That first long day

My friend, Brutus (not his real name), got his motorcycle endorsement and first bike, a 2005 Kawasaki Ninja 250, a few months ago and has racked up about 2,000 miles commuting to work. So far, the bulk of his riding experience has been on urban freeways during rush hour. What a way to cut your teeth on a motorcycle! One of his goals is to ride with me on some multi-day trips, so we decided to spend a sunny Saturday on a long local ride to simulate the kind of riding typical of longer trips.

We met at the parking lot of Steigerwald Lake, an animal preserve on SR14 in Washington, just east of Camas. The sun was rising, the air was slightly cool, and there was very little wind. Brutus showed up on a yellow bike and wearing neon yellow jacket and helmet. Only his pants were black. He likes to be noticed! We chatted for several minutes about bikes and the day ahead, then set off. I took the lead at first with Brutus following but lagging slowly behind. I pulled over and waited for him to catch up. Since it was his first major ride on curvy roads, we decided it was best for him to set the pace, so he took off first and I followed.

He showed remarkably smooth form and had excellent body position for a beginning rider. We navigated the curves of SR14 and after 20 miles we pulled over at a gas station in North Bonneville for a snack break. The Columbia River Gorge is notoriously windy but fortunately we only had to contend with a slight breeze. Coupled with the sunshine and moderate temperature, it was turning out to be a fantastic riding day. Since Brutus was doing well in the lead, we pulled back onto SR14 and maintained that pattern as we continued east.

As we neared the bridge to Hood River, I passed Brutus and then pulled into a rest stop for another quick rest and discussion about the route ahead. The next stop would be a private game preserve that offers public access, but it was easy to miss, so I led the way. The forests of the cascades were soon behind us and we entered the grassland of the eastern slope. Just before reaching the junction with SR14 and Highway 197, I pulled to the left into a paved driveway up the hill to the north. The lane was bordered on both sides with high wire fences and it soon became clear why. To our right were dromedary camels and to our left were zebras. In the distance we spotted llamas and bison, and high atop a rocky crag some kind of exotic goat, perhaps an ibex. We turned around at the top and slowly rolled back down the hill, stopping several times to see what other kind of exotic animals might be seen.

It was getting time for lunch and gas. We crossed the pink metal bridge just below The Dalles Dam and fueled up at the Chevron, then crossed the highway for lunch at McDonalds. When both the riders and bikes fueled up, we got back onto Highway 197 and continued south. The road is surrounded by rolling hills covered in green wheat and tan native grasses, with hardly a tree to be seen. The topography and open skies makes for a surprisingly dramatic view, and later on Brutus told me he was blown away by how scenic it was. We eventually descended down into Tygh Valley before climbing back up the hill, and after a few more miles, met the junction with Highway 216. We turned west and began the fourth and final leg of our route. The road is long and straight for several miles before we passed through the hamlet of Pine Grove and entered the forested eastern slope of the Cascades.

Soon we were climbing the last slope up to Government Camp and after passing some slow RVs, we were heading down the western side toward Sandy. Fortunately traffic was very light and we practically had the road to ourselves. I pulled over in Rhododendron and discussed with Brutus the remaining route, and after agreeing to stop in Sandy for a quick fuel fill-up, we continued on.

Our ride into Sandy was uneventful and once our tanks were filled up, we said our goodbyes and rode on our separate ways. By the end of the day Brutus had racked up 275 miles, which was by far his longest ride to date. He showed excellent form and his bike ran like a champ. Later on he told me that he experience both great fear and delight during the day. The excitement of the ride, the wonder of the scenery, and the wonderful tired feeling you have after surviving a long day's ride.

24 Hours to Southern Washington

This time of year the weather dictates my riding schedule more than anything. Because the weekend looked dry and free of frozen precipitation, it seemed like a great opportunity to get on the bike and make a quick trip to my sister's house in southern Washington. I had been needing to visit her for some time as I've been building a web site to highlight her artwork (www.TamlenCreations.com) and we needed to go over some project related items, so it made sense to combine the work with pleasure and make a bike trip out of it.

I invited my friend Mike to go along. He and I have known each other since the 3rd grade and share a love of motorcycles, getting our endorsements within a few months of each other three years ago. The idea was to leave from our jobs mid-day on Friday and meet up somewhere, then ride together the rest of the way. We coordinated our departure times at 1pm and planned to meet at the Steigerwald Lake wildlife refuge parking lot in Washougal, Washington.

[caption id="attachment_496" align="alignright" width="320" caption="Steigerwald Lake wildlife refuge"][/caption]

Unfortunately Mike got stuck in stop-and-go traffic on I-5 heading out of Portland and arrived a little more than an hour late. Stop-and-go on a motorcycle is not fun and I felt bad for him, but he had his usual "Whatever, man. Let's ride!" attitude so that's what we did.

The route was SR14 eastbound, and as usual we got stuck behind a series of slow cars and a semi. We pulled over at the Cape Horn viewpoint

[caption id="attachment_497" align="alignleft" width="320" caption="Viewpoint at Cape Horn, SR14, Washington"][/caption]

and took some photos, then continued on to the Chevron in North Bonneville for a snack break. Mike ate carrots, I ate a Snickers and Frappucino. I keep telling Mike that calories don't count when you're on two wheels but I don't think he believes me.

There was a 20 mph headwind but we could tell that it was gradually easing up as we continued eastward. We stopped again at a rest area just west of Lyle for a bio break and Mike took the opportunity to snap a few photos

[caption id="attachment_498" align="alignright" width="340" caption="Rest area, Mike's bike"][/caption]

of his bike with the setting sun over the Columbia River in the background. I saw a guy walking up the trail below the viewpoint carrying a tri-pod and camera bags. Obviously he recognized the photo opportunity as well.

Mike commented that his hands were starting to get fairly cold with his warmer-weather riding gloves so I offered him my cold-weather gauntlets. He passed, and we continued down SR14 to the junction with Highway 142 northbound at Lyle.

Turning left we headed up 142 which followed the beautiful Klickitat River. Many sections of the road were in the shade and some spots were wet but the temperature was above freezing so we had no worries about sliding. Being mid-February the oak trees in the river valley were still devoid of leaves. Although we were out of the east wind, the air became noticeably cooler as we rode north through the river valley. Even though I was dressed for the cold weather, I could tell it was probably getting colder than Mike's gloves could handle so I pulled off the road and dug out my cold-weather gauntlets. When Mike rolled up behind me I extended them to him and with a big grin he gladly accepted them. With warmer hands, we rode onward.

By the time we reached the top of the river valley to continue east toward Goldendale, the sun was getting close to the horizon. Our intention was to gas up in Goldendale before heading out into the hinterlands where my sister and her husband live, 30 minutes east of town. By the time we rolled into the Chevron Mike's low fuel light was flashing. We filled our tanks and headed east on the Bickleton Highway.

The temperature was getting noticeably colder by the mile. The last two miles of the trip were on gravel and dirt road, wet and slightly muddy in many places. I stood up on my pegs but the forward pegs on Mikes Suzuki M50 didn't allow that so he took the bumps sitting down. By the time we pulled into the driveway of my sister's house the sun was below the horizon and only twilight illuminated our arrival. The temperature was 35 degrees and dropping quickly.

Part of this trip involved an equipment experiment. My sleeping bag, although very lightweight and compact, wasn't overly warm so I purchased an ultra-thin but high-tech liner from REI to add some insulation without bulk to my sleeping system. My sister and her husband have a wood stove and their house is usually hovering around 80 degrees inside, much too warm for my tastes, so Mike took the guest bedroom while I pitched my one-man tent on the back deck and chose to test out my new sleeping arrangement. We stayed up until close to 11pm talking, before our mutual yawns told us it was time to call it a night. I went outside and crawled into my sleeping bag.

The temperature outside dropped to 20 degrees, but that didn't keep the coyotes from howling. I was surprised to find out the sleeping bag liner I bought -- seemingly made from spider silk and smoke -- did a wonderful job keeping me warm. Because the air was so cold, however, any piece of flesh exposed became painfully cold. Even though I wore a fleece hat and had the sleeping bag cinched up around my head, I still had spots that couldn't be completely covered. The rest of my body was perfectly comfortable, however. At around 1:30 am I had to go to the bathroom and decided that I had proven my sleeping bag liner worked as advertised and decided to spend the rest of the night on the couch inside.

The next morning there was a gray layer of frost on our bikes. We drank tea and coffee and ate hot breakfast sandwiches, then Tami and I worked on her web site for a while. Not wanting to get home after dark, Mike and I began packing up and loading our bikes. We rolled up the driveway and with a couple of "meep-meep" toots on the bike horns, we were on our way back home.

Mike and I rode through Goldendale on 142, back the way we came, but turned north toward the tiny mountain communities of Glenwood and Trout Lake.

[caption id="attachment_499" align="alignright" width="340" caption="Mike and his Suzuki M50"][/caption]

The road descended down the side of a river valley and Mike and I took the opportunity to snap several photos of both the scenery and each other as we rode by. The river wound its way along the bottom of the valley below and we could see the road ahead doing the same down the other side of the valley.

I relied on my bike's GPS to help us navigate the two-lane country roads between Glenwood and Trout Lake. We caught glimpses of Mt. Adams, skirting and shy behind cloud cover. Just before reaching Glenwood the clouds lifted and we got a good shot of the mountain.

[caption id="attachment_501" align="alignright" width="320" caption="Mt. Adams southern face"][/caption]

We stopped at the General Store in Trout lake eager for a corn dog, but they were fresh out so we decided to press on and have lunch in Stevenson.

SR141 south is a beautiful drive interspersed between forest and small farms and ranches. Property values are substantially higher than one might expect, however, due at least in part to the scenic beauty of the area. It wasn't long before we got stuck behind some slow cagers, however. Maintaining caution, we followed behind until we got to SR14 at the confluence of the White Salmon and Columbia Rivers. Turning west, we picked up our pace under beautiful sunny skies and the glistening river to our left and continued on to Stevenson.

We parked our bikes in front of the Skamania County Courthouse and walked across the street to the Big River Grill for lunch. Mike had a reuben with tomato basil soup and I had a grilled salmon sandwich with the soup as well. Rested and fed, we went back outside into the sunshine. I intended to cross back over to Oregon via the Bridge of the Gods into Cascade Locks, while Mike would continue west on SR14 before crossing into Oregon either via the I-205 or I-5 bridge. So we shook hands, said our goodbyes, and continued on our separate ways.

Just west of Stevenson I crossed the high, narrow and fairly scary Bridge of the Gods. The swift wind tilted my bike sideways several times over the short bridge span, but I've jumped out of airplanes before so it wasn't as scary as it would have been otherwise. I paid my toll, then got on I-84 for a quick ride to Troutdale, then home to Sandy.

Route:


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Visiting family

I left work Friday just before 10am under cloudy skies with occasional rain drops on my face shield. The first part of my trip involved interstate freeways: I-84 westbound to I-205 northbound over the Columbia River. Then I merged onto Washington SR14 and headed east, following the river to my first pit stop, a Chevron food-and-gas at North Bonneville.

Once I had a frappucino inside me I continued on until I got to Lyle, Washington where I turned north onto highway 142 and followed the scenic Klickitat River. There were several vehicles parked on the side with small boat trailers behind them, and I saw several drift boats and pontoon boats on the river; fly fishing is popular on the Klickitat.

Once I got to Goldendale I grabbed a quick bite to eat at McDonalds and filled up my gas tank (so I wouldn't have to worry about it two days later on the journey home). I got to my sister's house at 1:15 pm.

An uncle and two aunts on my father's side of the family were visiting from out of state as was my niece and her husband. It was a great visit. My sister's house is fairly small, however, so I brought my small tent and sleeping bag and camped out on the back deck. It was an unusual arrangement but it worked well. I heard quite a few coyotes barking, yipping and howling both nights, some of which were fairly close to the house and barn.

I left at 10am Sunday morning and retraced my steps. I ate lunch at the Big River Grill in Stevenson, Washington -- a grilled salmon salad with coffee -- and crossed back over into Oregon via the Bridge of the Gods at Cascade Locks. I had a few more sprinkles to deal with but they were minor and barely got the pavement wet. I was home by 1:30 that afternoon.