an issue for me as when I get tired of riding I just hang it up for the day and find a place to park.

I began by riding along the Susquehanna River on a small 2-lane road that took me from Apalachin to Towanda, PA, a distance of 39 easy miles. Early on I came to the border crossing into Pennsylvania where I stopped for one of the geeky photos of me posing in front of the sign. Duh...like, who cares, eh? The morning sunshine continued to warm the air and I could already feel the heat as the temperature began to rise. The homes along the river were located in beautiful settings; most had large lots and all were surrounded by neatly trimmed green lawns. The thought crossed my mind that the residents must spend a fortune on gas for their mowers. Such a crass thought…

The next leg of my trip would take me westward to Port Allegany, a distance of 110 miles on route 6, another fairly small 2-lane road. The weather remained idyllic, some clouds but none threatening and the sun kept smiling. The token breakfast provided by the Quality Inn people had run its course so I kept my eye out for food opportunities. I nearly missed Julie’s Country Kitchen it was so small but I noted as I went by there were a number of cars parked around it that were most likely locals. I found a spot to turn around and headed back for what I hoped would be another jewel of a place and it turned out to be so.

It was a tiny place so there weren’t many tables and all of them were occupied by people who obviously knew each other. I figured this must be the main hang out place for the locals, kind of like the post office in Bandon only with food and I grabbed one of the two remaining places at the counter. Within a couple of minutes the last stool next to me was taken by another local guy who seemed to know everyone there. He said hello, I said hello, and Julie the owner brought coffee and took our orders. It’s an odd thing stepping into a nearly full café wearing Big Red, I’m always tempted to say Ho, Ho, Ho, as somehow that seems appropriate.

He and I talked a bit about Big Red and the advantages of it when on the road and it decides to rain, etc. and I soon began to really feel the heat of the place. Maybe it was because the monster grille was located directly in front of us but in any case it was time for me to extricate my upper half from it, otherwise I was going to croak from heat stroke. Doing so is a fairly simple process, you unzipper Big Red’s main closure down to the waist and then like a snake shedding its skin you shrug out of the top half one arm at a time. People watching seem to regard this with natural curiosity and I think most of them realize I’m not having a fit or anything. I could tell the local guy next to me was having a bit of difficulty not helping me out of it as his hands made several involuntary starts towards my shoulders. Just as he was about to intervene I gave a serious shrug and out I came with Big Red’s arms and torso dangling around my waist. “Neat” I thought, I’m actually beginning to get the hang of it after all this time.

Breakfast or maybe it was brunch at Julie’s was delicious and a bargain which is probably why the tiny place was packed. Two big hotcakes, four links, two eggs, and good black coffee came to $5.19 including tax. I’d eat there every day if I was a local. I’d also weigh 250 lbs. Maybe 300?

Every other day or so I seem to have run across one of these little places and they always operate on the same principal; namely providing tasty food and friendly service, all at reasonable prices. Most don’t take plastic either so you need to have coin of the realm with you. Outside I gave any onlookers a final dexterity performance by removing my long sleeved shirt leaving only the underlying T-shirt. It was getting hot.

Cruising along route 6 was pleasant and easy; traffic was light and non-aggressive, perfect for riding. I stopped in Galeston for a brief stretch and couldn't resist the notice in one of the store front windows regarding their sphaghetti dinners. Small towns are all alike no matter where you go.

I’d been keeping an eye out for a Kawasaki dealership the past few days as El Nino was way past due for an oil change and the chain needed adjusting. I was also a bit concerned about the possibility of overheating since crossing the border back into the US and wanted to have the coolant checked. And just like that there it was, Larry’s Sport Center way out in the sticks, a multi-line dealership loaded with new bikes. Rolling into their massive parking area I left El Nino to her own devices and found the service manager. It’s sort of an unwritten policy amongst bike shops to give first service to traveling bikers and these guys apologized because they couldn’t get to me for an hour and a half. I laughed and told him I could spend all day just looking at their inventory and since they had the correct oil filter in stock it was a deal made in heaven.

I shrugged out of Big Red which made the resident Harley riders breathe easier I think, and looked forward to oggling new bikes for the next couple of hours. In case any of you reading this aren’t bikers you should know that the Harley folks have a definite dress code. Two things it doesn’t allow are non-leather outfits, especially ones like God forbid, Big Red, and full-coverage helmets. Flip style lids like mine probably border somewhere on the level of cardinal sin. I like to hang out with the Harley guys whenever possible, especially if I can park El Nino where they can see her, they do so love Japanese bikes.

Finally El Nino was ready and the mechanic who did the work on her said no issues were found that I needed to be concerned with. This made me feel very good indeed and the bill for everything came to a very reasonable $92.52. Waving goodbye to the Harley guys I rode off feeling secure that I’d received courteous and competent service. A couple of the Harley guys actually waved back. Maybe they're starting to like Japanese bikes, eh? Nah...

By then it was getting along into late afternoon so I looked for a place to stay and found the Buttonwood Motel & Restaurant located on Sizerville road in Emporium, PA. It’s an older place that’s priced comparable to Motel 6 and offers similar amenities, just the basic stuff but it all seems to work, WIFI notwithstanding. (I'll have to post this tomorrow.) The real find was their restaurant which turned out to be a gem; I had their daily special, the Country Fried Steak and got my gravy fix at the same time. It was probably the best country fried steak I’ve ever had anywhere and to answer my question the waitress informed me they make it themselves, no frozen patties like so many places provide.

So is the point of this narrative about riding El Nino to Nova Scotia or is it really an excuse to sample gravy all across North America? Suffice it to say life is good, especially with gravy…

Jun 14 – Take Two, an easy ride & good food

2009-06-14T18:18:00.000-07:00

Breakfast at the River Mist B&B turned out to be exquisite just as I expected it would be. Beginning with a tall dish of yogurt filled with fruit, nuts, and mystery ingredients, it then went on to Eggs Florentine with sides of potatoes and homemade biscuits with strawberry jam. Orange juice and good coffee completed the bill, all further enhanced by interesting conversation with the other guests and the hosts. You just don’t get this at Day’s Inn and the rack rates aren’t that much more so I may stay at a few more before I head home.

Once I’d decided it would be frugal to do so I elected to wear Big Red again and this time I’d do the whole enchilada, electric vest, double shirts, winter gloves, all of that. Ensconced in this cocoon-like affair I set out on the road to Pennsylvania, hoping the drizzle might abate after awhile. Except for a few encounters with brief morning showers I got my wish, the rain stopped around 11:00am and I was treated to broken clouds with sunshine peeking through.

The daily chain oiling routine had been delayed due to the morning drizzle so I looked for an opportune location to use for this task. The first place that filled the bill happened to be none other than the parking lot of a ski lodge, closed down for the season. It was perfect in that no one was around and the surface of the lot was dry, absorbent, and impervious to chain oil spillage should any occur. When I finished I took a few photos of the place as a reminder of how lucky we Oregonians are to have so many big mountains within easy driving distance to play on. The ski lodge in the photos wasn’t as high as my last neighborhood in West Linn where I lived before moving to Bandon. Everything is relevant isn’t it?

Back on the slab again, this time I was heading in a general southwest direction that would take me across the rest of Vermont into New York before turning westward towards Pennsylvania. Lunch time found me on the outskirts of Troy, NY, home of the original Uncle Sam. I rode past a few eateries but decided to turn back to one that had caught my eye on the way in. It was one of those older looking café’s that attract the locals and that’s the best endorsement for me. Inside the place was packed despite the fact there was a notice posted on the door that they were closing at 2:00pm sharp, no exceptions. I sat at the counter and within a minute the waitress appeared with a cup of coffee, no need to ask, there it was. I laughed and asked her if it was for me and she said yes, didn’t I want it? Hey, slap me around, this is NY, eh? I did of course and after perusing the menu for a minute I ordered an item I’d never seen before, a BLT with a fried egg. When the waitress came back to take my order she asked how I wanted the egg fixed. This seemed a bit odd given it was part of the sandwich and I countered with “Don’t most folks have it fried since it’s part of the sandwich?” She sort of nodded and then asked if I wanted tomatoes with it. Odd I thought, isn’t the “T” in a BLT for tomatoes? Pointing that out to her she picked up the menu and looked at what I was ordering and that seemed to clarify things for her. Off she went to the kitchen and when my lunch was delivered it was a genuine treat, a BLT with a fried egg tucked neatly away between the main ingredients. Plus, and this was just what my girlish figure needed, a scoop of mashed potatoes with gravy and a small token container of coleslaw. Man I’m gonna weigh in on the Richter scale when I get home…

With lunch out of the way and back on the road one of those damn toll-road things cropped up again. This time I figured I’d be ready so I had a small container of quarters stashed in the top of my tank bag within easy access; all I had to do was ask how much and deposit the correct amount of change into the toll booth person’s hand. With that at the ready I pulled up to the booth but the guy inside simply handed me what looked like a bus schedule or something akin to it. It definitely had writing on it but since I wasn’t wearing my reading glasses it may as well have been in Chinese so I asked him if I was to pay him or someone else. Error #2, besides being unable to read the damn thing I was wearing ear plugs and since I’m half deaf anyway I didn’t stand a chance of understanding anything he said. I could see his lips moving and since he was waving me on I figured I was to go on to the exit place where they would collect the toll.

As soon as I left the toll booth I pulled over to have a look at the paper he’d handed me. This entailed opening up my tank bag and retrieving my reading glasses which I did and at the same time I referred to the GPS for the next set of instructions. It said to take the exit to Buffalo and when I looked up the toll fare the amount was $12.50. Now that’s not such a big deal but I’d paid for my lunch with the only cash I had since they didn’t accept plastic. Sitting there at the side of the busy toll booth terminals trying to scrounge up some more walking-around money wasn’t my idea of fun. I keep a small amount of emergency cash in one of Aerostich’s quaint little money belts on my person but it was buried beneath several layers of shirts, back support, electric vest and ultimately Big Red, earth central for Velcro closures and endless arrays of zippers.

Now here’s the best part. Sliding the belt to one end as far as I could without actually removing it I was able to extricate a $20 note, enough to get me through the exit gate when I arrived, or so I thought. The immediate issue was that the onramp to the Buffalo route happened to be located across two lanes of very aggressive drivers who no doubt resented having to pay for the privilege of driving at all. With Big Red zippered back up and my money belt back in place I executed what I believed was a very convincing fast start, somewhat akin to driving in the Boston tunnel, i.e., aim it, pull the trigger, and never make eye contact. It worked. It always works; it’s one of those physical laws thingies they teach in college.

Continuing to follow the GPS’s commands I arrived at an off-ramp where the toll is extracted from the guilty parties, me being among them. At the ready this time, I moved quickly through the line behind drivers who were obviously well versed in the intricacies of the system. Myself, not being as talented as those people reverted back to my previous experience with toll booths; namely, holding the fare in my teeth as my hands were needed for operation of the motorcycle. This seems to work to a point as toll takers seem to appreciate a break in their routine. However today after accepting the twenty I’d proffered he said “OK, but I need to see your ticket, no tickee, no ride on the toll road.” Jesus, this was becoming a nightmare, the ticket was ensconced inside my tank bag and the damn thing was locked with my combination guaranteed-to-thwart-thieves lock. Cars were piling up behind me. Panic was arising in my craw. I wanted to get the hell out of there. I said “shit!” in my loudest loud and the toll taker said “Take your time, just relax.” He probably wondered if I was packing or something. After what seemed like forever I got the combination lock open and gave him the ticket. He was evidently having such a good time he handed the twenty back to me and said “No charge, the ride’s on us, have a good day.” Jesus Larry, where do these people come from?

My eventual riding goal for the day was to position myself somewhere close to the mid-Pennsylvania border for the ride across that state. I think I’m about there, at least I’m within easy striking distance for tomorrow and that’s good enough for now. I rode long enough today and I was beginning to get pooped so I opted for the first reasonable motel I spotted; in this case it was my old friends the Quality Inn people and their Apalachin, NY facility. My room filled the bill perfectly, easy view of El Nino, WIFI, and a nice restaurant within easy walking distance.

The restaurant is the Blue Dolphin or something like it and I went there for dinner. I’d never had Haddock and it was either that or the fried crab cakes, another tempting delectable item. Maybe I should mention I’m a firm believer that you should never eat at a place with the name “Mom’s” included or choose any menu item that says “medley” or “Chef’s choice” or “Cakes”. Nor should you ever ask the waiter or waitress what they might recommend, what if they like to eat tofu or something? Bottom line is I ordered a slab of fried Haddock with salad and mashed potatoes, gravy, the whole fat-farm works. Today is turning out to be another 10,000 calorie day, eh?

So do I care? Not!

Jun 14 – Sunday Morning’s Depressing Weather Forecast

2009-06-14T04:32:00.000-07:00

Glancing out the window of my B&B I am greeted by more rain, miserable nasty drizzle. Curiosity overcomes me and I log onto Google and follow a link to the National Weather Forecast site:

http://www.weather.com/newscenter/nationalforecast/index.html?from=secondarynav

There seems to be no escape, every direction is either socked in with rain and fog or threatened by tornados, golf-ball size hail storms, or flash floods. What a bummer this is, where the heck is my smiley faced sunshine friend these days?

At least I’m lodged in a warm dry Bed & Breakfast with all the amenities and a full breakfast is in the offing at 9:00am. And, lest I forget to appreciate things, riding in the rain isn’t so terrible as all that, it’s just not as nice as sunshine so I’m counting my blessings, happy to be alive.

I think I’ll post this now and add a bit to it later on as things change. Maybe I'll post a report on the upcoming breakfast, good food always cheers a person up, eh?

Happy, happy in Bellows Falls, Vermont.

Jun 13 – More rain & Bellows Falls, VT wherever that is?

2009-06-13T19:40:00.000-07:00

This morning as I packed up I had high hopes for a great day; the sunshine was hard at it and all my stuff was dry and ready to roll. Then the lock on one of the damn panniers refused to lock and it took me the better part of an hour getting it to co-operate. At one point I thought maybe it would help if I squirted some chain oil into the lock at which time I became fully aware of the exorbitant amount of pressure the dumb can yields. Most of the oil went where I wanted it, say around 75%, but the balance was equally divided between my thumb, the white porcelain bathroom sink, and the mirror behind it. Shades of things to come I wondered? You ever try to clean chain oil off porcelain? Or a mirror? Eventually I got the lock to work but only after completely unloading the pannier and pounding on what must have been the critical part.

After gassing up I settled into a moderate legal cruising speed of 65 mph and spent the next couple of hours relaxing in the sun and watching the scenery float by. It was good that I did too as at one point I spotted a radar cop hiding in the bushes as I went by. What a sneaky guy, he was literally hiding.

The route I chose to follow led me through western Maine via the back roads, lots of small towns and the bumpiest country pavement you can imagine. It really didn’t matter though as all the roads were posted at very low speeds and most everyone seemed to be minding them. Per usual I stopped for photo ops whenever I saw something interesting and today there were more than a few. Bill’s Auto Parts & Wreckers boasted a collection of hubcaps that must be the largest one on the planet plus he has several interesting items mounted high in the air on steel posts. Like an old Austin complete with license plates screwed to its body panels. I remember those things when they were new and it’s my personal opinion that all of them should be mounted on steel poles, with or without license plates.

A couple of interesting signs also caught my eye and gave me more reasons to stop. People say the damnedest things when it comes to signage and I can’t help wondering if they really think it through when they decide on their text. Maybe they’re just weird or something.

As the day wore on I noticed there seemed to be a lot of events going on, biker week was just beginning in one place, a horse thing was in full swing at another, some sort of hiking thing at another, and graduation ceremonies thrown into the mix just to round things out. This was all well and good but the crux of the matter was motel rooms suddenly became a premium commodity. Dartmouth was having their graduation thing and after I managed to thread my way through thousands of college kids and frustrated parents wandering the streets I arrived at the Lebanon Day’s Inn where I hoped to spend the night. When I asked the receptionist gal about a single room for the night I was shocked and then pissed off to learn they’d raised their prices a cool hundred bucks just for the occasion. $180 plus freaking taxes! I don’t think so.

Back on the slab again…I rode for maybe 20 minutes when the rain started. Just what I needed I thought, this is going to be a rerun of yesterday. Thus began a pattern of riding for a few miles and then taking the exit and inquiring as to the availability of rooms, then returning to the slab again and repeating the process. Before long it was getting late, I was getting hungry, and then the dang fuel reserve warning thing came on and started complaining. All the while the rain was increasing in intensity and it was getting dark. Bummer. I let the GPS take me to the nearest Shell station which happened to be in Bellows Falls, VT and then curious, I queried it to see what it might offer in the way of lodging. Nada. But wait, I hadn’t been looking at B&B’s I thought, so I gave that a shot. Two of them popped up so I went to the closest one. The owner responded to the doorbell and surveyed me up and down as I stood there dribbling water on his front porch. Nope, they were also full up but he suggested trying the next one only a few blocks away. Arriving there I rang the bell but no one answered and it had that dead sound houses make when no one’s home. Rats I thought, another strike out. Then a young man came walking around the corner of the yard and I was saved from a fate of sleeping alongside the road rolled up in Big Red.

I off-loaded the wet stuff from the bike, settled in and then at his suggestion rode over to the local pizzeria where I woofed down a monster plate of spaghetti and meat balls. Isn’t it great how wonderful you feel when a couple of meat balls and pasta are laying dormant in your belly? And being a truly understanding host I found a nice bucket of ice in my room when I returned.

Life on the road, eh?

Jun 12 – Drying out in Bangor, Maine – Rain & Fog One, Big Red Zip. Zero. Nada

2009-06-12T18:54:00.000-07:00

Still reeling from yesterday’s ride in the rain & violent wind I was not a happy camper when I looked outside my room at 6:00am and discovered it was raining. The cats & dogs kind of rain, definitely not my idea of fun to ride in. The bike was under its cover but that wasn’t much help as the reloading process would expose it to the rain and it would be soaked when it was time to ride. And right I was, but at least I’d brought a plastic sheet to cover the Air Hawk seat pad with so it remained dry until the last moment.

I usually oil the chain in the morning after riding a few miles to warm it up. Today that would have been pointless as the weather channel showed nastiness as far as I could ride in any direction so I elected to do the deed right there in the parking lot. One of the things I picked up on my first long distance ride was to carry a few pieces of cardboard that could be bent and slipped behind the chain to act as a shield against overspray. One of the best sources for this turned out to be those one-piece promotional advertising brochures you find in all the motels and restaurant lobbies. They’re the perfect size and when you’re finished spraying they can be rolled up and tossed in the nearest garbage can. I brought a few from home but it would have been just as easy to pick them up at each motel. Heloise would have loved this one. Or not. I actually never met the woman.

This would be another no-photos day as the rain increased in intensity by the hour. Who wants to stop and take pictures in the rain? Not me, plus I couldn’t see more than a couple of hundred feet in any direction given the fog that accompanied the rain. I’d programmed the GPS to make the run to Bangor, Maine and I just sat back and followed its directions. Well sort of, I actually didn’t sit back, it was more of a forward hunch to try and minimize the effects of monsoon-like rain storm. It really didn’t help much, I ended up totally soaked with a tired back to boot. This is exactly why Gin & Tonics were invented.

At one point I came to a fairly large city, I think it may have been St John and a toll gate system suddenly appeared out of the carnage. The other day I passed through one and not being ready I had to damn near undress in order to get the money out. Four bucks they charged me, same as a car. That doesn’t seem fair, I think bikes should only have to pay half fare since we’re smaller and generally only have two wheels. Anyway I digress, today I spotted them far enough in advance and I was able to pull over into a yellow striped median affair and dig the money out in advance. Fortunately a sign had the amount posted, a mere fifty cents which was reasonable enough but the challenge was getting the coins. Big Red was totally soaked and so were my “waterproof” winter gloves which meant I had to take them off before I could reach the coins. This was not an easy feat but I managed and just as I’d fished the two quarters out a couple of the gals who work at the gates pulled up and held out two quarters for me. Dang that’s a nice gesture isn’t it? I thanked them and showed them my coins (show me yours and I’ll show you mine?) and headed into the nearest gate. Naturally the operator had just closed it for some reason. I had no place to hold the coins so I had them gripped in my front teeth and as I flipped the helmet up to extract them the operator started to deny me entrance. Then he decided it wasn’t worth the hassle so he took the coins and went somewhere and the gate magically opened. Nice guy. Nice gals. Crappy weather though.

I reached the US customs border crossing at Calais around mid-afternoon and it was truly hell getting to the gates. There was some kind of road construction going on that required everyone to drive through the hairiest bunch of potholes I’ve ever seen. The stretches were short, only a few blocks long but cars were bottoming out in holes that looked like they were ten inches deep. I managed to stay upright and avoid the really nasty ones by using both lanes much to the chagrin of oncoming motorists. By the time I reached the line going through customs the Ninja had begun to overheat, so much so that steam was rolling off the engine in places it shouldn’t have. To counter this I began turning it off whenever we stopped no matter how momentary it was. That helped and by the time I reached the booth it had settled down.

Customs guys are always fun it seems and today was no different. I answered the usual questions while the agent studied me and I guess I must look harmless as he let me through. The best part was when I dug my new passport out, carefully wrapped in a sandwich baggie to ensure it stayed dry. I didn’t want to remove my gloves if it wasn’t necessary as getting them back on with wet hands is damn near impossible. With that in mind I handed him the whole deal and asked if he minded getting it out of the bag and he said he’d be happy to. “You’ve got a bit of a water problem with your baggie” he said as he poured a solid stream of water out of it. The passport looked like a drowned rat, totally soaked and curled up pages. Fortunately his machine was able to read whatever it is and he handed it back to me, unable to suppress a grin. I think I may have been put here on earth to entertain Customs agents.

I rode into Bangor late afternoon and stopped at the first motel that looked affordable but it turned out to be fully booked so I was forced to move on. Using the GPS lodging finder I ended up close to the airport at the Days Inn and settled in for the night. Everything I was wearing, including Big Red, my electric vest, two long sleeve shirts, my jeans, my long-johns, my socks, boots, and waterproof gloves, even my helmet liner were all totally soaked. The gals at the front desk must have felt sorry for me so I snagged a good room on the ground floor where I could see El Nino.

I unpacked and changed into a pair of dirty dry jeans and shirt, then took the tour of the washer/dryer facility. One each were present, both on the small side and probably great for drying a pair of undies. No way would Big Red fit into that dinky little pipsqueak of a dryer so I headed back to the front desk with Big Red in tow. I held him (do Aerostich Roadcrafters have a gender?) up in front of the desk manager and said no way Jose, this puppy needs something with more capacity. She agreed and said follow me, which I did. We walked down the hallway a bit and using her master access pass let us into the hotel’s commercial laundry room. We are talking three BIG honking dryers here and she soon had the codes figured out as to how hot and how long it should dry. With Big Red tumbling around in one she told me to take my time and left me to my own devices. I liked her generous offer and said I would mess around with my blog while I waited as I just happened to have my notebook along. I liked being left alone with three monster dryers, besides Big Red and the notebook I also happened to have along a huge bag containing all of my wet clothes… Once she left I began experimenting with the other two dryers and soon had both of them going full tilt drying the rest of my stuff. What a deal that turned out to be, if I’d had to use the little coin-op thing it would have taken hours and cost big dollars to accomplish what I did in 30 minutes. Not to mention having to fend off other would-be users of the miniscule machine.

Next on my priority list was food. Right next door to the motel there is a place aptly called the burger something or other to which I made a bee-line for. It was still early enough so I didn’t have to deal with the dinner crowd and I think the bored waitress was happy to see me. I liked her right off as she placed a full basket of fresh popcorn on my table and took my order for a Guinness. One of my buddies once said drinking a Guinness was like eating a loaf of bread. He may have something there. The menu was totally comfort food items with burgers of all kinds represented as well as chicken, fish, pasta, steaks, etc. Being one of the more refined diner types I went with the burger clubhouse. Hey, what more could you want? I mean, this baby was to die for, thick white toast, burger cooked just right, ham, cheese, tomato, lettuce, mayo, everything. Mmmm! And you could have a host of sides with it so naturally I chose mashed potatoes. I woofed down half of it and the spuds, then packed the rest away in a take-out box which I am fondling at this very moment.

Once finished with food and laundry duties I hopped on board the Ninja and headed down the road following the desk manager’s detailed directions to the local food and by the way we also sell liquor emporium. Dismounting in the parking lot I was immediately accosted by the local pollster lady who was interested as to my opinion on God forbid same sex marriages or the real deal, opposite sex marriages. Being somewhat familiar with the latter I promised I’d sign her petition if she’d watch my bike while I did my deal with the devil and she agreed. Outside again she was nowhere in sight but one of her co-volunteers, a guy this time, accosted me with equal fervor. Pointing to my Oregon license plate he did the raised eyebrow look of astonishment and asked if I’d actually ridden all that way. What do people think, like, do bikers ship their rides across country and then fly back just to catch a ride on a bike with an out of state license? I returned to the motel.

Before leaving I’d turned up the wall heater unit to its maximum mid-February- hot-as-hell setting and hung my waterproof gloves, Air Hawk cover, and other stuff in front of it to dry. The room had to be hovering somewhere in the mid 90’s, maybe more. My boots were next and after an hour or so they appear to be both wearable and dry as are the other items. In other words things are looking up a bit. It’s also stopped raining, at least for the moment so I’m pretty much ready for tomorrow.

Oh, I nearly forgot to share this with you. The strip mall liquor purveyors had a special going on Gilbey’s Distilled London Dry paint remover and embalming fluid at only $8.95 per 5th. They also happened to carry Canada Dry Tonic Water… You see how all this works? Sometimes you just have to stick it out and things come together.

Life is good. As long as there are commercial dryers close by.

Jun 11 – Riding the slab to Sussex, N.B.

2009-06-11T18:39:00.000-07:00

This was not a great day, at least as far as maintaining the blog goes. I just finished today’s report a few minutes ago and then poked the wrong key and the entire thing went away. Bummer! I think I’ll just post the few pics I took this evening and a very brief account of today’s lack of events and call it good.

The ride report: To begin with the ride out of Louisbourg began in rain, at least within five minutes and it continued off and on, mostly on, for the balance of the day. As if that weren’t enough the damn cross-winds blew continuously and made riding a full-time job, not the relaxing pastime it usually is. After a brief start this morning I decided to get out of the nasty weather pattern that’s supposed to be ongoing for the next several days and head south to the USA. I had intended to ride through one small area of NS coastline I hadn’t yet visited but the nasty weather would surely have made that less than enjoyable so I’ve opted out.

The food report: This morning’s breakfast was at McDonald’s, lunch was at Tim Horton’s, and dinner was at the Pizza Delight (which it wasn’t) next door to the Covered Bridge Motel where I’m staying tonight.
Arrgh!

So there you have it, a grumpy accounting unworthy of reporting just because I poked the wrong key on my notebook. Tomorrow will be better; I’ll likely be in Maine if the Maritime wind doesn’t blow me into the Atlantic and I’ll be more attentive to the keys I’m dealing with. BTW, have any of you had to deal with notebook size keyboards? This is my first experience and it’s a bit challenging for people with big fat fingers like myself.

Ardios…

Jun 10 – Cape Breton, Louisbourg, & Lobster at Last!

2009-06-11T15:56:00.000-07:00

It was sunshine again this morning, hard to believe after listening to the grim weather forecasts. Once I’d loaded up the bike I set out on the course I’d programmed into the GPS. It was fairly simple; just continue along the coastline towards the Sydney area on the northeast end of Cape Breton where I figured I’d hang it up for the night. Great plan but after I got on the road I noted I was heading back across the causeway towards Port Hawkesbury, the direction I’d came from yesterday. Somehow I didn’t think the road would magically loop around and head northeast so I pulled over and reprogrammed the beast. Sure enough it headed me back in the right direction the way I thought it should.

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All of that went well enough until I came to the round-about and then things became complex. I like round-abouts well enough but the GPS takes a somewhat sporting approach to them and I found myself making an extra loop around it. Eventually I sorted things out but only after reversing course a few times and found myself back at the Skye Motel parking lot where I’d started from. I needed only to have turned right out of the lot instead of left and everything would have been fine but Garmin & Co, clever devils that they are had other things in mind. I guess this clearly illustrates the advantage printed maps can provide even though they can be awkward to use on bikes. Big Red came with a place on the left sleeve that holds a map if you buy the optional map holder thingy. I can just see me trying to ride along and look at my left arm for directions. I didn’t buy it.
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The back roads that I took today led me along some really pretty coastlines and although it hinted of rain it never materialized. There were a few road construction areas that made for some long delays, a couple of which were in areas that had high concentrations of black biting gnats. One place was so bad I finally closed up my helmet and watched the little buggers do their best to get at me through the visor. I wonder what the cruiser boys do with their little skull beanie lids that have no face protection? Maybe they’re so tough they don’t notice little biting critters? Maybe they stay inside the taverns?
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Eventually I arrived at the small town of Louisbourg which boasts a few motels and some neat little restaurants promoting lobster dinners, one of the items I was looking forward too. The first place I spotted looked clean so I popped into the office and asked the gal if they had WIFI in the rooms. Of course she said they did but then she sort of hesitated like she’d been caught saying something that might not be 100% factual. Quick to recover she suggested I get out my notebook and give it a try in the room next to the office. I did and although it showed a good signal I couldn’t get hooked up so I passed. I don’t think she was too happy about it but I really wanted to post the blog so I moved onto the next place which happened to be right across the street.

Their place, The Fortress View Hotel is actually a lobster restaurant that has a few rooms upstairs they rent out to tourists and old biker types. The owner was just sneaking out the side door as I pulled up and after asking if this was her place I told her what I was looking for. She and her husband are the kind of people you like right away and after we chatted for a few minutes I checked in for the night. I figured even if I couldn’t get on the ‘net I’d be able to enjoy a dinner with wine, something I hadn’t done so far as I never drink and ride.

I unpacked and then spent a lot of time trying to get the damn notebook to hook up but all to no avail so I focused on dinner instead. It was a good choice; I had their lobster dinner special for $25 which included a whole lobster, eyeballs, antennae, the works, and mashed potatoes, corn (special request, no gaggy peas and carrots for this kid), coleslaw, and biscuits. Just because I like myself I added a half carafe of mystery white house wine and cheesecake drizzled with chocolate syrup. Mmmm…

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Finished with dinner and back in my room I never could get the notebook to hook up with the Internet and finally gave up trying, it was more fun watching the weather channel and listening to the ice melt in my G&T. What, I failed to mention I scored a half-liter of tonic water? Hey, I’m getting pretty darn good at ferreting out that stuff ever since the “We don’t have any” incident in Springhill. I know where to look so they can hide it but I’ll find it.
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In closing I should say today’s photos are an eclectic lot, very much like the ones I take every day. I turned back once to shoot a bunch of antique stoves tucked away behind a building that I just happened to see as I rode by. While I was there a pair of ducks came ambling over towards me, thinking I suppose they were going to get a hand out. Bad thinking on their part, eh?
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One of the things I’ve noticed about this country is they don’t provide a lot of rest stops for travelers. Maybe it’s because they have so many trees available? Today was different though, I actually stopped at one and it was very refreshing. The Atlantic was there for photo ops as well so it made for a nice stop. Later on I visited the Fort Louisbourg tourist thing where they charge $15 for the bus ride tour through the old fort and its environs. Nope, not me folks, been there done that, and besides, I’m your basic cheap-ass biker and no way am I parting with fifteen buckeroos for a bus ride, not even if it has a glass bottom. Instead I settled for the free tour through the reception center and shot a picture of their loverly anchor outside. Free. Get it?

Nice.

Jun 09 – Riding the southern shoreline to Port Hawksbury

2009-06-09T18:28:00.000-07:00

Bright sunshine graced the Sun Valley Motel in Kentville this morning and I was actually hot while loading the bike. As a result Big Red was packed away on the back rack and I dressed in light leather jacket and jeans, all warm weather items. Breakfast was also a light affair of toast, jam, & coffee, all spiced with lively conversations with owners Larry & Carol Smith and several other guests. We covered politics as today is election day in Nova Scotia; then moved on to fishing boats, golf, and where to get the best lobster dinners. Saying goodbye to Larry & Carol was bittersweet, they’re both really nice folks and my stay in their motel was great. On the off-chance any of you pass by their way they have a website you can refer to: http://www.svmotel.com/ I heartily recommend them but maybe you should demand a hearty breakfast as Carol just doesn’t have enough to do.

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Per usual it was a struggle for me to get on the road before 9:30 so I’ve just resigned myself to that and moved along. Yesterday’s meandering ride had ended with my being further south than I figured so I would have to backtrack northeastward if I were to continue on my course. I set today’s goal as Port Hawkesbury on the southern end of Cape Breton Island, something on the order of 300 miles away.
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To start the day out I opted for a short ride to the south, still meandering to see a few more places before turning back east. I soon found myself in South Berwick, a town of neatly kept houses with a core area of small businesses. The South Berwick General Store caught my eye as they’re front window boasted sales of an item seldom seen these days. At least not by that particular name, eh? After taking a photo of it I moved on to a small café for breakfast #2, this time with bacon, eggs, spuds, the real stuff large girths are made of. They sported a huge chalkboard menu of delectable items and I wish I’d had time to hang around and try them all but had I done so Big Red wouldn’t be big enough!

Before leaving South Berwick I programmed the GPS for a route that would take me along the southeast-northeast coast on small roads rather than the big slab. This would take longer but my goal was to see as much of the coastal area as possible and to that end it was a success. The weather co-operated albeit the temperature began to drop the further north I rode. It finally got nippy enough that I decided it was time to break out the heated vest and winter gloves. I needed a place to do a quick change and selected a vacant looking parking lot next to a members-only fuel station. I’m getting fairly adept at this and in just a couple of minutes the vest was on and heating up as were the gloves. It’s amazing how much more enjoyable a ride is when you’re warm and toasty.
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As is my practice I stopped for photo ops whenever I saw something of interest and could get the bike parked out of harm’s way. Lobster for Sale signs were frequent with $4.99 a pound being the common asking price, then I happened upon the Folk Art for Sale house where I took several shots and was so impressed I deposited a few coins in their donation box. After that I stopped for awhile at the Holy Trinity Anglican Church located somewhere around the Sheet Harbor area. The entire coast line is dotted with one small community after another, all welcoming visitors with signs but nearly all devoid of commercial activities. Whenever you see people walking along chances are they’ll wave to you which is a very nice thing indeed.
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Eventually the route I’d programmed led me back to the main Trans-Canada slab and it was just as well, I’d been keeping an eye out for a place to spend the night and none were forthcoming. The temperature continued dropping and the sky had begun to blacken, threatening to rain a day earlier than expected. I was still wearing the light leather/jeans outfit and if it was going to rain I’d need to get into Big Red before that happened. Almost as soon as I’d decided that was the case the sun peeked its welcome face out of the clouds and although still very cold the threat of immediate rain vanished.
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By then the time had advanced to 6:30pm which is usually when I’m having dinner, not still riding down the gusty freeway looking for a friendly off-ramp loaded with Howard Johnson Motels. After crossing the extremely gusty bridge into Port Hastings I continued on into Port Hawkesbury where I located the only motel with available rooms left, The Skye Lodge. There’s usually a reason or two why the only remaining motel with available rooms is that, eh? I can’t complain though, I was really getting chilled and a warm room in a less than first class motel was welcome. Fortunately they also operate a dining room where I enjoyed a steaming hot bowl of their homemade seafood chowder followed by a desert of cheese cake, also made in-house. The service was good – there were only 2 other diners – and so was the food. I was glad I didn’t have to ride any more just to get dinner.
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Back in my room for the evening, the wall heater is going full blast, the Beefeaters man has vanished and I’m about ready to call it a day. And tomorrow? Tomorrow is another day, eh?
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Happy Election Day Nova Scotia….

Jun 08 – Nova Scotia! Aye Chihuahua….I’m finally here!

2009-06-08T17:00:00.000-07:00

Six o’clock seemed to arrive unusually early this morning but there it was, right on the dot according to the digital clock by the bed. Today would be the big day and I was anxious to get things going so I hopped out of the sack and hit the shower, then bundled into big red and the associated electrical apparatus. Naturally I couldn’t leave this overpriced palace without woofing down my daily quotient of mystery flakes and boiled eggs plus a heartburn-starter bran muffin. Hey, if they’re going to charge exorbitant rates I have to make up for it some way, right?
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The morning was clear and beautiful in Maritime country as I set off for the final leg of my run to Nova Scotia. Last night’s digs at Moncton had placed me within easy striking distance to the border and it wasn’t long before I was there. Crossing into Nova Scotia was nearly anticlimactic but I was happy to have made it, the ride has been fun and it’s not yet half finished. I stopped briefly to do the mandatory self-image at the welcome facility, then dropped off the freeway and began exploring. This seems to drive my GPS nuts whenever I do this and it constantly recalculates new routes to get me back on track. Today I ignored it altogether but occasionally I glanced at it to see how it was doing. It was a busy little toy for the most part. I realize it’s petty of me but it’s my way of getting even for those times it’s led me down dark alleys looking for gas stations.
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One of the first villages I came to turned out to be Springhill, home of the dreaded coal mine shaft #2 that seems to have caused the deaths of hundreds of miners. There’s a memorial to the dead in the center of town with names and disasters dating back to the 1800’s. It seems each time a major disaster occurs they erect a separate stone commemorating the occasion, complete with names of all the miners who died. There are also several stone slabs with individual names and dates that they keep adding to as the need arises. Ugh. Boy am I glad I never had to dig for coal.
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Just down the street a block or so you’ll find the Anne Murray Center, a tribute to her as one of the more famous citizens of Springhill. I cruised through their parking lot but decided to pass it up as the liquor store was within sight and I was still rolling. Inside the liquor store I asked if they happened to carry the illusive tonic water and of course they didn’t but the clerk thought maybe the grocery store next door might have it. Clutching my newly acquired yet tastefully discreet container of spirits I popped into the store and asked the lone check-out gal if they carried any. “What is it again?” she asked. “Tonic water, you know, like quinine water, helps to stave off malaria, yellow fever, that sort of thing.” Shaking her head she said they didn’t have any so I trudged off to peruse the soft drink section, resigning myself to more Gin & Mountain Dew or maybe I’d try root beer this time. And there it was; a whole array of it, right there on the shelf just waiting for someone like myself to come along and discover it. I snagged a bottle and headed back to the check-out stand where herself was picking lint and staring off into empty space. I presented the bottle to her and I swear to God, it took her a long, long moment to understand what she was seeing. “So now you know you have it and next time someone with Malaria or Yellow fever or maybe swine flu comes looking for it you’ll be able to direct them to it, eh?” She smiled sort of sheepishly and I wondered if she wasn’t a member of some anti-drinking group who were doing everything possible to make life difficult for the rest of us? As I was leaving I distinctly heard a very small feminine voice say “Swine flu?”
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Finished with my primary mission I returned to my morning exploration through the countryside. Springhill has the largest cemetery I’ve seen, especially for a town this size. They even have an auxiliary location of several more acres just in case you can’t get into the main place, and they all have headstones, unlike the wimpy little metal or stone plaques we see at home. I sort of like headstones, the little flat plaques seem almost irreverent and I want a really big honking one, say with angels or gargoyles, etc. Maybe I’ll make that part of my will just in case my boys get a severe attack of the cheap when I’m gone. Are you reading this Michael & Brian?
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Moving out of Springhill country I re-entered the world of high speed glassy-eyed cage people, all doing their best to drive faster than the laws of physics and good sense allow. After a few short miles of this I decided enough already and bailed off taking the first exit ramp available. As it turned out it was a stroke of luck, I ended up in the town of Windsor, birthplace of Hockey! Now isn’t that better than home of the world’s largest axe? One of my thoughts for the day was to buy a fistful of postcards, then check into a nice quiet motel and spend the afternoon scribbling short notes to people who care about such things and maybe trying out my new brand of tonic water. My first stop was the Welcome to Winston place, manned by a cute little blonde gal with a disgusting thing bored through one of her nostrils. They had lots of post cards but guess what, no credit card thingy. Sorry Charlie. At least they had a great restroom so I got to rest for awhile.
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Thanking her for the use of their facility I rode on into the main burg and parking the bike, I hoofed it into the Bank of Nova Scotia. You know, when you’re wearing big red and you go waltzing into a bank your average waiting period is probably akin to wearing a ski mask, not very long at all. Especially if it’s a warm day outside, that seems to perk things up a bit. The elderly lady who sprinted over to wait on me seemed at once both gracious and relieved and directed me to their ATM parked outside the main door.
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Armed with cash money I set out to find post cards, the tackier the better. The gal at the welcome center had suggested the pharmacy as being the place most likely to have them and “They even have one of those credit card machines.” Into the store I went, noting that my presence had registered with all three of the clerks on duty. One was with a customer, one was chatting it up with her girlfriend, and one simply disappeared. So be it, it was hot outside and big red was beginning to whine. I’m pretty good at surveying the goods available in small stores and as I was about to leave the chatty lady and her friend approached me and asked if I needed any help. Armed with my request she directed me to the smallest assortment of nondescript postcards I’ve yet to see. I made one of my special nasal snorting sounds that I think is clever as hell, something along the order of a duck with bad tonsils to which she nodded her head in approval and I left, sans postcards. Maybe I’ll just send email cards from one of those outfits that after getting hold of the recipient’s address never lets go of it and likely forwards it on to those creeps who send spam mail forever. Hey, it’s cheaper than postage, eh?
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On the road again I noted it was once again getting late and I hadn’t had any lunch yet. Every time I spotted what looked to be a possible candidate as a place to stop I was reminded of yesterday’s fiasco so I kept looking, hoping to find a McDonalds or similar purveyor of fine cuisine. No luck, so I just kept moving along and before I knew it enough time had passed that I decided to find a camp for the night.
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After several false starts I came across the Sun Valley Motel in Kentville and it was just what I was looking for, older but well kept, nice grounds, and probably less money than Super 8. It turned out to be just right and the people who own and run the place are great. After offloading my gear I rode into town for dinner at the place recommended by my hostess. Just as I was entering the thick of traffic down town the loudest damn air raid siren I’ve heard since the 50’s started up and went non-stop for at least 3 minutes. The locals around me seemed impervious to it but all I could think of was “It’s the big one, the Tsunami’s coming, run for high ground, run, run!” Nada, the folks around here don’t fear Tsunamis, they have Soviet invaders or something similar in mind, maybe people with guns or nets, whatever. Once the din quieted down I parked El Nino and hoofed it the two blocks to Rosey’s place where I topped off my fat tank with pasta primavera and thick Canadian toast saturated with butter. Just what my ticker needs. Eh?
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So that’s it, I’m here in the land of Nova Scotia and resting comfortably indoors, nursing a glass tinkling with ice and other ingredients. Tomorrow will be another dry warm day I think, unless the weather God frowns upon me and given the looks of the darkening skies that’s a possibility. Film at eleven…

Oh, almost forgot, the kitty was in Springfield hanging around on the sidewalk. Whenever a car door opened it did that rub-on-your-leg routine. Odd. Kitty cats are strange critters.

Jun 07 - Edmundston to Moncton via the scenic route

2009-06-07T17:38:00.000-07:00

Try as I may I am unable to get going before 9:30am no matter what time I get up. Today was no different although I was up and wandering around in my usual fog by 6:30am. My creaky old bones craved food, lots of it, and I recalled seeing cereal dispensers in the motel’s dining area so off I went. The selection was adequate; I polished off the remainder of their mini-shredded wheat things and came back hard for a bowl of mystery cereal, something I vaguely remember my kids eating in the last century. Odd tasting stuff, sort of cardboard-like in texture with a cinnamon twang to it. Probably has a half-life of 50 years or so. They also had individually wrapped donuts available so I took one back to my room where it lay on the desk for half an hour. Then realizing the heartburn that would follow if I ate it I snuck it back into the communal box and slunk back to my room.
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Finally I was ready to load the bike around 9:00am and during one of the trips down the hallway I overheard what I first thought to be kids jumping on the bed out of control. Lots of loud thumping at a very high rate accompanied by a loud shrieking noise that was increasing in amplitude and timbre on a non-linear scale. OMG, the newlyweds were camped next door! Realizing what I was hearing I entertained the notion of loud applause with a few hearty “Bravo, Bravo’s” thrown in but my mama didn’t raise no fool which is why I’ve survived all these years. Eh? Damned entertaining though.
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Once on the road I promised myself I wouldn’t spend the entire day doing the freeway thing so I dropped off the slab whenever something of interest caught my eye. Today being Sunday meant there would likely be more leisurely travelers out there and a slower pace could be expected. The first place I opted for was way off the beaten path, a small town with its own little Notre Dame tucked away on a hilltop like so many villages in France. I wish I could tell you the name of the place but I didn’t record it nor did I snap a picture of the road sign leading into the village. I’d intended to do that at each place I visited so I’d know where I’d been but you really need to take the pictures and not just think about it. I spent the next hour or so meandering through little back roads, stopping again to visit a small cemetery – one of my strange interests – and then pausing to watch a huge pine log mill in action. Watching a chipper operation is nearly as exciting as old Soviet propaganda films on annual cabbage crop yields so I moved on.
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Finding the freeway again, I continued to head in a south – southeast direction of travel. Just as boredom began to set in I noted a small sign expounding the wonders of the “Longest Covered Bridge in the World” located in glorious Hartland, next exit please. I’m a sucker for things like that so off I went. It was easy to find and just as they said, it’s one long honking covered bridge. I parked by the entrance on the uphill side and watched to see how the traffic moved. There is evidently an unwritten set of rules as to who goes when and how many go. Generally you roll up to the entrance and stop, then wait until the oncoming group has cleared the bridge, and then in you go moving right along at a brisk pace. When the last vehicle in your group has cleared the bridge the next bunch goes. It’s all very well managed and not once did I see anyone having issues. I really liked the bridge, it’s the coolest thing I’ve seen since discovering the Jesus Wants Your Soul shoe tree on Vancouver Island last year.
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The next town up the road laid claim to possessing the “World’s Biggest Axe”. Strangely I was able to resist that one and continuing with my meandering I soon found myself in another small village where there were some really great older houses. The entire community was tidy and nearly all the little cottages were painted and trim. I’ve noticed the Canadians in this part of the country seem to be highly dedicated to keeping their lawns, no, make that their fields neatly manicured. Everywhere I went it seemed there was always someone on a riding mower going at it full speed ahead. I wish the folks back home were as motivated. Maybe it’s the rain.
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After one final photo I resigned myself to accruing some decent mileage and got back on the slab. I stopped for a late lunch at one of the many combination gas bar and restaurants where I had a super breakfast of eggs, baked beans, home fries & onions accompanied by a really terrible streak. Yes, I know I had breakfast once but that was hours ago and this counted as lunch, OK? Anyway it was supposed to be a breakfast steak but in truth was more suited for use as material for logging boots soles. Noting my obvious difficulty in sawing through the not-quite-dead bovine the manager lady stopped at my table to see how things were going. “I liked everything except the steak and it’s the worst one I’ve ever had in a restaurant.” I told her. “Why don’t you take it back to the kitchen and have a go at cutting it yourself and see if you agree?” She was a nice lady and since I’d complimented the rest of the meal she disappeared with the evidence. A couple of minutes later she was back with my check and apologized, saying she’d given me a discount on the meal. Fair enough, I paid up and headed out the exit.
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Outside there were a couple of guys eyeballing the bike and they seemed duly impressed that I was so far from home. Soon a few more people ambled over, mostly curious bikers and for awhile it turned into a great story swapping session about riding and retirement, yadda yadda. I finally got mounted up and rode off into the sunset….right….praying once again I wouldn’t fall on my ass getting out of the parking lot. But I didn’t and my destination town Moncton soon appeared on the horizon. Well sort of, you can’t actually see it until you’re there but you get the idea. Anyway I checked into the local Comfort Inn for the evening and as soon as I was unloaded I hit the nearby Burger King for dinner. Yum.
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So that’s it, another glorious day on the road to Nova Scotia has ended. Tomorrow is the day; I’m just a few clicks away from crossing over into the big NS and should be there early. One of the couples at the restaurant this afternoon told me that since I’d come so far I should continue on to Newfoundland, ride the ferry, meet the folks, hang out, etc. Hmm….there’s a thought, eh?
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I wonder if they sell tonic water in Newfoundland?

Jun 06 – Waddaya mean I’m in Maine?

2009-06-06T18:24:00.000-07:00

Linda sent me an email last night mentioning it sounded like I was going through an area that wasn’t as interesting as the previous ones. True, but probably due to the fact I’ve been on the freeway for the past couple of days and there’s a reason why bikers sometimes refer to them as slabs.
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Today was very much the same as yesterday although the first 20 miles or so were nice as they were rural areas. Then it was back on the slab and for the rest of the day it was pretty boring. Some of the areas could just as easily have been the Willamette valley back home, only the license plates and language were different. Still, after a few hours of listening to people communicate in French it was hard to believe I was still in Canada and not France. Maybe I made a wrong turn somewhere?
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This morning I decided to wear lighter clothes so it was back into the leather jacket and Bohn armored undies. I figured if the weather went south I could stop somewhere and slip into big red. Good thinking, around 1:30pm the dark sky that had been following me for a couple of hours finally caught up and the first drops appeared on my visor. I rode through a couple of light showers thinking it might clear up but the sky really started to look black where I was headed so I pulled into a gas station’s side lot and did the deed. After that it was on again off again with the rain but I stayed snug inside big red. Then I crossed into New Brunswick and it was like drawing a line across the road, the light shower turned into a torrential downpour. I stopped at the official welcome to New Brunswick facility to take a couple of pics but it was so dark they didn’t turn out very well.
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I finally reached Edmundston, NB where I intended to spend the night if I could find a place. I queried the GPS for hotel/motel locations and rode to the address of the first one but it seems to have vanished. Then the second one was down a narrow street that T’d onto a smaller street that had a Canadian border building on the left and a grated steel bridge on the right. Not quite understanding what was going on – remember it was dark and raining like all go to hell – I chose the right turn and rode over the bridge. Guess what was on the other side? The US Customs entry into the good ol’ US of A. Pulling into the booth I had to laugh as I told the guy I’d no idea I was about to re-enter the US and that I was just looking for a motel. He chuckled like he’d heard that one more than once and then asked the usual questions about guns and liquor and drugs. After that he gave me directions to the two motels in town so I was off again. The people waiting patiently behind me in line probably thought he was really chewing me out with all the arm waving and finger pointing. I'm getting to like Customs guys, they're fun.
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Finding Martin’s Motel was made easier because of the GPS and I was there in just a few minutes. As I rode up there was a new metallic red Goldwing parked in front and its owner Bill Alexander was standing on the porch admiring the rain. He lives in Las Vegas where he works for Lowes as a commercial sales specialist and at present he’s on a month long ride doing the 4-corners thing which is a very long ride indeed. We hit it off right away and went to dinner at the local eatery where I had the adult version of Beanie Weenies, then I headed back to Martin’s and Bill went to gas his bike and get it ready for tomorrow’s ride.

Martin's Motel is a killer deal compared to what I've been dealing with in Canada: $46 bucks including breakfast flakes, etc., and although it's an older place it's well maintained and has the same ammenities as the more expensive places. I wish I could find more just like this one.
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I’m not sure which way I’ll head tomorrow, back over the bridge into NB or maybe east through Maine and ultimately to Nova Scotia that way. I talked to a guy a day or so ago and he recommended the latter so maybe that’s what I’ll do. For right now I’ve got a pair of socks to wash out.
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You know what I really like about being back in the US? These people speak English and they know all about Tonic water. Yessirree…

Jun 05 – Granby, Quebec where they speak in tongues. Or maybe my hearing’s finally gone?

2009-06-05T18:54:00.001-07:00

Canadians in general don’t seem to have developed a taste for Gin & Tonic. Gin they appear to like but Tonic remains a mystery and as a result, it isn’t to be found easily. Consequently I’ve had to resort to weird concoctions such as Gin & 7-Up, Gin & Mountain Dew, and tonight Gin & Perrier…with just a hint of lemon. Ugh. That’s like just a hint of Scoal. But I digress, here’s what happened today.
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On the way out of Mattawa I stopped for breakfast at the same place I ate dinner at last night. Without so much as looking at the menu I ordered the good old reliable bacon-eggs-potatoes-toast-coffee. All of this accomplished as I was standing at the table trying to shrug out of the top half of big red without looking like the village idiot. The waitress (screw saying “wait person”) was pretty cool, she led me with each word knowing full well what to ask and when to ask it. “Onions in the potatoes? Over easy? Coffee black? White toast?” I think waitresses read me like cops who see me stopped by the road. Bottom line, the breakfast just happened to be their daily special and I got off for a meager $4.95. Yes I tipped but that was extra.
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After breakfast I paused for a quick pic of the little town’s main drag and then it was road time again. The day passed quickly as most all of it was spent on major freeways getting me past Montreal and its environs. At one point I darn near ran out of gas and using the fuel finder feature of the GPS I discovered Garmin and their programmers have a strange sense of humor. Following the turn-by-turn instructions I found myself in a part of Montreal frequented by ladies of the early afternoon (hooks) and young bloods in their best street fighter garb. The hooks ignored me but the bloods looked at me hungrily in the same way they might a juicy piece of white chicken. Bless you Kawasaki for building such a fine machine, breaking down at that particular time would have been most unpleasant. Still keeping the faith in Garmin I chose the next place on their roster and it turned out to be good, it landed me at a Shell station where one of the attendants spoke English and I gassed up and hit the freeway system again.
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It’s odd how easy it is to ride a bike several hundred miles without much effort. When you’re a kid that is; us old geezers utilize a different system to tell us when it’s time to hang it up for the day. For instance my boney old knees usually let me know and today was no exception. Yesterday it was my butt but the inflatable Air Hawk seat pad seems to be holding air after I applied the patch last night. I love low tech repair kits.
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Other than for gas the only stop I made was for lunch at my favorite burger joint, Burger King. It was slightly interesting for two reasons, one, the people who live in this area seem to think they’re French and speak accordingly and I don’t, and two, I got to watch a naughty couple meet for what was obviously a clandestine union. Tsk tsk, what if your spouses find out?
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After that it was onward and eastward until I could do no more and I ended the day at the Granby Motel, located at the starting line of the unauthorized Granby street drag strip. But hey, I don’t care because my Asian landlady booked me into room 52, the farthest location in the entire motel and upstairs to boot. Since there are at least two other vehicles in the parking lot maybe she’s expecting company? Doesn’t matter, I’m happy with my new digs and if anyone wanders down the darkened hallway it their bad luck.

Dinner? Why it's Manly Food again of course!

Jun 04 – Onward to Mattawa, Ontario, center of the known world

2009-06-04T19:21:00.000-07:00

Last night I slept like I was comatose, must have been due to the quality of the motel or something. In any event I felt really refreshed this morning and after showering I headed to join the feeding frenzy at the motel’s dining area. No Grape Nuts Flakes for me today, today it was Sugar Frosted Flakes or just muffins and toast. I went with the flakes and the muffins. Then I spent the better part of an hour listening to an old Canadian geezer tell me everything that was wrong with those damn modern bikes, especially those Ninja things that go way too damn fast and you could get killed on one. I listened patiently and dropped the bomb letting him know that was my ride of choice. He swallowed most of his tongue and moved right into how unreliable modern electronics are on those damn BMW bikes. I queried him to see what he was actually referring to and he listed those damn electric vests and electric heated grips and how all of that would go wrong and leave a guy stranded, yadda yadda. I dropped bomb #2. Moving right along he gave up on modern bikes and told me the tale of how he’d inherited 3 bikes from a friend, 2 were original Indians and one was an old Harley 74. He gave them to his kids and they loved them, yadda yadda. I liked him.
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There were two other bikers staying in the motel and they parked next to the Ninja. I was glad it was covered up as their bikes were clean and pretty whereas the Ninja is a filthy beast and not fit to be seen next to pretty iron. I tried to make conversation with them but they weren’t too interested in swapping road stories with an old geezer so I let it go. Sometimes you meet friendly guys and sometimes they like to stay within their own boundaries. Riding alone sort of forces you to open up to strangers and you get to meet interesting people.
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Once I got moving I realized how late it was, nearly 10:30am by the time I got on the road. I let the GPS pick the route and instead of following the main highway it took me through some of the Indian reservation land. Spotting an interesting bit of graffiti on a railroad bridge I turned around and headed back for a photo shoot. Just about the time I got the kickstand down one of the Reservation Police guys pulled up and asked if everything was alright. I was clearly parked where I shouldn’t have been but being on two wheels sometimes gives me the notion I can get away with small infringements of the law. I told him I wanted to take a photo of the bridge and he seemed to like that. I said thanks for stopping and he took off. Nice guy. That’s the 2nd time that’s happened on this trip. I must look like I need help a lot. So where the hell was he when I dropped my bike yesterday?
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Not much happened after that, I continued my ride through little reservation towns and open farm lands until the road detoured me back onto the main highway, then things got pretty boring. I rode the rest of the morning sort of zombie-like until I realized the lunch bell had rang and I’d slept right through it. Lunch choices in that part of the world weren’t many and when I spotted one of the Dixie Lee chicken joints I bailed. They’re running head to head with the Colonel but they also offer other items such as perogies or whatever the heck they’re called. Those are the little dumpling thingies with potato stuffing and covered with onions & bacon & a side of sour cream. You may recall I tried them a couple of days back? The other guys really know how to make them and Dixie Lee should stick with chicken. End of story.
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With lunch out of the way I flew on down highway 17 again but after awhile I noticed I was having difficulty keeping the seating position I liked. I kept sliding around and my butt was beginning to feel a bit tired, like maybe the Anti-Monkey Butt powder wasn’t working or something. The more I got to thinking about it the more I suspected foul play and began to wonder if one of the biker boys at the motel had managed to stick a kick-me sign on my butt or something. Finally I couldn’t stand it anymore and pulled into a view point of Lake Huron to have a look. Bad news, the Air Hawk inflatable seat cushion was flatter than yesterday’s tortilla. I hadn’t blown air into it since the day I’d received it, more than 20,000 miles ago so I figured maybe it was time for a refill. The inflation valve is just like the one on a bicycle tire and it seemed OK so I blew it up and took off. My efforts lasted for around 20 minutes and then it was flat again. It was time to shop for a tube repair kit.
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I also needed a new pair or reading glasses, some Scotch tape to repair the map with – it was really falling apart, and I wanted to buy some extra ear plugs, the squishy kind that fit kids’ ears. They’re made of a pliable silicone material and they’re perfect for wearing under a crash helmet. Rolling through Sturgeon Falls I spotted a brand new RexAll Drugstore and figured I’d hit the big one. Sure enough, they had Scotch tape and the ear plugs I wanted but their reading glasses were priced at $32.95! Jesus, Joseph, and Mary, I buy those things at home for a buck at the Dollar Store. Grumbling at the clerk about it – I didn’t bother to take any – she acknowledged how pricey everything was in their store and suggested I keep an eye out for the Canadian version of the Dollar Store as her brother-in-law buys them all the time for that price. Nice lady.
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Next I headed to the local bike parts shop where I picked up a can of chain oil spray and got back on the road to Oz, aka Mattawa. Actually I hadn’t a clue where I was going to land for the day, just figured I’d ride until I was pooped and take the first place I could find. Riding into Mattawa I came upon a True Value Hardware store and popped in for a tube repair kit to use on the Air Hawk. While there I happened to ask if they sold reading glasses and out comes a box of cellophane wrapped specs in just my size. And for only a buck and a half. My kind of place.
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On the way into town I’d spotted the Two Rivers Motel so I back tracked and after checking things out decided it was my best bet unless I wanted to ride another 100 clicks. The lady who owns the place has this gigantic Malamute dog who must weigh at least 100 lbs and he seemed to like me. Like maybe I was one of his littermates or something. First he sniffed me over, then he bit me, then he wanted me to scratch his big fat butt, etc., etc. What a hound, and named Wiley Coyote to boot. I'm really glad I was wearing my black cotton long-sleeve shirt.
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The owner lady told me about a restaurant up the road that had great food so I shucked out of big red and the electric vest thingy and rode in for dinner. I can’t recall the last time I had a hot roast beef sandwich with mashed potatoes and 2 cups of brown gravy but tonight was the night for it. Damn it was good, and they included homemade coleslaw that was to die for. Sometimes you just get lucky.
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Back at the motel I banged on the owner’s door begging for ice – this place’s ice machine is evidently the icemaker in her kitchen reefer. With a cute little silver bucket of frozen goodies I ferreted myself away in my room where I experimented with the tube repair kit. The leak is right on one of the edges of material and if it holds air I’ll be amazed. One thing I can tell you for sure, I ain’t about to ride several thousand more miles without the Air Hawk. If it’s done in then I’m going on a mission to find another one or at least an equivalent for the rest of the trip. My skinny old butt just isn’t cut out for riding without one. Bet the Harley shops have something….

June 03 – Goodbye Wawa, Hello Sault Ste. Marie

2009-06-03T15:55:00.000-07:00

As I was leaving Wawa this morning I realized I’d failed to take pics of the huge Canadian Geese statues scattered around town. Pausing at the nearest one I read the sign below it and learned the town was named after them using the local Indian word for the geese. So how do they really know that I wondered? I mean, come on now, if I were one of the local tribes people I’d have had a field day teaching the white guys Indian words. So what does Wawa really mean guys? This was a double score stop as there were also carvings of the Gitchee Goomee Man, just the thing to show your 2-year old grandkids, thereby ensuring the little nippers will experience nightmares in vivid colors.

It was cold again but at least it was sunny so I bundled up with all the warm stuff I had and lit out towards my destination of Sault Ste. Marie. Just a few clicks down the road I stopped to have a look at the Old Woman Bay Provincial Park. It’s really a nice park, lots of picnic tables and a clean sandy beach. It’s also the place to freeze your tail off if you’re used to warmer climes. Like I am, for instance. While there I decided to try the remote timer on my camera so I could star in photos farther away than arm’s length. The net result demonstrates I need a bit more practice, the one I took looks like I’ve started happy hour at 9:00am. Maybe that’s how the locals keep warm?
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Back on the road again, I blasted by the turn off to Gargantua Road, noting as I did that it was gravel. Then it occurred to me that I had tons of experience riding the Ninja on gravel from my first trip to Alaska. What the heck I thought, it’s a nice day, might as well go back and have a go at it. The idea of a nice long ride up a crappy road somehow appealed to me so off I went. The road actually is crappy for the most part, long stretches of really big knobby rocks accompanied by loose pointy gravel. Occasional dirt & a little mud thrown in just to make it interesting.

I was actually doing pretty good, stopping to take lots of pictures and in general having a pretty good time of it. Then I thought maybe I’d better get my camera out and hang it around my neck for that spur of the moment photo op that was bound to occur. With everything at the ready I started off again and sure enough, within just a few minutes out of the bushes just ahead of me pops this big fat bunny rabbit, stopping dead in his tracks to stare at me. Yes, I thought, here we go and reaching for the camera at precisely the same time the front tire encountered a pointy rock I off-loaded. Nap-time for El Nino; aka time for a lie-down.

Dammit I hate it when that happens, especially if I’m umpteen miles up a gravel road with no one within screaming distance to pick the bike up for me. I must be getting used to this as I calmly removed the topside pannier and tank bag so as to lighten things up before attempting to upright her. While this was going on the damn rabbit, who had calmly been observing this fire drill from a few feet away approached within 3 feet of the bike, sniffed it over a bit and hip-pity hopped back into the bushes. As the task of up righting the miserable beast was mine I gripped whatever I could get hold of, gave my best primeval scream and yanked her up. Naturally I was on the side opposite the kickstand but I pretty well have that one figured out so I tippy-toed around her all the while doing my best balancing act. Once upright I surveyed things for damage and noted there were only a couple of new scratches in the same general area as the ones that occurred during the yellow jacket thing the other day. Poor old El Nino, she’s really starting to look like a tart.

Packed up again, I headed on to the Gargantua place, wherever that would be. The sign had said it was something on the order of 12 -14 clicks each way and I was already half way in. The rest of the ride was uneventful albeit beautiful and I stopped often to take more photos. Arriving at the terminus of the road was almost anti-climatic; you reach a small turn around area with 2 kilometers to go before you arrive at the bay. Buggers I thought, I ain’t goin in there, I could get eaten by a bear. Or maybe Gypsies would steal my bike and I’d have to walk home. No way Jose and I turned it around and rode back to highway 17.

About that time I remembered I hadn’t had any lunch yet and it was already past 1:00pm. The Oreos and milk I’d had for breakfast had long since been absorbed and converted into adrenalin and I was beginning to feel hunger pangs. What, you don’t eat Oreos & Milk for breakfast? Pity. I admit I had just a tad bit of trouble getting Big Red zippered up this morning so I may have to cut back on the milk. Anyway as I was sailing along at a sensible rate of speed, around 121 clicks, and keeping an eye out for upcoming food ops I spied this blackie standing on the inside of the guard rail preparing to launch himself across the road. Good thing he was keeping an eye on me as I sure as hell couldn’t have done much about slowing down if he’d sprang out in front of me. He must have been street smart though as he waited until I’d passed and then scooted across. Good bear, that’s the way to do it…

Finally I arrived at a place that had been on billboards for miles in advance, the Canadian Carver. It’s a fabulous place with nearly everything a tourist could want, trinkets, teepees, stuffed wolves, carved widgets, gas pumps, groceries, a liquor store, but no damn restaurant! Since I was already there I figured I might as well do the tour so I did, and I managed to resist spending a single dime. Until I came to the liquor store that is, and it’s my personal belief that liquor qualifies as one of the basic food groups, maybe one of the plant things like yellow vegetables so I stocked up just to be on the safe side.

After that it was more road time and I noted I wasn’t too far away from Sault Ste. Marie so I decided to wait until I hit the big city to eat. As I approached the outer edge of town I queried my magic GPS for motels and selected the Super 8 as the place to stop. Bingo, it was a great choice, nicest one I’ve stayed at so far and close to everything. Oddly they provide free hi-speed Internet access but it’s via cable, something I’d nearly forgotten about since most places use WIFI. The hook up was simple enough so that’s that, I’m finished fooling around at a decent hour today and will have time to watch the tube a little.
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What’s for dinner you wonder? Why Burger King of course, my favorite place in the known Universe. And maybe a little something else...for medicinal purposes.

Jun 02 - Wawa (No kidding!) Ontario where it’s cold as hell

2009-06-02T18:50:00.000-07:00

The Super 8 Motel people are thinking, they provide an old worn out towel in the bathroom to be used for cleaning shoes, bikes, anything dirty. It beats seeing their good linens used for the same thing and at the same time provides another avenue for recycling. I’ve seen this done before but not often; last time was in BC last year. Maybe it’s a Canadian thing? Kudos to them anyway, I was able to clean most of the construction zone crud off the bike this morning. Naturally I ran through another construction zone this afternoon so it’s back to square one.
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When I looked out the window this morning I was greeted with the remnants of the rain storm that had passed through during the night. The sun was out but it was cold and the sky had lots of dark clouds on the horizon. The weatherman confirmed what he’d been predicting, rain and cold the further east you went. Not what I wanted to hear but hanging around Super 8 wasn’t on my long-term agenda so I packed it up and got ready to leave. About that time one of the other guests came over to chat it up and during the conversation he recommended taking 17, the Trans Canada instead of the backwater roads I’d planned on. His description of the two routes swung me over to his thinking as 17 runs alongside Lake Superior and the views are super. The back roads take you through flat boring country full of bugs and nothing to look at according to him so 17 it was.

I stopped to gas up and reset the daily trip meter, then hooked up with 17 heading around Lake Superior. Just out of town I spotted the Terrance Fox memorial, one of the stops the motel guy had recommended seeing. Terry was a young man who lost one of his legs, recovered and ultimately ran all the way across Canada with his prosthetic leg. As an inspiration to people everywhere he raised millions of dollars for medical research causes. When he died he people of Canada erected the memorial overlooking Thunder Bay as a tribute to him. It was definitely worth the visit.
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Before leaving I thought I’d ask someone to take a picture of me with Thunder Bay in the background. A guy came by about then and I asked him if he’d take one for me and of course he said sure. Knowing how people sometimes react to strange cameras I opened the view screen and set things up so all he had to do was point and push the big fat button. You ever come across someone who’s unable to chew gum and remain upright at the same time? I assure you, he’s living in Thunder Bay. As I was posing the first thing I noticed was he had the lens aimed at my belly. That’s probably OK as the camera is very forgiving and I figured I could crop what I needed. Then I noticed he was having a really hard time with the view screen, lots of furrows popping out of his forehead so I told him to try using the view port, same as on older cameras. That helped but then I noticed his trigger finger turning white from the effort of pushing the shutter button. Nice. The problem was he was pushing down on the camera body between the shutter button and the on/off button. I showed him again which button to push and took up my posing position again. This time he frowned and said “It’s no good; I think the batteries are dead.” I looked and noted he’d pressed the tiny on/off button shutting the camera off. Taking it gently away from him I examined it and said “Dang it, you’re right they’re dead. Thanks anyway, I’ll just buy some new ones.” We did the mutual smile thing and each went our own way. I hoped he didn’t notice me taking more pictures on the way out of the park.
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Leaving the memorial I returned to my ride on 17 and after a few more miles noticed the sky was becoming ominous looking, black clouds were gathering in nasty looking formations and heading my way. I stopped for a quick photo of them and continued on towards the darkening horizon. Sure enough light droplets began to gather on my visor so I pulled over and put the rain cover on the tank bag. A steady downpour began as soon as I got back on the bike and within a few miles I was shivering with the cold. What a crappy day it was turning into I thought. I spotted one of the infrequent rest stops and decided to give myself a break for a few minutes and maybe take a couple more shots of Lake Superior. By the time I got parked and retrieved the camera the weather had socked in and visibility of the lake was down to nil. At least the Birch trees in the rest stop were pretty so I settled for another photo of the Ninja plus one of myself. I was cold and damp and not a happy camper.
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Returning to the miserable ride I continued on only now it was just stare ahead and move along as quickly as the circumstances allowed. About an hour passed without letup in the rain when I came across a lone restaurant way out in the middle of nowhere. It was one of those one-man operations and I was glad as hell to find it. He served me piping hot coffee right away and I ordered a bowl of his homemade cream of broccoli soup. It was great and I topped it off with a slice of lemon pie plus more hot coffee. I liked the guy, he was cordial and his place was clean and food was good. I probably should have taken a picture of him but the rain was starting up again so off I went.
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I continued along the highway, now heading south and decided to look for an early stop for the day. That’s exactly what I’d tried to do yesterday and ended up riding forever. Resolute in my thinking I wasn’t going to settle for that again today. My trip odometer was barely 200 miles but nearly all of it was in pelting cold rain and I was getting fed up with it, I wanted a warm room with a TV and an ice machine nearby. Like yesterday it wasn’t going to be easy, and when I’d ridden another 100+ miles I came to the town of Wawa. That’s right kiddies, Wawa. Figuring it had to be interesting I pulled off the highway into the little burg and sure enough, there were several motels. The Sportsman’s Motel won the choice as it has a restaurant next door and a Beer Store across the road. What more could a guy want?
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I checked in, unloaded the bike and immediately headed for The Beer Store. They’d just closed! Dammit anyway, missed it by ten minutes. Moving on to plan B, I scored milk, Oreos, and Schweppes Tonic water at the little grocery store down the road. After depositing my precious cargo in my room I hoofed it over to the Viking restaurant where I had one of their house special burgers, a veritable jaw breaker and tasty too. While waiting for it to arrive I entertained myself attempting to estimate the gross weight of the 14 ladies occupying a huge table across the room. Not an easy task but I finally arrived at 2500 lbs on the hoof, handbags and paraphernalia not included. I had to give it up as one of them had begun to stare at me and a cold fear gripped my heart, what if they were witches? What if they could read minds? They might come for me later…
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And that’s it, another day on the road; this one will be memorable as the coldest so far. However If I continue east it’s not likely to hold that distinction for long.

Jun 1 - Ontario's Lake of the Woods & The ride to Thunder Bay

2009-06-01T21:50:00.000-07:00

Boy do my knees ever hurt, I rode just under 500 miles today and I can tell it. To begin with I left Steinbach right on schedule (following my usual Grape Nuts Flakes...) I had to retrace part of my route to get back on track heading east and that took me north where I hooked back up with the Trans Canada freeway. Once I’d gotten away from the area around Winnipeg I found myself alone on the road, sometimes for several miles. That struck me as odd since this was Canada’s main east-west arterial. Maybe business is slacking off?

I spent a considerable amount of time fantasizing about a movie I saw where the guy woke up and everyone on Earth is dead. He spends a lot of time running up and down the local freeways looking for other people, rummaging through stuff, looting, etc. Get the picture? That was me winding along on the Trans Cam all alone, last guy on the planet. Fun.

When I left this morning I decided to stow the leather jacket and switch back to the ‘stich aka Big Red. Yesterday afternoon had been fairly crisp and today looked even more so. It was a good decision but still I stopped within a few miles and added my neck warmer to the mix – the tubular thingy that keeps your guzzler from freezing up. That lasted for maybe another 10 miles and I stopped again, this time donning the electric vest which I turned up to the highest setting where it stayed the rest of the day. For the most part it was sunny to partly cloudy with little wind but still nippy as hell at speed. I have to tell you, the money I spent on electric heated stuff was well worth the price, and having the one-piece ‘stich to wrap it all up in makes it darn near perfect. Plus, as I confessed awhile back, it’s possible to sleep in the ‘stich. Just in case you left your sleeping bag home.

I stayed on the Trans Canada through Kenora which is the beginning of the route around the huge Lake on the Woods district. In Kenora I stopped for a photo op of the cabin on one of the islands which is posted above, very cool digs for someone of means. Turning south onto highway 71 took me through the Sioux Narrows area and ultimately to Fort Frances where I turned east onto highway 11. The ride down 71 was gorgeous and nearly every place is either owned by or named after one of the local Indian tribes. I didn’t see any of the huge casinos that we have in Oregon so maybe the Canadians don’t allow them?

Along the same route I spotted the Rushing River falls and pulled a U-turn to go back for a photo. There was a Provincial Camp Ground (Ta Da..!) so rather than parking on the narrow shoulder of the road I rode in and stopped at the entrance. The ranger gal was at the pay station and I asked if I could pull around as I just wanted to take a photo and not camp. “Nope. If you come into the park you have to pay $10.00.” she remarked. Make that smirked. I replied with “But..but..uh..but...”, then realizing I wasn’t going to win this one and no way was I going to fork over ten bucks I back peddled the bike over the speed bump and rode out against the one-way. She stood there smiling all the while. Nice lady. At the entrance to the highway I parked and took the photo which is all I wanted to do in the first place. Thinking back I’m glad she’s found a position that enables her to exercise her authority over the little people, if not for that her life would probably be empty. Yup.

Further on down the road I pulled over to shoot the photo of a beaver lodge and while I was fumbling with my camera bag one of the RCMP guys pulled up. “You doin’ OK” he asked. At least I think that’s what he said since I was wearing my ear plugs and could only see his lips moving. I pantomimed using a camera and pointed at the water. He got it, game me a thumbs up and drove off. At least I think it was a thumbs up. Maybe he arrested me for loitering and I was supposed to follow him?

The afternoon approached and as is my habit I began the search for a lunch stop. The places along the lakes all looked a bit upscale for a bug covered biker though, and being of a frugal nature I expected they would be on the expensive side so I continued my ride. Then as luck would have it I spotted a small café in the miniscule township of Emo named the Circle D Family Restaurant. It looked like a nice clean little place and although the door was closed I could see people inside, some of them eating so that was good enough for me. I parked right in front and it was easy to see I immediately became the source of entertainment for all of them. The watched me intently as I removed helmet, gloves, guzzler thingy, glasses, and then inside at a booth I shrugged partially out of Big Red, all of which was performed without dropping so much as a single item. No applause, just polite stares and hushed whispers. No folks, not Saint Nick, just the old guy from Bandon by the Sea… None of them rode bikes but at least one rode one of those scooter chairs you see in the AARP magazine and I think another one had a lethal looking cane.

The menu was great, lots of homemade items and all at very low prices. That’s under five bucks to me, probably not so for you guys? Anyway one of the items was called Poggerlies or something like that so I asked the waitress what it was. She started to explain and was immediately interrupted by an older gal who was probably her mom. Turns out it was a Ukrainian dish more properly known as Vareniki or at least that’s as close as I can recall. They’re small pastries filled with mashed potatoes, then deep fried and served with a topping of chopped fried bacon, onions, and a side of sour cream. Heavenly. To die for. Don’t forget where you left your fat clothes.

Waddling out of the café and preparing to mount up I noticed the same folks watching my show played in reverse. One of the ladies actually came to the door and watched. Maybe it was Big Red? These are the times you pray to God you won’t fall on your ass when you twiddle the bike out the gravel driveway.

After the heavy lunch I decided that retiring around 3:30pm would make sense so I began the search for a cheap motel. Not only were there no cheap motels, even the high end looking ones were closed or full up. Thus began the final ride segment for the day, I locked into the back of an SUV who was driving like a bat out of hell – 115k – and followed him all the way into Thunder Bay, a good 175 mile stretch that I didn’t want to take. It turned out OK though as I snagged a room in the Super 8 and tomorrow I’ll take it easier.

And what did I have for dinner you ask? As it happens I’m now on Eastern Daylight time and since it was right at 10:00pm and I didn’t want to go anywhere I settled for a sub sandwich and 6 donuts from the shop behind the motel. That’s right, SIX donuts, so what? I could just as easily have ordered twelve. Think about it.

May 31 – Steinbach Manitoba & it’s getting chilly….

2009-05-31T20:11:00.000-07:00

The longish ride through Saskatchewan farm lands was pleasant and it saddened me to leave. It must be a very wealthy Province as many of the ranches and farms boast meticulous yards and entrances to their properties.
Along the way I saw lots of hawks plus a big coyote with the bushiest tail I’ve ever seen. I've seen some interesting road signs too, including today's winner "Forget". I waited for a follow-up but there was none, however the graffiti on a roadside brick building declaring Joe Erickson is a wife beater gave it a run. Shortly after those finds I encountered a construction zone not unlike some of the ones in Alaska, complete with watered down mud and rocks. I was glad for my experience in riding through them but the bike now looks like crap and really needs to be washed.

The final few miles through Saskatchewan's eastern end began to lessen in appearance and when I crossed over into Manitoba the change was dramatic, especially the condition of the roads. The closer I got to Winnipeg the nastier they became; to the point I was tempted to stop just to give my innards a rest from all the jarring and bumping. I decided against that as it was getting late in the day and I needed to find a place for the night. Have I mentioned I carry a can of Anti-Monkey-Butt Powder? No? Well I do, I use it and I highly recommend it. Those who are interested can find it on Aerostich's website: http://www.aerostich.com/catalog/US/index.html
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Anyway I’m in Steinbach for the evening, sequestered in the newer Days Inn, better of the two choices in accommodations available. It’s pricier than what I’d like but the other place looked scary and I didn’t feel like slumming it tonight. There’s a Pizza Hut conveniently located next door so I’ve topped off my acid indigestion tank and will await the predictable outcome.

On the downside the weatherman continues to deliver grim forecasts, particularly regarding the eastern seaboard area. Last night snow fell just above Ontario and cold rain was the norm beyond that all the way to the coast. Ugh. I’ll be watching it closely for the next day or so and may decide to take a more southerly route if it doesn’t let up.

Overall today's ride was comfortable for the most part, less frantic winds but late afternoon temps dropped and I stopped to add a light pullover to the mixed bag I’ve been wearing. I also traded the summer gloves for the winter ones and switched on the heated grips. Nice and toasty stuff.

The good news is my tiny little notebook PC is working just fine and I had no trouble getting on line. Last night it was impossible and I was afraid I’d pushed the wrong button and really screwed things up. This room I'm in comes with a fine refrigerator and the ice machine is conveniently located. I think I like this place.

May 30 – On to Cadillac and Weyburn, Saskatchewan

2009-05-31T18:19:00.000-07:00

The weather people have been predicting nasty weather in a couple of days, especially in the direction I’m heading so I’ll enjoy the sunshine as long as I have it. Today started off with a gourmet breakfast at the motel (Raisin Bran, what else?) Then I discovered that sometime between last night and this morning the zippered bag that holds the bike cover disappeared. I left it under the cover on the bike’s saddle and I suspect it fell out and blew away or maybe one of the kids from hell who were still running around at midnight adopted it. It doesn’t matter, it was a cheapie and not worth worrying about.

On the road early, I headed south on 4 towards the intersection with 13 and the curious little town of Cadillac, Saskatchewan. The ride seemed to take longer than I’d expected and the constant heavy cross winds took some of the pleasure out of the ride. Cadillac is another time warp town from early last century. Small ramshackle houses mixed with dilapidated buildings set the stage for what must be the quietest existence imaginable. The little town is clean and tidy in spite of the gravel streets and its citizens show their sense of humor in their street signs, most named after cars. Several of the buildings are for sale or abandoned and now that I’ve moved on I wish I’d inquired about their asking prices. The Catholic Church, perhaps aptly named Our Lady of Confidence was especially inviting. One Mass, Sunday at 1:00pm. How could anyone resist a schedule like that? Catholics like to sleep in, especially on Sundays. Trust me, I know these things.
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For the next couple of hours I struggled against the wind, not having a particularly good ride but the views were great and that made up for it some. It was around that time the low-fuel warning light came on and I noted I had put a little over 150 miles on the tank. The reserve factor allows for around 35 miles so I kept a sharp lookout for a gas station. Right, wishful thinking LL. I fully expected to run out at the 185 mile point as I’d been pushing it pretty hard while dealing with the wind factor. When a small Co-op facility showed up on the horizon I was thankful as all get out, the odometer had hit 190 miles and the fumes I’d been running on were fast disappearing. I’m clueless what the cost-per-liter was but at that point I’d have been willing to pay top dollar as pushing a bike doesn’t qualify in my world of entertainment. The guys were friendly and asked questions about where I was headed, etc., but the earplugs I was wearing prevented me from much in-depth conversation so with happy manly waves all around I rode off into the sunset. Or was it mid-morning into the wind storm?
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Then it was lunch time. Why do I look forward to eating so much when I’m traveling? What I call highway food hardly ever qualifies as a gastronomical delight. But there it was, the little village of Lafleche on the left just down a short road. I couldn’t resist and after taking the full one-minute tour of the town I chose The Lafleche Café as my preferred place to eat. It was also the only place to eat. Ordinarily I tend to avoid cafes that leave their doors open, especially in small towns with dusty streets. Seems like a small concession to health standards, sort of like the 30-second rule, but in this case I was hungry and ready for a rest break.
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Entering through the always-open door I noted the lady who was probably the proprietor, an elderly Chinese woman who looked as dour as could be. She was giving me an unsmiling look over and didn’t say word one when I entered. I was the only one there and for a moment I wondered if they were actually open or if I’d arrived just as they were closing for the wake. She continued to say nothing as I perused the black chalk board listing the lunch specials and turning to her I asked, “Do I give my order to you?” She came very close to moving, I could tell as one of her eyes sort of blinked. I took that as a yes so I said “I’d like the hamburger steak please.” She continued to say zip but turned and headed towards the rear which I presumed would be the kitchen. What if she’d just gone home? I sat down at one of the little tables and awaited my fate. I had a perfect view of the Ninja parked in front of the open door, looking for all the world like a lonesome dog who wanted to come inside. Inside the front window a huge bee buzzed in frantic circles non-stop, looking for an escape route. Occasionally it would start in my direction but then turn back to familiar territory and continued banging against the glass. I kept my fingers crossed that it wouldn’t decide my helmet sitting on the chair next to me looked like an inviting place to reside.

Lunch arrived; a generous sized hamburger patty smothered in brown mystery gravy and fried onions, the shortest French fries I’ve ever seen, a wedge of watermelon, and the requisite orange slice. A buttered hamburger bun poised on top of everything served as the garnish. Odd little touch there but maybe that’s how it’s done in Lafleche? The silent lady deposited my plate of food and spun on her heels to leave. “I’d like coffee too” I said, probably sounding a little frantic. I was hoping not to offend her and although she didn’t reply I was pretty sure she’d heard me. Back she came in 30 seconds or so with a cup of freshly brewed Farmer Bros, my favorite alternative to Starbucks. I thanked her and as expected her response was silence. Had she taken a vow I wondered?
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Then low and behold, another customer came in and sat himself down across the room without so much as a grunt. I heard him mumble his order to the lady and as she apparently treats everyone the same, responded with dead silence. A few minutes later she buzzed by my table and topped off my coffee which surprised me. I said “Thanks” and of course by now you know what she said back. Finished with what was a pretty tasty lunch – exclude the hamburger bun thank you – I headed to her station at the rear of the café. She rang up the bill and noticing the small sign stating “no credit or debit cards” I paid with the only cash I had. Lucky I had enough, I usually rely on plastic. And then guess what? She said “Thank you” in the softest quietest little voice.

The wind continued to wear me down and I found myself pausing for rest stops more frequently. I was getting tired so I decided to look for a place to hole up earlier than usual. Fortune smiles on the weary traveler sometimes as I pulled into the sizeable town of Wayburn. Noting there were lots of big-name businesses I tooled along through town looking for a motel and there it was, OMG, Motel 6, my favorite place in the whole world! It looked different from the other Motel 6’s I’d stayed at in the past but I was tired and just wanted to crash for the day. While filling out the registration form I noticed a stack of business cards on the counter bearing the name Circle 6 Motel…. uh oh…. What’s that all about I wondered? “Isn’t this a Motel 6?” I asked the lady. “Oh no, we are Circle 6 Motel, very good, very clean, you like.” Hmm… “How much are the rooms?” I asked. “Oh, very reasonable, only $65.” “That’s a bit higher than the other Motel 6’s I stay at” I mumbled as I handed over my plastic. She gave me my key – yes, a real brass key boys and girls, no fancy electronic security locks to deal with in this place. From the outside the motel looks dated but inside this is one of the nicest places I’ve stayed in, either totally restored to 1970's specs or maintained in perfect condition. It was just as she said, and yes, “I like.”
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Dinner was a rare treat; McDonalds Big Mac, fries, the lot. Most of the people were old folks yelling at one another hoping to penetrate waxy build up on aging ear drums. The only other diner was a middle-aged pot bellied guy wearing a sleeveless Harley T-shirt who was wolfing down a Big Mac. My kind of dinner companion I thought so I sat at the table next to him and opened up the conversation with “You steal the shirt or just find it lying around?” I really know how to impress Harley guys. We hit it off and for the next half hour we had an enjoyable time trading lies and bike stories. Sometimes I can lie with the best of them.

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Then it was back to the non-Motel 6 motel where I managed to do something fatal to my Internet configuration. That means this little ditty will have to wait to be posted until I can get in touch with the support people, maybe tomorrow.
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Thank God the ice machine works.

May 31 Postscript: Evidently there was something wrong with Circle 6's connection as my PC works fine at the new location today. Or tomorrow? Whatever it is...

May 29 – Crowsnest Pass Alberta to Swift Current SK

2009-05-29T20:00:00.000-07:00

I didn’t mention it in my last report but the Immigration officer manning the Canadian border crossing recommended I avoid crossing Canada via highway 1 and take highway 13 instead. This he said would take me through all the little towns along the way and I’d get a better feel for the real Canada. My kind of border guard; a fellow biker and in fact one who rides a Kawasaki Versys, the dual-sport version of my Ninja. Bet the guys waiting in line behind me thought he was really running me through the wringer. Little did they know.

Taking his advice to heart I laid out a route on the GPS to do just that. I was ready for the road early but first I stopped for one of McDonald’s Big Breakfasts…. Mmmmm…..yummy. While there I was entertained by one of the local retirees who crabbed endlessly about the high cost of Canadian gasoline. You meet some interesting folks at the Golden Arches. I told him it was $1.50 a gallon at home. Mr. Nice Guy here.

Sunshine followed by more sunshine made for an outstanding ride once I got going. I chose a route that would take me east via Crowsnest Pass Highway to Medicine Hat and then drop down via 41 to 13 which I would then follow east nearly all the rest of the way to Nova Scotia.

Crowsnest is a huge area and absolutely gorgeous, lots of mountains, beautiful lakes and small towns that smack of local history. It took me a long time to get through the area as I kept taking side trips through the towns just to see what they were like. Most look like something out of old west history books and I couldn’t help wondering how the townspeople earned their livings. At one time there were a lot of active mines but I think most of those have closed down, and although there are lots of cattle ranches I doubt there are enough jobs to employ everyone who lives in the area. Maybe they’re all old retired geezers like me? Maybe they go back to the Mother Ship at night?

Lunch was not the greatest; I stopped at a chain restaurant called Smitty’s where I ordered their lunch special, fish and chips. Duh. Think about it LL, fish and chips in the middle of cattle country? At least the service was good which I mentioned to the waitress when she asked the usual “How was everything?” Being an honest patron I told her they might consider removing that item from their menu or maybe rename it as something without the “fish” word in it. She looked a bit crestfallen so I reassured her I thought her service was great and I was from the west coast where we had fresh fish available all the time, yadda, yadda. That seemed to cheer her up and I left her a nice tip to seal the deal.

On that note there was an older couple checking out ahead of me who were struggling with the entire tip concept. He was in his big beard and bib overalls livery and she had her black granny dress and bonnet on. If I had to guess I think they belonged to one of the local religious sects that live in the area, probably the one that begins with Mmmmennno… Anyway, he caught me watching him just as he asked his wife how much she thought he should leave to which she shot back “Nothing!” I guess that suited him so he paid up and they did a fast stage left without so much as a thank you. Praise the Lord. Cheap bastards. Oh well, that’s how it goes I guess.

Back on the road again I must have been dozing as I completely missed the turnoff at Medicine Hat and ended up riding to Swift Current on Highway 1 where I am for the night. Tomorrow I’ll head south via Highway 4 for a few miles, then hook up with Highway 13 where I’ll be back on track.

What about dinner you ask? It was really a no-brainer as there’s a Tim Horton’s place next door to the Thriftlodge motel where I’m camped for the night. I opted for their Turkey & Swiss sub accompanied by a donut and washed down with diet Pepsi. Bark. Urp. Ummm. I wonder what I weigh these days?

Ah yes, the ice machine works...

May 28 - Canada Oh Canada…eh? Eh?

2009-05-28T20:39:00.000-07:00

One of these days some Canadian is going to punch me for making fun of that. Eh?

This has been one of those longish days that when it’s over (the riding part) it’s difficult to look back and link it all together.

I started by having breakfast at Frank’s Diner in Spokane, same place I had meatloaf dinner last night followed by a generous helping of heartburn. Their menu declared they’d won the “Best Breakfast in Spokane” for 11 out of the last 12 years so I chanced it this morning. Some folks might have wondered if the year they didn’t win was 2009 but not me, I’m the one who believes in fate, heartburn or not. It was great, French toast, eggs, bacon just the way I like it, and lots of decent coffee. I sat at the counter where I could watch the show going on as the cooks and wait staff performed their magic. One waitress buttered and sliced two huge pieces of toast with her left hand while holding two loaded platters of food in her right hand, all the while dodging other workers who scurried through the narrow confines they had to work in. From watching her I don’t think she was left-handed. I wouldn’t have lasted two minutes back there.

It's odd how sometimes you notice people and form opinions about them based on their behavior. The young couple sitting next to me seemed to be in luuuv…she was pretty and he was handsome. He picked his nose. I mentally screamed at her “Get rid of him, he’ll only get worse!” Doubtful that she got my message though. Karma I suppose.

Following the commands of the GPS God I rode out of town in a northerly direction, missing a turn or two which gave me the opportunity to see parts of Spokane most likely reserved for bus loads of Mormons on holiday. Eventually I got back on course and enjoying the sunshine and 65 mph speed limits I flogged on. Sometimes I flogged even faster.

Along the way and well into northern Idaho (I think) I spotted a great junkyard of mostly older American cars. I love those places so I had to stop and eyeball a few of their offerings. Finds like that are part of what makes traveling around so much fun, especially on a bike which allows you to reverse course quickly. Sometimes suprisingly so.

Crossing the border into Canada at Rykerts I followed the Crows Nest highway, meandering until it reached Elko where I stopped for lunch. There were two choices of eateries and I went with the second, mainly because it was on the far end of town and I didn’t want to retrace my route back to the first one. Besides, they had a $5.00 hamburger-fries-medium drink thing going and I find those hard to resist.

After lunch I spent a few minutes in the parking lot washing the bugs off my visor, then climbed aboard and headed out, presumably to resume my ride east. Not. Along comes this tiny little yellow jacket and he decides the inside of my helmet looks inviting and all he needed to do was sting me and I’d vacate leaving the entire helmet to him. He was partially right, I was moving at walking speed and it soon became apparent that if I let go of the bike to swat the bee the bike would go into her lie-down for a nap routine. If any of you happened to follow my blog of three years ago you’ll recall how the Ninja took two similar naps in one day? For some reason she likes to lay on her right side which is exactly what she did today. While I was busy doing “there’s a yellow jacket in my helmet” boogie a lady came out of the restaurant and decided I might need a bit of help. Through sign language and lip sync she came to my rescue and together we managed to move el-Nino off her butt and back onto her kickstand. I thanked her profusely and as the show was over, remounted and once more resumed the eastward journey.

The rest of the afternoon was uneventful other than stopping for photo-ops a couple of times, once for an on-going and seemingly unattended forest fire. Whoa, did I say a forest fire was uneventful? As it happened I was the only camera geek stopping to take pictures, all the other motorists pressed on, probably late for a golf date or something.

Around 4:45pm I arrived in the village of choice, Fernie, where I checked into the local Travelodge for the night. Not a Motel 6 in sight so what else could I do? Dinner was at the place next door called Rip & Ricks… I admit, I had a few reservations about eating in an establishment with the letters “RIP” emblazened in the name but it turned out to be a good choice. Their focus is mainly on pizza and ribs but they also offer chicken enchiladas so I opted for that. Have you ever had an enchilada prepared by a pizza guy? No? Well let me tell you, the making of one must require a pretty bazaar combination of talent and creativity. In this instance you end up with a huge tortilla – about the same size as a medium pizza crust rolled up and with a similar texture – filled with rice and smoked chicken looking suspiciously like pizza ingredients. Except for the rice of course, I’m clueless where that came from. Rice pizza perhaps? Slather a glob of sour cream across one end, add a handful of thin chopped lettuce which resembles Cilantro in appearance but loses something in the taste department and there you have it, enchilada ala pizza man. It was actually quite good.

Now that I'm finished with my evening repast I find myself once again cloistered in my tiny cell, about to pry the stopper off the remains of an extremely small vial of McNaughton’s finest Elixir & Cough Suppressant which I intend to consume along with an equal portion of left-over 7-Up, all in the interests of the advancement of science and personal edification.

Eh? Eh?

May 27 – Beaverton to Spokane – 350 red hot miles today

2009-05-27T21:41:00.000-07:00

George and I had breakfast one last time at Tom’s Gastronomical Hotcake Palace this morning, then I packed it up and jumped into the morning traffic heading east. I crossed the Willamette River and rode out I-84 in the opposite direction we’d taken on our way home from the Klickitat run the other day. The Cascade Salmon Hatchery at Cascade Locks caught my attention so I took an early break to stretch and look at the facility. They’re doing a pretty good job I think, without them helping out Mother Nature we probably wouldn’t have any wild salmon left.

Lunch break was in Arlington where I enjoyed the best club house sandwich I think I’ve ever had. It was at one of those little hole-in-the-wall places where the locals eat and it couldn’t have been better. I also gassed the bike, cleaned the bugs off my helmet visor, and then changed out of Big Red into jeans and my 35-year old leather jacket. The temperature had risen steadily all morning and I was beginning to roast.
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Turning north just shy of Pendleton I continued on into the inferno heading towards Kennewick, WA. After riding awhile I realized the heat was too extreme for even the lightweight leather jacket so I stopped at a rest stop and changed into one of Fast Company’s Draggin Kevlar shirts. Underneath it and my jeans I put on a set of Bohn Body Armor and it made all the difference in the world. The Kevlar has a very open mesh weave to it and allows maximum air flow while providing great protection.
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Later in the afternoon I stopped off at the Honda dealer in Kennewick, WA. I was hoping to buy one of those clips you use to keep the hose at the gas pump from shutting off constantly. They’re a simple device but by using one you can fill your bike’s tank all the way up, otherwise the damn things shut off early and you end up shy a gallon or so. On a 4 gallon tank that’s not so good. The dealer knew exactly what I wanted but they don’t carry them so I’ll keep looking. As a note of interest they also stock a good selection of Aprilias. He said the locals apparently don’t seem to be ready for sporty bikes yet so they’ve got some great prices if anyone’s interested. I had to drag myself away from there.

After leaving his place I continued straight on to Spokane, arriving at the local Motel 6 around 5:30pm. The room looks like a clone of the last one I stayed at and the ice machine works great so I don’t have to drink my whiskey warm. Unfortunately I had a meatloaf sandwich for dinner so now I have heartburn to deal with. Maybe the whiskey will help?
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PS – Did I mention George has a guard cat named Traveler? One of the biting kind? He even bites George on occasion. Jeeze… Maybe he should take him to the fish hatchery once in awhile.

The Gorge – Hood River Windsurfing & Map Reading 101

2009-05-25T19:58:00.000-07:00

George, being the considerate host that he is had programmed the coffee maker for 6:15am this morning. I, being the consummate devotee of accurate timekeeping awoke at 5:15am and wandering around in my usual fog failed to understand why the hell the coffee wasn’t ready. I poked all the available buttons on the coffee maker without success and giving up spent the next hour trying to figure out how his TV remote worked. The end result of all this was the coffee came on and perked as scheduled while I suffered through an hour of independent TV programming, aka the religious nuts channel.

Sensing that the coffee was ready my next venture involved pouring from the mystery carafe. Eventually I figured out the right combination on how it works and had my coffee in hand. George arrived on the scene a few minutes later and asked why there was a totally wet dish towel hanging on the counter edge and why I’d gotten up so early. I think my response was something on the order of “That’s really none of your ##!@%$# business!” to which he responded with a polite stare. Sometimes early morning conversation goes like that.

After breakfast at Tom’s hotcake emporium we headed north to the Washington side of the Columbia River and turned eastward. Neither of us had been on that side of the river for years and George wanted to run his Mini Cooper S through some twisty roads and scare the Jesus out of me so that’s what we did. Running at breakneck speed and occasionally stopping to watch wind surfers on the gorge and prowling through antique shops along the way filled in the balance of the run.

At one point, a gas stop in the middle of nowhere we honed our command of Slavic languages by attempting to answer questions posed to us by a family from God knows where. Bulgaria? Both of us failed miserably and they left, no doubt wondering why I kept pointing at my chest and saying “Tourista” over and over. Hey, I don’t do directions OK? That’s why I have a GPS.

The terminus of our ride eastward was the town of Goldendale which we reached via Klickitat and the twisty road from hell. At that point we drove south over the bridge connecting Washington to Bigg’s Junction and hooked up with I-84 west. A late afternoon stop at The Bridge of the Gods and lunch at the Charbroiler burger joint recharged our batteries and we headed home with a million other tourists. The Mini Cooper drew as much attention as the Aprilia/Sputnik sidecar rig had in CA and lots of photos were taken.

We arrived home in late afternoon and I spent a few minutes programming the GPS for the run to Halifax while George washed the bugs off the Mini and ran a load of laundry for me. We finished just in time for happy hour and re-heated pizza left over from last night’s festivities. Beer too. Manly food.

What more is there?

May 23 – On the road again….

2009-05-24T18:01:00.000-07:00

Today was D-Day so off I went at 8:00am sharp, riding north along US 101 all the way to Cannon Beach where I stopped for lunch with my long-time bud TR Huntington. The town was busting at the seams due to it being a holiday weekend plus a cruise ship had deposited its human cargo at Astoria just a few miles north. Evidently they had been turned back from visiting Mexican ports because of the current outbreak of swine flu and elected to visit Astoria instead. We met at Bill’s Pub for eats and lies, and then I hit the road for Beaverton just west of Portland. The ride along the coast was not as nice as it could have been due to the blustery cross-winds which made me think I was blowing tires.

Once I headed east and got away from that it turned into a warm sunny ride all the way to George’s Olson’s house where I’ll be staying until Wednesday. George and I have been friends for many years and he has just recently moved to the Portland area from his San Francisco home. It was time for him to slow down a bit and be with his Portland friends, a long overdue move. I arrived late afternoon and after I’d settled in we went out for dinner at McCormick’s Fish House where we consumed way too much alcohol with our raw oysters. Dinner and desert followed ensuring we’ll both need to shop for larger clothing in the near future.

Life on the road is supposed to be enjoyable, right? Motel 6 will come later.

May 22 – Last minute details

2009-05-22T20:46:00.000-07:00

I don't know if I mentioned it but my knees were getting sore after a couple of hours when I wear the Aerostich Roadcrafter so I ordered a full set of their softer TF2 pads. They arrived this afternoon and I installed them, then wore the suit around the house for awhile and finally fell asleep in it watching TV. What a difference the new pads make, unbelievable.

Another thing I never cared for was the suit always seemed so damned stiff. Then I remembered reading something about throwing it in the clothes dryer on tumble dry for an hour so I did that today too. That seemed to soften it up quite a bit so the combination of the new pads and the dryer has really turned it into a comfortable riding suit. Or a very expensive pair of jammies...

That was the very last item on my list, the bikes packed up (again) and I'm ready to roll out first thing tomorrow morning.

Keep the faith...

LL

May 20 – Ninja’s back in trim

2009-05-20T18:49:00.000-07:00

Today was weigh-in day for the Ninja, former contender for the World’s Most Bloated Ninja title. I rode into Coos Bay for lunch with Linda and on the way I stopped by the truck scale for a moment of truth. I’d already received my own personal FAT report earlier today and although I’m not happy with it I’ll settle for it. The Ninja on the other hand is now a svelte 500 lbs fully loaded. Factory specs list her at 444 lbs wet weight so that means she’s only carrying an extra 56 lbs of cargo, including panniers, racks, and tank bag. Not bad.

There are a couple of minor items to attend to before this coming Saturday’s departure date but nothing of any consequence. My desktop weather widget shows sunshine through Sunday with balmy temps in the low 60’s so the run up the coast should be most pleasant.

Today is also the first time I'm posting to the blog from my new non-insurance-covered notebook PC... 3rd time's a charm, eh?

May 17 - Swapping rides again! - Ninja goes on a Diet

2009-05-17T17:07:00.000-07:00

Dieting is serious stuff when it comes to bikes. To illustrate I emptied the panniers of heavy items that aren't needed, removed the top box, and changed to a smaller tank bag. Then I rode into town to meet some friends for breakfast. The difference in handling was incredible, no feeling of top heaviness at all. You’d think that would be obvious to someone whose been doing this for a long time but I guess it just got away from me for awhile.

This afternoon I oiled the chain to see what effect the weight reduction would have. I chose a spot on our driveway with nearly the exact slope I’d had the issues with a few days ago. It was like night and day, I was able to roll and steady the bike with one hand. I also popped the left side pannier off to increase access to the chain and that helped too.

Anyway I’m ready to begin repacking and I’m not taking anything that isn’t absolutely essential, like my credit card, AAA card, AARP card, etc. I think camping in Motel 6 is going to be fun.

Oh, the photos… I wanted to take a couple to show the Ninja’s new slimmed down profile. Chance, our collie has this thing about poking his nose into everything including photo sets. If you try to shoo him away he just barks at you. What is that anyway?

May 15 - The ride home – No problemo Mon….

2009-05-16T18:26:00.000-07:00

This morning I woke at 5:45am and immediately thought I’d overslept. For what I don’t know but I got right up, did the shower/shave/teeth thing and headed back to the Black Bear next door. Not to be outdone by last night’s feeding frenzy I ate up my weight in homemade hash, drank a gallon of black coffee and topped off my bread quota for the rest of the year. Barely able to slip into Big Red I was on the road by 8:00am enjoying the early sunshine and lighter traffic.

It was kind of fun gliding along I-5 and watching Oregon’s finest aka State Police do their thing with unsuspecting visitors bearing California license plates. I’d noticed the folks south of the border paid little or no heed to construction zone reduced speed changes or the accompanying “Fines double in construction zones” signs. I saw at least 3 of them become acquainted with the realities of that during the first 10 miles into Oregon. I’m clueless how expensive the fines are and I’d sure hate to find out.

Home was around 235 miles away so it didn’t take long to get there. Both dogs were outside lying around and neither one bothered to bark at me although Chance the collie did raise one of his ears. Daisy waited until I dismounted before she acknowledged me, probably ticked off because I left and didn’t take her along. There’s nothing like a couple of vicious guard dogs to give you that feeling of personal security.

So that was it, I’ll spend the next few days catching up on domestic duties and cleaning up the Ninja for part 3 of this exercise in futility. I’ve decided to do the Motel-6 thing i.e., no more hauling 200lbs of camping equipment along. I'll probably take the northern route when I set out again, tentatively scheduled for the week following Memorial Day. This is like taking 3 vacations back-to-back isn’t it? I’ll get it right real soon, I promise. Stay tuned.

May 14 – Time to head home & regroup

2009-05-16T18:16:00.000-07:00

Rising early this morning I realized I had to head home where I could regroup and make the necessary changes to my personal information that was listed in the lost/stolen notebook. I’m fairly careful about such things and although the data was locked up in password protected files I still wanted to change them. Plus another bit of nastiness had surfaced this morning: The oil leaks that had plagued me during the last ride to Alaska had reappeared in full force. I’d had the local dealer attend to them and although he thought they were in check apparently it was not so and that was bad news indeed.

Saying goodbye to Ron and Rita I poked the “Go Home” selection on the GPS and headed out, this time north to the I-5 freeway. I love that GPS, were it not for it I’d still be wandering around in Concord. The ride north was actually pretty nice once I got into the mountainous area and things began to cool down.

I arrived in the little town of Yreka in late afternoon and that’s where I became acquainted with Motel 6, the new love of my traveling life. Just $39.95 for one person is a fabulous price. Included are a clean bed, hot shower, a great TV, and air conditioning that’s quiet and actually works. To top it off right next door was the Black Bear restaurant, home of gigantic meals designed to keep your appetite in check for hours. I overindulged and went back to the room where I watched some nondescript program until my brain shut down for the day.

May 13 - Onward to Concord and Disaster strikes

2009-05-16T17:46:00.000-07:00

Starting the day at Kelly’s Family Campground I elected to try out the showers, 5 minutes for a buck. There were two, both facing an open window and doorway which enabled you to experience the full brunt of brisk morning breezes. You’d think 5 minutes would make for a short shower but I was finished and ready to hop out in 3, glad that I’d opted for only a buck’s worth of early morning entertainment.

Getting an early start I followed highway 29 aka 175 south which meandered through miles and miles of picturesque woodsy countryside. Vineyards popped up unexpectedly and there were lots of small farms, all stocked with healthy looking cattle. This is the stuff photographers love to see but for me snapshots are all I’m capable of.

Highway 175 was as twisty as the coastal route I’d taken yesterday and by noon my arms were ready to fall off again. The temperature was rising and rather than cook inside my red Roadcrafter I stopped in Middletown where I changed into a lightweight leather jacket. The Roadcrafter – aka Big Red – is deluxe when it comes to keeping you dry and warm but air conditioning isn’t one of its best features. Once I’d changed I continued on into Calistoga where I stopped to buy a liter of, what else? Calistoga’s finest bottled water of course.

Outside the crowded store I met an old German guy who was admiring the hack. He told me about the ones he’d been familiar with during WWII, all the while talking with lots of frantic eyebrow up and down movements and more than a little spray for emphasis. I like old guys like him, they’re always fun to listen to. He didn’t say if he’d been one of the Fuhrer’s finest and I didn’t ask, the war’s been over for a very long time, and besides, I was only getting a few of his thickly accented words so maybe he wasn’t really a Nazi.

From Calistoga I motored on through Napa Valley where it seemed like the number of wineries had actually increased since my last trip through several years ago. The roses at the ends of the grape rows were in full bloom and the smell was heavenly. Traffic was as expected, slow to stop but it was bearable and there was lots to see. Once out of the grape growing area I ran fast towards my day‘s destination of Concord where my friends Ron and Rita live. I arrived at their house in mid-afternoon and it was there, after the initial hugs and handshakes that the disaster monster reared its ugly head. The right hand pannier was missing, gone, nowhere to be found, zip, nada, the end. The last time I’d seen it was in Middletown when I’d changed into my leather jacket. Inside it was my new Acer notebook computer with all its ancillaries plus the AAA maps, a brand new Road Atlas, all encased in fancy waterproof bags from REI. Even my unfinished copy of Jupiter’s Travels was inside, the very one I’d carried on two trips to Alaska and had intended to finish on this trip. I called the auto parts business in Middletown that I’d stopped in front of to change and asked if anyone had seen or found anything but to no avail. Then I called the California Highway Patrol and since it was a non-emergency I was relegated to leaving a message. You can probably imagine the priority they’ll give this one. Dammit anyway.

Ron insisted on hauling me around to buy replacements for everything and after a couple of hours I was pretty much outfitted again, except for the pannier. That would have to wait until I could get in touch with Aprilia to see if they even have them, after all the bike is a year 2000 model and what are the odds?

Rita is a cook’s cook and realizing how dejected I was she whipped up an amazing chicken dinner with salad and all the trimmings. I quaffed down a couple of Ron’s beers waiting for dinner and Rita and I polished off a bottle of red during the meal. Things didn’t look so grim after that.

May 12 - Ukiah & the Redwood Highway to Kelly’s Family Campground

2009-05-16T17:19:00.000-07:00

Man oh man was there ever a ton of sunshine today. The people in Eureka seemed accustomed to it but after riding through miles of nasty rain it was a welcome sight. Today’s journey took me down US 101 to the little town of Leggett where I turned off to CA highway 1. If you’ve never been on that route it’s one of California’s most scenic drives and very popular with bikers. Usually that is, but today for some reason I was the only one out there.

I followed highway 1 through Fort Bragg and shortly after passing Noyo I headed east on highway 20, aka Fort Bragg-Willits road. This stretch of twisties leads to Willits where I headed south on 101 to my destination of Ukiah. Riding a sidecar rig on twisty roads is not the most enjoyable way to spend your day but from an exercise point you get plenty of it. My arms were protesting loudly by the end of the day.

In Ukiah I gassed the rig up and using the Zumo checked out the campgrounds in the area. Kelly’s Family Campground was within striking distance so I called to see about space. The owner’s comments made the place seem inviting so I headed out, arriving around 5:00pm and after checking in I set up camp. There weren’t many other campers, probably due to the early season and kids still in school. After getting the tent and the rest of the gear settled I met Mike, another camper traveling solo from his home in Oklahoma. He was on his way to visit his father at one of the California Veterans homes and had been camping along the way. Mike was super nice, the kind of guy who asks if you need anything when he was heading to the store in town. I’d neglected to pick up milk so he brought a quart back for me, then shared his fresh loaf of bread and even gave me his extra ice. What a nice guy.

I didn’t stay up late, just ate my dinner of sardines in mustard sauce on whole wheat crackers followed by gourmet Top Ramen noodles, all chased down with cold milk. Lord that sounds awful but at the time it seemed appealing enough. Shortly afterwards I crashed on my short-legged cot and listened to one of the podcasts Linda had loaded on the iPod for me. Sleep came very easy.

May 11 – Bandon to Eureka, CA…in the rain?

2009-05-11T19:38:00.000-07:00

What’s that old saying? The worst day riding your bike is better than the best day at work? So rain isn’t such a big deal, eh? That’s what I thought when I looked outside this morning and saw the rain had arrived a day early. Bummer.

Last night I’d finished packing so this morning all I had to do was hose off, get into my big red costume, wolf down an omelet, snap the panniers and tank bag onto the bike, do a walk-around to see what parts were most likely to fall off and hit the road. Easy. Slick even.

For awhile I’d toyed with the idea of heading back to my beloved highway 66 but since I’d already done that twice recently I figured it was time for something new. Simple decision here, so I headed south down US101 to California, land of sunshine and very weird but altogether nice folks. People from Oregon think of our California cousins in that way so I may as well say it. Sorry Dennis, sorry Ron, sorry Betty, who am I leaving out?

.An interesting thing occurred today, I’d pulled off the road in Langlois (about 8 miles down the road from our place) to make some minor adjustment to my earplugs and when I left I noticed the 4-way flashers were on. Let me tell you, riding a bike in the rain and fiddling around with all the various switches can be a bit trying and eventually I was forced to pull over again. I spent one helluva lot of time trying to figure out where the damn switch was when it finally occurred to me the Aprilia doesn’t have 4way flashers…. What it does have boys and girls, is a freaking fancy alarm system that I personally installed and when one rides off without disabling it the lights flash and the alarm makes it’s shrieking howling noise. Note: Those of you who know me will probably have this figured out already. LL is deaf as a rock when it comes to high frequency howling noises. All of this may explain why several people grinned and even waved at me. Heck, I thought they were just intrigued with the hack, after all it’s pretty cool and you don’t see a lot of them around, right? I eventually figured it out. Now I’m wondering how many would-be bike thieves are hard of hearing? Or coppers?

Lunch was a brief visit to Burger King in I-don’t’-know-where-I’m-at, my most favorite burger joint in the entire galaxy. Outside there were 3 big shiny gorgeous Gold Wings…not sure how they spell that, a lot of people seem to call them GW’s. Anyway I sat down by them and listened to their plans for the next day or two. The lead guy had an incredible agenda laid out for them, like nearly turn to turn from one town to the next. Very detailed, very precise. This took a long time and I was impressed by the level of details he’d thought of. I think I’d like him to plan a trip for me some time; he was very, very precise. Around 15 minutes into our lunch one of his buds asked me where I was from and where I was headed. “You just out for a short ride?” he asked. I told him Bandon and naturally he thought I’d said Bend. No biggie, I’m used to that and couldn’t care less. But when I said I was on my way to Nova Scotia you could have heard a pin drop. In fact it looked like the lead guy might have ingested one of his onion rings for a moment. What followed amounted to a lot of male chest pounding and name/place dropping to which I was grateful for the Deadhorse Alaska stickers on the hack, they seemed to lend credibility to my story. Maybe I should add some more as I travel along? Anyway the guys left with lots of hand shaking and good luck wishes all around and I was glad I’d met them; they’re part of our biking community. Plus when they rode off I couldn’t help how all three of them really knew how to ride those monsters.

Moving right along, the rest of the ride to Eureka in the rain was about as exciting as one could expect, and much as I wanted to camp out I opted for my new most favorite home away from home, the local Quality Inn. Hey, it’s raining outside dammit and I’m an old guy who needs to be near an ice machine.

Tamale is another day…..

.PS - If you're wondering about the little green creature it's WhooHa, I picked her/him up in Whislter, Canada when Mac and I were on our way to Alaska last yeat. He/she was abannoned at a bench/rest stop and I adoped her/him. So...if you're the owner you're SOL. Sorry.

Done deal, I'm swapping rides...

2009-05-10T21:57:00.000-07:00

Dang, after all that fussing around making the Ninja into a full touring machine I've decided to go with the Aprilia/Sputnik. I've already pointed out the benefits of sidecar travel in my last post so there's nothing more to say about it, the decision's been made.

So, onward and upward with the new deal. I spent the entire day moving stuff over to the Aprilia, the GPS being the main item. Installation was simple as the power source and wiring were already in place so all I had to do was change the connection plug to the Zumo's. The tire on the hack was low but pumped right up and doesn't look like it's losing air. It's been close to a year since the pressure was checked so I'm hoping there's no problem. The turn signals seemed dim at first, then I realized I'd never pulled the lenses off after the Alaska trip and they were full of Alcan Highway crud. Once cleaned they sparkle just like they should. The bike fired right up and runs as smooth as a one-lung can run. Just don't sit a quarter on the top box, it'll disappear in a heartbeat.

The rest has been time consuming but simple enough, mainly sorting through all the things to see what if any needed to stay home. As it turned out I added a few items and haven't come close to using all the available space. Sidecars without passengers really hold a lot.

I'm tired but feeling great about the decision to go with the hack, now there won't be any limitations on the roads I can ride and that's already put a smile on my face. Life is truly good.

PS - The photo above was after last year's ride to Alaska.

Now what? Two wheels or Three?

2009-05-10T08:44:00.000-07:00

After arriving home yesterday I popped off a few emails to let people know what’s up. This morning I got an email from Mac, my friend from Iowa who rode to Alaska with me last summer. We had a pretty good time on our hacks even though we encountered plenty of adverse weather & bad roads along the way. Here’s his email and mine to him, they’ll give you an idea of what I’m considering.

From: Orville McInroy
To: Larry Parmenter
Sent: Sunday, May 10, 2009 7:06 AM
Subject: Trip

LL

Dang, kind of a bad start, just glad you were able to hold the heavy bugger up without damaging the saddle bags like I did. Look at the bright side, it was a good thing you came to the realization that you were too heavy when you were just a day out instead of two weeks later. When I carry my camping gear on my two wheeler, being a little top heavy bothers me too , however I don't carry as much as you and don't have to oil any chain so that helps. Sounds to me like if you want to camp and carry all that gear it is side car time again.

Whichever way you go you have plenty of time as you started out earlier then you had originally planned on. Just kick back, have a toddy or two, give Linda a hug and start out again. You have already learned one lesson of the road.

Mac

From: Larry Parmenter
To: Orville McInroy
Sent: Sunday, May 10, 2009 8:06 AM
Subject: Re: Trip

Hi Mac,

Thanks for the thoughts & sage advice, I'm glad as hell it didn't go all the way over too, what a miserable deal that would have been.

I really like traveling with the hack, not only for the all the stuff I can carry but I also like not having any limitations on places I can go. Yesterday morning as I was laying out the day's route I spotted a ghost town on the map in NV. I wanted to go see it but then noticed you have to travel on miles of gravel road and then backtrack or continue on with even more miles of the same before reaching tarmac. With the sidecar I wouldn't have hesitated but with the Ninja fully loaded there was no way and maybe not even if it was lightly loaded. And the Ducati, not a chance, I'd never take that pretty girl down a gravel road.

Traveling as far as I intend on this trip means I'm going to encounter lots of similar opportunities and I'd hate to miss them. It almost sounds like I'm talking myself into the 3-wheeler, doesn't it? And all that camping gear... And the kitchen sink can go too!

Maybe the clincher is it's roadworthiness. After the dust settled from our Alaska trip I took it to the local Yamaha shop and had all the worn out and missing bits replaced plus a tune up and full lube job. The tires are the ones I put on in Fairbanks and they look pretty good but I might have to change them somewhere along the way. That wouldn’t be so bad and maybe I could take a set with me like I did last time.

Man I'm leaning towards the hack this morning....

Best,

LL

May 9 - Whoa… That place looks familiar!

2009-05-09T20:13:00.000-07:00

Today started off just great, the bike was right where I left it last night and the freebie continental breakfast was tasty. Well, as tasty as Grape Nuts Flakes and mini-doughnuts can be anyway. All the stuff that I’d removed to the motel room went back in place and after checking out I headed off eastwards with Winnemucca, NV as my destination.

Then it happened. Or it nearly happened, which I took as a clear warning of things to come if I didn’t take some corrective actions. One of my regular routines while on the road is to ride about 20 miles each morning and then stop to lube the chain. Riding that distance ensures the chain will be warmed up which allows the oil to penetrate better. This morning I found a nice blacktop strip alongside the road that is used for installing tire chains when it’s snowing.

It was a perfect spot to lube the chain but when I stopped I could tell the small slope of the strip was just enough to make the bike stand nearly straight up which is not a good thing as it might easily tip over. It then occurred to me I could face the bike in the opposite direction and the slope would have negligible effect. With that in mind I wobbled it around to the desired position and began the oiling routine. If you’ve never oiled a bike chain here’s how it works: You spray the small area that’s exposed directly between the rear wheel and engine/frame area. This equates to around 8-10 inches and when you’ve done that part you move the bike forward so that the next section is available. You continue to do this until the entire chain has rotated around once and it’s finished. Moving the bike is the tricky part, especially if it’s fully loaded and a bit top heavy. The amount of space this requires is around 30 feet or so which is why you need to be on an unobstructed flat surface.

After spraying the initial area I began to move the bike the usual 3 feet forward but as I did so the kickstand caught on the blacktop and retracted. This left me slightly bent over with the monstrous bike trying desperately to climb onto my lap. Not a good thing. It was bloody awful, I’d managed to catch it but I was suddenly in a Mexican standoff with gravity playing opposite sides. Somewhere in the farthest corner of my mind I was thinking I couldn’t let the damn thing topple over. There was no way in the world I’d ever get it back upright by myself not to mention the damage it would do to the pannier. Adrenaline is a marvelous thing; it empowers us to perform physical feats that are well beyond our normal abilities. This must have been one of those times as I grunted the beast back upright and managed to get the kickstand back down.

Once it was stable and I’d worked my way through a screaming fit of profanity I realized it was time for a major rethink. One thing that was obvious, the bike was simply overloaded and being so made it both unmanageable and dangerous. Since I couldn’t do anything about it standing beside the road I turned it around and headed home. I figured I’d have several options to choose from such as lighten the load by giving up the notion of camping while on the trip, or if that wouldn’t do I could switch over to the Aprilia with the sidecar. It’s very hard to tip a sidecar over and you can haul an amazing amount of gear in one. Or, and this is right up there, I could motel it the entire trip which means I could take either the Ninja or maybe even the Ducati and leave all that wonderful camping stuff home.

Jerry Smith said it right the other day: “Old traveler's wisdom: take half the clothes you think you need, and twice the money, and remember there are few problems you'll encounter on the road that can't be solved by rubbing a VISA card and a Wal-Mart together.”

Right now it’s toddy time; my butt hurts, my knees hurt from rubbing on those damn tank panniers, (they're going away) and my back hurts from that stupid ordeal against Mother Nature and Mr. Gravity. I’m posting pics from the trip home, one more thrilling ride on highway 66 after which my new Zumo GPS attempted to run me home via BLM-38 to Gold Beach and then north. The problem with that master plan is that road is closed until June 1st. Shut. Nada.

Thanks a lot Garmin…

Tomorrow is another day.

May 8 - Bandon to Klamath Falls - On the road at last!

2009-05-08T21:19:00.000-07:00

There’s nothing quite like starting out on a long ride with sunshine for weather. I stopped at the local truck scales to get the bad news... Can you believe 800 lbs? Jeeze!

It was cool as could be expected and after the first 90 miles or so I elected to put the heated vest on. That coupled together with heated grips did the trick and the cool spring day turned into sunny warm summer. Jerry Smith rode with me as far as Winston where we had lunch at the Sub Shop and then he turned back to the real world for people with jobs. Been there, done that.

Riding through Dillard I eventually hooked up with I-5 and continued south until the Klamath Falls exit. Mt McLoughlin posed off to the east along the freeway, still sporting a full crown of snow. Turning off I-5 I rode NE on highway 66 towards Keno on some of the twistiest road I’ve traveled on. You can tell something about a road when you realize you’re the only one on it. Great fun on a lean bike but the Ninja doesn’t exactly fit that description these days so it was a bit more entertaining than usual.

I’d hoped to find a campground for the evening around Keno but such was not my luck, all of those were closed. I continued on into Klamath Falls and scored the last ground level room at the Quality Inn for a very low price of $68.00. They include WIFI, breakfast and the Chinese place next door gives a 10% discount for guests, not a bad deal and the food is pretty good.

All told it was a good day. Thanks for lunch Jerry, my turn next time.

Good Grief! Izzat a Voltmeter?

2009-04-30T14:51:00.000-07:00

OK, so it’s a voltmeter. Not too long ago I tried out a digital instrument gizmo that included a voltage display plus a whole bunch of other cool stuff. The gizmo turned out to be somewhat fragile and definitely not waterproof so it went away, or at least it’s not going with me on this trip. As it happened I became somewhat interested in the status of the bike’s electrical system, particularly when I’m running all the farkle stuff like electric vest, heated grips, etc.

On my way home from my last trip I found myself running in the dark very late at night and in the middle of one of Oregon’s delightful coastal rain storms. The bike was running a bit shaky, the chain was rattling like crazy, the GPS had begun to fade in and out and the headlight was looking dim. Maybe I was going blind? All of this had begun to get really bad somewhere around Hebo and having a voltmeter on board was the deciding factor to start turning all non-essentials off except the headlight. It plainly told me things were going the wrong direction, power-wise.

Once I got home and had time to think about things I knew I wanted to have a reliable voltmeter on the Ninja for my next trip, one that was illuminated and waterproof. Going back into the research mode again I soon found one that other bikers had tried and found to be reliable, including being waterproof. Actually I don’t like to use the term “waterproof” as that sort of suggests you could take it with you on your next scuba diving trip so maybe “water resistant” would be more apropos.

The little unit I bought is British in design albeit most likely made off shore somewhere. Doesn’t matter, it’s nicely made, comes with a cool little rubbery gasket and brass hardware. You have your choice of red or green LED displays and voltage ranges. I ordered it via their web site and it arrived in a couple of weeks. For anyone interested here’s a link to their store: http://www.themeterstore.com/index.asp

The model I ordered is designed to be panel mounted which meant I had to auger out a rectangular hole in the fairing where I wanted it located. This entailed using a drill and my Moto-tool which I dearly love. Final finishing touches were done with a jeweler’s file and the end result was worth the time. I wired it to a switched 12 volt dc source so it’s off when the ignition is off and it has it’s own fuse just in case.

All told I’m very pleased with the meter, now all I need is a thermometer of similar quality… Anyone got any suggestions?

Anti-Hydration Part Two: Keeping your cool

2009-04-29T20:51:00.000-07:00

If you research what happens to your wrinkly old body in climes of extreme heat you’ll find most problems are related to loss of water. This happens when your internal system says “Hey, it’s hot as hell out there so I’m going to sweat a bunch and cool things down.” Right.

That fact hasn’t escaped the attention of a whole bunch of inventive people and subsequently there are a ton of products to help you keep your cool. One item that is popular among bikers is the “Evaporative Cooling Vest.” For the most part they work on the same principal; when water evaporates it creates a cooling effect. Sooo…if you cover yourself with a wet vest – yuck – the water will evaporate and in the process you’ll be cooler. At least until the water is all gone and then you’ll just be wearing another piece of hot sweaty gear which you may want to remove.

Since I like to shop for gear (What, you didn’t know that?) I spent a fair amount of time looking at various web sites that feature cooling vests. What I found was most use the same or very similar materials for making their products. Oddly enough prices went all over the map from as low as $20 to as high as $250. Naturally there’s a difference between them but because of my minimal requirements I was fortunate to be in the lower price range. After looking at vests until my eyeballs were beginning to bug out I settled on one in the mid-price range, around $40 bucks delivered.

I haven’t tried it out yet as I’d probably freeze my patootie off if I did. I have confidence that the company that makes it knows what they’re doing so I’ll just wait until I’m in Roasting Dogs, New Mexico to try it out. It’ll work. I know it’ll work…

Anti-Hydration Part One: Adding a water bottle to the mix.

2009-04-29T19:42:00.000-07:00

My experience at riding through hot dry country is next to nil, and since I’m planning to see parts of the southwestern US on this trip I figured I’d better bone up on it. I started by reading numerous articles written by people who either live there or have ridden though those states during the summer. There seems to be a general consensus wherein all are agreed that it’s best to consume lots of water and if possible, wear an anti-hydration vest of some sort. They go on to advise you to ride in the mornings and evenings, avoiding if possible the torrid heat of the afternoon. I like their thinking, siestas come to mind…

Taking heed of their advice and that of my buds with experience in such matters I decided to fit a water bottle to the Ninja. Big deal, eh? Before I get inundated with cries of "Hey LL, so and so makes a bladder set up that will fit into your tank bag." Maybe it's the hose thing bladders use that I'm not attracted to, I don't know, but I kind of like swigging my water from a bottle. Anyway I'm going with the bottle for now, maybe later I'll take a look at bladders. Eeww, just the word "bladder" is sort of, uh, unappealing...

Anyway you’ll appreciate that finding a place to mount a bottle proved to be a bit challenging, given that available space has become a premium. My thinking is if it’s within easy reach I’ll be more likely to use it and subsequently not fall off my bike from heat stroke. The tank bag seemed an easy choice as the FAMSA folks had already installed a metal bracket for the carrying strap. Since I’m not using the bracket for that purpose it was a logical spot to mount a bottle.

REI sells a ton of bicycle water bottles and mounting brackets so it was easy to find a setup that worked for me. I selected an adjustable Topeak mount that can accommodate a range of bottle sizes and I also opted for a 21 oz Camelbak bottle with a built-in insulated cover. My choices were made a lot easier thanks to the number of people who submit their feed-back ratings and comments on stuff like this. I love reading what end-users have to say, it’s a good deal for people like me who don't know zip about water bottles and brackets.

Mounting the setup on the tank bag was simplicity itself given the convenience of the FAMSA strap bracket. I fabricated a small rectangular plate that attaches to the strap bracket and then attached the Topeak mount to it using aircraft locking hardware. It turned out nice and the bottle stays put even when the bag is tilted over to the side for refueling.

Oh, and guess what else? The Topeak also holds my insulated coffee mug for those days when it's not so hot. Dang, am I a happy camper or what? Life just keeps getting better.

Apr 26 - Tire Goo… Reaching beyond shoe goo

2009-04-26T21:27:00.000-07:00

I’m sure some of you may have used tire goo before so you already know what it is. For those of you who don’t, think of it as a semi-liquid goo that you squirt inside your tire through the air valve. Manufacturers’ claims vary from one outfit to the next as to what it does but the general concept is pretty much the same; the stuff coats the insides of your tires and by doing so it seals small punctures and acts as a sort of balancing agent which helps extend tire life.

There are some brands which caution against riding above certain speeds so if you’re going to use one of these products make sure you select one that allows higher speeds. The brand I use, Ride-On by Inovex Industries also has some built-in corrosion inhibitors which help protect wheels against rust. All told not a bad deal, particularly for me since I have an aversion against changing tires alongside the road. In fact I don’t even like to change them in my garage. Now that I think about it I don’t even like to watch tires being changed.

My first experience with Ride-On was on my trip to Alaska last summer, riding my Aprilia with a Sputnik sidecar. In spite of the challenging roads I never had any flats and the tires lasted way longer than what I’d anticipated; several thousand miles in fact. That was proof enough for me and I decided the Ninja would benefit from a similar application.

I’d ordered one of the motorcycle kits from Ride-On a couple of weeks ago and finally found time to install it this afternoon. Installation is simple, just let the air out of your tires, squirt the appropriate amount of goo into the tires, re-inflate, and go for a ride. Ride-On includes 3 eight-oz bottles of their goo, plenty for any bike, plus a short piece of plastic tubing and one of those metal valve caps to use to remove the valve stem. They also include a chart with tire sizes that you use to reference the amount of goo you inject in each tire. The cost for the kit is nominal, $41.26 plus shipping which came to a total of $55.63 delivered to my house.

Hmm...I wonder if they'll divy up with something for all my kindly words?

Apr 25 – Hot Dang, it’s a new Zumo 550!

2009-04-25T10:02:00.000-07:00

On last year’s ride up Alaska's infamous Alcan Highway to Deadhorse my faithful old Garmin 2610 GPS developed terminal water leakage. I remember watching a tiny blister-looking thingy begin to grow on the display and when it finally got so big I couldn’t stand it I picked at it. Just a little at first, and then it was like eating peanuts, impossible to stop at just one. Before long the entire overlay was shredded to bits so I decided to peel the damn thing off. That left a very dim display but at least I could still read it and in the dark or shadows it was fine.

It made it home OK but I decided to replace it with something a bit more up to date, like Garmin’s new Zumo 550. That particular unit was designed especially for bikes and has way more features than this old guy would ever use. After surfing the usual sites I located a supplier with an attractive price and placed my order. Sadly they turned out to be just like so many others on the Internet, take your order and then try to hustle up the equipment they said they had in stock. There ought to be a law! After waiting a couple of weeks before checking back they fessed up to their lack of inventory so I cancelled my order.

It was at that point I made the decision to buy another 2610; they were plentiful on Ebay and I already had the wiring harness in place, not to mention a really cool Touratec locking mount. Bidding wars are fairly light for older GPS units which made it easy to score the one I wanted. It arrived in a few days and as the seller claimed it was in mint condition, including the very latest mapping software. Onto the bike it went and then I discovered it's one and only flaw: the display was just a bit dim, even at it's brightest setting. The seller hadn’t used it on a bike, only inside his car and to be fair it’s more than adequate in a bit of shade or typical automotive interior lighting. I now have a nice mint condition 2610 living inside the car. Bummer…

Once again lusting after the new Zumo 550 series I returned to the surfing fray, hoping to find the killer deal of a lifetime. Not. The lowest prices were always posted by sharks and charlatans, none of whom I cared to do business with. The best deal from a legitimate company was my old friend Amazon.com, always fair, shipping included, and if they tell you an item is in stock you can bet it is. Still I was unwilling to commit to such a high price for a gadget, at least not until Linda offered to spring for nearly all of it as an early birthday present. Hmm…. ah, gee, I dunno Hon, that’s a lot of do-re-mi. I guess I must have spent at least 9 or 10 nanoseconds thinking it over before I acquiesced and placed the order.

Check it out, it’s wonderful! Thanks Hon! Maps? What maps? I don' need no stinkin' maps!

Apr 24 – Today is National Change Your Air Filter Day...Eh?

2009-04-24T17:24:00.000-07:00

I think I’d mentioned in a previous posting one of the remaining items on my to-do list was to change out the Ninja’s air filter. After listening to me whine about the complexity of it Jerry Smith had volunteered to help with the task so today I emailed him and as promised, he showed up.

Prior to his arrival I’d printed out the instructions on the changing procedure and had everything at the ready when he arrived. Unlike a lot of bikes that have easy access to the filter, this one requires draining and removal of the fuel tank and a few associated items. As it turned out it wasn’t as bad as it sounded and in fact after doing it we realized we could have skipped draining the tank altogether. We spent the most time on getting the stubborn electrical connector unplugged after which everything else went quickly. Once exposed it was a simple one-screw operation to release the old filter and pop in the new one. I was surprised at how clean the original one was, especially since I’d ridden the Ninja to Alaska and had never cleaned the filter.

After we finished we hopped on our bikes and headed into Bandon for burgers & coffee at the Bandon Coffee Café in Old Town, then it was time to head home for lawn mowing duty.

Oddly enough the guard dogs seemed to confuse Jerry with someone they knew and greeted him with wagging tails instead of bared teeth… What’s that all about?