Post, Oregon ... finally

I am running out of places in Oregon that I haven't visited by motorcycle. One of the locations on my to-ride list was Post, Oregon, the geographic center of the state.

Been there, done that, won't bother doing it again.

Don't get me wrong, the ride there and away was fine, with some classic eastern Oregon scenery and roads. But, the location -- you can't call it a town -- of Post itself is just a general store with a sign, and that's it.

They do have a gas pump, which I suppose would be convenient if you were running low. Regular unleaded cost $2.96 a gallon, which is amazingly low considering the remote location. I paused long enough to get off the bike a take a picture, then moved on.

My route was Gresham to Prineville via highway 26. I know, boring. But I didn't really have any other viable routes to take. Once in Prineville I took state route 380 east-south-east to Post, then kept going east to Paulina. When I left home, I stopped at a gas station in Boring to put some air in my tires and got chatted up by a retired school man named Val. He was very familiar with the area and suggested I take a side route south to Burns, then north on US 395. I thanked him for the suggestion and looked for the required road when I got to Suplee. Alas, I never found it.

Even my GPS kept wanting me to go all the way to 395 first, then south to Burns, which would involve riding the same 45 miles of road twice in the same day. That's not going to happen.

The last dozen miles of 380 before you get to 395 are much more wooded and typical of the Blue Mountains kind of terrain. I came out onto 395 just north of Seneca. I rode up to Canyon City, gassed up, then got to my motel in John Day in the mid afternoon.

I stopped at the Shelton Wayside along highway 19 just south of Fossil for a break, and used the timer on my camera to take a rare self-portrait.

Dinner was at The Outpost next door. That night, some rowdy kids decided to paw-tay the night away in the room next door so it took ear plugs to give me a few hours of sleep. The next morning I left with temps in the mid 30s. I took my usual route home: Kimberly, Spray (where I got gas), Fossil, Antelope, Maupin, Wamic, Government Camp, home. The weather was perfect. I saw two cow elk cross Bakeoven Road between Shaniko and Maupin, and earlier saw a wild turkey on the pavement, but other than that the only other critters I saw were a half dozen dead deer at various places along the route.

Convergence of Two Nations

I recently got divorced and part of that process involved moving out of my house in the suburbs and into an apartment in the city. It also meant storing my two bikes -- 2007 Suzuki V-Strom 650 and 2012 Suzuki GSX-R750 -- in a storage unit since my apartment complex had no garages available. It's somewhat of a pain having to drive a half mile just to get to where my bikes are located, as you can imagine. But, at least I still have them.

This past weekend I needed to get some time on two wheels and decided to take my Gixxer for an overnight trip to John Day in central Oregon. The route I take passes through some of the finest geography in the west and courses over some incredible riding roads. I'm leery of giving too many details because I don't want to get the word out. Before you know it, the route is crawling with motorcycles and the resultant law enforcement like remoras attached to sharks.

The weather was perfect, the road conditions were nearly flawless, and my Gixxer was running like an Olympic athlete. It was a wonderful trip.

I stayed at the Best Western John Day Inn and ran into three grey-haired gentlemen from Canada that were immediately familiar to me. We met in the same place a few years earlier as they were coming down from British Columbia to enjoy the roads in Oregon. Two rode BMW's and one rode a Yamaha FJR1300. The first time I met them, I was on my filthy and road-weary V-Strom on my way back from a very long trip. This time we chatted about my Gixxer.

It is fascinating that we should meet up in the same location a second time, so many miles (or kilometers) from home. They are really nice guys and I regret not getting their contact information. As I left Sunday morning I jokingly said, "I'll see you again in a couple of years." It just may happen.

Ride report June 2012: Day 16

Grangeville, ID to Sandy, OR

Breakfast was at The Outpost a few minutes after they opened at 6 AM. The food is always good there, especially their breakfast.

Eager to get home, I didn't waste time. I was on the road shortly after 7 AM. I topped off my tank in Dayville, then got on highway 19 through Kimberly and into the tiny town of Spray. I then worked my way to Fossil where I headed west on my favorite road in Oregon, highway 218, to Antelope.

218 is a lot of fun. There is a variety of curves, all banked perfectly, there are very few blind corners and sight lines are far, and the road surface is in fantastic shape. The road can bite you if you're not on your game, but if you get into the zone it's a thrill to run it.

I rode through Antelope, Shaniko, over Bakeoven road into Maupin, through Tygh Valley and into Wamic where I gassed up and ate a snack. I then took FS48 west, but had to detour onto FS43 to get to highway 26 as the rest of 48 to highway 35 remained closed, presumably due to late season snow (they don't plow it).

I was soon up and over the pass at Government Camp and back at home in Sandy by 12:30 pm.

Respite at home

— This is the last day of the first half of a multi-day loop trip to British Columbia and northern California. —

Sleep eluded me for most of the night. I eventually dozed off at around 4 am, only to wake up at 6:00 am in a motel room without power. I looked outside and the electronic sign in front of the motel was inoperable as well. I got dressed for breakfast and noticed none of the signs down main street were working, so it was safe to assume the restaurant a block away was not an option. I ate the granola bar I had in my top case, packed everything up, and headed down the road.

I rode about eight miles into the adjacent town, Mt. Vernon, and saw the "open" sign was lit at a small cafe. I pulled in and parked right in front, between a half dozen pickup trucks covered in farm dirt. When I entered the entire clientele consisted of old white men in western shirts and an even combination of John Deere ball caps and cowboy hats. I sat down and was served by a thin, high strung women in her early 30's, face covered in pock marks and jaw working overtime. I assumed she was a meth head tweaker. She was friendly, efficient, and equally capable of dishing back the good natured teasing she received from the regulars. I told the waitress that the power was out in John Day and she said that it had been out there as well, only coming back on a few minutes before I arrived.

I was concerned about fuel. I intended to fill up in John Day before I left but the power outage shut down the pumps. I rode another 25 miles into Dayville, the next town down the highway, and whipped into a tiny two-pump gas station and filled up. Just outside of town I turned north onto a secondary road that took me past one of the John Day fossil beds, through the small crossroad community of Kimberly, through the river town of Spray, and eventually into the town of Fossil itself. Without stopping, I veered west onto highway 218, one of my favorite roads in Oregon, and drank up the delicious curves between Fossil and Antelope and Shaniko.

I crossed over the high desert via Bakeoven Road, then dropped down the canyon into the Deschutes River town of Maupin. A dozen miles beyond I stopped in Wamic and fueled up at the same store/gas station I had visited just a few weeks before. I then completed the last leg of the trip by riding up and over Mt. Hood under showery skies, back to home in Sandy.

John Day, Oregon

— This is day five of a multi-day loop trip to British Columbia and northern California. —

The continental breakfast at the Best Western on Clarkston was pretty decent, so that constituted my morning meal. I had slept good the night before, and the shining sun gave me a good start to my day. The road south quickly climbed up the amber grass-covered hills out of town, twisting and fun. Once on top the road straightened but the view east over the Snake River was impressive.

I climbed steadily until the pine trees began to line the roadside and the air got slightly cooler. I stopped briefly at an overlook above the canyon below, then continued south on Highway 129. The road began to switch back with tight corners, and soon I had crossed into Oregon and the road became Highway 3. The turns lasted a short time, then the road got straight again, more or less taking a due south heading.

Once the road began to descend from it's 5,000 foot elevation into grassy ranch land, I emerged into the small town of Enterprise. I turned east and rode the half-dozen miles into the split-personality town of Joseph. Part ranch town, part artist's sanctuary, Joseph had a high mountain, ranching kind of feel with both local farmers and out of state -- and out of country -- tourists passing up and down it's streets. I stopped at The Old Town Cafe for some late-morning eats. The waitress had distractingly beautiful auburn eyes. I overheard her name as 'Sierra' -- fitting. I could only eat a quarter of the breakfast burrito, which was as tasty as it was massive.

Knowing I was about to travel a rather remote section of my day's journey, I filled up my gas tank before leaving Joseph. I wanted to travel the road that connected Joseph with Hells Canyon and the small town of Halfway for a long time. The road was rough and without painted lines or curve markers, basically like a paved forest service road. I was on alert for deer and pot holes. It was obvious that a large forest fire had cleared a big section of the area a decade or more prior. Tall, dead snags still emerged above the small trees growing underneath, replanted after the big burn.

My GPS told me I had surpassed 6,000 feet elevation, the highest of the trip so far. After passing a couple of slow SUVs, I wound my way downhill further into the wilderness. This was remote country and a breakdown would be 'most inconvenient.' Fortunately my bike remained solid and so did I. Soon I came upon the turn-off for the Hells Canyon Overlook, so I took the three mile detour.

[caption id="attachment_832" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Jim, with his BMW GS 1200, towing a trailer"][/caption]

At the top were three bikes, one of which was a BMW GS1200 Adventure towing a fairly large aluminum trailer. Jim, the pilot, came over to chat. He was riding out of Colorado and was winding his way around the west. We chatted for quite a while, part of which involved consulting his map of Oregon. He was working his way to the the Pacific coast and eagerly listened to my suggested routes, seeking to avoid large urban areas.

I removed the liner from my jacket as it was getting fairly warm, even at that high elevation. Yellow jackets began to take a keen interest in the dead bugs on the front of my bike. After a quick bio break, I suited back up and continued down the river valley to meet Highway 86, where I turned west and rode into Baker City.

I fueled up, then boogied onto Highway 7 to Sumpter and Austin Junction where I caught Highway 26 westward into John Day. I pulled into the Best Western where I have stayed at least once a year for the past four years. I got the last ground floor room they had available, showered, took a short nap, then dressed and walked over to The Outpost for dinner.

Guy's Weekend

I was invited to attend an annual guy's-only weekend at a cabin outside of North Powder, Oregon. I went two years prior with my buddy, Mike. Although he drove there with others in a pickup truck, I rode my V-Strom solo via my own more circuitous route (see end of this post for maps).

For several days leading up to my departure, Oregon had a lot of precipitation and low snow levels. The pass at Government Camp had packed snow on the roadway and temps in the upper 20's and lower 30's Thursday, the day I left. I backtracked into Gresham, then road I-84 east to Cascade Locks where I crossed the Bridge of the Gods to SR14 in Washington. There had been a rock slide at Dog Mountain so I had to wait about 10 minutes for the construction crews to let us pass. I took this photo looking south across the Columbia River toward Oregon.

I crossed back over into Oregon at The Dalles and had lunch at Casa El Mirador. Dos enchiladas, pour favor ... muey bueno! I topped off my gas tank and headed south through the heart of Oregon on highway 197. This stretch of road passes through alfalfa and wheat fields covering rolling hills and wide open spaces. It passes by the town of Dufur, which is a common turn-around spot for me on a favorite day loop. Riding through Tygh Valley 197 climbs back up one hill then back down again into the small but busy rafting town of Maupin, which straddles the Deschutes River.

I often stop in Maupin for a quick snack but this time I kept riding. Instead of continuing down 197 I hung a sharp left once across the river and headed up the winding hairpin turns of Bakeoven Road. It takes me to Shaniko, the next town on my journey, with far less traffic and arguably better scenery. The weather was great for riding and I had a pleasant blend of puffy clouds and blue skies to enhance the view across the grasslands. Between Maupin and Shaniko is very little, but the sparse landscape has its own beauty.

In Shaniko I turned south toward the tiny hamlet of Antelope, then east on state route 218 toward Fossil. This is one of my favorite roads in Oregon. There's hardly any car traffic, the road surface is in great shape -- although there can be gravel on curves -- the scenery is fantastic, and it has a nice blend of challenging and rewarding curves. It's also long enough that I feel like I get my money's worth out of the ride. I stopped at the Clarno Unit rest area and trailhead of the John Day Fossil Beds for a quick break, set up my mini-tripod down on the ground, and took this photo using the 10-second timer. Self-portraits are one of the hassles of my solo riding style.

I had enough gas to last the rest of the day's ride, but it's better to be safe than sorry when traveling the sparsely populated roads of eastern Oregon. I stopped at the two-pump gas station in Fossil and fueled up, then continued onward. State route 19 took me into the cowboy town of Spray, which sits above the John Day river. As I passed through I saw several real cowboys filing into a local cafe for lunch, their hats so wide they barely fit through the doorway. The next tiny town I passed through was Kimberly.

I was feeling thirsty and in need of a break so I stopped at a visitor's center at one of the John Day Fossil Beds locations. About two miles later I hit the junction with highway 26 and turned left, eastward through Dayville and into Mt. Vernon. I had originally intended to camp at Clyde Holliday State Park in Mt. Vernon, but after pulling into the park and checking it out, I decided to continue on to John Day and get a motel room at the Best Western.

The next morning, after breakfast at The Outpost restaurant next door, I continued east through Prairie City, then northeast over Dixie Pass before cutting north on state route 7 past Bates and Sumpter. The weather was slightly cooler but still dry. Eventually I made it to Baker City where I stopped for a late 'second breakfast' as a Hobbit might say. The homemade corned beef hash at the Oregon Trail restaurant really hit the spot.

Once fed, I headed north on highway 30 through Haines before turning west toward Anthony Lake. Leaving the farm and ranch land of the valley, the road enters the timbered Elk Horn mountains. My GPS guided me expertly to the gravel side road that took me to the cabin and my destination.

The cabin is without electricity, other than through the use of a small generator, and sits on 80 acres with a decent sized creek. There is a spring so running water is available. This particular weekend is for gentlemen only, and I use that term loosely. Sort of the whole point of the occasion is to get our cussin' and scratchin' and fartin' out of our systems before we inevitably have to return to our wives and girlfriends and jobs and civilization in general. To protect the guilty, I won't go into too much detail about what goes on, but I will touch on a couple of noteworthy highlights.

One of the main attractions was the presence of a rather large John Deere front-loader. Tracy, an older man who retired after spending 30+ years working such large equipment, expertly used it to load rather large stumps and logs onto the campfire.

Another guy, Dave, brought a homemade rock crawler in the back of his work van. Opportunity is where you find it, and once he unloaded the vehicle he used the empty space as a weather-proof location to pitch his tent. I, however, wasn't as fortunate. I pitched my tent the old fashioned way, and was rather proud of how it looked with my bike parked next to it.

The temperature dropped into the upper 20's during the night, no doubt aided by the fact that the cabin sits at around 4,500 feet elevation and rests at the bottom of a valley (heat rises, cold air descends, etc.) I managed to sleep pretty good considering the circumstances. I awoke a little after 5 am and relieved myself, then put some more wood on the fire to get it going again before crawling back into my warm sleeping bag for another two hours of shut-eye. Eventually the whole camp was awake and well fed with a breakfast of venison sausage patties and bacon, scrambled eggs, rosemary spiced potatoes, and coffee. While most of the other guys got fishing gear ready and set off for nearby Pilcher Reservoir in pursuit of some fat rainbows, I broke camp and loaded up my bike, eager to get my gear stowed before threatening clouds dumped rain.

My timing was perfect. After saying goodbye, I mounted up and headed down the quarter-mile dirt road onto the paved highway and down into the valley below. As soon as I emerged from the timber rain drops began falling. I had off-and-on rain for the next 30 miles as I retraced my route back into Baker City. I gassed up then stopped again at the Oregon Trail restaurant for a lunch of chef's salad and coffee.

By 1pm I was heading southwest on state route 7 past Sumpter. At Bates, 7 meets highway 26 where I began climbing toward the top of Dixie Pass. It began to rain -- hard. Then it began to drop snow mixed with the heavy rain. Slush formed on my face shield and I had to wipe it off every 5-10 seconds with the thumb of my gloved left hand. Thankfully the road surface was only wet and not frozen. The air temperature was dropping with every foot I climbed up the mountain pass and I began to worry I'd run into freezing riding before cresting the pass.

Fortunately, however, I reached the 5,200 foot summit and started dropping down the other side before the weather had a chance to get truly dangerous. I think Mother Nature knew I won because the clouds spread out and the precipitation petered out. By the time I reached Prairie City I had mostly blue skies. There was a bit of wind buffeting me from the side but I made it back to John Day safely and without further incident.

After another night's stay at the Best Western -- in the same room I had Thursday night -- I set out toward home Sunday morning. This time I took a slightly different route. Instead of heading west on 26 through Dayville and then north on 19 to Spray, I went north on 395 to Long Creek then west through Monument where I got back on 19 in Kimberly. The rest of the route was the same until I got to Maupin. This time, rather than north to The Dalles and around Mt. Hood via the Columbia River Gorge, I headed west on highway 216 then over the pass at Government Camp. I returned home to Sandy under beautiful blue skies in what turned out to be a fantastic Spring day of riding.
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Ride from John Day, OR to Grangeville, Idaho

Day two would take me from John Day, Oregon over the Snake River into Idaho, with an overnight stay in Grangeville. I got up at 6:00 AM and had a breakfast of huckleberry pancakes, bacon, and eggs with juice and coffee at The Outpost next door. The food and service were much better than dinner in the lounge the night before.

I rode to Prairie City just down the road and gassed up at the Chevron under cloudy and threatening skies. As I climbed the hill just outside of town sprinkles began to appear on my face shield. The precipitation gradually increased as I rode through the rolling curves and hills on my way to Baker City. They were chip sealing the road near Sumpter but the construction delay was minimal. Since gas would be in short supply until I got into Idaho, I topped off my gas tank and ate a snack in Baker.

When I got on highway 86 from Baker City to Hells Canyon, I noticed something unusual. There was a light rain and instead of smelling like wet high desert, the air smelled more like the tidal flats you'd fine on a coastal bay. I never did find out why.

When I got to Hells Canyon, I turned north and crossed the Snake River at Brownlee Dam. As I climbed my way above the river the rain really started coming down. The curves require very slow speeds, and combining that with the downpour, I got fairly wet. The inside of my left boot was feeling very squishy, which was odd because my boots are supposedly waterproof. I figured water had run down inside the side zipper of my pants and entered the boot from the top.

I stopped at Woodhead Park and parked my bike under the relative shelter of a spruce tree hanging over the parking lot. I huddled under a picnic structure and ate my snack (of Reses and frappucino) while trying to warm up. My left boot was definitely wet inside but the wonder of wool socks is they remain insulative even when wet.

By the time I crawled back onto my bike to continue the ride, the rain stopped. Just like my trip in August of the previous year, there were very large black bugs crawling from the right to the left side of the road about half way between Brownlee and Cambridge, Idaho. They looked like very large crickets and were crossing the road en masse.

The sun was shining when I rolled into Cambridge, ready for lunch. There was a red V-Strom parked in front of the cafe so I parked next to it and went inside. In the booth closest to the front door was a gray haired gentleman, obviously the red Strom's pilot, motioning me to join him. His name was Georgian (I never did get the spelling) and he was a retired engineer from Victoria, B.C. He was on his way back from a solo trip to Yellowstone. We had a great conversation, confirming yet again that I've yet to meet a Canadian I didn't like.

The rest of the ride from Cambridge north to Grangeville was uneventful.

I stayed at the Super 8 in Grangeville and was immediately impressed by how helpful and professional the staff was. I was given preferential parking under the front entrance cover and was even offered a towel to wipe down my bike. My room was spacious and clean.

Dinner was at Ernie's Steakhouse two blocks away as per the suggestion of the gal at the front desk. Ernie is apparently a local rancher who serves his own beef in his restaurant. The Red Diamond merlot was excellent and the rib eye was great as well. I also experienced a continuation of a pattern I've noticed in small towns. The hostess that seated me could very easily be showing up in the middle pages of next month's issue of your favorite men's magazine. Absolutely gorgeous.

For those motorcyclists looking to travel over Lolo Pass from Idaho into Montana, I highly suggest staying at the Super 8 in Grangeville. Not all Super 8's are created equal, and this particular motel exceeds the standards I've found in several Best Western's, presumably a higher-end chain.

Day One: Home to John Day, Oregon

Departure was on a Monday. 8 am, I pulled out of my home under sunny skies and 55 degrees. Perfect riding weather as far as I was concerned. The destination of the first day would be John Day, Oregon. I made it as far as Maupin on the Deschutes River before it got hot enough to change into my warm weather gear. I grabbed a snack (Reses peanut butter cups and a vanilla frappucino -- Food of the Riding Gods) and continued on my way.

I got to Fossil at 11:00 AM and had lunch at the Big Timber Cafe. As I was getting on my bike to leave, a guy in a Ford Focus pulled up and asked me several questions about my bike. He had a Suzuki SV650 and was thinking about switching to the V-Strom. He seemed really short to me so I asked him how tall he was. He said he was 5' 3". I mentioned that even with lower modifications, the V-Strom would probably be too tall of a bike for him, but it was worth checking out.

Not 5 seconds after he pulled away, a guy on a DL1000 pulled in and parked next to me. His name was John and he was from Ephrata, Washington. We chatted for probably 15 minutes about our bikes and trips and so forth, then he asked where I was headed. I mentioned one leg of my trip would be near his home town. He was very helpful in pointing out how thick traffic would be on one leg and suggested an alternate route. We said our goodbyes and he went inside for lunch while I rolled on toward John Day.

The heat continued to rise as well as the humidity. I had to stop several times to drink water -- and pour some on my t-shirt under my Aerostich -- in an attempt to cool off. I got into John Day at 2:00 PM and checked into my motel. At the Best Western, they gave me the same room I had on my previous trip through John Day back in May. Fortunately this time it didn't smell like a tavern like it did earlier.

Dinner was in the lounge of The Outpost next door. The same gal was working that night. The service could be classified as 'indifferent'. The pizza was undercooked as well. Breakfast in the main restaurant the next morning was great, however.

Trip report: North Powder cabin, day one

I was invited to attend an annual guys/father-son weekend at a remote cabin outside North Powder, Oregon. My buddy Mike and I were planning to ride there and back on our bikes (he rides a 2005 Suzuki Boulevard M50), but he came down with a creeping crud that didn't want to go away, so he trailered his bike and I rode the originally planned route.

Departure was Thursday morning, May 29. It was raining, of course. My route took me over Mt. Hood via Government Camp, down highway 26 to Bear Springs, where I headed east on highway 216 toward Maupin. A cow elk crossed in front of me but there was enough distance for me to easily slow down in time. The sun came out so I stopped in Maupin and took a refreshment break.

Instead of heading south on 197, I headed south east on Bakeoven Rd. and am glad I did. I had seen it on the map but had never taken it. After getting a report that the road was in good shape from the lady working at the store in Maupin, I took it. The road climbs steeply with narrow turns until arriving at the top of the plateau, at which point it opens up. The clouds came back and by the time I got to Shaniko I had rain drops on my face shield once again.

Rolling through Shaniko and Antelope, I continued east toward Fossil, my intended lunch stop. Passing through the Clarno Unit of the John Day Fossil Beds, the clouds had descended to ground level reducing visibility and began to dump copious amounts of rain. Although I had to slow down because of the reduced visibility, I was comfortable in my Aerostich and actually kind of enjoyed the experience. Because of an exceptionally wet winter and spring, the hills and grasslands were green and lush instead of brown and dry. The scenery and weather combined into something more like the Scottish highlands than eastern Oregon.

I arrived at the cafe in Fossil on 1st and Main wet and hungry but otherwise very content with the ride so far. My usual BLT and coffee was good as usual. The rain had stopped long enough for me to gas up and get back on the road.

My arrival in John Day occurred at 2:40, just ten minutes later than my arrival a year earlier. Yes, I left home at the usual 8:30, but after filling up my tank in Sandy, I didn't actually leave town until 8:43. Let's see, I left 13 minutes later than usual and arrived only 10 minutes later. How's that for precise riding!

I checked into the Best Western, unpacked, and took a nap. By 4:30 my stomach was rumbling so I showered then headed next door to The Outpost for some beer and a personal Mexican pizza which was considerably better than the indifferent service I received from the waitress. Her surprisingly deep voice was disconcerting.