Saturday I pulled both bikes out into the driveway. It was chilly, in the low 30's, but the sun was shining. I gave the chains on each bike a thorough cleaning, then added fresh lubrication. I ran the engines for 10 minutes, and using the center stand on the V-Strom and the paddock stand for the Gixxer, was able to run the bike in gear.
I rode my V-Strom to work last week so it received it's once-a-week maintenance ride, but my Gixxer hadn't received any forward momentum love. I decided to suit up and zip into Gresham and back on the sport bike. It was good to get it out onto the road, although anywhere shade crossed the pavement I encountered a frosty road surface. Those kind of rides require a mellow throttle and brake application.
Showing posts with label Rides. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rides. Show all posts
Monday, January 21, 2013
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Cold maintenance rides
This is the time of year when I seldom ride for fun. I commute occasionally, as weather and errands allow (I oftentimes have to run errands that require the use of a four-wheeled vehicle). I also try to ride each bike at least once a week just to keep it running. I don't like to let my vehicles sit.
One tip I've read is to either park your bike with a nearly empty tank and fuel stabilizer added, or better yet, park it with a full tank of fuel. When bikes sit for long periods, water condensation can form on the inside of the tank. If the tank is full, there is very little exposed surface area inside where condensation can form. That is why I choose to keep my tanks full when they are parked.
I'm not a mechanical expert by any means, so if any of my knowledgeable readers want to pipe in and comment on the validity of this approach, I'd appreciate it.
One tip I've read is to either park your bike with a nearly empty tank and fuel stabilizer added, or better yet, park it with a full tank of fuel. When bikes sit for long periods, water condensation can form on the inside of the tank. If the tank is full, there is very little exposed surface area inside where condensation can form. That is why I choose to keep my tanks full when they are parked.
I'm not a mechanical expert by any means, so if any of my knowledgeable readers want to pipe in and comment on the validity of this approach, I'd appreciate it.
Monday, October 8, 2012
To Astoria the gnarly way
There are usually several ways to get from Point A to Point B. As my readers should know by now, I seldom use the shortest-distance-is-a-straight-line route. Sunday was no exception.
Here's the route I took on Google Maps.
I met my buddy, Brutus, at a gas station in Beaverton at 9:30. We chatted for a bit and discussed his new bike, a 2008 Kawasaki Ninja 250, as well as his day-glo jacket and pants which has earned him the unofficial nickname, "The Noticeable One." We then headed west on Highway 26 before cutting southwest onto Highway 6. A few miles later we turned north on Timber Road. The surface is in fantastic shape and the curves are plenty and offer a nice variety. There are a lot of driveways to farms and plenty of woods, so critters and slow locals are to be watched for. We had to stop for a dog and a cat in the roadway less than a half-mile from each other.
We soon reached the creepy town of Vernonia. I'm sure it's a great place to live, but every time I've been there I have felt like I was in a Stephen King novel. It's hard to describe but many others I know have felt the same way when visiting the town. Regardless, we were soon through the town and on our way on Highway 47 north, then onto 202 west.
Highway 202 cuts through the northern Oregon coast range and is definitely not a main thoroughfare. It goes through the community of Jewell and its famous elk viewing areas (no elk for us, sadly). The road is narrow and winding and really taxes the rider due to its rough condition. The far west end has seen some repaving but the rest really puts your shocks to work. Riding my V-Strom on 202 is not much of an issue because it can handle the rougher ride, but by the time I went to Astoria and back on my GSX-R750, my back and wrists were starting to complain.
Brutus and I gassed up and ate lunch at the Dairy Queen in Astoria before going our separate ways back home. He headed south on 101 to Seaside where he caught Highway 26 for a straight shot east to his home in Beaverton. I backtracked on 202 to where it met rural highway 103 south. I had never been on this road, so I took the turn and followed it to its junction with Highway 26, busy with weekenders heading back to the city from their visit to the coast. 103 was a delight, with great curves, scenery, and road surface. It was all too short, though.
Back on Highway 26, I resigned myself to freeway riding for the rest of the trip home. I made it through the city and out onto the east side route on I-84 before getting home 265 miles later. I was exhausted but happy.
Here's the route I took on Google Maps.
I met my buddy, Brutus, at a gas station in Beaverton at 9:30. We chatted for a bit and discussed his new bike, a 2008 Kawasaki Ninja 250, as well as his day-glo jacket and pants which has earned him the unofficial nickname, "The Noticeable One." We then headed west on Highway 26 before cutting southwest onto Highway 6. A few miles later we turned north on Timber Road. The surface is in fantastic shape and the curves are plenty and offer a nice variety. There are a lot of driveways to farms and plenty of woods, so critters and slow locals are to be watched for. We had to stop for a dog and a cat in the roadway less than a half-mile from each other.
Highway 202 cuts through the northern Oregon coast range and is definitely not a main thoroughfare. It goes through the community of Jewell and its famous elk viewing areas (no elk for us, sadly). The road is narrow and winding and really taxes the rider due to its rough condition. The far west end has seen some repaving but the rest really puts your shocks to work. Riding my V-Strom on 202 is not much of an issue because it can handle the rougher ride, but by the time I went to Astoria and back on my GSX-R750, my back and wrists were starting to complain.
Brutus and I gassed up and ate lunch at the Dairy Queen in Astoria before going our separate ways back home. He headed south on 101 to Seaside where he caught Highway 26 for a straight shot east to his home in Beaverton. I backtracked on 202 to where it met rural highway 103 south. I had never been on this road, so I took the turn and followed it to its junction with Highway 26, busy with weekenders heading back to the city from their visit to the coast. 103 was a delight, with great curves, scenery, and road surface. It was all too short, though.
Back on Highway 26, I resigned myself to freeway riding for the rest of the trip home. I made it through the city and out onto the east side route on I-84 before getting home 265 miles later. I was exhausted but happy.
Monday, September 17, 2012
Racing R1s from Detroit
After a ride to Detroit and back on Saturday, the fantastic riding weather was too tempting to deny so on Sunday I headed out once again on the Gixxer.
I fueled up in Estacada, then rode straight through to Detroit where I drank a Frappucino and ate a Snickers bar before heading back. I didn't get gas in Detroit as I usually do, making the calculation that my bike would make the roundtrip on a single tank of gas (Gixxer's don't have a fuel gauge). Once I left Detroit, I caught up with a guy on a Yamaha FJR1300 that was loaded up for a long trip. He quickly waved me past and I zoomed forward. He followed me until the turn off to Timothy Lake, at which point I saw him do a U-turn in my mirrors. I think that was the way he wanted to go.
Not much farther down the road I heard a "Whoosh!" and saw a guy on a black Yamaha R1 zoom past me. I quickly caught up with him and was soon riding up his tailpipe on the corners. He was riding fairly aggressively, going fast in the straights, but he had a disjointed style in the corners and wasn't taking them very efficiently. Soon I passed him as well as numerous cars.
Before I knew it I got to Ripplebrook Ranger Station and stopped under some shade in the parking lot. Less than a minute later he pulled in and parked next to me. We chatted for a couple of minutes before his buddy on a red and white anniversary edition R1 showed up. Finally their third buddy on an FZ1 pulled in and the four of us talked for about five minutes about bikes. They couldn't say enough good things about my GSX-R750 and were blown away when I mentioned it apparently has a top speed of 180 mph, stock. The stock 1000 cc R1 can only go 6 mph faster than that. They were in somewhat of a hurry to get back into town so they pulled out and headed down the road. I put my gloves and helmet on and sought out to catch up to them.
It didn't take long before I was right behind them, on the hill down to the river crossing at Indian Henry Campground. Between there and the next bridge just before Three Lynx I passed the FZ1; he didn't appear to be a very good rider. Soon after the red and white anniversary edition R1 waved me past. I was then up the tailpipe of the first guy on the black R1. Again, he wasn't riding very smoothly, actually tucking down against his tank when going into corners. This is opposite of what should be done. I quickly went past him, too. They had a hard time keeping up.
The three guys finally caught up with me at the construction stoplight just west of Promontory Park. They followed me the rest of the way into Estacada where I pulled into town to get gas and they continued on westward.
It was a fantastic ride and I had a huge grin on my face when I got home.
I fueled up in Estacada, then rode straight through to Detroit where I drank a Frappucino and ate a Snickers bar before heading back. I didn't get gas in Detroit as I usually do, making the calculation that my bike would make the roundtrip on a single tank of gas (Gixxer's don't have a fuel gauge). Once I left Detroit, I caught up with a guy on a Yamaha FJR1300 that was loaded up for a long trip. He quickly waved me past and I zoomed forward. He followed me until the turn off to Timothy Lake, at which point I saw him do a U-turn in my mirrors. I think that was the way he wanted to go.
Not much farther down the road I heard a "Whoosh!" and saw a guy on a black Yamaha R1 zoom past me. I quickly caught up with him and was soon riding up his tailpipe on the corners. He was riding fairly aggressively, going fast in the straights, but he had a disjointed style in the corners and wasn't taking them very efficiently. Soon I passed him as well as numerous cars.
Before I knew it I got to Ripplebrook Ranger Station and stopped under some shade in the parking lot. Less than a minute later he pulled in and parked next to me. We chatted for a couple of minutes before his buddy on a red and white anniversary edition R1 showed up. Finally their third buddy on an FZ1 pulled in and the four of us talked for about five minutes about bikes. They couldn't say enough good things about my GSX-R750 and were blown away when I mentioned it apparently has a top speed of 180 mph, stock. The stock 1000 cc R1 can only go 6 mph faster than that. They were in somewhat of a hurry to get back into town so they pulled out and headed down the road. I put my gloves and helmet on and sought out to catch up to them.
It didn't take long before I was right behind them, on the hill down to the river crossing at Indian Henry Campground. Between there and the next bridge just before Three Lynx I passed the FZ1; he didn't appear to be a very good rider. Soon after the red and white anniversary edition R1 waved me past. I was then up the tailpipe of the first guy on the black R1. Again, he wasn't riding very smoothly, actually tucking down against his tank when going into corners. This is opposite of what should be done. I quickly went past him, too. They had a hard time keeping up.
The three guys finally caught up with me at the construction stoplight just west of Promontory Park. They followed me the rest of the way into Estacada where I pulled into town to get gas and they continued on westward.
It was a fantastic ride and I had a huge grin on my face when I got home.
Monday, August 27, 2012
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.
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.
Monday, July 2, 2012
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Highway 50, "The Loneliest Highway"
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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).
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.
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.
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.
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).
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.
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.
Ride report June 2012: Day 15
Grangeville, ID to John Day, OR
I ate a muffin and bowl of cereal in the hotel lobby, chased down with a cup of coffee, before packing up and heading into town for breakfast at Oscar's. The sign on the back door said they wouldn't open until 8 AM, a 45 minute wait, so I headed down the highway about 45 miles to Riggins.
I stopped at the Summerville Cafe for breakfast. The inside of the restaurant smelled like someone's damp, musky basement. My breakfast burrito was the size of a small child, but was adequately tasty. I overheard a few patrons make some seriously racist comments about President Obama and what would happen to him if he ever visited their town. I decided I'd better leave before the locals started playing banjo music.
Back on the road, I continued south through New Meadows and then into Cambridge where I fueled up. I then took highway 17 across the Snake River at Brownlee Reservoir and back into Oregon before hitting highway 86 to Baker City. That is a fast road with great sweepers and excellent site lines. The road surface is in pretty good shape, too, with very little gravel in the corners.
In Baker, I stopped once again at Subway for lunch. An older gentleman came up to me as I was eating and said, "You look like a biker." We chatted for several minutes, and he told me he had been riding for over 65 years. He wished me a safe trip and left.
I then gassed up at the Chevron in town and got on highway 7 heading southwest past Sumpter, then at Austin Junction I got on highway 26 and headed west into John Day.
I pulled into the John Day Best Western and got a room. The gal at the front desk was super friendly and gave me the same room I get every time I stay there.
Again, my usual routine of unpacking, taking a short nap, and showering preceded dinner in the lounge of The Outpost restaurant a block away.
I ate a muffin and bowl of cereal in the hotel lobby, chased down with a cup of coffee, before packing up and heading into town for breakfast at Oscar's. The sign on the back door said they wouldn't open until 8 AM, a 45 minute wait, so I headed down the highway about 45 miles to Riggins.
I stopped at the Summerville Cafe for breakfast. The inside of the restaurant smelled like someone's damp, musky basement. My breakfast burrito was the size of a small child, but was adequately tasty. I overheard a few patrons make some seriously racist comments about President Obama and what would happen to him if he ever visited their town. I decided I'd better leave before the locals started playing banjo music.
Back on the road, I continued south through New Meadows and then into Cambridge where I fueled up. I then took highway 17 across the Snake River at Brownlee Reservoir and back into Oregon before hitting highway 86 to Baker City. That is a fast road with great sweepers and excellent site lines. The road surface is in pretty good shape, too, with very little gravel in the corners.
I then gassed up at the Chevron in town and got on highway 7 heading southwest past Sumpter, then at Austin Junction I got on highway 26 and headed west into John Day.
I pulled into the John Day Best Western and got a room. The gal at the front desk was super friendly and gave me the same room I get every time I stay there.
Again, my usual routine of unpacking, taking a short nap, and showering preceded dinner in the lounge of The Outpost restaurant a block away.
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