A funny thing happened on the way to happiness

I've put over 600 miles on my Gixxer 750 since I bought it two weeks ago. During that time I've ridden my 2007 V-Strom 650 once; I commuted to work on it one day last week. When I bought the Gixxer I planned to ride both bikes for a year, at which point I would decide which bike I liked better and sell the other one.

Obviously, these are very different bikes. They serve different purposes and are suited for completely different types of riding. Many will say that a V-Strom can carve up the twisties nearly as well as a sport bike. Wait, who says that? Oh yeah, I've said it. Many times. And it's true, up to a point. Ultimately it all depends upon the skill of the rider. A good rider on a dual sport will do better than an unskilled rider on a sport bike, and not to brag, I have proven that to be true in my own experience (while riding my V-Strom).


This past weekend I rode to Detroit and back with my buddy, Keith. He was on his 2006 Ninja 250 and I was on my 2012 GSX-R750. The weather was great, the road was in good shape, and most of the traffic was going the other direction so very little passing was required. It was a fantastic ride.

I noticed that my cornering speed has been improving steadily as well as my comfort level with the bike. I can take the same corners faster and with greater ease than before. I've also noticed that I can take the same corners substantially faster than I can on my V-Strom. [I ride many of the same roads repeatedly for practice, so I've become familiar with every corner.] If my doppleganger was on my V-Strom trying to follow me as I rode my Gixxer, he would be lagging behind almost immediately. The difference is noticeable.

When I got home from the 160 mile ride I also noticed that I felt very little pain or discomfort from the ride. Normally, by the time I get home on my V-Strom I can't wait to get off the bike and give my body a rest. I'm getting used to the Gixxer's riding position and am learning how to grip the tank and use my feet to remove weight from my wrists and hands. Sport bikes are still not designed for comfort, but this is far less uncomfortable than I anticipated.

When I ride my V-Strom now, the brakes, suspension and acceleration feel mushy. The handlebars feel like they're a yard apart and the whole thing feels really tall. By comparison, my Gixxer feels like a total hard body, a toned and fit athlete that is ready and capable to handle anything I throw at it.

When it comes to which bike will be leaving my stable next year, I can see where this is going. The one test remaining is to take the Gixxer on a road trip. I've got saddlebags on order. Stay tuned.

Ride report June 2012: Day 1

Sandy, OR to Coos Bay, OR

The weather was perfect for riding ... sunny and in the mid 60's. I started my route on roads through a fancy yet rural neighborhood, where rich executives from Portland have million dollar homes on 20 acre plots. I then took highway 99W down through the Willamette Valley to the college town of Monmouth where I headed west on rural Kings Valley Road. Along the way I followed a young buck deer as he ran down the center of the road, still in the velvet.

In Philomath I fueled up my bike at Chevron and my belly at the adjacent McDonalds, then headed west toward the coast on highway 34 through Alsea to the coastal town of Waldport. The road was in fantastic shape and traffic was light.

In Waldport I headed south in highway 101, then pulled over at the Smelt Sands wayside in Yachats (pronounced 'yaw-hots'). I walked down to the rocks and waves and took some pictures and even some video on my GoPro HD.

Back on the road I got stuck behind a land barge (RV) from British Columbia with a dozen cars piled up behind it. It took a while but I was eventually able to pass.

I got into Coos Bay and checked into the Best Western by 3:30 pm. After a nap and a shower I walked down to a local restaurant, Shark Bites, but they were closed so I ate next door at EZ Thai. The phad thai was adequate but unremarkable.

Ride report June 2012: Day 2

Coos Bay, OR to Fortuna, CA

I left Coos Bay at 8:30 am after a decent complimentary breakfast (with real food; the best of the trip). It was sunny and cool but not cold. Traffic on 101 was very light and I didn't stop until I got to Brookings, just north of the California border. I parked in the shade behind a gas/food mart and ate a snack. After a bio break, I continued over the California border for the first of three times in a single day.

I cut inland on highway 197 then connected with 199 to Cave Junction, back in Oregon. 199 is scary in some parts, narrow and winding with deadly consequences if you go off the pavement. I fueled up in Cave Junction after riding 180 miles. A tall guy in rafting sandals asked me several questions about my bike as I gassed it up. He was considering getting a V-Strom. I then ate a BLT at the My Place Cafe next door.

It was warming up so I opened my jacket vents before heading up and over the pass back into California to Happy Camp. Patches of snow were visible in spots along the roadside at the 4,600 foot summit but the road was dry.

It was getting even warmer so I removed my jacket liner, then got onto highway 96 westbound. Soon I came up behind two new V-Stroms, but they were riding so slow I soon passed them both with a beep-beep and motored onward. My next break was Willow Creek where I got on highway 299 for the last leg to Fortuna. I rode 380 miles to that point. Dinner was a really tasty Italian club sandwich and French saison beer at the Eel River Brewery next door to my Super 8. Both establishments are highly recommended for riders.

Ride report June 2012: Day 3

Loop day, Fortuna, CA

The day was spent riding a 270 mile loop in the area. These are my favorite roads and are worth riding a long ways to experience if you're not from the area. I headed inland, eastbound, on highway 36, then veered northeast on highway 3 from Hayfork to Weaverville. This section is gnarly and wicked and amazing on a motorcycle. It demands attention and offers a great reward to those who conquer it. In Weaverville I stopped at Trinideli for lunch. My friend, Mark, stopped by as he was driving home from Trinity Lake. After lunch, he drove on while I continued the loop by turning westbound on highway 299. Back on the coast, I turned inland and rode the narrow, winding road up to Mark's home in the rural community of Kneeland. Mark and I had dinner and a lot of laughs, then I rode back down the hill to my motel in Fortuna.

Ride report June 2012: Day 4

Fortuna, CA to Sparks, NV

When I left Fortuna at 8 am it was drizzling and cool as is typical of the Eureka/Arcata/Fortuna area. I headed inland once again on highway 36 and by the time I went up and over the first pass I had sunshine and blue skies.

Nearing Red Bluff the temperature was climbing so I pulled over and switched to my warm weather gear configuration ... Aerostich Darien jacket with vents open and minus the liner, and I opened the thigh vents on my Firstgear Kathmandu pants. As I rode the amazing roller coaster curves of 36 just west of Red Bluff, I kept feeling something hit my boots. Later I realized I was riding through crickets.

I fueled up in Red Bluff, then got lunch at a busy Subway before continuing east across I-5 on highway 36. From this point on, except for the last two days of the trip, I would be riding roads new to me. East of I-5, 36 is a lot of grass and scrub oak and heat. Eventually the elevation climbed enough to moderate the temperature. The road before and after Lake Almador was amazing as was the timber, tall and uniform.

Once I got to Susanville I fueled up my bike and continued on, now in hot, arid country. The border into Nevada was unmarked. Once I got into Sparks I used my Garmin Zumo 450 GPS to find the Super 8. It was a hotel, rather than my preferred motel, so I had to load all my gear on a cart and wheel it inside to my room. Once I got a quick nap and shower out of the way, I went to the casino/truck stop/restaurant next door for dinner. There were some shady people in there and it reminded me of the cantina scene in Star Wars IV, "You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. We must be cautious." (I am sure those truck drivers are salt of the earth good people, but they can present a rather gruff, scary first impression.) The chicken parmesan was pretty good.

Before I went to dinner I washed my ExOfficio t-shirts and underwear in the bath tub and hung them up to dry. My wool socks were the only thing I didn't attempt to wash by hand; I saved them for later when I could wash them in a motel with a laundry room.

Ride report June 2012: Day 5

Sparks, NV to Ely, NV
Highway 50, "The Loneliest Highway"

I survived highway 50, the loneliest highway in America. It certainly is that. Fortunately it wasn't overly hot. It was 92 degrees when I reached Ely at 2:15 pm. On the way, I fueled up in Austin (3.58 gallons) and got some grub in Eureka. Breakfast earlier that morning was again in the casino/truck stop next door to the Super 8.

Once in Ely I checked into the Ramada and ate dinner at Evah's inside the hotel. It is nasty and should be avoided. My room was nice, however.

I decided to wash my wool socks by hand. I use Dr. Bronner's peppermint castile soap and hot water, then I roll the socks in a towel and step on it to wring out the water. I draped them over the luggage rack which I propped in front of the AC unit.

The route for the next day showed a forecast of 98 degrees and lots of boring, dry scenery. I miss mountains and curves.

Ride report June 2012: Day 6

Ely, NV to Page, AZ

This was the hottest, toughest day of the trip so far, but had some truly amazing scenery. For everything worth having there is a price.

The day started with a continental breakfast at Evah's that was so-so. Then I discovered the touch screen on my GPS stopped working so I could no longer plot routes. It still showed my current location, speed and elevation, but I had to navigate the old fashioned way for the rest of the trip.

I headed south on highway 93 and got gas at a junction near the Utah border. Two presumably Mormon women in traditional dresses and hair styles stopped in a brand new Volkswagen SUV and got out to clean the windshield. They were absolutely beautiful but had sour expressions on their faces.

I made it into Cedar City, Utah and stopped for gas at a Sinclair station, then ate lunch at the Subway next door. A businessman in a suit chatted with me about my bike and trip as we waited in line, and he told me the scenery in Colorado would blow my mind.

I tried to take scenic route 14 east out of town but a few miles up the road was a blockade saying the road was closed. I saw a local drive around the signs and continue up the road but I didn't want to take any chances so I pulled over and figured out a detour using my printed AAA map. It required that I head south on I-15, then pass through Zion National Park.

The temperature was climbing fast and so was the traffic on the super slab. Pushing high speeds doesn't impress me and it uses up tires and oil, something I wanted to be cautious about on this trip, so I maintained a reasonable speed. At one point a roadrunner dashes across the hot freeway in front of me. Meep meep!

I pulled off the freeway at the exit for Zion, then paid $12 to go through the park. The canyon walls truly made me say, "Oh, $hit!" inside my helmet after every turn. It barely looked real. After climbing some hairpin switchbacks, the road enters a tunnel. The eastbound traffic had to stop and wait for a large RV to come out of the tunnel. As I was sitting there sweltering in my helmet and gear, I chatted with the ranger lady flagging traffic. She said she had just measured the ambient air temperature at 120 degrees. Yikes!

Eventually we were allowed to proceed through the tunnel. There are several windows cut out of the rock and into the open canyon air.


I eventually made it south and across the border into Arizona to the resort town of Page, near Lake Powell. It was hot and I was parched. Because my GPS was on the fritz, I had to ride around the loop through the entire town before I found the Super 8. The front desk staff were not very friendly but my room was cool and large and I was out of the heat. The nearest restaurant was a pizza joint about a quarter of a mile away across a Home Depot parking lot. The chef salad and beer were good, though.

Ride report June 2012: Day 7

Page, AZ to Durango, CO

The free continental breakfast that morning was nothing but meager pastries, juice and coffee, so once I was packed and ready, I rode into town and ate at a steakhouse that served breakfast. I also discovered small black ants in my room, over in one corner.

From Page, I headed south to Kaibito, then turned north toward Kayenta where I filled up my gas tank again. It was very warm, bordering on hot, and it wasn't even noon yet. The region is also very arid and sparse, but that can have it's own beauty. America’s hit song went through my head, "I've been through the desert / On a horse with no name / It felt good to be out of the rain..."

I then turned north on highway 163 and rode through Monument Valley. The view was just like you see in the movies, although the classic view is seen when traveling 163 from north to south, so I had to look in my mirrors and over my shoulder to see it.

Then I continued east through historic Bluff, Utah with its sandstone cliffs, through the Four Corners region, and into Colorado. I stopped in Durango and checked into the Best Western there. I had called ahead and made a reservation the night before.

Dinner was in the adjacent restaurant, the special rib eye steak. It was cooked perfectly and the meal was a good value. I did another round of bath tub laundry and got a good night's sleep.

Ride report June 2012: Day 8

Durango, CO to Manitou Springs, CO

The free breakfast at the Durango Best Western was adequate but lacked proteins. I then headed north on highway 505 to Montrose. The passes are beautiful and so was the road. It was breezy in Montrose where I gassed up and ate a snack. I then caught highway 50 east which was much drier than I would have thought. I could see the smoke from a wildfire to the south as I neared Pikes Peak.

Going over Monarch Pass was fantastic. The road was in great shape and other than dodging a pudgy marmot sprinting across the road the ride was fantastic. I stopped at the top of Monarch and took a picture of my bike in front of the Continental Divide sign, then continued onward.

Colorado drivers were beginning to frustrate me. They seemed to go 15+ over the speed limit in the straights but would slow WAY down for any kind of curve. They acted like they were freaked out by it and it seemed contradictory. But, that is better than Idaho drivers that are slow no matter what the circumstance.

The mountain towns of Silverton and Ourey remind me of those little villages you see pictures of in the Swiss Alps, quaint and small. Manitou Springs has a similar flavor, with a much busier, pedestrian friendly feel. My place of rest for the next two nights was the Best Western on the eastern edge of town, across from Garden of the Gods. I was very glad to check in as the area was beginning a record-breaking heat wave, with temps well into the upper 90's.

Dinner was at a pizza deli next door called Savelli's. The food was good and so was the service. My room was adjacent to the guest laundry so I got caught up in that regard as well.

Ride report 2012: Day 9

Local rides, Manitou Springs, CO

My goals for the day were to ride to the top of Pikes Peak and ride through Garden of the Gods. I got an early start up the mountain and was at the summit by 9:00 am. The view from the top is nice but you are so high above the valleys below that they almost seem abstract, like seeing the ground from an airplane. Still, it was definitely worth the fee and ride. The ride up seemed somewhat scary but for some reason the ride down was a piece of cake. The slow speed limit almost seemed like a needless frustration, although in practical terms it makes a lot of sense. Guard rails are rare and the drop offs are steep and frequent.

Back in town the heat was already climbing rapidly. I was boiling inside my gear as I rode through the Garden of the Gods park. It is a large park with numerous unusual and beautiful rock formations, criss-crossed by many hiking trails. It is definitely worth seeing and I would eventually like to hike around in the park ... on a cooler day.

I was back in my air conditioned room, chilling and resting by noon. After all that hot desert riding I needed a down day.

Ride report June 2012: Day 10

Manitou Springs, CO to Laramie, WY

I slept well and was up early. After the adequate free continental breakfast I was heading west on highway 24, then north on local route 67 through pine trees and hills to the junction with highway 285. It took me over Boreas Pass at 11,482 feet with some technical but fun switchbacks on the northern side.

I stopped and gassed up in Fairplay before turning north again on local highway 9. Wow, what a route! Hoozier Pass was amazing ... 11,541 feet and fast, too. I then rode through the famous and opulent ski town of Breckenridge. The downtown main street looks like something from a Hollywood set, and I wouldn't be surprised if a few movies were actually shot there.

At Dillon, where 9 meets I-70, I pulled into town and took a break at a Starbucks. Back on the freeway, it soon climbed to a tunnel at a pass at 11,158 feet. What a trip! A bit later I turned off of the freeway and caught highway 40 northbound for yet another section of fantastic Colorado scenery, including Berthoud Pass at 11,315 feet. So far the V-Strom had been tackling the high elevation passes, and even the 14,110 foot summit of Pikes Peak, without complaint. There is less power, obviously, but I only noticed it when attempting to pass.

I gassed up in the cowboy community of Granby before taking rural route 125 north. A sign said moose was in the area but I never saw any. I did see a three point bull elk about 50 yards off the road as he ran up into an aspen grove. I bet the area is beautiful in the fall.

By the time route 125 hit the town of Rand, I was out of the mountains and timber and onto the windy prairie. On the way I could see the smoke plume from a massive wildfire just west of Fort Collins. The plume looked similar to the one created when Mt. St. Helens erupted, which I witnessed firsthand as a kid.

I then crossed into Wyoming, my first visit to the most sparsely populated state in the lower 48. The temperature warmed a bit but it wasn't oppressively hot like it had been in Utah and Arizona. I found my motel in Laramie after filling up my fuel tank. The town of Laramie has the charm of dry toast and a glass of lukewarm tap water, but not as wet. There were no food options within walking distance so I ordered a Pizza Hut delivered to my room. Thunderstorms were predicted for the area, and some were intense, but they dodged Laramie leaving the dust on my bike intact.

Ride report June 2012: Day 11

Laramie, WY to Deadwood, SD

My bike's odometer hit 50,000 miles today, just south of Mt. Rushmore.

The continental breakfast at the Laramie Super 8 was lame. It was served in the walkway between the front door and the reception desk, so people walking in and out of the hotel were literally having to dodge the folks trying to grab a nasty, old pastry and burnt coffee. There wasn't even anywhere to sit! I grabbed an apple, a small cup of coffee and a packaged cinnamon roll and took them back to my room for reluctant consumption.

Before leaving town, I stopped at the Chuckwagon Cafe and ate a real breakfast before heading north out of town, with no intention to ever return. Until I reached South Dakota, the road passed through nothing but prairie and I saw many pronghorn antelope and deer along the way. In contrast, the hills of southwestern South Dakota are beautiful and look like some kind of manicured park.

The skies were threatening rain so I stopped at the Dairy Queen in Custer for a quick lunch and to switch to wet weather gloves and to put the waterproof cover over my tank bag. The rest of my gear was already waterproof. A few brief showers fell while I was inside the busy DQ but did little to remove the growing patina of dead bugs on my fairing.

With food in my belly, I continued north to the exit for Mt. Rushmore, seeing the unfinished Crazy Horse monument in the distance. The unusual rock formations surrounding Mt. Rushmore reminded me of a grey version of those found within Garden of the Gods back in Colorado, albeit a different color. The Rushmore monument itself was underwhelming, mostly because it was much smaller than I anticipated. I didn't want to pay the rather high fee just to park, so I rode past it, turned around and rode back toward the main highway. A few rain drops fell but I completely dodged the rather intense showers that were occurring all around me.

I eventually made it to Deadwood and checked into the Hickok House Best Western. After my usual routine of unpacking, taking a nap and then a shower, I was ready for dinner and a cold one at the restaurant next door. The service was good and the food was, too, including their green chicken chili.

The whole town of Deadwood is a national historic landmark and is well worth the visit. If you can, watch the HBO series of the same name as I hear it's actually fairly close to the real historic events (although it is still Hollywood, so take it all with a grain of salt).

Ride report June 2012: Day 12

Deadwood, SD to Greybull, WY

Pam, the waitress at the Best Western restaurant, was a hoot and really knew a lot about Deadwood history, specifically Al Swearengen and Calamity Jane. The food was excellent, too, especially the bacon.

My first stop of the day was Devil's Tower, but first I had to cross back into Wyoming. As I crossed the border from South Dakota, the wind picked up as if turned on by a switch. I don't think I spent a single second in the state of Wyoming without the wind blowing.

The side road to Devil's Tower is beautiful. Imagine pine trees, green grass, and rolling hills on a quality road with hardly any traffic. Yeah, it was that kind of experience. If you've seen Close Encounters of the Third Kind, however, Devil's Tower itself is somewhat of a let down. It's cool, but it's exactly the same as you see in the movie so seeing it in person is somewhat underwhelming.

I backtracked back to I-90 and caught it westbound about 100 miles to Buffalo. That stretch of freeway, as you would imagine, is uninteresting.

I ate lunch at the busy Hardees in Buffalo before taking highway 16 west into the Big Horn Mountains. 16 was great except for the muddy and dusty (yes, both) construction and REALLY slow cars coming down the western slope of the mountains. The curves seemed to have these drivers freaked out of their minds and anything above 25 mph for them was out of the question. I eventually got past them.

The rest of 16 is hot and dry to Worland, then I turned north to Greybull for more of the same. There is a lot of erosion and the geology of the area looks like it was once under a great inland sea (which it was). Apparently a lot of dinosaur fossils are found in that area.

It was hot when I got to Greybull, a small farming community centered around a once-busy railroad switch yard. There was construction going on downtown but I looped around and found the Greybull Hotel from a back street.

The Greybull Hotel was unexpectedly one of the highlights of my trip. The owner, Myles Foley, is a great guy and a total crack-up. He's also one helluva great host. The hotel was built in 1914 and had a speakeasy in the basement. Myles gave me a full, personal tour. The room rates are an excellent value, too.

Dinner was in a common room of sorts on the ground floor, just inside the front door, although the restaurant proper is in the basement with a nice, cozy feel to it. I sat at the same table with several locals and we talked and laughed well into the evening. I had a great time meeting my new friends. The prime rib dinner that Myles had on special was fantastic, too.

John, one of the local regulars and the Realtor that sold the hotel to Myles, suggested I take a different route for the next day than the one I had originally planned. At first I intended to head straight west through Cody and into Yellowstone National Park, but John suggested I go north into Red Lodge, Montana, then enter the park over the Beartooth Pass. I'm so glad I took his advice.

Ride report June 2012: Day 13

Greybull, WY to Butte, MT
Through Yellowstone National Park

I walked to a really dumpy restaurant across the street for breakfast. Myles told me their breakfast was okay but their lunch and dinner was to be avoided. It got me fed without unpleasant after-effects, so no harm, no foul.

I took highway 310 north to Red Lodge where I gassed up, then began my climb up the Beartooth Pass. The road up climbs the northern face of a deep valley wall before reaching the spectacular summit at just a hair below 11,000 feet. The top has a 360-degree view of the surrounding snow-dappled mountains and it simply takes your breath away. I consider it the most spectacular scenery I have ever witnessed, even more so than Zion and Glacier national parks (although they're very close).

I then descended down the other side and entered the northeast corner of Yellowstone National Park. I never realized how large Yellowstone is. It cost me $20 to get in and took several hours to ride to the other side. The speed limit varies between 25 mph up to 45 mph, and I hear they can be pretty strict about violations. I saw a lot of buffalo, a mother black bear and her two cubs, and a lone, sandy-furred wolf loping along a river bank near a large buffalo. Lots of people were stopped to photograph it. I never saw any moose or grizzlies.

Out of the park, I stopped in West Yellowstone, Montana and gassed up, then ate a snack at a small but very busy McDonalds before continuing north to Butte.

Just north of Ennis the clouds above the mountains gave me a wonderful site. The virga -- rain that falls but never reaches the ground -- looked like blue and grey hair. I ended up riding almost completely around the storm without it ever getting directly above me. When I reached I-90 for the fast run into Butte, looking back I could see the storm had moved on top of the road I had just traveled.

Because of the slow slog through the park and the great distance I had to travel, this ended up being my longest day yet, time-wise. I left Greybull at 7:50 AM and didn't get to Butte until 5:45 PM. In Butte, I gassed up in preparation for the next day and checked into the very nice Best Western there. Dinner was a whiskey on the rocks and a chef salad in the lounge, then I went outside and cleaned the construction dust off my chain and added some oil to the engine.

Ride report June 2012: Day 14

Butte, MT to Grangeville, ID

I slept good, then ate breakfast in the adjoining Perkins restaurant. I had fueled up the day before so I was on the highway by 7:50 AM.

It was a 120 mile slog on I-90 once again to get to Missoula where I turned west on highway 12 to Lolo. I gassed up there, alongside two guys from Alberta, Canada riding Suzukis. One was a DL100 and the other was a Bandit. I smiled at them but they ignored me. I ate a snack, then continued on 12 up and over Lolo Pass.

I had to go around some really slow cars, all with Idaho license plates, then over the pass and down the other side. The road surface at the top of the pass was rough, but it smoothed out soon enough. The sun was out and it was a pleasant riding temperature, so the rest of the ride was very comfortable.

I stopped at the small Apgar campground to eat an energy bar and drink some water, then continued on. The 50 mph speed limit on highway 12 in Idaho is needlessly slow. The road is in great shape, the curves seldom get below a posted 40 mph, and the sight lines are more than adequate. I guess they just hate speed in Idaho.

Just past Lowell a group of six BMW riders come up behind me and soon they zoomed past, all with Alberta license plates. They all rode a different model of BMW, with a big R1200GS leading the pack. They were going at least 20 mph over the limit and were passing car after car over a solid no-passing line. I tried to keep up with them for a little while but their aggressive pace was a bit more than I wanted to risk from a speeding ticket standpoint.

Eventually they pulled off into a small park and I rode past and into Grangeville. I stopped at the first gas station and filled up my tank, and after coming back outside from a bio break, I saw the Alberta BMW Club pull into the station. They stopped, one rider got off her bike, they smiled at each other, then mounted up and took off again without getting any gas at all. I had no clue what that was about.

I checked into the Super 8 in Grangeville, a place I've stayed at before. The staff is very friendly and the value is excellent. I ran a load of laundry and after a shower, I walked to Palenques a few blocks away for a great dinner of Mexican food.

Back in my room, The Weather channel had that nasty warning tone, then a red ticker across the bottom saying there were dangerous thunderstorms in the area with quarter-sized hail and possible tornadoes. I went to the front desk to see if there was room for me to park my bike under the front overhang, but it was filled with Harley baggers. I left my bike exposed in the regular parking lot and took my chances. The storms apparently stayed 60 miles away in Washington state and avoided Grangeville altogether.

5,000 miles in 16 days

I just returned from a solo 5,000 mile trip around ten western states that took 16 days to complete. I left Oregon, went south to California, then across Nevada, Utah, and northern Arizona into Colorado. I then turned north into Wyoming and spent a night in South Dakota before turning west back across Wyoming, into southern Montana, across Idaho and back into Oregon.

The trip ranged from sea level (the Oregon coast) to 14,115 feet (Pikes Peak) and saw temperature extremes from the upper 30's (Beartooth Pass, Montana) to 120 degrees (Zion National Park). The farthest south was Kaibito, Arizona, the farthest east was Mt. Rushmore, South Dakota, and the farthest north was Missoula, Montana.

From a gear standpoint, my bike -- a 2007 Suzuki V-Strom 650 -- ran without complaint. In the 5,000 mile journey it used up about 3/4 of quart of oil (which is pretty normal for modern bikes). The odometer rolled over 50,000 miles during the trip. My Garmin Zumo 450 GPS half-died about 1,000 miles into the journey. It's 5 years old so that's a pretty good lifespan for an electronic gadget that gets exposed to the elements. The standout gear of the ride, however, were my ExOfficio convertible pants. I wore them under my Firstgear Kathmandu riding pants and made the trip a lot more comfortable, especially when riding in high desert heat. They retain zero odor, and I could wash them in my motel sink, ring them out (roll them up in a towel and step on it) and they'd be dry in a few hours. Plus they are super light and pack really small, which is a huge bonus when traveling by motorcycle.

The standout scenery was Beartooth Pass in southern Montana, just northeast of Yellowstone Park. The low point in terms of interest was probably Laramie, Wyoming. The town has the character of day-old dry toast.

I met some really cool people (Jeff in Fortuna, CA; Pam in Deadwood, SD; and Myles and John in Greybull, WY) and saw some shameful racism in many rural areas toward our President.

The trip went without a hitch, basically. There were no pucker moments or involuntary get-offs and no run-ins with law enforcement. It barely even rained -- a few drops while visiting Mt. Rushmore.

Speaking of Mt. Rushmore, it was probably the biggest disappointment of all the big-name places I visited. It's much smaller in person than I thought it was from all the pictures and video I've seen of it on TV. In fact, the rock formations surrounding the monument are far more interesting. Devil's Tower in northeastern Wyoming was kind of a 'meh' moment, too, not because it isn't cool -- it is -- but because it's exactly like I've seen in Close Encounters of the Third Kind. It was a kind of "Been there, done that" sort of moment.

I hadn't planned to visit Zion National Park but had to detour that way because of a road closure. Wow, what a place! I realize it's cliche to say so but pictures can't begin to do it justice. It's as if Mother Nature consulted some big-name Hollywood filmmakers when designing it.

One thing that kept crossing my mind was the viewpoint that several fundamentalist Christians hold concerning the age of the earth. I'm all for the freedom to hold personal religious beliefs, but anyone that thinks the planet is only 7,000 years old is exhibiting a willful denial of reality bordering on malignant ignorance. Just travel around the west and look at the mountains that were built up, eroded away, and built up again and see if that kind of geological activity could happen in a few thousand years ... or even in a few million. Wake up. It's okay if the planet is 4 billion years old. Really. It won't make you any farther from God to acknowledge what is obvious. If it makes you feel any better, remember what an old friend of mine used to say when asked about his view on dinosaur fossils vs. the Bible, "I don't know how it happened, I just believe God was involved."

When I go on these trips, I am often admonished by friends and family to takes lots of pictures. I took some, and I even took some video. In my tank bag was a GoPro HD camera and while riding I would often take it out and hold it with my left hand, filming various angles of the action. I've reviewed some of the footage and it worked pretty well. I plan to turn my photos and live footage into a produced video, with distribution to select individuals. Some photos will be posted here, but don't expect too much. Philosophically, I have been taking the attitude that these places aren't going anywhere; if you want to see them, go there yourself. I put in a lot of time, money, and sweat riding there and I feel somewhat reluctant to let others vicariously enjoy the benefits of that journey without paying some dues for the privilege. Sorry, but that's just how I feel.

Meanwhile, my bike is filthy and needs an oil change. My chain is also in dire need of replacement and my Aerostich Darien jacket looks like it's been to the moon and back (I love that jacket!) I also have 7 GB worth of video to edit. I'll report back when I have something to report.

Lee Parks Total Control clinic

I enrolled in the Lee Parks Total Control riding clinic and attended the session in Olympia, Washington on Saturday, May 14th. Because it was an all-day class -- 9 AM to 7 PM -- I decided to make a weekend trip out of it.

I took Friday off of work and rode across the Portland metro area to Scappoose on Highway 30 before heading away from the Columbia River and into the hills of Northwest Oregon. The road is a nice bend of tight curves and broad sweepers but the surface is somewhat rough in spots and blind corners demand a lot of attention. Once in Mist I continued north on Highway 47 to Clatskanie. This section is very technical and you really have to be on the ball to survive it. The road surface is very rough, the corners are tight and rapid-fire, and there are log trucks patrolling the area ready to pounce on slacking motorcyclists.

The route from Pittsburg to Mist and then north to Clatskanie is heaven if you're a big fan of clear cuts. For those unfamiliar with the term, it's a way to harvest timber by mimicking the bombed out fields of eastern France during World War I. Everything gets cut down and removed, leaving the landscape scarred and defeated, right down to the road's edge. It's truly an ugly sight.

Once in Clatskanie (pronounced 'clat-skuh-nigh') I turned west and followed Highway 30 to the hamlet of Westport where I veered north onto a narrow paved road to the terminal of the Westport Ferry. This river crossing is the only ferry remaining on the lower Columbia River. For $3 a motorcycle gets portage to Puget Island, which has a bridge across the north stem of the Columbia back onto mainland Washington.

Waiting at the ferry terminal was a short, gray-haired and bearded man in black leather, sitting on the guard rail next to his 2001 deep blue Harley-Davidson Heritage Softail. Walt and I chatted as we crossed the Columbia, the only passengers on the small ferry. The ride was very smooth thanks to a lack of wind, and within a few minutes we were docked on Puget Island and rolling back onto terra firma.

As per Walt's suggestion, I stopped at the Riverview in Cathlamet for lunch. The club sandwich and side salad were adequate and soon I was back on the road, heading west on SR 4 to connect with Highway 101 north. This section of the coastal highway offers rare glimpses of Willapa Bay, home of famous oysters, before going inland at Raymond for another stretch north to Aberdeen. There were numerous state and county law enforcement officers cruising the area, nabbing speeding motorists. Fortunately they left me alone.

Once across the Chehalis River in Aberdeen I turned west onto Highway 12 to begin my way inland toward Olympia. I stopped just east of town and fueled up, both my bike and myself. It was a four-lane divided highway all the way to Olympia and the miles passed quickly. My destination was the Super 8 in Lacey, and although my GPS told me right where it was, it was visually difficult to spot and I missed the entrance. A quick loop onto the I-5 freeway brought me back around for another pass. The manager said I could park my bike in front of the lobby so they could keep an eye on it for me. It's always a great experience when businesses are motorcycle-friendly.

After getting settled I walked a few blocks away to O'Blarneys for some bangers and mash and a beer to end the day.

Saturday began dry, contrary to the forecast of increasing chance of showers. I made it to the classroom location about 10 minutes early and already a half dozen bikes were parked outside. Several riders were grouped around Ian's Kawasaki Versys, watching and assisting as he fixed a flat tire. By 9:10 everyone was present and class began.

The course is 40% classroom lecture and 60% range exercises. The lectures were informative but tended to be long-winded and sometimes tangential. Our instructors, Pete and Jeff, were very knowledgeable, engaging and definitely likable. After introductions were made, we talked about the theory of cornering as well as the mental attitudes needed to ride effectively. Eventually we headed out to the range, a large parking lot behind a nearby mall about 5 blocks away.

The range exercises were the most useful part of the clinic. Anyone that took the MSF Basic Riders Course would find the format and approach very similar. We had a large area to work in, roughly the size of two football fields side-by-side, with circles and routes painted on the asphalt. Pete and Jeff set up several circles and lines using small orange and green cones, then gave us instructions for our first exercise.

To start, we practiced straight-line throttle and brake control exercises, learning to smoothly adjust our speed using a combination of both. Then, after riding around the range to scrub (warm up) our tires, we began some simple turning exercises.

We didn't break for lunch until 1:10 PM and only had 15 minutes to grab something and meet back at the classroom. We continued with another lecture while everyone wolfed down their food. This time the lecture was far more focused and less tangential. We talked about specific cornering techniques with an emphasis on body position. The group moved out onto the parking lot outside for a series of exercises.

One exercise taught us to visualize a corner's turn-in point ahead of time, and then recognizing its position in our mind when we reach it. Then we moved onto a pair of exercises that involved leaning to the side into the arms of two other riders, followed by sitting on our bikes and leaning off with our bodies while other riders held our bike. After that, we suited up and headed back to the range.

The remaining series of range exercises taught us how to locate our turn-in point and how to use our head and direction of sight to ensure smooth cornering. Looking through the curve is probably the most influential part of navigating a corner smoothly. I scraped my pegs a couple of times during these exercises, despite riding the tallest bike in the group. It was easy to tell when my eyes or head moved out of that 'look through' position because my bike would twitch and swerve along with my line-of-sight. Even my throttle control varied with my eye and head position. Whenever I looked steadily through the curve my cornering technique was smooth and even.

And then the rain came. During a lecture on tires earlier in the day, instructor Jeff commented that modern street bike tires are capable of far more than most bikes and riders will demand of them. He also said that they provide up to 80% traction on wet road surfaces, still above what most riders will need. Those comments gave us the confidence to keep taking the curves in the range exercise even after the rain had the pavement soaking wet.

We rode in at least an hour of hard rain, and I personally found it exciting to take the same corners at the same speed but on very wet pavement. It boosted my confidence dramatically.

(A rider from British Columbia modeled his new leather Aerostich Transit suit after we returned to the classroom. He said he really liked it and that it was well worth the cost.)

After retiring back to the classroom at 6pm, the remainder of the session was about suspension. Since the suspension on my V-Strom has very little adjustment capabilities, I decided to bag the rest of the class and head back to my motel in the rain.

I parked under the front cover at the motel and verified I had permission to do so. Back in my room, I spread out my gear to dry out, showered, then headed to the Shari's next door for dinner. The rain was falling heavily and never let up for the remainder of the trip.

On Sunday I gassed up and headed home via I-5 in the heavy rain without stopping. Unlike the 260 mile route I took getting to Olympia, the southbound freeway was the 140 mile direct route home. It's amazing how much more exhausting riding in the rain is compared to riding on dry pavement. My gear held up well, including my Aerostich triple-digit glove covers, but the big winners were my Darien Jacket and my Sidi Canyon boots. They performed admirably as always.

New site format

I am experimenting with an entirely new site structure and engine. I am currently using Wordpress for this blog, but am contemplating switching to Drupal.

Please check out the new site at www.ruckerworks.com and let me know what you think.

Ride report: Steens Mountain, Southeast Oregon

I just got back from a 6-day, 1,600 mile trip through, across, and around southeastern Oregon, with a visit to the highest road in the state at 9,700 feet -- Steens Mountain.

After camping my way all the way across the center of the state and down to the southern border for a couple of days, I met up with Mark and Janice, two new friends from California. I met Mark in a diner in Weaverville, CA back in June. He and I both ride V-Stroms and had stayed in touch all summer, talking about taking a trip together. His wife Janice also rides a V-Strom, so the two of them headed up to Lakeview and met me there on a Monday afternoon.

The next morning we set off to see the pronghorns on top of Hart Mountain National Antelope Refuge (we even saw fighter jets in dog-fighting maneuvers directly overhead), then rode 65 miles at 60+ mph on a washboarded dirt road to Frenchglen where I picked up a nasty hitchhiker in my back tire.

I fixed my own flat, then we headed up to Fish Lake on the western slope of Steens Mountain and stayed the night. The view from the top is incredible and should definitely be on everyone's short-list of must-see places on the west coast.

On Wednesday we rode south through Fields (home of overpriced burgers and rather pathetic soft-serve shakes) and into Denio, Nevada. From there it was one wide open space after another as we boogied across the prairie back into Oregon for another night in Lakeview before heading our separate ways back home. I headed north in another cross-state jaunt, landing at my sister's ranch outside of Goldendale, Washington for a one-night stay before heading back to home turf.

It was a trip of firsts and I can easily say it's one of the most enjoyable journeys I've ever made. The route was light on twisties and heavy on long views, but I'm learning to appreciate and actually enjoy them.

Rather than stick individual photos in this blog post, I'm going to link to my Picasa page and let you peruse the entire bunch from there. http://picasaweb.google.com/ruckerworks/SteensTrip

To fish or ride?

I just got back from a fishing trip to Central Oregon. When driving through Redmond I saw BMW after BMW riding around town. Once I was south of town I saw them riding north on Highway 97, obviously part of the annual BMW MOA rally.

Back when I was self employed I went fishing a lot. I didn't have a motorcycle and taking the boat out to catch trout or kokanee was my biggest form of summer-time recreation. Once I started working full-time and got into riding motorcycles, my fishing activities got cut back dramatically.

This year I'm trying to strike a balance between fishing and riding. I've been on one big bike trip down to California and I've already been on one big fishing trip with another coming up. The fishing usually tapers off in the heat of August and low reservoir levels of September so maybe I'll get more time on two wheels during those months.