Time For All Dogs To Be Dead

[E-Ticket]

The wife and I did a 7,000 mile/6 week trip back in '05.

Pulled into the driveway, turned off the Viffer, took off the helmet, and asked how she felt.

She thought about it for a moment and said, " ... how about we do a load of laundry and then go reverse the loop."

Yah. Long ones are the best.

Best answer I have ever heard for that question!! Awesome!! She's a keeper!

C

What ....? Doesn't everyone's wife ride with them?

No? Well, that's a bummer.

Even better?

She's quite the dirt bike rider as well. :^)

[Polarbear]

What doesn't everyone's wife ride with them?

No? Well, that's a bummer.

You're telling me...

[SCguy]

The Dalles was a nice enough area, but I try not to hang around too long at a place where a room at Day's Inn is over $250 a night. I had picked the cheapest motel I could find, and it was still $90. Leaving the hotel, the radar looked clear, but it was very overcast and foggy. I headed up the Historic Columbia River Highway, which was wet, but beautiful. So much better than hopping on I84.

Once I got through Rowena, things got fun. The Rowena Loops, as I believe they're called, were a great, if short, set of switchbacks and views of,well, fog. The skies couldn't make up their mind whether they wanted to open the floodgates, shut them, or just let a few drops through here and there.

Riding up to Panorama Point State Park, I was hoping to get above the fog a bit to catch a glimpse of Mt Hood.

I'm sure it's in there somewhere. I decided to ride the loop down around Mt Hood to see if I could see it closer up. What I actually ended up seeing was miles and miles of heavy rain and fog with visibility slightly further than a cat can vomit. No, really, it was down to about 200 ft. I never saw Mt Hood, just the temperature dropping down to 41 and the rain pick up. I don't mind riding in rain, but riding in rain in slow traffic is no favorite of mine. At one point, there were 10 of us vehicles stuck behind a Subaru Forester doing 15-20 mph. I'm from SC, where seing a Subaru is about as rare as seeing 13 small children riding a yak through the McDonalds drive through. I've noticed that there are two types of Subaru drivers, excluding the WRX/STi guys. There are the Subies covered in bumper stickers about coexisting, treehugging, etc, going 10 or more under the speed limit. Then there are the drivers putting all their faith in AWD and driving 15-20 MPH over the limit.

Once I got through Portland, the rain slowed, then stopped, as I headed for the coast. Not a whole lot to report between Portland and the coast, so here's a few pic to finish out this installment.

World's Shortest River

I rode down US 101 to Florence, where I camped. It was a beautiful night. I knew I was not on an East Coast beach as shown by the Warning- Elk signs along the beachfront.

Today's Takeaway: I haven't the foggiest.

[RichVee4]

Your pic of Mt Hood brought back memories of my trip a couple years ago. Cold wet and no mountain in sight. You've probably already past thorough OR but keep an eye on tribal police they like to enforce the 55mph limit when going through reservations. Another benefit of having a radar detector! If your going to be passing through Reno or any of the Sierra Nevada mtns let me know, I could give you some great suggestions.

[Cogswell]

Great pics and entertaining commentary! Looking forward to more installments.

[SCguy]

Well, all good things must come to an end. I rolled into home last night. New longest day, coming from Gulfport, MS. 656 miles and just so cracking the 10k mile mark on the trip.

I apologize for the lack of updates, but Friday was the only day this week I didn't ride 500 miles or more, so I was tuckered out.

No stops, no drops, only like 1 closeish call. Almost too perfect.

I'll continue to write the ride reports through completion.

[mello dude]

Congrats on completing your trip and home safe.

[E-Ticket]

Well, all good things must come to an end. I rolled into home last night. New longest day, coming from Gulfport, MS. 656 miles and just so cracking the 10k mile mark on the trip.

I apologize for the lack of updates, but Friday was the only day this week I didn't ride 500 miles or more, so I was tuckered out.

No stops, no drops, only like 1 closeish call. Almost too perfect.

I'll continue to write the ride reports through completion.

Congratulations, boss!

And your summary sounds pretty close to the nightly toast the wife and I do on our mo-mo trips:

"Here's to no tickets, no crashes, no fatalities. Cheers!"

[Cogswell]

Well, all good things must come to an end. I rolled into home last night. New longest day, coming from Gulfport, MS. 656 miles and just so cracking the 10k mile mark on the trip.

I apologize for the lack of updates, but Friday was the only day this week I didn't ride 500 miles or more, so I was tuckered out.

No stops, no drops, only like 1 closeish call. Almost too perfect.

I'll continue to write the ride reports through completion.

Epic trip. Great job!

[Ultimatevfr]

Awesome read, glad you made it back safe and sound.

[SCguy]

Camping from a bike sure seemed to be against the norm in America, with most campsites being filled with houses on wheels with what looked to be more attached baggage than that which little beast of burden airport mini trucks are laden worldwide. I observed the campsite as land barges came and went. Partly envious, partially disgusted at the excess, but more often than not, appreciative that families were out enjoying this beautiful country we are blessed to occupy. Through the evening, the crackling fires, the shrieks of children startling one another in a late night game of hide and seek, and the night creatures rustling through the woods served to remind me of the wonders that are camping, even if setting up and tearing down camp each day gets old.

Leaving the campground, I headed down into Florence, OR. Nearly there, the truck in front of me started motioning my direction and pulled over. I just figured they were letting me pass, so I gave them the customary wave and continued on my way, grateful for those that do actually pull over. In my mirror, I catch glances of the truck swerving back into the road, accelerating rapidly, closing the gap and flashing it's lights. I pulled off to the side of the road, only to have the occupants of said truck deliver a verbal exclamation awakening the innate primal fear that lurks deep within every motorcyclist, the day they hoped would never arrive, the blow to the senses, the sheer and utter terror of realizing that your side bag's latch was MIA and had been hanging open to maniacally scatter its contents with reckless abandon to every caprice of the wind and every divot and rise of the road. Sacrifices to the bane of bikers: traffic. A quick assessment revealed all of my clothes gone, my coat missing, stove fuel lost, and a few odds and ends at large.

Waiting on the string of traffic that seemed to materialize as soon as I needed to cut around in the road, I couldn't help but prepare for the worst. Riding slowly and keeping an eye on the road for what once was in my possession was suspenseful and disheartening the further I went. Finally, some road debris. I retrieved my hat and some socks, darting into the road when traffic allowed and out of it when it forbade. It became mechanical; walk several hundred feet, reclaim one item, repeat ad nauseam. Luckily I kept the majority of my clothes in a drawstring bag, so they were mostly in one spot of the road. It was frustrating watching traffic drive right over my gear before I could get to it, but in the end, I recovered everything less a pair of nail clippers, a can of stove fuel, a crushed stick of deodorant, and a broken beard trimmer (which I personally take as a sign). Everything had been spread out over about a mile and a half. Some kind person had stopped and pulled many of the items onto the shoulder, but quite a few were still in the middle of the lane. At least I got to practice my Frogger skills (or I guess Crossy Roads these days).

Continuing on, I paused to marvel at a drivethrough Subway. Don't judge me, we don't have those fancy innovations at our Subway's in South Carolina. Continuing to ride from the coast, the cars ahead of me suddenly halted and ALL the cameras came out. Even mine.

Wouldn't want to hit one of those walking piles of delicious jerky.

Continuing down to take 138 Westward, I realized that I'd be passing near Crater Lake. The nearest entrance was closed due to fire, but I looped around and caught the open entrance and I am very glad I did. Entering Crater Lake is just like riding up a normal mountain, all the way to the top, but the first glimpse of the lake can cause involuntary pulmonary arrest. It's massive! Pictures do no justice.

Leaving Crater Lake, I headed south to Klamath Falls. I faintly remembered reading something about Klamath Falls once, but I couldn't remember what it concerned.

Riding past Klamath Lake, it hit me. Then it hit me again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again.

Ahh, yes. The infamous Klamath Falls midge. Introduced to control the mosquito population, populations exploded and the midges now rule town. Midges everywhere.

Not my video, but you get the idea.

I had been planning on camping, but with the midges plus mesh gear, I needed a shower and a place to clean my helmet, so I got a cheap motel.

Today's Takeaway: Noone expects the unexpected wardrobe malfunction.

[WGREGT]

Not sure what bags you have, but that's one thing I've always liked about the OEM bags: You cannot leave them open unless the key is in them. ( I *think* that's right...it's been a few months since my last LD ride.) If that key is also on your ignition key ring, you can't leave them open and drive away.

[Polarbear]

Wardrobe malfunction???? .............................

I was going to post a pic but this is a family friendly site so you guys are all familiar with it I'm sure.....

As for your luggage, sorry to hear, it sucks. But at least you seemed to have recovered most of it. Glad to read it.

Those pics from the crater are fantastic!!!

Thanks for posting.

C

[Mikey]

Awesome trip and fantastic report/writing.

[SCguy]

Not sure what bags you have, but that's one thing I've always liked about the OEM bags: You cannot leave them open unless the key is in them. ( I *think* that's right...it's been a few months since my last LD ride.) If that key is also on your ignition key ring, you can't leave them open and drive away.

I went the budget route and went with the JCWhitney GaragePro bags for the side. They worked decent. I'm pretty sure I just didn't latch it correctly this time, although we'll revisit this issue in a few days.

[Cogswell]

The bugs - oh lord the bugs. I ran in to a similar storm of insects once. We pulled over at a rest area to clean up. Before helmets could be removed there were yellow jackets everywhere to feast on the remains. The bike was swarmed by 'em. All part of the fun I suppose.

Nice photos of Crater Lake. It's a jewel. Its history is interesting. Until 8,000 years ago it was Mount Mazama, about 12,000 feet high, similar to Mt Hood to the north. It blew its top and then collapsed in on itself leaving the caldera behind that filled with water to become the lake.

You really hit the high points on this trip - something you'll remember your whole life. Love to see more photos if you've got 'em.

[lanesmatb]

Thanks for sharing SCGuy. Very well done.

Scott L.

[CornerCarver]

...

You really hit the high points on this trip - something you'll remember your whole life. Love to see more photos if you've got 'em.

[SCguy]

Freshly showered with helmet, riding gear and bags scrubbed, using all of the motel's washcloths (sorry, laundry people), the bug population was down quite a bit. The ones yet alive flew around oblivious to their mass suicidal tendencies. Once on the road again, the midges were nowhere near as dense as the night before, and I probably only killed 146 making my way out of Klamath Falls. Today, I would head for California.

Ahh, Cali. The state that shares the national spotlight only with New York. The state that seems to be a country within a country. One doesn't hear a whole lot about California living in South Carolina, only hushed whispers of sky high gas prices, increasingly strict gun laws, and affecting my profession by adding a LOT of complexity to the emission systems of road going vehicles.

Well, so far, so safe. California had one thing going for it right off the bat, cheaper gas prices than Oregon! Self service! Vacuum gas nozzles! Wait, what? Once I finally figured out that I had to push the bellows in to allow gas to flow, things went much smoother. I headed down US 97 to Weed, CA. A small town with an unusual name, kind of hilarious watching the Weed Police on patrol. From Weed, I headed down ta CA 89, heading west towards mountains or something like that.

The lovely Mt Shasta. What a perfect representation of the term 'Mountain'.

The road became quite straight, unfortunately, the boredom came on as well, hanging onto straight roads as parasitically as ever. When I wasn't riding in a straight line in pine trees (might as well have been back in SC!), I was passing road paving equipment, but that caught up to me in a quick manner when I had to wait quite a while in a one lane traffic situation. Well over 100 degrees plus fresh, hot asphalt is a very efficient recipe for sweating not-so-proverbial buckets.

I love making the construction guys laugh. Whether it's barking at them from my helmet, pretending to pedal my bike through the slow areas, playing rock-paper-scissors with the flagman, or pretending to fall asleep with exaggerated action. Once through the construction area, I treat the people stopped heading the other way as a very captive audience. It's a great time to practice all the parade waves you'd normally have to wait a long time to master. From the Queen Elizabeth to swimming on the bike to all out flapping and cawing, people generally smile, laugh, take pictures. Kids love it. It's fun for me and I get to make the most of a boring situation, all the while hopefully brightening the day of those around me. Knowing all the road construction they had ahead of them, they needed it in a bad way.

Entering Lassen National Forest, things began to get interesting. I hadn't done a ton of research on the day's ride, I just saw that CA 89 looked like a much better alternative to THE 5. (was informed in California, the Interstates are referred to as “THE (# )”) Things became interesting when I entered Lassen Volcanic National Park. Not having looked too close at the map, I failed to realize the road ran through a National Park, but as I had purchased an Interagency Annual Pass before leaving, it saved me the $15 entrance fee. If you're planning on visiting more than 3 National Parks in a year's time, I highly recommend purchasing an Annual Pass.

I've always been enchanted by volcanoes, I guess you could say they “magma” curious. Ha. I'm now ducking to avoid the thrown objects for that poorly used pun.

|Lassen Peak, which last erupted in 1915, was not likely to blow any time soon, but a small part of me wished to see just a bit of volcanic action. Just one large chunk of rock blown several hundred feet in the air. Nothing crazy. Oh well.

The rocks that had been thrown were fascinating in their different layers of striation and bubbles. Just remarkable to view the different kinds of volcanic rock that formed, many times creating hybrids where different ages met or different temperatures of lava formed these large stones. Geologist me was excited, until Practical me reminded Geologist me how much learning he had to do yet on the subject.

New growth after the total devastation of the lava flow. “From the ashes”

Wildfire smoke hung around as the terrain changed from devastated land to unaffected land.

Then back to damaged land, this time by wildfire.

The view from the top didn't disappoint.

Emerald Lake

The sulfur springs at Bumpass Hell were great. Really otherworldly with the hydrogen sulfide gases spewing from the mud and the smell of sulfur filling the air.

I really regret not having more time in Lassen. It's a NP I had never heard of, living in the shadow of Yosemite, but I highly recommend it!

I continued on through the park, then taking CA 32 to end up having the most fun I'd had in a while. CA 32 is a blast! Low traffic, beautiful pavement, incessant curves, the whole works. Grinning from ear to ear, I piloted the VFR towards Chico.

Descending from 8,000 ft, things warmed up rather quickly. By the time the road straightened out and I arrived in Chico, my ambient temp display was rather annoyingly proclaiming 109 F. I know it's hot, I said. You don't have to rub it in.

Once again on the road, I headed into Oroville, where I ate a local diner. Tired of the typical travel food (burgers, etc) I ordered the country fried steak. Hands down the best country fried steak I've ever had and the mashed potatoes were no trifling matter, either.

Using freecampsites.net can be a crapshoot at times. Heading toward a campsite in Berry Creek, I wondered how remote it would be. Very remote was the answer. Thankfully, the road began to climb as the sun fell, lowering temperatures.

A view over Lake Oroville.

After 20+ miles of riding in the dark, headlights still not adjusted properly, I pulled onto the road to the campground. Then it turned to gravel. Ahh, gravel. My nemesis. At least on a road bike like Vanessa. I kept hoping it was around the next rutted, bumpy loose gravel corner, but again and again, a safe place to sleep failed to materialize. I happened upon a small sign that proclaimed I had 8 miles on gravel to go. Not happening. I was pushing it doing about 12 mph on this road. At that rate, it would have been 45 minutes more. I rode about another mile, found a small secluded pull off, blew up my air mattress and slept alongside my bike under the stars.

It was a fantastic night for star gazing, something we don't get to do so well on the East Coast. It had been a good day, and now my only wish was to remain undisturbed for the rest of the night.

Today's Takeaway: The stops you don't plan have a tendency for potential greatness.

[SCguy]

Awakening slightly before daybreak, I packed my sleeping bag and mattress and threw them back into the side case when a wrench got thrown in the works. Before breakfast even!

The latch for my right side case broke clean off, leaving very little to keep it from flying open and distributing it's contents willy-nilly. Doing a little improvising, I made the bags on the seat work with just one ROK strap and transferred the other one to holding-right-side-bag-closed duty.

The sun dawned, casting a wonderful golden glow on the hills as I wended my way back down into Oroville. The wildlife was out, but thankfully, respectful of the road's boundaries.

This picture does absolutely no justice to the sunlight bathing the bridge over the “canyon” in it's revealing light and warmth. I forgot about the broken latch, so beautiful was the scene before me.

There, problem solved. Nothing a cam buckle strap, knife and lighter can't fix.

The morning was a bit brisk, something I would long for later in the day. Once in Oroville, I took CA 70 south to Sacramento. This was the only large city I hit in California, and it was plenty large enough for me. Being California, I got to try my hand at lanesplitting. Initial thoughts: it just makes so much sense. If it's legal and drivers don't freak out, it's a much more safe traffic position for those on two wheels. With the added width my girl was packing on both sides, there were far fewer comfortable opportunities to split than I would have liked.

Things were heating up. Hot. Really hot. Around 12 PM, the bike indicated 108F ambient and it just kept climbing. Turning onto 16 east to Drytown, then south through Angels Camp to Sonora. In Sonora, I hit a personal high of an indicated 114F. That seems a bit high, but the bank signs were all showing 108 and 109. That kind of heat just wears one down. I drank 6L of water from my pack within a few hours and still felt dehydrated. For a relatable demonstration, get a hair dryer, set it on high, step 3 feet away and stay there for 7 hours. Report back on your findings.

The view over what's left of New Melones Lake.

CA 120 was a welcome sight coming out of Moccasin. The road went up, not flat. It turned, not remained straight. I gained elevation little by little. I would have had some fun here were it not for the duo of slow cars ahead of me. NEVER get stuck behind a Cruze and a Prius. If you do, enjoy corner speeds in the single digits. I really don't remember a lot about the remaining stretch to Yosemite, must have been heat wiped.

Arriving in Yosemite, I found most camping full (yes, I should have made reservations, but I didn't want to). I found one open spot finally in Crane Flat campground, set up my tent, and headed down for the Valley.

The wildlife was tame, almost too tame.

I walked to the Yosemite restaurant and “enjoyed” probably the most mediocre meal of the entire trip. I had the pulled pork sandwich and had to spend my entire meal shooing away squirrels and birds trying to eat my food before I was done with it.

Heading back up to Crane Flat, the V4 once more roared through the tunnels. Once back to my campsite, I had to check and make sure I was in the right spot. The single site where I had pitched my tent now housed 3 camper vans, 1 RV and 4 other tents. I guess they figured I didn't need much space, quietness or privacy. Side note: the restrooms were out of order and instead, portajons were placed outside. I have no problem with that. My problem lies in that all the vents were linked together, meaning you had an unnecessary and unwanted aural and olfactory link with your neighbor in the next plastic poobox over. Whatever.

Right when I settled down, a RV rolled into the next spot, kicking out those camping in that spot and they all set up in my spot. It would have all been cool if the new RV neighbors hadn't built a fire, hollered at each other, and blasted Indian rap music till well past midnight.

Today's Takeaway: I'm not sure if I picked the most popular campsite in all of Yosemite or accidentally started a cult.

[WGREGT]

I go to Yosemite every year, but I go to ski. Never been there yet on a bike, or during the tourist season. I always go with little/no notice and there's never a crowd anytime past mid-October. Not sure I'd have the patience for tourist season there.

PS How in the world did that lock snap like that? Did you pry up on it or something? They replace the case for you?

[SCguy]

JCWhitney said they'd replace the case, but the cost of shipping it in could buy me a new one. I'm just going to leave it as is and keep an eye out for some Givi cases.

[Switchblade]

Same bag that lost all of it's contents before?

Life always has it's little challenges .

Great ride report !

[SCguy]

Same bag that lost all of it's contents before?

Life always has it's little challenges .

Great ride report !

Sure was. I'm fixing to take the side racks off and maybe even the top rack to feel what the VFR is like as a lightweight (relatively) again.

[SCguy]

The sun dawned and the light spilled over the treeline to reveal a nearly empty campground. The commune that had existed only hours ago was gone, or was it all in my head?

I had some miles to cover this day, so I regretfully didn't have time to go hiking or explore Yosemite much. Heading through the park, I realized that this was the first time in the trip actually heading true East. The road climbed some more, and I found myself on Tioga Pass.

I saw several of these trucks from Switzerland. Love them! Why can't we have cool stuff, America? Switzerland gets these brutes, Australia gets utes, and basically everyone else gets small diesel trucks and Toyota Hiaces. Take all our Corvettes and Mustangs in trade for diesel Hiluxes!

Descending was equally beautiful. Tioga gets frustratingly close to 10,000ft elevation at 9,943ft.

Almost at Lee Vining, CA, I observed a very large group of Harleys turn ahead of me, so my curiousity got the best of me and I decided to figure out what they were up to. Turns out, they were pulling into the Mobil gas station. Not having eaten breakfast, I stopped and figured I'd scrounge up a granola bar or something. Inside the gas station was a full fledged restaurant, the Woah Nellie Deli. No greasy spoon, as I am accustomed to from petrol station (for my Euro audience) eateries.

I had the “World Famous Fish Tacos” with mango salsa, ginger coleslaw, and a side of black beans. World Famous is a pretty pretentious thing to boast when you're operating in a filling station, but they did not disappoint. Excellent food, reasonable price (a lot more so than the fuel prices), very quick service.(And they had Tapatio!) After the delicious food, I went out to my bike and found a fellow rider enjoying the shade of a nearby tree. We talked a while, and he recommended a route that, strangely enough, was the exact route I had planned solely by convenience. At his urging, I visited the Mono Lake Visitors Center and left quite fascinated by the uniqueness of the lake and the surrounding areas. Hearing about Bodie, a ghost town about 35 miles away really piqued my interest, but I needed to make some miles and the miles of dirt road back to Bodie didn't sound too promising on the ol VFR. Off I go again...

I took 395 south to catch 120 east. Once on 120, I simply had to stop at Mono Lake and view some of the oddities that I had learned of at the visitor's center.

What I would have called aboveground stalagmites were actually called tufa, deposits of salt left from springs that once fed the lake. Mono Lake has a very high salt content, approximately 3 times more salty than the Pacific Ocean, and a pH of 10. For comparison, ammonia has a pH level of 11.

Of particular interest were the small hordes of alkali flies that massed near the water's edge. In massive numbers, these flies could easily make for an uncomfortable except for the fact that they rarely fly more than a foot off of the ground, in direct opposition of every stinkin' gnat and mosquito in the southeastern US, which seem to thrive right at face level.

Back on the road again, I see why the guy described 120 as a great ride. What a range of ecology, from an alkaline lake to desert to volcanic devastation zones, such as this one.

Smalls forests, a few corners, smooth pavement, elevation change, scenery, 120 ticks all the boxes for a great scenic ride.

Boundary Peak

One more state.

I stopped at a small gas station to cool off (only upper 90's, so not terribly hot, but still) and found these amazing popsicles.

It was basically frozen pineapple juice concentrate, but oh so refreshing.

There were definitely some fun stretches, such as the piece of 120 that had no elevation smoothing. Running 80-90 mph down and up the dips was exhilarating, coming very close to catching air multiple times. The closest thing to paved moguls I've ever seen. Every now and then, there would be a sharpish corner on an off camber hump, which felt like the closest I'll ever get to a motocross style tailwhip. Great fun.

Once into Tonopah, NV, things got boring. REAL boring.

This is a perfect representation of what it's like to ride on 376 in Nevada.

Along with that, I submit this terribly produced example of a time lapse of 50 miles on 376 that passes in 19 seconds. Seriously, lesson learned, shorter intervals and have the GoPro on a solid mount, not a helmet mount.

The country side blurred by and all into one. Nothing exciting, nothing to look at, just straight, flat forever. Wait, what is that running into the road? From the middle of nowhere, a huge (for a) coyote charged out of the brush at my bike. I was running about 90mph, I couldn't stop in time, so I swerved at it, hit the horn and revved the engine in an attempt to startle it. It worked, thankfully, and I made it by with about 4 feet separating my legs from its incisors.

After I had my excitement for the day, things settled back down into the doldrums that are US 50, otherwise known as the Most Lonely Road in America. After riding on 376, however, US 50 felt like an interstate with all the traffic. Why, I must have passed a car or truck about every 5 miles. Must have been rush hour.

I rolled into Eureka, NV right in time to catch the sunset and crash at my cousin's house.

Today's Takeaway: Is it time to head East already?