WINGING IT

Montana Vacation

2007-08-18T21:45:00.000-07:00

I have finally found a motel with high-speed internet, and am catching up a bit with blogging. This all makes more sense if you start reading from the Day 1 post.

Say "Uncle"

2007-08-16T21:51:00.000-07:00

Day 6 - Bozeman to Red Lodge

The day started with more chatting with family and a late start. Michele recommended I stop at the Leaf & Bean in Bozeman. It was only 5 blocks from my uncle’s house so I stopped for a latte and some coffee cake before heading out, not really believing I’d get through Yellowstone today.

When I made my first fuel stop, I bonked. Not so bad I couldn’t continue, but bad enough to decide not to pass up the next motel. When I got to Red Lodge I checked in to a rustic mountain motel and took a much-needed nap. I cleaned most of the 2000 miles off the bike and caught up with email. Right now thunder is announcing a storm coming in from the west. Hopefully tomorrow will be a better day for Yellowstone.

Today was a nice, short 150 miles, 2170 since the start.

From the mountains to the prairie...

2007-08-15T21:33:00.000-07:00

Day 5 - Cut Bank to Bozeman

Several bikers had spent the night at the same motel and we chatted at length after breakfast and coffee. One had been at Sturgis and was taking the long way back to his home in Minot. Three others were traveling together from Missouri. Yesterday they had stopped for free-range cows on the way down the Going-to-the-(filtered)-Sun Road when a fourth biker came up fast behind them and hit one of them. No serious damage to the guys standing still, but the speeder from CO was airlifted to Kalispell. A good reminder about being hypnotized by the scenery and the ride.

I got rolling by the usual time but didn’t expect to see much but freeway today. As I proceeded south, the air got smokier and smokier and soon I thought I must be back home in the San Joaquin Valley. I could see faint silhouettes of mountains on both sides, but they seemed only like ghosts.

Before it got too smoky, however, I entered another mountain range south of Great Falls and met up with the Missouri River. Here it was clear and beautiful, not the "Muddy Mo" I crossed many times between Omaha and Iowa. There was a rare viewpoint turnout on the freeway, so I stopped and took a couple pictures.

The Missouri River before it gets muddy

Other than crossing the Missouri several times, the rest of the ride into Bozeman to visit an uncle I hadn’t seen in many years was uneventful, but catching up with family members is great.

Today’s ride was 295 miles, just over 2000 since I left home

The Glacier's on Fire!

2007-08-14T20:46:00.000-07:00

Day 4 - Missoula thru Glacier Park to Waterton Park and back to Cut Bank

I slept better last night but still feel very sluggish this morning. The TV says the sun will be filtered today, as Montana is on fire and there is smoke everywhere. Everybody is advised to just stay home and watch TV. Nevertheless, after some bad coffee I hit the road. The Big Sky was Big Smoke. Tired and disappointed, I headed toward Glacier Park, the furthest destination on this trip.

Skirting Flathead Lake was very beautiful and I stopped for my 50-mile brunch in Polson at a quaint little lake-resort restaurant. My morning dose of protein, starch and cholesterol perked me up and by the time I passed through Kalispell I was starting to feel pretty good.

Glacier Park is full of beautiful hikes, rafting tours, and so on, but I limited my tour to riding up the Going-to-the-(filtered)-Sun Road, a beautiful and well-engineered road up and over the Continental Divide. There was some construction at the top, creating some short 1-way delays, but mostly there was little traffic and zillions of turn-outs and vista points. As usual, however, the views were much too expansive, even in the smoke, to capture with a few pixels behind a camera lens.

Smoke on the Water (not by Deep Purple)
View from the village

Attractive waterfall (the big waterfalls with names were dry)

Heaven's Peak viewed from The Loop

I stopped many, many times, and the speed limit was a leisurely 25, sometimes 40. Near the top I got behind a lady who came to a complete stop quite often, either taking pictures from her car or stopping to catch up with the podcast version of the park tour. Passing was impossible, so the big Wing and I just toughed it out. The engine got hotter than I’ve seen it since crossing the Mojave Desert last year in 120-degree weather.

Looking back on the Going-to-the-Sun Road

I stopped just before the top to photograph the treacherous road I had just climbed, etched into the side of some very steep mountains. When I returned to the bike, it would not start. The battery had been working hard all afternoon starting and restarting the bike, burning too many lights (I repaired the trailer lights a couple weeks ago), and was not getting recharged on the slow stop-n-go trip up the mountains. I pulled out the trusty jump-starter and continued up to the top. I parked at the visitor center at the Continental Divide, knowing I’d have to jump start it again. The last time I rode across the Divide was at Pie Town in New Mexico, a much less eventful crossing, if not tastier.

A "horn" left by a glacier at the Continental Divide

My plan was to exit the park to the east and camp for the night at a nearby town. Upon exit, however, the sky to the north was actually free of smoke, so I followed the nosewheel into Canada and Waterton Park. Here the sky was truly big…and blue. I bought some gas at what became the point on my trip farthest from home and pointed the Wing back into Montana, passing many campgrounds and pulling into a motel in Cut Bank.

Overlooking the valley at Waterton Park - Canada

Just outside Waterton Park Village

Except for a few miles inside Glacier Park, there were very few cars on the road anywhere. The roads up here are very lonely. What a wonderful way to travel! Today’s mileage was 364, many many more than originally planned.

But no lolos from Hawaii

2007-08-13T20:12:00.000-07:00

Day 3 - Arlington, OR via WA and ID to Missoula

I called a tire shop in Hermiston promptly at 8:00, and immediately found the tire I needed. I stopped at the hardware store across the parking lot to pick up a tire iron in case I had to pull off a blown tire before I made it to the tire shop. I also picked up a gasoline container so I can carry a reserve in the trailer. Was on the road by 8:30 and slowly limped along the Columbia River to Hermiston.

The road was great, with the river on my left and on my right several stands of Douglas fir trees planted in rows very close together, much like citrus in Caleefornia. This is the tree on the Oregon license plate.

Luck was with me and I made it to Hermiston and the tire shop without further incident. The salesman talked me into replacing both tires and said it would take 45 minutes to an hour. Perfect! That’s just the time I needed to have my usual 50-mile brunch. But Monday morning is busier than planned, and 3 hours later I pull out of the shop and head for Missoula, thinking I might no longer be able to make it before nightfall.

The dead tire
The ride across Washington and Idaho was amazing, mostly following the Lewis & Clark trail.

The road followed river beds all the way, passing through Clarkston, WA, and Lewiston, ID. This route across northeast Oregon, Southwest Washington and the Idaho panhandle was really beautiful, following the Columbia, Clearwater, and Lochsa rivers up to Lolo Pass. I tried to imagine the pioneers of 200 years ago following this river gorge in search of a northwest passage, and wondered how many trailer tires they ruined on their journey. I remembered the computer game Oregon Trail that the Kaimuki Intermediate School students played so much in computer “class.” They traded pelts for food, equipment, and other supplies. I am trading plastic money for gasoline and rubber tires.

As I neared Lolo Pass the air began to get smoky, and I remembered that Montana is on fire right now. Just a couple miles from the top, a huge buck elk was grazing by the side of the road. He was beautiful, but before I could even reach for the brake pedal, he ran away, apparently camera-shy.

After a brief pause at Lolo Pass, I rolled down the mountain and arrived in Missoula much later than planned, but with ever so little light remaining in the sky. The tire shop and the change to Mountain Time cost me about 3 hours.

Today’s 426 miles were mostly very beautiful, and very tiring. Maybe I’m too old for this kind of mileage.

Never Pass a Gas Station

2007-08-12T19:48:00.000-07:00

Day 2 - Weed, CA to Arlington, OR

The day started normally enough, with the sun rising over Mt. Shasta. I was topped off and on the road by nine, but a few miles up the road toward Crater Lake I came up on a very serious accident involving a large pickup with travel trailer and small car. No emergency vehicles had arrived yet, but there were several people tending to the scene and marshalling cars through the wreckage. As I crept through there appeared to be only one injury, but all the vehicles were absolutely finished. This left me with a sense of impending doom as I continued north. Every couple of minutes I was passed by another emergency vehicle heading in the opposite direction for the accident.

Aside from that, the morning was beautiful. Scenery and weather were both ideal. Mt. Shasta was on my right for many miles, then in my rearview mirror, and more and more snow was revealed as more of the north face came into view. The sky was blue and cloudless and the temperature was in the high 60s. Perfect riding weather.

Not knowing the gasoline situation in Crater Lake National Park, I stopped at a gas station to top off a few miles outside of the park. Just as I pulled up the electricity went off and there was no way to pump fuel. I chatted with the proprietor for a few minutes (an old Norton rider) then headed on up to the park. He told me there was a station just inside the entrance, so I was not concerned.

When I got to the park, I proudly bought my “old guy” lifetime park pass, but had to pay cash because the electricity was out at the entrance. I went to the general store and gas station inside the entrance and was greeted by the same lack of wattage. I hung around a few minutes weighing my options when someone radioed in that the outage was due to a fire about 30 miles south of the park. The expanse of the outage was unknown, but a clerk told me there was a station on the other side of the park, a few miles out of my way, but the best bet for getting fuel before I ran out.

After taking a few pictures of the amazingly blue lake, I proceeded to the next gas station, thinking I might be sitting there until electricity returned to the area. Not to worry, there was indeed electricity there and when I told the weather-worn old proprietor about the Crater Lake problem he laughed. His electricity came from the other direction, but he has his own generator because of the many power outages during the severe winters, with “twenty feet of snow.”

Crater Lake, Oregon

Proceeding north from the park the scenery was nice but remarkable only in the series of large pyramid-shaped mountains way off to the west. Not long past Bend, I stopped at Redmond for some fuel and a coffee float to energize me for the final leg. I was feeling pretty tired from two long days of riding, so decided to skip the camping and go to a motel.

The scenery north of Redmond was less exciting, save for the constant presence of the majestic mountains to the west. About 50 miles or so from the Columbia River I passed through an area that is no doubt very windy as a rule, and this afternoon is was extremely windy. There was a large wind farm just east of the road, but all the windmills were feathered because the wind was too severe. And it was another crosswind, much more severe that the one I experienced yesterday. This was a two-lane road, so there was no way I could escape the turbulence of trucks and RVs passing me in the opposite direction. It was the worst crosswind I have ever experienced, and would have stopped if I thought there was any chance of the wind abating before dark.

The last 10 miles descending to the Columbia River provided some of the best scenery I’ve seen so far. It was about 2 hours before sunset, so the sun was low and modified the colors somewhat. The fields in the foothills were golden (real golden, not the brown we see in Caleefornia). The gold of the freshly harvested wheat flowed into light greens, punctuated with dark green trees. The next level of color was bright blue, with the purple of Mt. Hood and Mt. Adams off in the distance. Next was the grey of the massive amounts of smoke blowing north from a large wildfire not far from Redmond. Then another layer of blue, then a white strip of stratus clouds. It was fantastic, but I couldn’t figure out a way to capture it with a camera. Views like this are why we ride.

At the river I stopped for one more topoff before heading east to the motel. I noticed that one mudflap was missing from the trailer, presumably from the severe wind I had just ridden through. At the motel, as I was unpacking the bike, I noticed an extremely bald spot on that tire, down to the cord, so I imagine that the mudflap was somehow blown into the tire and locked it up long enough to create a sever flat spot, but not long enough to blow the tire.

From the Village Inn at Arlington

The nearest tire shop is 50 miles away. If the existing tire can make it that far, and if they have such small tires, I might still make it to Missoula tomorrow. Or….

Today’s mileage was 418.

Montana, here I come!

2007-08-11T19:19:00.000-07:00

Bakersfield to Mt. Shasta - 519 miles

Motorcycle trips are great! Mostly. But often to get to the good stuff you have to drone through miles of boring stuff. Such was today. 519 miles of riding, with nearly 500 of them on I-5. The only highlight of this first day of riding was a stop for lunch in Sacramento. An online search had uncovered an L&L Hawaiian Barbecue just off the freeway, so I rolled in for a mini loco moco and a Strawberry Guava. Nothing like a Styrofoam box full of protein and starch to make your day. I think the cholesterol is left out here in Caleefornia. They also had malasadas, but only in lots of 10, so I passed that up.

Gas mileage barreling up the freeway was horrendous, even for holding 70 mph. Turning east after Sacramento I discovered why. There was a severe crosswind of at least 25 or 30 mph. What had been a strong headwind was now forcing me to lean into the wind several degrees. If a car or truck passed me on the left I had trouble maintaining control in the turbulence, so I got into the left lane and made the speeders pass me on the right. This was very difficult riding and I very happy to turn back into the headwind.

There was little to see today until about mile 495, when Mt. Shasta came into view. Shasta soft drinks were very popular in Hawaii years ago, so the profile of this mountain was very familiar.

My motel room also provided a view of the mountain, if somewhat obscured by trees.

This may be the last time I attempt more than 500 miles in one day.

Wing it to the end

2007-01-07T23:42:00.000-08:00

Another entry has been added to the end of the ride. Scroll down to find the last (latest) chapter.

Follow your nose(wheel)

2006-07-21T14:48:00.000-07:00

Some people like to plan their lives to the smallest detail and far in advance. But I've made enough trips around the sun to know that life is what happens while you're planning something else. So I like to live life pretty much as it comes. It adds to the excitement. My latest adventure, however, surprised even me. I bought a motorcycle sight unseen on the East Coast, flew out to pick it up, and rode it back to California, from sea to shining sea.

I used MS Streets & Trips to make a general routing and to estimate how long various routes would take. I settled on a generally southern route which would pass through 19 states and DC, allow me to stop to visit with a couple of old friends, ride the famed Blue Ridge Parkway, and check out historic Route 66.

Sea-to-Sea Plan Map, modified to show actual route taken.

The trip would start on the long weekend of July 4. In this case the last-minute planning was costly, as I could get no flight out on Friday night and took the redeye out of Bakersfield thru Las Vegas to Boston Saturday evening. Sunday I slept a few hours then took the cover off the new bike and trailer. After a short ride I covered it up again until Monday morning.

By coincidence, Michele had planned a luau party for Sunday evening, so I was lucky enough to be able to see her great mother-in-law (up from CT) and many of her good friends. One of them offered her family home in Tennessee for a night's stay as I rode through. Great people.

Day 1 - From Sea...

2006-07-15T20:45:00.000-07:00

July 3, 2006
Burlington, Plymouth Rock, Cape Cod
thru RI & CT to Newburg, NY

(Click on photos to see them full size)

On the morning of the first day I packed up my stuff for the first time, loaded up the bike and the trailer, had a short breakfast, and prepared to start the big trip. I had taken out the bike (sans trailer) for a short ride the day before, but not enough to really get the feel of the new, bigger, Goldwing. Nonetheless, I felt readyto go. I said "goodbye" to Michele and Ed and hit the road.

Suiting up

Inching out the driveway trying to feel the trailer.

And on the road to California!

The first few miles on this new bike were tenuous as I got the feel of the added weight and the trailer. Traffic through Boston was pretty good and after passing through one of the Big Dig tunnels (not the one that collapsed a few days later) I decided that 65 was as fast as this trailer setup should go. After more freeway riding later in the trip, however, I could no longer feel the trailer at all, and was able to stay with the traffic flow regardless of speed.

My plan was to meet the Atlantic Ocean on Cape Cod, but there was a strong possibility that there would be terrible traffic crossing the bridge onto the Cape. I didn't want to waste a lot of time in traffic, so I rode down to Plymouth to meet the Atlantic at Plymouth Rock, a suitable place to start the journey across America.

At Plymouth Rock

I parked in a loading zone just long enough to take a couple pictures, but the bike drew a lot of attention anyway. As one couple walked by, the husband dropped back a step so his wife couldn't see him and pumped his fist in the air in a gesture of encouragement and jealousy, then looked at his wife and shrugged in a gesture of hopelessness. This was the first of many, "I wish I could do that" encounters.

Coast Guard Beach near Nauset Lighthouse
Cape Cod

Official Start of Trip
Note license plate

Traffic at the Sagamore Bridge was light so I went on to Cape Cod. It is a beautiful area but I used more time than I thought I would. Many people were obviously off work this July 3 and the traffic was pretty slow in many places. Nauset Lighthouse was totally jammed up with traffic so I went down the road a bit to Coast Guard Beach to dismount and photograph the Atlantic.

I had no license plates for the bike and trailer, so I fabricated one for the trailer before I left home. This license drew a lot of attention during the beginning of the trip.

I left Cape Cod and headed west. My next stop was in Providence for some fuel and a Subway sandwich. From there through Connecticut to New York. Connecticut is one of the few states in the US with no helmet law, and most of the motorcyclists in this state rode with their hair flying in the wind.

My goal for the day was Beacon Inn, a spot I'd read a good review about online but was unable to get a reservation. My backup was a motel a little further down the road in Newburgh, NY. I rode into the quaint little town of Beacon, found the odd-looking little Inn and started to enter. I was stopped by a rather large drug-dealer type who asked me who I was looking for. I told him I wanted a room for the night. He exchanged glances with a similar-type guy standing next to him at the doorway and said, "Um, there are no rooms available", with another furtive glance toward his partner. I don't know what was really going on at the Inn, if these guys were drug dealers or pimps, but it was very clear that this old white guy did NOT belong here. I quietly rode out of town and got to Newburgh just as it got dark.

I had made a reservation at the Newburgh motel, and the clerk told me to be sure to bring a copy of the online coupon for the 15% discount. When I checked in the clerk told me it was invalid. Welcome to Noo Yawk.

Today I rode 432 miles, the most I've ever done on a bike. The best road of the day was Highway 34 between New Haven and Danbury. Beautiful!

Day 2 - NY NJ PA DE MD DC VA

2006-07-15T20:30:00.000-07:00

July 4, 2006

(Click on photos to see them full size)

Got up early and woke up with some (ugh!) motel coffee. My plan to stay healthy and feeling good while riding a motorcycle for many hours a day was to walk at least a mile before starting, another mile at lunch, and a mile at the end of the day. I would also avoid fast food restaurants as much as possible (Subway is OK, according to Jared). Yesterday I did two of those walks and the morning weather here in NY made today's morning walk rather pleasant.

After the walk I got out my tools and made a couple of adjustments to the new bike to make it more comfy. I packed it up and was on the road a little after 9. I wanted to get to my friend John's house in Virginia by mid-afternoon if possible.

The morning traffic through the most thickly populated area of our country was nearly non-existent. I guess many were sleeping in this July 4th. Traffic began to pick up in the Philadelphia area and was quite thick by the time I got off the freeway for a rest in Baltimore.

I used several tollways today and yesterday, and at every one I had to pay the truck rate, as I was driving 3 axles through the tollbooths. This surprised me the first time so I made some comment and the toll collector just laughed and apologetically made a snide remark about government logic

At the rest stop in Baltimore I called my friend John to update him on my progress and he suggested I avoid a longer route around DC by taking the Baltimore-Washington Parkway. His directions were excellent so when I saddled up again I found it quickly. Traffic was moderately heavy going in to the DC area and I imagined it must have been much worse on I-95, my original plan.

My first (and only) frightening moment came on this parkway. I was riding in the second lane, as is my habit to avoid entering traffic, and the first lane was empty. A lady entered the parkway and decided to go directly to the 2nd lane without even looking. I gave her a blast with my air horns and she quickly got back into the right lane where she belonged. I smiled and was grateful I had more than the wimpy little Honda horn.

On the freeways yesterday and today I was passed by many weekend travellers, many solos and many full cars. Most of the right-seat passengers had their feet up on the dashboard, and many had one foot out the window, presumably for cooling. One of these latter young ladies looked at me as they passed and said with her eyes and head movement, "Please take me away from this boring geek and take me along with you on your ride across the country." It was pretty funny. Had she seen the old face behind the helmet sunshade, she probably would've thought differently. Many others who had noticed my "California or bust" license plate gave gestures of encouragement as they passed.

I got around DC without major delay, continued south, and got off the freeway at Fredericksburg, heading toward my friend's house at Lake Anna. I got out the bicycle map case my son-in-law had given me and inserted the turn-by-turn instructions to get to his house. It was miles and miles of beautiful back roads. Being able to read while riding was a great time-saver and soon I was on the last two-mile stretch. A hawk of some type swooped down and flew alongside me for about 10 seconds. I regarded it as nature's welcome to this beautiful part of the country.

I pulled into John's driveway in the middle of the afternoon. I hadn't seen him for 9 or 10 years since his last trip through Hawaii, but it was like we'd seen each other yesterday. Good friendships are like that.

Today's ride was 356 miles, 788 since beginning yesterday morning. The best road today was easily the beautiful back roads leading to Lake Anna from Fredericksburg. I regret not stopping to take a few pictures.

Day 3 - Lake Anna and Charlottesville

2006-07-15T20:15:00.000-07:00

Today was a day of rest and relaxation with an old friend. I drove into Charlottesville with him for a doctor's appointment and on the way back we stopped in Gordonsville for a fantastic lunch. We attempted to visit a Civil War museum, but as luck would have it, it's closed on Wednesdays. We went back to Lake Anna in time to beat a huge thunderstorm. I had not put the cover over the trailer, so my carefully crafted "license plate" got wet and the lamination leaked. People rarely noticed it after that. In fact it now looked more like a muddy Louisiana plate.

I came to this part of the country only once before, on a family trip in 1990. We loved it then and I loved it again this time. So much of our country's history took place in these verdant hills and valleys. I would love to spend a whole summer in this area.

Lots of very enjoyable conversation today, but no miles on the bike.

Day 4 - Lake Anna to Mt. Roanoke

2006-07-15T20:00:00.000-07:00

July 6, 2006

(Click on photos to see them full size)

My plan was to hit the road about 9:00. When my alarm went off it was raining hard again, so I just rolled over and went back to sleep. Finally rolled out of bed and had a leisurely breakfast and did some laundry as it was still raining. The sun finally came out and I packed up. Said so long to John and was on the road by about 12:30. Now a half a day behind schedule.

I rode northwest to join Skyline Drive in Shenandoah National Park. Some say this is the most beautiful road in the country. There is so much beauty all over this huge country that "the most beautiful" is a tough call, but this road, and the Blue Ridge Parkway connected to it, are certainly in strong contention.

Scenes from and on Skyline Drive

Blue Ridge Parkway at its northern end.

Several years ago the Hawaii Weather Wimps and I came back from San Francisco on Skyline Boulevard, going south toward Santa Cruz. This was a lucky find, not a planned route, but we were amazed at the views, with San Francisco Bay on one side and the Pacific Ocean on the other. There may be other such ridge roads, but they are rare. Skyline Drive and the Blue Ridge Parkway are hundreds of miles of this kind of road. Vista after vista after vista, on both sides of the road.

As a pilot I fly high above hills, mountains and valleys for hundreds of hours every year, so I've seen more than my share of beautiful vistas. That probably spoils the novelty of such a beautiful road somewhat, but probably only a little. Curve after curve, climb and descent, a road like this can never be too long.

I made it to Mt. Roanoke State Park before sunset and checked in. Though the park was nearly empty, Rudy, the volunteer "host" assigned me to a spot next to a couple guys on Harleys. I eventually found a spot flat enough to park my 3 axles and set up camp for the first time. I hadn't set up this tent for several years, so it took me a bit too long.

Rudy was a friendly old guy of 84. He came by to chat for awhile and tell me about his 2 girlfriends, one 90 and one 85. I've often thought that volunteering at a state or national park for a few months each year might be a great way to retire. If I do that, I hope I don't share lots of stories about my 90-year-old girlfriend with passing guests.

After finishing setup, the Harley riders and I went for a walk to stretch our legs. One was from Georgia on his way home and the other was from Maine on his way to Deal's Gap and the Dragon's Tail. The one from GA suggested stopping the next night at a motorcycle-only campground in Waynesville, NC. My original plan was to make it all the way to Tennessee on my second day on the Parkway, but I lost half of this day to rain, so it seemed like a good backup plan.

My first night of camping since a cold night in the Sierra Nevadas provided me with a good night's sleep. I could get used to these mountains.

Today I rode 232 beautiful miles. 1020 miles in 3 riding days.

Day 5 - Roanoke, VA to Cruso, NC

2006-07-15T19:45:00.000-07:00

July 7, 2006

(Click on photos to see them full size)

Woke up fairly early, broke camp (slowly) and left the park. Two miles away was a gas station and a source of hot coffee. Not great but enough to get a start on the day and find a place down the road for a good breakfast.

Rakes Mill Pond

About an hour down the road I ran into Mabry's Mill and pulled in just as my 2 new Harley buddies were pulling out. A week ago when I mentioned to friends that I was planning a ride down the Blueridge Parkway, several told me that I'd probably get stuck behind lots of RVs going 25 or slower. I spent over 2 days on the Parkway and I don't think I saw more than a half a dozen RVs, and none of them were in front of me. In fact there were many more motorcycles on the Parkway than cars, by a factor of 2 or 3 to 1. This was a pleasant surprise, and made navigation of the road at one's own pace very easy. Here at Mabry's Mill this imbalance was apparent, so I took a photo of the parking lot. The picture doesn't really tell the story.

Mabry's Mill

The smell of bacon and pancakes was too great to pass up, so I had breakfast before moving on down the road.

It was hard not to stop and gawk at the scenery at every turn, but I resisted. I took a few pictures, but it was hard to pick the best spots.

Parkway Scenes

At one of the lookouts I was chatting with a biker and his wife going the other direction on two bikes. They had just come up from Deal's Gap and the Dragon's Tail, which boasts something like 383 turns in 11 miles. Hubby had taken a video of his wife riding "the Tail." He also had a lot of photos he'd taken at the entrance, where parts of crashed bikes were nailed up to trees as a sort of memorial. I would be passing Deal's Gap tomorrow, a weekend day. I decided I'd probably pass up that ride to avoid the weekend sport-bikers. This couple also recommended the motorcycle campground, but said it was at Cruso, not Waynesville.

As it became obvious I wouldn't be making it to Tennessee this day, I stopped to call the people who'd invited me to stay to tell them that I'd probably not be stopping. If all went well, I'd be passing Knoxville around noon and wouldn't be staying the night.

Fortunately, I had my GPS on and it showed me where the turnoff to Cruso was. My plan was to go to Waynesville, and it would have taken at least another hour to find the campground. As I pulled in, there was a guy unloading his Harley off the trailer behind his truck. He then hopped on and rode into the motorcycles-only campground right behind me. I held my tongue.

The campground was terrific. No designated campsites, just park anywhere and set up camp. There was a lounge with TV, an outdoor restaurant that served steak dinners for 7.95, and of course showers. After dark there was a campfire where everybody sat around and lied to each other. The instant camaraderie was amazing.

I found a great spot by the river, and as soon as I got set up, my two Harley pals from the night before pulled in and set up beside me.

Parked at my campsite

The river in my "back yard"

Next time I'm in this area, I'll plan to spend several days here while I explore the Parkway and the Asheville area.

Today I rode 311 twisty, curvy miles. 1331 since the start.

Day 6, Cruso, NC thru TN & GA to Huntsville, AL

2006-07-15T19:30:00.000-07:00

July 8, 2006

(Click on photos to see them full size)

Woke up early to the sound of the rushing river, took a long hot shower, grabbed a good breakfast at the outdoor restaurant and broke camp. I paused to take another photo of the river before riding off.

I'll be back.

Climbed back up onto the Parkway. The mountains at this end of the Parkway were the highest and provided some great views, though this morning was hazier (smokier?) than yesterday.

Passing the highest point on the Parkway, I stopped to take a few photos and chat with other riders.

I met a group of Gold Wing riders from Ontario, Canada, who were on their way home from the Wing Ding, the annual Gold Wing bash, held this year in Nashville. They said next year's Wing Ding will be held in Billings, Montana. Ironically, Michele told me I should keep this bike so I could see more of the country, specifically Montana. I'd already pretty much decided to sell Old Gold and keep this bike, and this pretty much solidified it.

I took a few pictures of the Canadians at the high sign, they took my photo across the parking lot, and we went our separate ways.

The highest point on the Blueridge Parkway

I took no more pictures this day, though I certainly should have. Soon after this the twisty road came to an end in Cherokee country. At the bottom of the road into Smoky Mountain National Park I met a couple donning their bicycling gear. They were from Massachusetts and raced often. I'm sure Michele and Ed have run into them at some time or other. They headed into the park, but I decided to skip it and continue southwest.

The road leaving Cherokee twisted along a riverbank, and the river was full, very full, of rafters. My road this afternoon followed more than one river, and I saw not hundreds, but thousands, of people enjoying the rivers on rafts. The roads were as twisty as the rivers and slowed by lots of Saturday traffic, so the ride was as tiring as it was interesting. There were more rafts in the river than vehicles on the Parkway, by far. I was tempted to stop at one of the many raft companies and take a ride, and now I wish I had.

I am a fan of CBS Sunday Morning, and a couple months ago they profiled a shop somewhere in the South that buys unclaimed luggage from airlines and sells it. It's like a huge department store selling everything from underwear to electronics. It was an amusing piece, and I had mostly forgotten about it. But not far into Alabama, I saw the sign.

Turns out that shop is about 2 miles ahead, in Scottsboro, AL. I couldn't resist. I went to the store and bought a few small items, including a $25 digital movie camera that uses the same memory as my digital camera. I have no love for shopping, but this was a fun rest stop.

As the sun was threatening to set, I rolled into a familiar big red 6 outside Huntsville and jumped into the swimming pool to loosen up my tightening shoulders. Watched a little TV and went right to sleep.

Today's ride was 333 miles. 1664 since starting out.

Day 7, Huntsville, AL to Natchez, MS

2006-07-15T19:15:00.000-07:00

July 9, 2006
(Click on photos to see full size)

The day started with a couple cups of (ugh) Big Red 6 coffee, but soon I was awake enough to load up and saddle up. Headed west and after about an hour of riding came upon a roadside cafe like I'd hoped to find more often on this trip. Stopped for a cup of real coffee and a breakfast of grits and eggs. Hadn't had grits since I was in the Air Force, and I enjoyed them a lot.

Shortly after I got my breakfast a couple of bikers and their "babes" came in and sat down at the next table to have breakfast before beginning their Sunday ride. Nice folks tattooed and dressed in their Harley "uniforms". One had the Harley logo tattooed on his left shoulder, though I'm sure he wasn't getting paid for the billboard space.

Finished my grits and headed outside to get on the Natchez Trace Parkway and the day's big attraction. Just outside the door were two tricked-out Harleys, one with a helmet hanging on it with many stickers, the most prominent of which said, "KKK is the only way!" The charm of the deep south has its flip side.

Around Cherokee I got off 72 and entered the Parkway, which begins in Nashville and ends in Natchez. Read more about it here. http://www.nps.gov/natr/

This is a beautiful road, just as advertised. Between Cherokee and Tupelo is was much like driving through a well-manicured golf course. No signs. No shoulder. Recently mowed green grass all the way up to the narrow roadside. No commercial traffic allowed. On this quiet Sunday morning, I was virtually all alone. A few miles down the road, a young deer ran across the road about 50 yards ahead of me. A beautiful side of nature to start my ride down the Parkway.

I got off the Parkway at Tupelo, both to get some gas and to see if I could find Elvis' birthplace. I was successfull on both counts.

This plaque began a timeline display outside his birth home.

Elvis' actual place of birth. Behind it is the obligatory museum and gift shop. Tons of junk for sale similar to the shops at Graceland in Memphis. Easy to pass up.

A statue of Elvis at 13.

Though I hadn't planned to stop at Tupelo, I had taken along a couple of Elvis CDs and loaded them into the changer in Boston before I left. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to drive out of the museum parking lot with Elvis #1 hits blaring from the bike speakers. People smiled and waved as I drove out, but I'm sure they were thinking, "Look at the dork on the big motorcycle."

My next gas stop was at a small town named Raymond, about 4 miles east of the Parkway. It has some significance as a civil war site, but it was a bit hard to figure out from the small signs in the area. http://battleofraymond.org/

The center of downtown Raymond.

This is my first trip through the deep South, and Raymond really matches the stereotype I expected of a Southern small town. Maybe it was even less economically "advantaged" than I expected. My glitzy Wing seemed pretty out of place. Several people at the gas station expressed their admiration, one saying with a wide grin, "Boy, I'd pay a million dollars for a motorcycle like that." I felt a little like a celebrity on the red carpet, and didn't like the feeling.

Most of the road between Tupelo and Jackson was less than impressive, but from Jackson to Natchez it became beautiful again. The sun was coming down but I took a few pictures from the camera hanging around my neck.

The radar detector seen here took a few hits in small towns across the country, just as I'd expected.

Reflected the the windshield is the Trace map in the plastic map case contributed by Ed in Massachusetts. It served me well. Thanks, Ed.

On the lonely road.

A short segment of the original Trace is preserved here. The depth of the well-worn trail is amazing.

Very late in the day, but the flash version is worse.

This is a common type of fence in this area. It reminds me of a scene from the movie "Gettysburg". This is just a few miles from Natchez.

Just before sunset. From here it was a quick run to the State Park to set up camp before it got dark. It was Sunday night and there was only one other camper there. It was extremely quiet, in a very good way.

There was a full moon, or nearly so, and I tried hard to get a picture of it shining through the trees in the park. The digital camera failed me and I longed to have a good 35mm camera. Here is the best of many bad attempts.

Today I covered 413 beautiful miles. 2077 since starting out.

Day 8, Natchez, MS, thru LA to Abilene, TX

2006-07-15T19:00:00.000-07:00

July 10, 2006
(Click on photos to see full size)

At this quiet state campground I had electricity and water at my tentsite, and a bathroom and shower not too far away. I woke up early, but took my time showering and packing up. I fired up my cup heater and made a cup of coffee, but decided this was way more trouble than it was worth. I'm sure eBay will produce a better camping coffee-maker.

About 2 miles before the end of the Parkway there was a dead deer with many vultures enjoying the carcass. It was a sad scene, and its contrast with the young deer I saw shortly after entering the Parkway yesterday reminded me of the circle of life and the beginning and the end of all things.

And so, on a sad note, ended my ride down the Natchez Trace Parkway. The best roads of my trip were now behind me and it was now more about piling on miles and getting home. The city of Natchez looked pretty interesting, but I spent only enough time there to take a couple pictures and I was on my way through Louisiana.

Looking north up the Mississippi River.

The bridge to Louisiana.

A casino built in the style of the old river gambling boats. I probably should have taken a few minutes to check it out.

I meant to have breakfast across the river in Vidalia, but there were no restaurants on the main road. I rolled on to Ferriday and stopped for Gatorade and Ibuprofen (should've brought more). A nice lady in line at the cash register advised me to stay on 84 all the way to Shreveport instead of heading north to pick up the freeway early. It turned out to be good advice.

When I got to Jena I was hungry and tried to stop for lunch. Every street in town, without exception, was on a hill of some type and I couldn't find a safe place to park the bike with the extra weight of the trailer. I eventually gave up and continued up the road.

I got as far as Winnfield and was just too hungry to keep going. I pulled into several more restaurants, all of which were closed. Actually many, many businesses all along Highway 84 through Louisiana were closed. I was amazed at the poor state of the economy. I didn't make an opportunity to chat with anybody in LA at all, so I don't know how much of this poor economic state is a result of Katrina. It was quite sad in any case.

I gave up finding a "local-flavored" restaurant on 84 and pulled into a McDonald's, mostly because it had a level parking lot. I had avoided fast food other than Subway up to this point and wasn't pleased with my choice this time. Inside was a girl applying for a job and talking with a manager. Her friend, standing in line in front of me, was shouting across the room trying to converse with her about boyfriends (I think), seemingly oblivious to the fact that her friend was engaged in a job interview of sorts. Her language was as strange as her behavior, and it reminded me of my first days in Kalihi trying to understand the local dialect of Hawaii. The dialect I heard in Winnfield was at least as unique as "outer-island" Hawaii's and I regretted not having more time to hang around and learn to understand it a bit.

Standing in line I remembered the coffee float I had last year at McDonald's in Bangkok, and decided it would be a great way to cool off. I ordered the ingredients and enjoyed the first of several I was to make on the road.

Except for the economic blight, the scenery in Louisiana was quite beautiful, and left me with a resolve to return to this state to get to know it better. I gassed up again in Shreveport, got on the freeway for the first time in many days, and started the interminable trek across Texas.

Somewhere in East Texas I stopped for fuel and decided to park the Wing-a-bago next to similar vehicles. I was still feeling the pain of not being able to find a parking spot at all back in Jena.

As I was getting ready to leave, one of the truckers came out of the truckstop and said, "Nice rig you got there." I was glad he got into the spirit of my feeling.

Nobody claims that Texas is a scenic wonder. I took more of a Zen approach to the ride, turned on the cruise control and turned off the mind. A little Ibuprofen for the shoulders and drone on. I didn't want to ride too far at night, even in Texas, but made it to Abilene before the sky went completely black. I pulled in to the familiar big red 6 and promptly went to sleep.

This was a record day of riding: 586 miles. 2663 since Boston. Tomorrow is just a short hop to Lubbock to spend some time with a great old friend.

Day 9, Abilene to Lubbock, TX

2006-07-15T18:45:00.000-07:00

July 11, 2006

Not very far to go today so I took my time getting packed up and running. One of the maids admired my "rig" as I was packing up, reminding me that it would probably be more fun on this ride with a "biker babe" on the back, but not this time.

When I stopped for gas outside Abilene, a guy about 10 years older than me was gassing up his Mustang in the next lane. He came over to admire my "rig" as well, and told me that he'd just sold his Harley Heritage, and it was the smartest thing he'd ever done. He had a friend with a Wing and said you had to walk over and touch it to be sure it's running, and probably even have to twist the throttle a bit. He said after 3 hours on his Harley the vibration made him feel like his nether parts (not his words) had fallen off. Most Harley riders are pretty snobbish about their bikes, so it's nice to encounter one who shows a little respect in the presence of a Honda.

The road was hot, so I stopped in a small town named Post to make myself a coffee float. There was a major water main break so the whole town was without water and would be for another day as well. Bottled water and soda was being dispensed in the McDonald's, and most other restaurants had simply closed up for the duration. The owner showed some surprise at my putting my ice cream cone into my coffee so I sat down to chat with him while I cooled off. I told him I'd discovered the coffee float at a McDonald's in Thailand last year. Turns out he was a pilot in Viet Nam and Thailand during the war and had been many of the places I had been. When he got out he came home and bought a couple McDonald's franchises here and in Lubbock.

I finally pulled myself away and rode the final few miles into Lubbock to spend some time with my oldest friend, Tex. We were together in Thailand, Viet Nam, Okinawa and my first years in Hawaii. We shared some great years and always enjoy getting together, though it doesn't happen often enough. Early in the afternoon I pulled the "rig" into his garage next to his Harley and his son's big Honda and shut down for a couple days' rest.

Only 166 miles today, 2829 since this trip started.

Day 10, Lubbock, TX

2006-07-15T18:00:00.000-07:00

July 12, 2006

Got up early this morning to get the Wing-a-bago over to the Honda shop to get an oil change. I also decided to buy a new helmet to get a little more air on my face behind the big windshield. Tex got off work early and met me at the Honda shop so we went to a Mexican restaurant for brunch. In the afternoon we went to the airport to pick up a company van to take it in for repair. I wish I'd taken my camera.

At the radiator shop we met Renea, the receptionist. She had a fairly large office behind a wall with just a window for transacting business. Everything, without exception, in her office was purple. The walls, the carpet, the phone. She had a government-style metal desk painted purple and topped with purple laminate. Stapler, pencils, chair and flower pot with purple flowers: all were purple.

I once saw a piece on TV about a lady who loved purple and everything in her home was purple. I think it was Charles Kuralt who had discovered her. Renea was not that lady, meaning there are at least two such purple fanatics in the country. I asked Renea what her favorite color is, and she said it was green. "You can tell by the color of the leaves on the plant," she said with a straight face. Humor is alive and well in West Texas.

The few miles ridden for the oil change today don't really count. It was a great day "off" with a great and long-time friend.

Day 11, Lubbock, TX, to Datil, NM

2006-07-15T17:30:00.000-07:00

July 13, 2006
(Click on photos to see full size)

Leaving Lubbock was hard. Time with great friends isn't plentiful enough and it's hard to see it end. But, after doing some laundry and a final polishing of the bike, Tex and I roared out together. Well, he roared out on his Harley and I sort of "whirred" out on the Wing. In any case, he decided to ride out of town with me, or maybe it was ride me out of town. It was great fun, even though it was only a few miles. Some day we'll do a long ride together.

My route today was a little south, through Alamogordo, with a plan to stay either there or in Socorro. I stopped in Artesia for a rest and cool-down, and saw that the temperature was 103. I longed to be back in the Blue Ridge Mountains.

Approaching the mountains from the east, I could see huge thunderstorms in front of me. I'd been extremely lucky so far, encountering rain only on my day off in Virginia and just a few showers in Louisiana. It looked like my luck had run out and I was about to get really drenched.

As the highway snaked around the mountaintops and through the passes, however, it also skirted the worst of the storms, and I got rained on very little and didn't even need to get into my rain gear. It was enough, however, to discourage me from stopping as I crested the mountain at about 8600 ft. The temperature at the top was just below 50 degrees, over 50 degrees cooler than back in Artesia. It looked like a great ski destination and was a great road on a bike, but it was wet and I was on a hunt for sunshine.

Down the other side and near the city of Alamogordo, I finally stopped to take a photo or two and to get some gas. Hanging out doing nothing at all in the gas station were a couple bikers, an old sun-and-wind-tanned bearded guy whose Harley was parked out back and his geeky friend whose 600 Shadow was parked on the side. It made me wonder where stereotypes come from. I hung out with them for about half an hour while I recovered from the mountain. A squall passed over the station while I was there and I was grateful that my bike was still under the cover of the pump lane. When the sun came out again, I headed out for Socorro, quickly caught up with the squall and got drenched for about 3 minutes. When I came out the other side I saw the last of any rain for this trip.

The west side of the mountains near Alamogordo.

I arrived in Socorro with plenty of energy so I kept on going. I'd researched campgrounds throughout NM and the next one was in Datil. I stopped in Magdalena for gas and some "food" for dinner in the campgrounds and nearly decided to just stay in a quaint-looking motel and not make the effort to set up camp.

Instead of following the impulse I stuck to the original plan. I made it to the BLM campground well before sunset and got set up in record time. Practice makes perfect. The BLM volunteer host came by and after a few friendly words said he expected it to get down to around 40 degrees that night due to the clear skies. I checked the GPS and the altitude was 7500 ft. Was I really prepared for weather that cold? Maybe I should have stayed in that motel.

Like Natchez, there were only two other campers in the campground and I had half of it completely to myself. Unlike Natchez, the nearly full moon did not come out until after I went to bed. And it was magical! The clear night from 7500 ft. produced the most stars I've seen since Miclele and I flew to Hawaii island and observed the night sky from atop Mauna Kea. There was an unbelievable number of stars and the Milky Way was as clear as its name suggests. I sat in the grass and stared at the sky in the absolute quiet for what seemed like hours, and I had to force myself to climb into the sleeping bag and prepare for the cold. Life should always be so peaceful. I slept like a baby.

My route through NM was really quite beautiful, and I regret not stopping for more pictures. My next time through will produce more scenic shots.

Today I rode 468 miles, 3307 since Michele's driveway.

Day 12, Datil, NM, to Seligman, AZ

2006-07-15T17:00:00.000-07:00

July 14, 2006
(Click on photos to see full size)

After a great night's sleep, I broke camp, paid the $5 fee on the way out, and went in search of a cup of coffee. About 20 miles up the road I reached Pietown, perched on the Continental Divide and boasting great pies. I stopped for coffee and breakfast and a little local color.
Pietown... "It's all downhill from here."

After breakfast, I was ready for the long ride into Arizona, leaving New Mexico and its charm behind. I crossed many state lines on this trip, but mostly on busy highways that provided no place to stop and document the transition. This photo taken on a quiet road on the NM/AZ border at about 7400 ft. will have to represent all of the border crossings.

Not far into Arizona is the town of Show Low, named for the way one of the original landowners/founders won the other's half. It seems that after hours of playing poker, one said that the low card would win. The partner drew the deuce of clubs and won all the property. This "monument" is on Deuce-of-Clubs Street, which is the main street through Show Low.

The weather in AZ was becoming extremely hot, and my new crown helmet was worse instead of better, letting the sun hit my face and start to burn. I stopped in Payson and went into a McDonald's to make myself a coffee float to cool down and was assaulted by the noise of screaming kids playing on the INDOOR playground equipment. I couldn't stand it long enough to really cool down, so was soon on my way to Sedona, which I remembered as a very beautiful spot, worthy of spending another night.

The red mountains of Sedona.

Though the pictures fail to show it, Sedona was over-crowded with tourists and tourist shops and I felt no desire to remain for longer than it took to drive through it. The town was over-flowing, the campgrounds were overflowing, and the beautiful road north to Flagstaff was bumper-to-bumper traffic, making pulling over and stopping impossible. I decided to keep rolling until dusk so I could make it home on Saturday instead of Sunday.

At Flagstaff I joined Historic Route 66, and started the final trek west. The heat of the day and traffic from Sedona had taken its toll, however, and I didn't make it to dusk. I did make it as far as Seligman, though, and pulled into the Stagecoach 66 Motel to crash for the night. It was a quaint place and not as bad as I thought it might be, being "historic" and all.

After the sun went down, I walked down the road about a mile for a beer and a few games of 8-ball with the local folk at the Black Cat bar. It's what you do on a Friday night in the middle of nowhere.

427 miles for the day, 3734 since Boston

Day 13, Seligman, AZ to Bakersfield, CA

2006-07-15T16:13:00.000-07:00

July 15, 2006
(Click on photos to see full size)

Today was the day for Route 66. My plan was to stay on the historic highway as much as possible. This proved to be a bigger challenge than I expected.

After getting loaded up and started, I spent about an hour in the small town of Seligman browsing the 50s era tourist shops and also picking up my day's supply of Gatorade. I struck out expecting an interesting trip into the past, but it was a bit disappointing. I wasted a bit more time at the Grand Canyon Caverns near Peach Springs, but mostly enjoyed the straight and lonely road between Seligman and Kingman. It was getting hot so I debated getting on I-40 at Kingman, but resisted the temptation.

Just before crossing the mountains.

Route 66 between Kingman and Oatman was the best stretch of road encountered the whole day. It was full of serious twisties, climbs and descents. I wasn't counting the turns, but I'm sure it rivals the famous Tail of the Dragon near the Smoky Mountains. The one car in front of me when entering this section quickly got out of my way, so my progress was unimpeded all the way into Oatman.

The small town of Oatman was a complete surprise to me. It had the face of an old west town and was a complete tourist trap. I was exhausted by the mountain road so I stopped to try to cool off. I found the only restaurant that had air conditioning and went in for ice cream. As I sat down a young man and his wife were getting up to leave and the waitress said, "Oh, you're from out of town!" The surprised young man said, "Oh, how did you know?" The waitress laughed and said, "Everybody's from out of town, absolutely nobody actually lives here."

Supposed descendents of prospectors' jackasses are allowed to roam the streets freely, providing tourists the enjoyment of cleaning donkey dung from their shoes.

A cheesy "Old West" show

Leaving Oatman, still hot, I continued down the mountain to Golden Shores, a small desert town with a "wannabe" name. I stopped to photograph the Route 66 logo in the road, and the big Wing decided she needed a rest and laid herself down after I got off. A close look at the full size picture and you can see her listing about 40 degrees.

When I reached Needles, I had completely soaked thrugh my shirt so I stopped to cool off at a gas station. It was 120 degrees in the shade. I considered stopping for the day, but Sunday was forecast to be the same. I bravely set out for Amboy and Bagdad, out in the middle of nowhere.

The next shady spot I found was in Amboy, which has a long-closed motel and gas station. It's now owned by a couple of guys who rent it out to movie producers occasionally. I guess it's a good deserted desert location. One of the guys, Larry, was hanging out at the old gas station, selling water and t-shirts to over-heated passers-by. He is a great guy, not trying to rip anybody off. He also has a drum full of emergency gasoline he sells for just what he paid for it. I didn't need any water, but I bought a t-shirt from him after chatting for about 45 minutes. The temperature in his shady area was 119.

Near the end of the remnants of the original Route 66 is the Bagdad Cafe, the site of a well-known movie and my last tourist stop on this trip. After a great malt and chat with the proprietress, I got back on the bike and headed for home. It was still 119.

As I rolled past the familiar Mojave Spaceport, it was beginning to get dark. It had been a very long and hot day, but I was too close to home to stop. I don't enjoy riding at night very much, but the thought of my own bed kept me going.

I rolled into my own garage just before 10pm, 14 days almost to the minute after my plane took off for Boston and the beginning of my odyssey. Today I rode 440 miles. 4174 miles of great riding since Boston!

Day(s) 14 - Long Break

2006-07-15T16:00:00.000-07:00

July 16 - September 2

This is a long break in the coast-to-coast trip. The right opportunity to continue to the coast didn't present itself until Labor Day weekend. This break did provide a chance to spend more money on eBay for some new accessories for the new Wing, and to sell off Old Gold, which provided me several years of great road riding.

Old Gold - now Sold Gold

Day 15 - ... to Shining Sea

2006-07-15T15:45:00.000-07:00

September 3, 2006

(Click on photos to see them full size)

I finally found the right opportunity to finish this great trip. I thought I might do a day-trip to Santa Barbara and back, but somehow it just didn't seem like the right way to do the last legs of an epic journey. I hunted around for camping sites near the coast on the internet, and finally got lucky with the last spot available at Fremont Peak State Park between Salinas and Hollister. It turned out to be one of the nicest tentsites in the state.

I spent Saturday prepping for the trip to Monterey Bay. I decided that I went all the way to the East Coast to get a trailer, so I might as well use it, even for a 2-day trip. So I rounded up the camping gear and added a few items I didn't have for the first 4200 miles and loaded it up. I re-installed the dork gear, such as GPS, XM satellite radio, and digital thermometer. Put 10 new CDs in the changer and began to think that I just might be over-doing this whole touring-bike thing.

Now where'd I misplace the kitchen sink?

So, Sunday morning I was ready to roll. Saddled up, stopped by the office to pick up my camping chair and hit the road. My plan was to go up through Carmel Valley and come back on the Pacific Coast Highway. Highway 198 between I-5 and 101 was as nice as I remembered it, except now the scenery was all brown, not the beautiful green that Dwight and I enjoyed on our ride back from Fremont. The mountain road between 101 and Carmel Valley was much rougher than I remembered it, and though the scenery was great, the road beat up on the equipment and my shoulders more than I liked. I will stay off this road for a while.

Traffic into Carmel town was awful, but I eventually made it to the beach and the Pacific Ocean. Total distance on my route from the Atlantic at Cape Cod to the Pacific at Carmel was 4307 miles, most of them terrific.

From sea to not-so-shining sea.

I got to the beach around 4:00, but the daily fog/overcast that usually disappears by noon was still hanging around. It took the "shine" away from the sea and made the pictures less than beautiful, but Carmel Beach is still one of the best in the country.

You have to imagine the sunshine.

I wanted to get to my campsite with plenty of daylight to spare, so I skirted Monterey and went directly to Salinas and San Juan Bautista to start up the mountain. The last 11 miles to the park was full of twisties (good), but not in a good state of repair (bad). The last 3 miles had a climb of 1000 feet. A fun road, but a lot of hard work to finish up the day's ride.

My tentsite was by far the best in the park, and a great place to watch the sun set. In fact, about half the people in the park came over to my site to watch the sun go down. It was a very friendly group of people and the girls in the neighboring site invited me over for drinks during "cocktail hour."

Today's ride was 309 miles, and 4483 since the start of the ride.

Day 16 - The Final Leg

2006-07-15T15:30:00.000-07:00

September 4, 2006

(Click on pictures to see them full size)

I woke up with the sun this morning, and the valley was still covered with fog. Here on the mountaintop it was bright and warm, however, and promised a great day of riding to finish my trip. I broke camp and was ready to roll by 8:30, chatted a bit with other campers, and headed down the mountain and back into the grey overcast. It was 80 degrees at the top.

The morning fog from my tentsite.

On the road down the mountain.

Just before descending into the fog.

I rode the 50 or so miles into Monterey and went to Cannery Row for breakfast. When I went to school here many years ago, Cannery Row was still operational and much as John Steinbeck wrote about it. Now it is just a bunch of tourist shops and home of the great Monterey Aquarium. I walked around a bit and took a couple pictures, but it was a cold 58 degrees.

Monterey Bay - Every bit as cold as it looks.

I tried to visit my old school, but it has been closed to the public since 9/11. I walked by the old bar downtown where I celebrated my 21st birthday and was happy to see it was still there.

The bar formerly known as My Attic.

Thinking about all the traffic that would be on the Pacific Coast Highway today, and the lack of sunlight all along the coast, I decided I'd had enough touring and to just go home by the fastest and shortest route. I came out from under the overcast around Salinas and welcomed the sunshine, at least until it started to get really hot. By the time I got to Lost Hills the temperature was 102 degrees, still cooler than my trek across the Mojave desert on Day 13, but quite hot.

From a low of 58 to a high of 102. The Hawaii Weather Wimps I often ride with don't see this kind of temperture spread in an entire year, but this was less than 5 hours. I started out with just a long-sleeve t-shirt, then added my Kevlar jacket, then inserted its liner and put on the winter gloves. Leaving the bay area, out came the liner and on with the summer gloves. Moving further south, off came the Kevlar jacket. Soon I got out my latest acquisition from the ice chest, a cooling wet-vest I learned about from a local Iron-Butt Association rider. It worked great and I was sorry I didn't have it for the trek across the Mojave.

When I got home, it was still 98 degrees, and I'd ridden 283 miles this day. From the start of the trip in my daughter's driveway to my garage was a total of 4766 miles.

I can't wait to start the next big trip.

Home at last--for now.

Oh by the way... Aloha!

2006-07-15T15:00:00.000-07:00

(Click on photos to see them full size)

No good bike ride should ever end. But once you've reached the western limits of the continental United States, what can you do?

Keep going west.

After weeks and weeks of trying to negotiate some time off from work, finally the boss came to me at the end of the day and said, "You can take your vacation, but you have to be back early and start tomorrow morning." I'd been tracking my options on www.farecast.com for weeks so had some idea of what was possible on short notice. My only option with this kind of notice was to keep going west. I called the Hawaii Weather Wimps and started packing.

In searching for parking options at LAX, I discovered that motorcycles park in the terminal lots for free, a fairly common practice I should've known before. The winter weather seemed cooperative so I strapped my big bag onto the back of the Wing-a-bago and headed south. I parked a few steps from the terminal and got on the plane for Honolulu.

My good friend in Hawaii has a spare bike--a Magna. When he comes here he always rides my "spare" Magna, and he was kind enough to give me the key to his "spare" in Honolulu. He had organized a group ride for my first morning there. This was the morning of the Honolulu Marathon so about 20,000 runners and walkers occupied East Oahu. So we headed for Yokohama Bay, as far west as you can go on Oahu--the end of the road.

At Yokohama Bay with 2 old friends and 2 new ones.

Winter surf crashing on the rocks.

The next day all those not on vacation had to go to work, so I rode by myself. I hadn't been in Hawaii for about 4 and a half years and it was fun to explore some of the old haunts.

I went up over the Pali Highway, past the hospital where my first daughter was born and into Kailua. Had lunch at L&L Drive-in, drove past the townhouse where we lived when the new baby was born, and proceeded up the coast. Past Kualoa Ranch where years ago I broke a couple teeth on a rock mountain-biking. On into Laie where that same year I bonked doing a metric century bicycle ride, which I somehow managed to finish. I looked the other way as I passed the tempting shrimp vans near Kahuku (L&L provides sufficient cholesterol) and finally dismounted at Sunset Beach. The winter surf was not as high as it can be, but there was some kind of surfing competition going on anyway.

Sunset Beach on Oahu's North Shore

A little further down the road, I stopped to photograph a popular surfing spot.

Waimea Bay

I decided to leave further touring for another day and headed back to Honolulu, but not soon enough to beat the ridiculous traffic as I neared the city.

The view of Diamond Head from my friend's balcony.

Through my short week in Hawaii I rode a lot every day, spending lots and lots of time sitting in traffic, even when the population was supposed to be at work.

Ala Moana Beach -- nearly deserted midweek

Looking across Ala Moana and Magic Island at Diamond Head.

My vacation ride at Ala Moana Park

My last couple days in Hawaii were "cold" and a bit rainy, but we enjoyed a short group ride anyway on Saturday and luckily bumped into a favorite old friend at Lanikai. On the way there we stopped for a photo op.

Weather Wimps (or space men) in front of Sandy Beach

My last day started out with beautiful weather. Accompanied by a couple of "biker babes", we did an ambitious ride, around East Oahu, H-3 to Pearl City, Kunia Road to Mokuleia. After lunch in Haleiwa we still had lots of energy so decided to come back along the North Shore, past Kailua to Queen's Beach, then into Hawaii Kai, completing the circle tour. We rode about 150 miles, but all the traffic made the 150 seem more like 300. We were all exhausted, so I was well prepared for the redeye back to California. I fell asleep before take-off.

I woke up when the pilot announced, "Flight attendants, prepare the cabin for landing." It seemed like a 10-minute flight. Walked back across the street and loaded up the Wing.

It was a clear and sunny day for my ride back over the mountains, but it was also cold. I stopped outside the airport for a cup of coffee and to add some clothing layers for the ride home. It was 7am and 50 degrees.

As I climbed the mountains on I-5 I watched the temperature slowly go down. For about 20 miles at the top of the mountains it was 33 degrees, the coldest riding I've ever done. I could have used some heated grips or gloves, but as I wound down the mountains on the other side, it warmed up again to about 45. A nice December day in California. Back at (shudder) work by noon.

It was a great week, with even less planning than when the big trip started on the East Coast. It was about 900 miles of great riding, but the best part was seeing lots of old friends. I should go back more often.

So NOW is my cross-country trip finished? Hard to say...

To be continued...