Date: Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Start: 0930 (0715 wake-up)
Finish: 1930
Travel Time: 10 hrs
Distance: 414 miles
Total Distance: 4062 miles
We managed a good night's rest in a couple of beds that didn't seem they were capable of such of activities when we first arrived. It's amazing how nearly 4000 miles can have such an impact over time. We packed up and met Kyle for breakfast at a diner just down the road. We filled up on hotcakes and eggs and then parted ways. Kyle was off to catch up on some laundry and continue on the trail. We, on the other hand, were headed towards the infamous Rt 666.
Our route would take us through Albuquerque, and then due west to the Arizona border. It was our first day of heavy highway miles since we started the trail and in comparison to the continuous questioning of our GPS co-ordinates, navigation was a piece of cake... but boring. It was actually a pretty trying day. One thing we can say about highway miles is that you sit there and don't change position nearly as much. Your mind is in a state of being only semi-engaged in the activity at hand that you can become fatigued pretty quickly. Seems backwards right?
When your riding off road you are changing position so often, and your mind and body are truly engaged in the task at hand. Its literally a sport. That can be exhausting too, but there's a certain level of alertness that comes with that level of activity. Road riding is comparatively boring and uneventful. It certainly helps to have helmet comms. Goda and I have said a hundred times this trip would have been an entirely different experience without the comms. Just finding our way around towns was made infinitely easier with the ability to simply converse and consult each other. Navigating off road was made easier as well, and with the added bonus to be able to warn the following rider of potholes, puddles, and other dangers.
At times like these, the comms were a godsend. We could chat like we were sitting in a car next to each other and it really helps to pass the time. I've known Mr. Pagoda since the fourth grade, but now I know his top five favorite bands of all time, and in return, he knows my top five video game experiences of all time.
You can tell we were bored right?
Well that would soon change as we made our way into Albuquerque. Since day 3, the only roads we encountered were winding country roads. You know the kind with only two lanes and the occasional car or three? This was not the case. Albuquerque may not be Philly, and it certainly isn't Los Angeles, but it was the closest thing we'd encountered in over a week to either of those. We were hitting town near the lunch hour, so traffic wasn't horrible, but it was a nice change of pace that certainly got the heart rate going a bit. We navigated through town in a sea of sedans, occupied by people going about their daily business, and even worse, going to work! We were reminded that we were on an awesome trip and currently on the way to the Devil's Highway. There were worse things.
Once through Albuquerque we hooked up with the 40West and nearly instantly sunk back into the doldrums of boring road riding. Highway miles have a tendency to blend together. So here we are a year after the fact trying to recall and write down all the cool stuff that happened. Let me say, there are far fewer of those moments on highways than any category of the trip. There was one, though, on this particular stretch. We were passing these enormous rigs that were carrying one windmill blade each. That's right, windmill blades. here we were on our iron horses, doing battle (or the traffic version of battle) with giant windmills. I felt like a modern day Don Quixote.
Once we left the windmill caravan in the rear view, things slowed down significantly. We switched from the helmet comms over to our Mp3 players and zombified for the next several miles. When we reached our first fuel stop, we were stiff and bored and hungry and hot. It sucked. Luckily our first detour would be right around the corner.
Just ahead, we would turn off the highway again and take one of those welcoming back roads to hook up with highway 60, which would lead us to the top of route 666. This was certainly one of the most unexpected sections of the trip. We found ourselves passing through beautiful, rural, Northern New Mexico desert. These deserts are more like the Mojave than the Sahara though. They are chock full of flowering plants, and low-lying shrubs which blanketed the gently undulating landscape. All of which was set against the picture perfect blue skies with large puffy white clouds. It was a pleasure to behold and a pleasure to ride on.
Somewhere about half way through we encountered some strange and beautiful lava formations. There were countless lava tubes laid out like one of those corrugated welcome mats to our right. They were onyx in color, and the vegetation was more sparse than the desert sections we'd passed through earlier. On our left the formations rose from the ground to form a set of cliffs and high-hills that were reminiscent of the badlands in South Dakota. They were darker in color and their curved exteriors seemed to betray the flowing process that created them. It was oddly out of place and pretty interesting but for whatever reason we didn't really stop for a photo opportunity. We were tired and a bit groggy and honestly I think we just wanted to make our miles for the day. We decided to run the helmet cams so we could capture this section, whose flowing shapes looked like they could still be moving, while in motion.
Before long we hit our next intersection, and with it our next stop. We ate lunch at yet another road-side diner that had surprisingly good grub. When we headed out to the bikes, we found we had a fan. An older gentleman was checking out our gear. He had ridden a similar set up in his younger days, and still managed to get he and the wife out on weekends for a cruise on the Harley. If there's anything we can tell ya about motorcyclists, its that they are some of the finest, friendliest, and most approachable people folks you will ever meet. The trip wasn't even over yet and I was having a hard time remembering how many fun and wonderful people we got to chat with... He bade us farewell and good luck and, with that, we were onto the last stretch before AZ.
A quick jaunt down a breezy, hill riddled highway found us in Arizona at last. We stopped to fuel up, make a few quick calls to the loved ones, grab a beverage and a snack, and then we squared up with the Devil's Highway. PS. This road has earned its reputation by having more fatal accidents in a smaller length of miles than any other road in America. This serpentine stretch of roads winds through, around, over and under some very diverse landscapes, and most of these turns lack guard rails despite having steep, several hundred foot drops.
It was a formidable foe, and the reputation did proceed here. In fact, Arizona wants America to forget all about the "Devil's Highway". You'd be hard pressed to find a shop selling a shot glass, refrigerator magnet, or t-shirt with words on it. They've even renamed the highway to the nice and neutral "Route 191". To top that, I'm sure on any given weekend there'd be police hanging out at the front, back, and middle of the thing trying to deter riders from enjoying themselves to death, and not for nothing. This was not a weekend, however. It was a Tuesday! We had this beauty all to ourselves. We mounted our steeds, swallowed hard, revved the engine and shot ourselves head first in the the belly of the beast. Time to tango.
In recounting the details of this trip, let me say this... The biggest surprise of the trip was northern New Mexico and Arizona. When I think of those two states I think of blistering hot desserts, red rock formations, and sand. Nothing close to the diversity of scenery and landscape that we had encountered so far. It was beautiful and I consider myself lucky for having my minds eye set right.
The Devil's Highway lay before us and it was nothing like what I expected. It began, with a flirt. A relatively gentle road that swayed lazily back and forth through alpine meadows and glens. It was cool and humid. It was mountain terrain!? I felt that I'd somehow been transported to the Central California Sierras. I took a moment to check the GPS only to find that we were at approximately 8000ft. That is 2000ft higher than an average peak in the Angeles forest, and more than half-way to the highest peak in the contiguous United States. I was expecting a red-desert-devil of a road and got a smooth and satisfying jaunt through what looked like my backyard canyon roads in California. It was gorgeous! We pressed on ultimately surprised by the agreeable conditions, as we passed over a few peaks and valleys things started to slowly get more interesting. The flirtatious sweepers started to progressively tighten up, like the road was surreptitiously making a fist and preparing to strike.
A flicker of anxiety began to rise in my chest. The temperature was slowly climbing. I felt like I'd been lied to. Like I'd been lured into a trap that hadn't been sprung. Goda and I sparsely chatted over the intercoms. What began as a whimsical back and forth had gradually dropped in frequency as our task demanded increasing levels of attention.
We rode through open sided mountain sections where a vast valley to the left or right continuously pulled your gaze away from the black and yellow path of safety. Like a siren in the distance... Like part of the plan! Our lifeline was a 16ft wide patch of pavement in the middle increasingly less forgiving terrain, in the middle of nowhere, and it was all too easy to loose yourself in the amazing views. We cut through strangely wooded sections as well, where the birch trees crowded in on the road, making me feel like I was riding one of the many back country roads of my youth. It seemed strangely out of place for what began as an alpine environment. We were descending. The vegetation was changing, the air was getting warmer, the road was getting tighter and more aggressive. We decided to pull over to take in the view, rest up, and prepare for what we somehow unconsciously knew was coming.
We pulled off into what I think was a picnic area. It was small and non-descript and sat atop a plateau that the road snaked around. We enjoyed some jerky and a sip or two from our camelbacks. We stopped for a quick photo op. The bikes were set against the blue sky, and the progressively descending mountain tops. There was a smell of a rotting animal in the air. We could not find the source. I thought quickly about the last hour or so of riding. This moment seemed to epitomize the experience. The beauty of the landscape was juxtaposed to the reputation of this road. There did seem to be something strangely malicious about it, yet you couldn't deny how plainly gorgeous it was. I stopped myself. This was ridiculous. I'm standing in the midst of an incredible landscape, on one of this country's most historic roads. There was no hidden agenda, there was no subversive force attempting to tear us from the pavement. This was flat out one of the most incredible riding experiences I've had, and in one of the most beautiful places I've ever been. We hopped on the bikes and hit it again, ready for round two.
Within the next 20 minutes or so there was an abrupt change. The lush green gave way to browns, reds, and yellows. The tall trees gave way to scrubby bushes. We were transitioning into dessert terrain. Here's where the personality shift in this schizophrenic road occurs. The turns began to tighten drastically, we found ourselves in wonderful leans, pulling eagerly around blind turns, hairpins and chicanes. The road moved up and down and much as it did side to side. This was it. The hidden surprise was sprung upon us. Instead of a cruel-hearted beat up, it was a roller coaster ride. The road seemed to want to thrill you as it upped the ante around every turn. It was incredible. It was the craziest and most fun road-faring experience either of us have ever had the privilege to encounter. If you can't enjoy yourself on this road... you don't have a pulse.
We laughed over the comms, and exclaimed in every sort of manner. We simply couldn't believe it. I made a comment that if I was tasked with designing a road for a motorcycling video game, it would be something like this. Something LIKE this, but not this. I don't think I have the imaginative capacity to birth such a triumphantly twisty tale. If you asked me a day ago, I'd say that it was improbable that anything like it existed in reality. It was like we were living some one's dream of a road. This simply couldn't be real. We stopped and set up some video fly-bys. We traded leads. We tore, wide eyed around turn after turn. We were having a ball.
All good things come to an end though. Luckily, ours was not abrupt or unwelcome. The turns did get gentler, but they didn't leave us entirely. The road smoothed out and finally we began feeling like we were back on earth again.
The insanity of the road was instantly replaced with the insanity of scenery, however. It was like the forest and the sky opened up in concert. That wasn't all that opened up though. The ground opened up as well. To our left was the most magnanimous man made site I've ever seen. The Freeport Copper mine stretched nearly as far, wide and DEEP as the eye could see. We were blown away and had to pull off for some photos. We attempted, in vain, to capture the size and splendor of the sight before us. A camera simply won't do.
We packed it up and headed into the town at the base of the mine. We found a happening little hotel there and got set up in our room. We cleaned up, and headed out for some tacos and beer just as the sun was setting. The food was great and the drinks were welcome! This hotel also served as the mine's museum, of sorts, and had every manner of copper products on display. We checked out several strange looking contraptions and found our intrigue piqued. We'd have to ask more about the mine and its history tomorrow.
We headed to bed, once again, hardly able to comprehend what we'd been through in the previous 14 or so hrs. There's not been a single day on this trip that I could have predicted, and I felt it was pointless to try. As we hit the hay, I thought to myself, "Lights out... Time to head back to dreamland."
/s/ Yobo
Wyoming, Great Divide Basin
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Trip Report Day 12: Elk Creek Camp, CO to Cuba, NM
Date: Monday, August 30, 2010
Start: 0930 (0730 wake-up)
Finish: 1800
Travel Time: 8.5 hrs
Distance: 147 miles
Total Distance: 3648 miles
OK - Goda here to kick us off --- It was a rainy night, but we still managed some quality shut-eye in Yobo's Nemo Losi 3P tent. I'll diverge a bit and talk about our shelter. The tent was similar in weight and packed-size to many 2P tents, but with the extra comfort being one of the larger 3P tents money can buy. It was ideal for two giant Pollocks to move around and store gear, and with the luxury of two entrances, we didn't need to crawl over each other to get in and out. If you've never heard of Nemo, check em out and learn about many of the innovative features they are adding to their gear.--- The start of the morning was a bit drizzly, but nothing some oatmeal and hot tea couldn't fix. We dried the tent as best possible before rolling it up in the sack.
We were off knowing that the wet northern NM clay that our buddy, ‘Catastrophic Failure’, warned of was out there waiting for us. Our start was only a few miles above the border, so it wasn't too long until we entered NM. We spent some time climbing up through the low-laying cloud cover while on-road, then turned off onto the dirt through some cow pastures. The dirt roads were filled with potholes everywhere, but not too muddy despite the overnight rain, so we began thinking that the mud situation might not be so unmanageable. Then, the trail started going uphill, and getting twistier, rockier, muddier, and more precarious. We stopped at a Y in the road and double-checked our GPS. It looked like our hopes would be dashed right about now, as our GPSs were telling us to veer to the left, and up a slippery looking hill. We headed off with me in the lead and Yobo following.
All of a sudden the NM clay-mud took things to another level and the bike might as well been riding in quick-sand jell-o. I couldn't hold a straight line with my front tire and have no idea how I made it up the next rocky-muddy section because I think my eyes might have been closed the entire way. I stopped for a bit and then heard Yobo across the com system saying he was down. I ran down to check him out when he described the situation. He was riding the top ridge of the trail but began sliding down to the left and directly into a large puddle/dirt-death pond. So, he did what any young rider would do and nailed the gas, popped up on the pegs, relaxed his legs and rode it out. He made it up and out of the puddle unscathed, only to set his engine block down on a large, protruding rock on the other side. This teetered his bike forward, sending him over the bars and into some more rocks and mud. He clocked his noggin, but managed to roll through it and make it out a bit shaken up, but OK. He uprighted his bike, and navigated further up to where my bike was stopped.
We recovered for a few minutes and attempted the next section. Again, I was having one Hell of a time trying to go straight. I tried to avoid the water because it was too difficult to gauge the depth of puddles and ruts, and if you got stuck in a rut...good luck steering out. I got the bike swinging all over the place and found myself headed straight off the trail and stopping in the middle of a pine tree. I just started laughing because this was so ridiculous. Yobo had a few smaller dumps as he made his way up to me. I backed out of the tree and proceeded forward like a glutton for punishment only to find myself face down in one of the larger puddles. Naturally, I got caught in a rut I tried so hard to avoid. The water managed to fill up my boots and run down my pants and made for one soggy bottom. Yobo, luckily captured this on film and zoomed in on our rear TKC80 tires, which at this point, might as well have been racing slicks with all of the clay-mud that was caked on.
We reluctantly pressed on trying alternate routes off the side of the trail without luck. After progressing less than 3 miles in an hour or so, we decided to have a chat. We probably had a hundred miles ahead of us and at this rate we could end up stuck in the middle of nowhere. The sky ahead looked as if it was ready to unleash on us and the clay didn't appear to magically be getting grippy any time soon. Yobo mentioned in yesterday's summary how much I hated turning back. Well here we are, and once again, I wasn't 100% convinced we should retrace our steps and avoid what lay ahead. One of the things I was looking forward to most on this trip was making it through one of those epic days that threw everything at us. I enjoy those mindless zombie slogs and this would have been one for the ages. But, given how many times we had put a foot down, dumped the bike, flew over the bars, and ended up otherwise off trail, in trees, or simply sideways, it was a good bet we could get injured, or run into some major trouble. We decided to head back to the road and follow the trail in parallel. Once we got back to the road though, I noticed my bike's suspension wasn't reacting quite right. It was slow to rebound and felt dead when I hit any bumps. I tightened up the suspension and hoped that we'd soon be welcomed by the comfort of a motorcycle shop. As we were working on my shock, we heard a massive whistle blow. We ran to the edge of the plateau we were parked on just in time to see an old-timey train complete with passengers glaring out the window steam by. It was the Santa Fe railway, still in operation after all these years. Pretty cool. -----
So here we were, out of the mud, back on tarmac, several crashes the wiser, and one rear suspension down. The nearest town was a small road-side stop that had a gas station but no-one who could work on motos… A helpful dude there told us to head further down the road to the next town, where there may be a bike shop.
We did so only to find that the shop was closed on Mondays. Of course, the owner was probably out riding. However this was not a typical Monday, it was raining, grey, kinda cold and miserable. No biggie, the suspension issue was certainly worrying, but it seemed fine on the road, in fact, the only time we would really have to worry about a non-rebounding suspension is off road, when your tire needs to be springy and remain in contact with your riding surface. Roots, rocks, washboarded roads and the like are the enemy of suspension; without it, you tend to get all squirrelly on those types of surfaces. Roads, were smooth and even, and so we were probably OK with the stability, but what about the rear wheel popping off? Expert opinion would still be an advantage. Only we couldn’t get any. Strike one for us.
Oh well, its still lunch time and if there’s anything we know about small towns in the middle of nowhere, its that they have the best dang food you’ll ever find. We stopped off at the local watering hole, which looked to be straight out of a western. This establishment was made of all-wood construction right up to the old-fashioned swinging doors and all. I’m not kidding, there were even some cowboys there grabbing some lunch. Remember in an earlier post when we talked about feeling out of place in the fancy town restaurant at Carmel by the Sea? Well you can feel that same way in a dive bar in the desert. Only it’s the other way around. We were dressed like the Mighty Morphin Power Rangers, and everyone else was wearing blue jeans, cowboy shirts, and hats, and even lassos… OH, and the bartender had his six shooter strapped on and everything. OK well that’s a bit of an understatement, because this was hardly a six shooter… In fact, it was a 15 shooter. Or 16 if you keep one in the pipe. Our friendly neighborhood bartender was sporting a Beretta 92fs tucked casually into the back of his jeans...
Anyway – our bartender happened to know the moto shop owner. He said he does great work, but he’s closed on Monday, and he’s not a very friendly fellow. He offered to call him anyway, and interrupt him on his day off, to see if he might be interested. Given our unique situation, we agreed and secretly planned to buy the shop owners favor with good ol’ fashioned U.S. Dollars.
The call was made and the shop owner agreed to swing by in a few. Goda happened to get a call from work which kinda brought him back to reality for a few minutes. We sat at the bar and ordered some sandwiches to pass the time and just before we headed out, the bartender wished us luck and gave us some ridiculously good peaches that one of the locals had left to share. You don’t get that kind of treatment in the big city, lemme tell ya.
We got to the shop and the owner and one of his custom workers said hello and asked us what the heck we were doing. We told them about the trip and etc, and before long we were as chummy as moto riders can be. They threw the bike up in the stand and went to work.
The long and short of it is that the pivot in the swingarm was wearing funny and a little off-centered, affecting the response. It wasn’t too springy, but it wasn’t too squishy either. If we stayed out of the ruts and rocks it’d be fine. If we were in a turn and it got rutted, rooted, or rocky, there was the chance that the rear would loose traction and slip out a little, or a lot. Speed would be most important if / when we hit any more off-road sections.
That said, there was no repair that could be done with the parts they have on-hand but he didn't think it was a huge issue. We spotted our buds for their trouble and headed back to the road. We figured we’d make it as far south as we could and it so happened there was a town near the next intersection with the trail. Cuba, NM was our new destination. We hit the road and enjoyed some of the most amazing views in the trip. All the while, about 20-30 miles to the left of us, there was a series of dark storm clouds. We knew that had this morning gone differently, we’d have been in the middle of that and that meant more mud... We'd either having the best time of our lives or possibly the not so best time of our lives… For better or worse we weren’t there, we were here, and the road was with us, and so was the sun and scenery. We pushed on.
Cuba was a pretty uneventful town. A few gas stations a few restaurants and about 2 motels. One of which had no vacancy. The other of which had a TV with a “Who’s the Boss” marathon on it. We kicked back, cleaned up, an enjoyed the nostalgic “will they, won’t they” of a classic sitcom from our childhood.
Before long it was dinner time. A local tipped us off that just down the road there was a great Mexican food joint. We walked, and walked, and walked, 'till we found this little gem hidden just off the road. The exterior was nondescript. Once you passed through the doors, however, you were transported directly to Mexico. We took a seat out on the rear patio and in no time we had our food ordered. It was just short of totally awesome. That last bit to push it over the edge came with dessert. The sopapillas were out of this world. We enjoyed some chit chat with a local couple who had just gotten married and moved back to Cuba from Albuquerque to renovate the husband's childhood ranch home. They were in love with the country side there, but missed some of the comforts of the big city. That warned us of further muddy conditions, and that the rain we were experiencing was unseasonably early. On top of that, the early rainy season had been here for going on a month already… Things weren’t sounding too good for us, but he also mentioned that when the rain lets up and the sun comes out, the mud dries up nice and quick. This info was indeed welcome, but basically as helpful as a coin toss. In other words, "We might be stuck in the middle of nowhere going nowhere, or we might not"…. Ugh.
We went back to the room and low and behold we saw a familiar black and green KLR in the parking lot. We knew right away it was our Canadian buddy Kyle. We left a note in what we thought was his room and went off to the next-door gas station to wash down our bikes because they were a bloody mess. When we got back, Yobo put his KLR up on the center stand. It wasn't quite right and all of a sudden we watched it crash to the ground in slow-motion. Turns out that little fall caused him the most damage to the bike on this trip. His rack was all wonky and the case was a smidge bent. Yobo wasn't the happiest camper but used his Macgyver-like skills to get everything back straight. We touched base with Kyle and he mentioned that he had hit our first section of trail the night before when it was dry. Meanwhile - today he passed through rainy and sunny sections and had indeed encountered some of the infamous mud we had become so familiar with this morning. He also mentioned he had several flats through that section and went down a few times. It was a trying day.
We made plans to meet up for breakfast and headed in for the night. It was at this point that we had to make some decision. We knew that soon we’d be unconscious, and soon after that it was go-time. Rather than procrastinating, we started chatting about what was up. The trail was anybody guess. Based on the data we had, it could be a 1-mile-an-hour-crash-fest, or decent enough to enjoy some of the famed NM backcountry… Goda favored the trail but was down for either, Yobo favored roads but didn’t want to give up on the trail. In the end it was the devil, or rather the devil’s highway, that made the decision for us.
If you recall our buddy in Salida was singing the praises of this particular stretch of treacherous pavement, and we were already debating sidetracking a bit to hit it on the way back. It’d be a logistical issue, though, to hit this road and stay on schedule, and here we were a mere 2.5 hrs drive away… It seemed like the best compromise. We’d bail on what would be the last section of the trail for the chance to ride one of the united states most famous, or perhaps infamous, stretches of road. A real motorcyclist’s gem. Historic Route 666, 'the devil’s highway'.
With that, we regained our focus, got packed and prepped and hit the hay for the last time on the trail. It’d be roads from here to Mexico and back again. Our adventure had taken another unforeseen turn and we, once again, drifted off wondering what was next. We were playing motorcycle jazz and the trip was our concert. So far, it was a crowd-pleaser, but we’d have to see what was next…. Yet again.
/s/ Goda & Yobo
Monday, August 29, 2011
Trip Report Day 11: Salida, CO to Elk Creek Camp, CO
Date: Sunday August 29, 2010
Start: 0945 (0700 wake-up)
Finish: N/A
Travel Time: 7 hrs
Distance: 234 miles
Distance: 3501 miles
Distance: 3501 miles
So we got a sort of sleepy start in Salida. Waking up at oh-seven hundred in a hostel, the occupants of which were out on the town later than we were in most cases, means it’s a quiet morning. We took care to pack up and slip through the rooms of sleeping travelers with ninja like stealth and precision. Once downstairs, we enjoyed some peanut butter sandwiches, a sloppy orange, toast and coffee, and had some hushed conversation with our pals Adam and Leone, who were also getting up for an early day on the road home. Apparently Jim had managed to wake up and hit the road by 0600, which is magical stuff considering they were all out later than us.
Like so many mornings, it was wonderfully cool and humid. I've often said that if I could have any weather I ever wanted, it would definitely be east coast fall morning weather. It's crisp, and cool, and sunny, and wonderful. Well this morning felt just like that.
Once we finished up breakfast, we started the procession of taking gear out to the bikes, running through our mechanical checks, getting the armor on, electronics wired, GPSs triangulated, and helmet comms connected. While we were packing and checking another moto-traveler popped by for some early morning convo. He was riding an older model BMW touring bike and clued us in to the amazing roads and scenery in New Mexico and Arizona. He had the most to say about route 666 in AZ though. We mused for a moment with the idea of re-routing to include that section on our way back to LA but we didn't need to decide anything right now. In fact, we had miles of roads and trails, and constant connectivity through our helmet comms so this whole trip can be looked upon as one giant mobile conference call. Yay!!! AND, if there's one thing we'd learned thus far, it's that trips like this are not pre-planned. Your plan simply will never work 100%. BUT, half of the glory and fun is in swapping, modifying, and flat out re-inventing the plan on the fly. That's what travel and adventure are all about right?
We'd see about the devil's highway... Or would the devil's highway see about us? Hah! We'd leave that one for later as well, because right now we needed to finish packing and get our GPS devices online...
Wait...
Where's goda's GPS... ?
Crap!
We shuffled through our gear a dozen times but no dice. Maybe it was back in the room? Chris ninja'd back through the denizens of sleepy, hung-over, travelers and quickly searched the room but, again, no reward. We started to worry at this point. The last time we could remember any contact with the device was when we were navigating into town last night. Did we leave the GPS on the bike overnight? If so, it didn’t make it. Someone must have felt it would be better served in their possession, and with that, our kick-ass time in this kick-ass town will have taken a sorry turn and left us with a slightly sour taste in the mouth... Bummer.
BUT, low and behold, we did indeed find the device. It was IN GODA'S HAND THE WHOLE TIME. HE HAS BIG HANDS. AND HE DIDN'T NOTICE IT. Just kidding. It turned up in a jacket pocket! Somewhere we'd never typically put it, yet somewhere that seems to make incredible amounts of sense... Strange we didn't check it earlier but we'll just chalk it up to several long trail days, several early starts, and several beers the night before.
With that mini-crisis sorted, we hit the road rough and ready. We stopped to gas up before leaving town, and started chatting about route directions and the conditions expected, etc. One thing was for sure. Colorado trails on day 1 certainly did not disappoint, and we were anxious for more of the same. We knew we'd be on our way down in elevation as we approached New Mexico, and we also knew there'd be an inexplicable, sudden, and magical change in terrain and landscape as there nearly always is across state borders. And so, the question hovered in our minds this morning, as it has each day of this trip so far... "What is in store for us today?"
Well Colorado day 2 lived up to expectations. We started the morning in some beautiful mountain terrain and alpine meadows, with gorgeous vistas stretching as far as the eye can see. The trail was mainly comprised of dirt access roads and they were fairly maintained, but they were rutted in such a way that you'd swear they were designed for the sole purpose of shaking your bike and your butt to pieces. (Imagine about 50 miles of rumble strips and you'll get the idea.) It was a little worrying, and we knew that a full bike check would be necessary.
As we proceeded south, the terrain definitely started to level out a bit. As the day wore on, We started to see more red-rock, and sand. Oh the sand... What did the sand have in store for us?
So there we are on some nicely groomed dirt roads, chatting, taking in the beautiful, if rapidly changing, landscapes full of redrock buttes and cacti, when a turn comes up on our GPSs. It was a turn not unlike so many other turns we've taken. It beared to the left at about 270degrees. So we took it. No big deal. The road became trail. Honest to goodness trail. This was at times seemingly less than even a quad trail, and whenever it pretended to be a quad trail, it did so poorly. It pretended to be the worst, most deeply rutted, nasty quad trail in Colorado, and then, to fill those ruts, a grainy, sandy, rocky mix of hell on earth. Our +450lb loads were sinking and swimming and fishtailing and all kinds of other things that describe behaviors on loose, liquideous, un-solid surfaces. It was hard to go straight for any given period of time, let alone stay upright. We were "puttin' a foot down" every few feet! We may as well walked alongside our bikes revving the engine... It'd be as fast, and waaay safer. But nah! Why would we do that? That's no fun. We'd toughed it out. Besides, we were getting pretty close to the base of a butte to the left of us, and what looked like solid ground again. Ahead of us was an old rusted out bus, and some other strangely out-of-place objects. Barrels, Chairs, Buckets, a few dressers and a table... It was a camp of some sort. We figured that camp would have an access road that led to it and that'd be our ticket outta here!
As we got closer we began to ponder just what the heck this stuff was doing here - I mean, it's a fairly random mix of items, many of which have no correlation to the others.... Still, that weird pile of items has the road and the way out so we couldn't wait to meet our eccentric camp/pile of junk. (I'm convinced at this point that the great pile of nothing was actually placed there by aliens... or the illuminati... uh huh... thiiiiink about it.) It was about at this point we realized that we were lost. We were so busy trying to stay upright that we weren't looking at the navigation queues and we'd ended up in a spot where nobody in their right mind would ever go. All of our hopes and dreams of getting outta the sandy stuff just got smashed in our faces. Hard. Not only were we off track, but the last 30 minutes of white knuckled, teeth gnashing, foot frenzied riding would need to be repeated. Ugh. We stopped for a quick wits and water break, and then headed back into hell's gate for another dance.
Here's something about me. I don't mind being lost. I'm generally confident in my capabilities to work through problems, back track, and find my way out of whatever jams I've found myself in. Heck, I've been lost in the dark on a mountain in the middle of death valley before. No biggie, you camp out if ya need to and get your bearings in the morning and keep on keepin on... It's just that I HATE BEING LOST! I know, I know, it’s a contradictory statement. What can I say, it’s true. Intellectually, conceptually, I'm fine with it. Sure it sucks and you lose some time, etc. but it happens and we'll figure it out. It’s like sometimes there's a chilled out hippie in control of my mind. However, my guts HATE IT! I get a pit in my stomach and a grinding, nagging feeling in the back of my mind that just needs to back on course.
Here's something about Pagoda. He HATES GOING BACKWARDS. I’ve been in situation with that dude where the only tangible option is to turn around and get back to whatever you need to get back to, and he'll try to think of a way to drive on and end up in the same place. Even if it takes three years and a near circumnavigation of the globe to accomplish it. Needless to say, we were back on point and on task, but not happy about it.
So in about 20 more minutes we found the stupid turn we missed and guess what? MORE SAND! we'd battle it out for another few miles but we are no strangers to battle! We both have played video games where you battle something... Like a monster... or a mean turtle with an army of mushroom people... you know... battle. Before long we found ourselves back on the dirty stuff and we were exhausted. We hit a little gas-stop town to fuel up and rest. As we hit the station, we prayed we'd seen the last of sand.
We were in luck because this gas station was also a subway! We fueled up and headed in for an air-conditioned sandwich experience and that’s just what we got. Yum. The other attraction that grabbed our attention were the jacked up KTM motorcycles parked out front. We checked out the rides as we strolled in and we knew the owners were inside doing the same to us as we approached. There was an instant kinship felt by all. We started chatting it up with those guys and they let us know that New Mexico would NOT be as sandy as what we just went through… BUT, if it got muddy, the dirt turns to a clay-like substance that cakes into your tire tread and you may as well be rollerskating on ice. Double-Ugh… We walked in praying for no more sand, and we walked out praying for no New Mexican clay-mud!
Just like so many of the riders we met on this trip, those guys were on the ADV rider forums , so we exchanged handles (they were Catastrophic Failure), posed or a quick photo op, talked a little shop, then armored up to hit the road again. As we packed we noticed a green KLR that drove by twice. It was all strapped up with sleeping bags, and blankets and bags. He pulled up next to us and asked for some lube. We gladly shared what we had as he precariously leaned the bike over on the side stand and lubed it up. He rolled off as did we. Luckily the next section would be pretty, open, and uneventful. We made our way through more and more of the red-stuff as we approached the NM border. It was as if someone painted the rockies red and gold. It was beautiful, and made moreso by the slowly setting sun.
Speaking of setting sun. It was time to get set up for the night. We didn’t make it as far as we wanted to today. So we found ourselves near the border, instead of across it! Luckily for us, just as the trail petered out and hooked up with the tarmac again, there was a little campsite area that seemed perfect. We registered, and had our pick of the sites. We figured there was some rain on the way, so we hussled to get the tent up and the gear sheltered before it really started to pour. Then we got busy on a campfire.
Campfires are great. They’ve been called nature's TV and that’s pretty apt if you ask me. You can stare at em mindlessly for hours. However, unlike real TV, you can cook on a campfire and it will also keep you warm to boot! YAY! I tried the ol’ flint and steel again, but it was drizzling lightly and the vegetation was moist so nothing would take a spark. After a few well intentioned attempts I decided to grab my trusty bic lighter and put it to work. I just wish it worked! After failing yet again with my flint and steel, it was some consolation that even with modern implements the tinder was just too stubborn to take a flame, but it sucks not getting to watch natures tv. Not to mention getting some hot grub in ya!
Luckily my buddy had no faith in me at all, and had been boiling water on his wimpy camp stove for a few minutes now. We cooked up noodle soup, potatoes, and some freeze dried mountain meals, and treated ourselves to a nice dinner at a picnic table in a campground between the middle of Nowheres-ville, Colorado and Nowhereville, New Mexico. There was no view, and it was raining, but it still felt good.
Once we were fed, it was time to get rested. We hit the tent to review some route data, take some notes on our progress so far, and then finally, set up in our sleeping bags with bike magazines and the pitter of rain on our roof, we reflected as we individually drifted off.
Today was a tough one, and with the rain on-coming and not stopping, we each quietly supposed that tomorrow would be the same.
/s/ Yobo
/s/ Yobo
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Trip Report Day 10: Steamboat Springs, CO to Salida, CO
Date: Saturday, August 28, 2010
Start: 0900 (0730 wake-up)
Finish: 2030ish???
Travel Time: 11.5 hrs
Distance: 250 miles
Total Distance Covered: 3267 miles
Thanks to our preparations yesterday, we were up and ready for the road quicker than normal. We enjoyed some free cereal and juice in a tiny room just outside of the front desk. The sat phone, however, held us up again. Mike was pretty patient with our brother-in-law Jason who lent us the phone and customer service and eventually things got worked out. We noticed a baby Triumph parked next to Wild Bill's GS and the owner stopped over for a quick chat before we started up on the trail again.
As we were descending down into one of the valley, I stayed back for some good footage of Yobo heading down a descent. As I attempted to catch up, I washed out around one of the dirt corners and dumped the bike. I ended up breaking my left blinker in the fall. Yobo was out of line of sight, so the com system wasn't working and Yobo continued on. I've gotten good at uprighting the bike and was soon back on. I will say it is frustrating to go down, especially after having put all of these miles on. We stopped in Kremmling for some lunch and stumbled upon comfort-food gold mine. This diner/restaurant had the most unbelievable hot-open face turkey sandwich and we topped it all off with some homemade pies.
Back on the roads for stretch and found ourselves in the resort town of Breckenridge Breckenridge Como
We stopped at the Hartsel Gas Station for a quick refill of food and fuel. Three other riders on Harley's had the same thing in mind. Jim, Adam, and Leone were super friendly folk from Colorado and told us about some cool hot springs just down the way in addition to a happening hostel and pizza joint in Salida , CO Buena Vista
We found the Simple Hostel and snagged a bunk room on the second floor. It was way cheap and quiet. Definitely a recommended place to stay for anyone traveling through here. Just like Adam, Jim, and Leone had recommended, we headed over to Amica's Pizza for dinner and sure enough all three of them were sitting and enjoying some pies. The joint was hopping and we each ordered our own personal pie and enjoyed some funny stories. These peeps were a riot and invited us to join them for a few drinks at the Victoria
Salida really captured one of the aspects of the trip that we'd grown to love. Meeting great people and enjoying those off-the-beaten path places to stay and eat. So we're spreading the word and recommending the Simple Hostel and Amica's if you wanna have a good time whenever in Salida , CO
/s/ Goda
/s/ Goda
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Trip Report Day 9: Lander, WY to Steamboat Springs, CO
Date: Friday, August 27, 2010
Start: 1000 (0630 wake-up)
Finish: 1700
Travel Time: 7 hrs
Distance: 289 miles
Total Distance Covered: 3017 miles
This morning was a little different than previous mornings as we weren't quite sure where we were headed and how we were going to get there. The possibility of bad weather was in the forecast and Yobo was still not feeling 100%. The route remained remote, so if anything were to happen, we were kinda out of touch. To top it all off, the satellite phone was acting all wonky and we couldn't make calls. I had a couple mini repairs to make on my saddle rack and headed outside while Yobo suffered with the sat phone company. After some discussion, we decided it made the most sense to put in some road miles and get to Steamboat. This would allow us to make up some ground, catch up on some rest, and evaluate how we felt real time in the comfort of civilization.
We left Lander and took Rt 287 to Rawlins for a lunch stop. Before we strolled out of town, we passed a Kawasaki dealer and Yobo stocked up on a tube and an air filter kit. We were rolling through town and found a biker-looking bar right on main street and parked out front. When we got in, two dudes all geared up for a moto adventure, were getting ready to leave. Turns out they were northbound on the trail with some major cc's. The one was rocking a VStrom and the other a 1200GS. Yobo and I had been chatting this whole time about the ideal bike for this trip. I felt mine could have used a smidge more on the highways and it would have been nice to have something a lil lighter for the technical stuff. Overall, I think the 650's were a great compromise and both bikes were performing admirably. I'm personally fond the the F800 with a similar weight to my 650 with a bit more punch. The 1200GS seemed excessive, but the riders said they were managing. They were having a blast and warned of some muddy sections in northern NM. We wished each other good luck as they left and we polished off our burgers and fries.
The remaining roads to Steamboat were windy and rain was threatening. I was starting to get pretty tired and needed to pop an emergency Red Bull. We arrived at Steamboat in the late afternoon. Definitely our earliest arrival on the trip. We were scanning the town for a good place to stay when we spotted a dinosaur statue conveniently placed in the corner of a gas station lot. Yobo and I are not one to pass up a photo-op, so we pulled in, gassed up, and hopped on "Saddlesaurus Rex." After one trip down main street, we decided on the rustic looking Alpinier motel. We took advantage of the early arrival and gave our bikes a good once over. The plan was to hit the trails again tomorrow and we'd be all set for an early start by working on the bikes now. While going over the bikes, another biker on a yellow 1200GS checked in. "Wild Bill" as we called him made his way over and we chatted for a bit. He was from Colorado and out for an extended weekend trip to get away from things.
We freshened up and walked down town to scope out some grub. Here's a little secret about Goda. I like candy...and really like gummy candy. Well, we happened upon a candy shop and i couldn't resist. I picked up about a pound of gummy colas, blue sharks, and all kinds of sugar-coated goodness. On the way out, I noticed a squeaky rubber chicken and decided my bike was a little lonely, so I brought it with. We enjoyed some good smoke house barbecue for dinner and made our way back to the Alpinier. On the way, Yobo introduced me to the viral internet video "Double Rainbow" and we just about lost our shite spoofing it on the walk home.
Spirits were good as we hit the sack. We enjoyed a few "Man vs. Wild" episodes and chatted about our adventure. We were charged up and ready to hit the trails again. Today was also a big milestone in the trip. We are officially half-way complete and broke the 3000 mile barrier. To think we still had another 9 days remaining really put the trip into perspective. It was as if we'd already crammed a months worth of madness in the first 9 days. Cheers to the next 9.
/s/ Goda
Start: 1000 (0630 wake-up)
Finish: 1700
Travel Time: 7 hrs
Distance: 289 miles
Total Distance Covered: 3017 miles
This morning was a little different than previous mornings as we weren't quite sure where we were headed and how we were going to get there. The possibility of bad weather was in the forecast and Yobo was still not feeling 100%. The route remained remote, so if anything were to happen, we were kinda out of touch. To top it all off, the satellite phone was acting all wonky and we couldn't make calls. I had a couple mini repairs to make on my saddle rack and headed outside while Yobo suffered with the sat phone company. After some discussion, we decided it made the most sense to put in some road miles and get to Steamboat. This would allow us to make up some ground, catch up on some rest, and evaluate how we felt real time in the comfort of civilization.
We left Lander and took Rt 287 to Rawlins for a lunch stop. Before we strolled out of town, we passed a Kawasaki dealer and Yobo stocked up on a tube and an air filter kit. We were rolling through town and found a biker-looking bar right on main street and parked out front. When we got in, two dudes all geared up for a moto adventure, were getting ready to leave. Turns out they were northbound on the trail with some major cc's. The one was rocking a VStrom and the other a 1200GS. Yobo and I had been chatting this whole time about the ideal bike for this trip. I felt mine could have used a smidge more on the highways and it would have been nice to have something a lil lighter for the technical stuff. Overall, I think the 650's were a great compromise and both bikes were performing admirably. I'm personally fond the the F800 with a similar weight to my 650 with a bit more punch. The 1200GS seemed excessive, but the riders said they were managing. They were having a blast and warned of some muddy sections in northern NM. We wished each other good luck as they left and we polished off our burgers and fries.
The remaining roads to Steamboat were windy and rain was threatening. I was starting to get pretty tired and needed to pop an emergency Red Bull. We arrived at Steamboat in the late afternoon. Definitely our earliest arrival on the trip. We were scanning the town for a good place to stay when we spotted a dinosaur statue conveniently placed in the corner of a gas station lot. Yobo and I are not one to pass up a photo-op, so we pulled in, gassed up, and hopped on "Saddlesaurus Rex." After one trip down main street, we decided on the rustic looking Alpinier motel. We took advantage of the early arrival and gave our bikes a good once over. The plan was to hit the trails again tomorrow and we'd be all set for an early start by working on the bikes now. While going over the bikes, another biker on a yellow 1200GS checked in. "Wild Bill" as we called him made his way over and we chatted for a bit. He was from Colorado and out for an extended weekend trip to get away from things.
We freshened up and walked down town to scope out some grub. Here's a little secret about Goda. I like candy...and really like gummy candy. Well, we happened upon a candy shop and i couldn't resist. I picked up about a pound of gummy colas, blue sharks, and all kinds of sugar-coated goodness. On the way out, I noticed a squeaky rubber chicken and decided my bike was a little lonely, so I brought it with. We enjoyed some good smoke house barbecue for dinner and made our way back to the Alpinier. On the way, Yobo introduced me to the viral internet video "Double Rainbow" and we just about lost our shite spoofing it on the walk home.
Spirits were good as we hit the sack. We enjoyed a few "Man vs. Wild" episodes and chatted about our adventure. We were charged up and ready to hit the trails again. Today was also a big milestone in the trip. We are officially half-way complete and broke the 3000 mile barrier. To think we still had another 9 days remaining really put the trip into perspective. It was as if we'd already crammed a months worth of madness in the first 9 days. Cheers to the next 9.
/s/ Goda
Friday, August 26, 2011
Trip Report Day 8: Jackson Lake, WY to Lander, WY
Date: Thursday, August 26, 2010
Start: 1000 (0730 wake-up)
Finish: 2030
Travel Time: 10.5 hrs
Distance: 274 miles
Total Distance Covered: 2728 miles
I was feeling it from the night before and did not want to part with the soft mattress one bit. Weather predictions remained unchanged and we were still headed for a shit-storm the next couple days. We finished up with the bike check and decided to head over to the lodge for breakfast. Beforehand we published our most action-packed deal-of-the-day, complete with ninja hair, rain sticks, and punch-jumping. We were both anxious to check out the Tetons during the day and they didn't disappoint. The back patio was packed with TV cameras, cables and chairs in support of CNBC broadcasting a morning show live. We avoided the surrounding chaos and tried for a photo op with the mountains behind us. Y'all know how this works. You're with some friends, you find a dope photo op, you look for the most likely person in the area that could snap a good pic (usually a kid or young adult), and you're left with a memory to last a lifetime. So we did just that. We found a handsome young lad with a University of Wisconsin shirt to take our picture. He asked all the right questions, shifted us around a bit, and snapped. It was a little chaotic with the whole set, so he handed the camera back and left. We checked out the photo and it turns out our big noggins were totally in front of the Tetons...FAIL!
We were soon back en route and off the tarmac. The roads were particularly dry and dusty and that's when we got stuck behind a truck. Well we didn't really know it was a truck at first, because when we approached it was like a Tasmanian devil whipping up a blinding dust-storm of epic proportions. It was getting inside our visors and causing a hawt mess. Before we knew it we were only 10 ft or so behind the truck itself and had no idea we were that close. We couldn't pass because there was no way to check for oncoming traffic. After several fruitless attempts of swinging off to the side to let him know were behind, we contemplated stopping/ He eventually pulled over and we blew past.
The roads were rather twisty with some very loose gravel. This combination was a recipe for some close calls around the turns. Several times I found myself coming in too hot and having to brake hard. This wasn't exactly the most effective approach on loose gravel. Eventually Yobo noticed that something definitely wasn't right with his bike. When he looked down, he observed the first mechanical of the trip, a flat rear tire. We had practiced changing a tire before the trip and now it was prime time. And really, a motorcycle tire is just a jacked up bicycle tire, and we've both changed countless number of those. We got the bike on it's center stand, stabilized it, and got to work. The whole operation set us back about an hour, which wasn't too bad considering. The bead broke easily and Yobo's compressor saved our tired arms. We even survived a small scare when we bent the needle in the valve for the spare. I'm not really a gear-head, so it felt good get over this little setback.
It was probably a combination of the late night sauce and 7 looooong days on the bike, but we totally hit the wall and were way tired by early afternoon. I think stopping to change the tired wiped us out and let things catch up. We pushed through and eventually had our first encounter with sand. It got way fun as we navigated through some rutted jeep/quad trails. This was my first exposure and I was getting all wishy-washy. This perked us up because it required extra concentration and it was the first major change in terrain we'd encountered since we got on the trail. I led the way for a bit and noticed a bit of kicker climb coming up. I picked up some momentum. Soon the hill got ruttier and ruttier. Before I knew it, I was trying gain control of my bucking bronco bimmer and soon found myself off the left side of the trail near the top with a dumped bike. I gave Yobo a head's up and ranback to the hill to watch him successfully navigate to the top. We both checked out what we had conquered, and naturally it didn't look half as bad as what I felt when I road to the top.
After the adrenaline wore off, we were back in the funk that we found ourselves earlier that afternoon. We knew that we were paralleling a road and soon enough we found ourselves at a gas station in Pinedale, WY. We stocked up on Coke and snickers and got in line. I noticed the young girl behind the counter and something seemed different. She was blond, and kind, and soft-spoken, and the purest being to ever set foot on this great earth. She asked about our trip and expressed how she'd love to do something similar, but couldn't see herself breaking free. I was pretty close to grabbing her and throwing her on my saddle to join us on the remainder of our journey, but I opted to be less aggressive and wished her the best on whatever adventure she found herself. Yobo and I pulled our bikes over to the side of the building in the shade and just sat on the ground eating our snacks. A nap was in order, but we still had some big miles ahead of us. The upcoming stretch also happened to be some of the most remote miles on the trip through the Great Divide Basin in SE Wyoming.
Not sure if the Great Divide Basin can be described. I guess you can start by picturing yourself on some remote planet with dirt and rock extended out to the horizon. Straight ahead of you was a dirt road and your ticket out. The dirt road had dips and hills as far as the eye can see, almost like you were riding the neck of a Lochness Monster arching in and out of the water. This remoteness made it one of the most memorable portions of the trip. Unfortunately for Yobo, it would be memorable for another reason. He started not feeling right and it couldn't have come at a worse spot. His heart was racing and he couldn't control his pulse. We figured it was a combination of several factors finally catching up. We had been on the trail for 8 full days now and over 2700 miles without a rest day. Remember those consecutive early wake-rises...they add up. All of this combined with the fatigue we were feeling earlier and a caffeine binge in Pinedale created a perfect storm for his insides. We made it back to the Tarmac and figured we'd stay in Atlantic City. Well here's the deal with Atlantic City in Wyoming. It couldn't be more of an opposite of the Atlantic City in NJ. I'm not sure this ghost town even had electricity. We passed a few campgrounds, but with Yobo feeling the way he did, he wanted to be close to civilization and suggested heading to Lander, WY for the night.
I gotta admit, I wasn't too down for backtracking on the highway and heading off course, but it was definitely the smart choice. Yobo knows his body and his body said..."let's be sure you're good before we continue through the middle of nowhere Wyoming." We checked into a cheap corner room at a motel in Lander and headed to Tony's pizza for a rooftop dinner. We chatted briefly with a two dudes from Alabama and a couple from Steamboat as we dined under the clear Lander skies. Overall the meal was quieter than normal as we both thought about the uncertainty surrounding the next day's agenda. One good thing was that the weather held up and hopefully this would be true tomorrow.
/s/ Goda
Start: 1000 (0730 wake-up)
Finish: 2030
Travel Time: 10.5 hrs
Distance: 274 miles
Total Distance Covered: 2728 miles
I was feeling it from the night before and did not want to part with the soft mattress one bit. Weather predictions remained unchanged and we were still headed for a shit-storm the next couple days. We finished up with the bike check and decided to head over to the lodge for breakfast. Beforehand we published our most action-packed deal-of-the-day, complete with ninja hair, rain sticks, and punch-jumping. We were both anxious to check out the Tetons during the day and they didn't disappoint. The back patio was packed with TV cameras, cables and chairs in support of CNBC broadcasting a morning show live. We avoided the surrounding chaos and tried for a photo op with the mountains behind us. Y'all know how this works. You're with some friends, you find a dope photo op, you look for the most likely person in the area that could snap a good pic (usually a kid or young adult), and you're left with a memory to last a lifetime. So we did just that. We found a handsome young lad with a University of Wisconsin shirt to take our picture. He asked all the right questions, shifted us around a bit, and snapped. It was a little chaotic with the whole set, so he handed the camera back and left. We checked out the photo and it turns out our big noggins were totally in front of the Tetons...FAIL!
We were soon back en route and off the tarmac. The roads were particularly dry and dusty and that's when we got stuck behind a truck. Well we didn't really know it was a truck at first, because when we approached it was like a Tasmanian devil whipping up a blinding dust-storm of epic proportions. It was getting inside our visors and causing a hawt mess. Before we knew it we were only 10 ft or so behind the truck itself and had no idea we were that close. We couldn't pass because there was no way to check for oncoming traffic. After several fruitless attempts of swinging off to the side to let him know were behind, we contemplated stopping/ He eventually pulled over and we blew past.
The roads were rather twisty with some very loose gravel. This combination was a recipe for some close calls around the turns. Several times I found myself coming in too hot and having to brake hard. This wasn't exactly the most effective approach on loose gravel. Eventually Yobo noticed that something definitely wasn't right with his bike. When he looked down, he observed the first mechanical of the trip, a flat rear tire. We had practiced changing a tire before the trip and now it was prime time. And really, a motorcycle tire is just a jacked up bicycle tire, and we've both changed countless number of those. We got the bike on it's center stand, stabilized it, and got to work. The whole operation set us back about an hour, which wasn't too bad considering. The bead broke easily and Yobo's compressor saved our tired arms. We even survived a small scare when we bent the needle in the valve for the spare. I'm not really a gear-head, so it felt good get over this little setback.
It was probably a combination of the late night sauce and 7 looooong days on the bike, but we totally hit the wall and were way tired by early afternoon. I think stopping to change the tired wiped us out and let things catch up. We pushed through and eventually had our first encounter with sand. It got way fun as we navigated through some rutted jeep/quad trails. This was my first exposure and I was getting all wishy-washy. This perked us up because it required extra concentration and it was the first major change in terrain we'd encountered since we got on the trail. I led the way for a bit and noticed a bit of kicker climb coming up. I picked up some momentum. Soon the hill got ruttier and ruttier. Before I knew it, I was trying gain control of my bucking bronco bimmer and soon found myself off the left side of the trail near the top with a dumped bike. I gave Yobo a head's up and ranback to the hill to watch him successfully navigate to the top. We both checked out what we had conquered, and naturally it didn't look half as bad as what I felt when I road to the top.
After the adrenaline wore off, we were back in the funk that we found ourselves earlier that afternoon. We knew that we were paralleling a road and soon enough we found ourselves at a gas station in Pinedale, WY. We stocked up on Coke and snickers and got in line. I noticed the young girl behind the counter and something seemed different. She was blond, and kind, and soft-spoken, and the purest being to ever set foot on this great earth. She asked about our trip and expressed how she'd love to do something similar, but couldn't see herself breaking free. I was pretty close to grabbing her and throwing her on my saddle to join us on the remainder of our journey, but I opted to be less aggressive and wished her the best on whatever adventure she found herself. Yobo and I pulled our bikes over to the side of the building in the shade and just sat on the ground eating our snacks. A nap was in order, but we still had some big miles ahead of us. The upcoming stretch also happened to be some of the most remote miles on the trip through the Great Divide Basin in SE Wyoming.
Not sure if the Great Divide Basin can be described. I guess you can start by picturing yourself on some remote planet with dirt and rock extended out to the horizon. Straight ahead of you was a dirt road and your ticket out. The dirt road had dips and hills as far as the eye can see, almost like you were riding the neck of a Lochness Monster arching in and out of the water. This remoteness made it one of the most memorable portions of the trip. Unfortunately for Yobo, it would be memorable for another reason. He started not feeling right and it couldn't have come at a worse spot. His heart was racing and he couldn't control his pulse. We figured it was a combination of several factors finally catching up. We had been on the trail for 8 full days now and over 2700 miles without a rest day. Remember those consecutive early wake-rises...they add up. All of this combined with the fatigue we were feeling earlier and a caffeine binge in Pinedale created a perfect storm for his insides. We made it back to the Tarmac and figured we'd stay in Atlantic City. Well here's the deal with Atlantic City in Wyoming. It couldn't be more of an opposite of the Atlantic City in NJ. I'm not sure this ghost town even had electricity. We passed a few campgrounds, but with Yobo feeling the way he did, he wanted to be close to civilization and suggested heading to Lander, WY for the night.
I gotta admit, I wasn't too down for backtracking on the highway and heading off course, but it was definitely the smart choice. Yobo knows his body and his body said..."let's be sure you're good before we continue through the middle of nowhere Wyoming." We checked into a cheap corner room at a motel in Lander and headed to Tony's pizza for a rooftop dinner. We chatted briefly with a two dudes from Alabama and a couple from Steamboat as we dined under the clear Lander skies. Overall the meal was quieter than normal as we both thought about the uncertainty surrounding the next day's agenda. One good thing was that the weather held up and hopefully this would be true tomorrow.
/s/ Goda
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Trip Report Day 7: Lima, MT to Jackson Lake, WY
Date: Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Start: 1130 (0630 wake-up)
Finish: 2000
Travel Time: 8.5 hrs
Distance: 203 miles
Total Distance Covered: 2454 miles
One of these days, we'll get to sleep in, but until that day, we don't. Even though we woke up early, there was a leisurely feeling int the air. We were both pretty excited to be riding with Kyle. We started to pack up the bikes and do our daily checks, when an older couple a few rooms down started chatting with us as they enjoyed their morning coffee. Mickey and Carol were two well-traveled and well connected folk from TX on their way to a conference in MT to gain some support for developing trail systems in TX. They were accompanied by trailer full of quads. And not just any quads, these things ranged from your standard workhorse to a custom sand-dune racer complete with paddle-wheel-lookin rear tires. We chatted for a bit and Mickey reminisced about an old Bimmer he used to own. They headed over to Jan's for breakfast and Yobo, Kyle and I decided to join them just a bit later. It was starting to get late, but Mickey and Carol were just too interesting of a couple to pass up.
We enjoyed a great breakfast with some of the most savory sausage patties known to man accompanied by some huge hawtcakes. Mickey and Carol were a wealth of knowledge and told us about several great rides across the country. They couldn't say enough about Paut, Richfield, and Marysville in Utah. As for me on the East Coast, they noted the Hatfield McCoy trail system. And for roads...well the Twisted Sisters apparently is a must-ride. Before we knew it, it was approaching 1100 AM and we had to break away.
We started up and my tummy wasn't feeling right and I was realizing I probably filled up a bit too much. We weren't on the trail for more than 5 minutes when we noticed that Kyle was no longer with us. We waited for some cattle blocking the road, but still no sign. Eventually he caught up and told us he had forgotten his gloves back at the gas station. Kyle was definitely a great companion on the trails. It was too bad he couldn't participate in our helmet cam ramblings. The roads were mostly dirt and fast. Kyle was up front for a bit, but his GPS kept kicking off, so Yobo and I switched up the lead with Kyle in the middle since we both had the com systems. The dirt roads eventually made their way into the woods and the trail really narrowed up. I was bringing up the rear when Yobo shouted over the com system that he was down. His wheels had washed out in some water and mud. His pannier was a smidge deformed, but we banged it back into shape. Shortly after we came across a gate blocking the route. We found a little single-track bypass that snaked its way around the side of the gate.
The single-track eventually led us back on to the road. We hit up a joint Subway/Snowmobile shop for a late lunch. That's right...Subway/snowmobile shop. Apparently, people are stoked for snowmobiles in this part of the country. At this point we decided to part ways with Kyle. Yobo and I planned to head through Yellowstone since I had never seen the park and Kyle continued on the route. It was a beautiful sunny day and really got to enjoy what Yellowstone had to offer. We came across a buffalo chilling on the side of the road just a few miles into the park. We made the typical tourist stop at Old Faithful and sure enough...she blew, just as expected. Afterwards we headed over to the lodge for a quick snack, and to our surprise everyone was celebrating Christmas inside. It was Christmas in August, complete with Christmas tree, kids decorating ornaments, and elves walking around all over. We had to get a photo with Santa. As we positioned ourselves in the standard YoboGoda pose, Santa let out his own rebel yell and it was AWSUM!!!. We hit up the ice cream counter for some fresh Huckleberry Ice Cream and made our way back to the bikes. To be honest, this trip couldn't have been a better Christmas present.
It was late in the evening and we wanted to get to Jackson Lake to stay for the night. As we approached the lake, again the views were second to none. I know it's getting cliche by this point, but riding at night with the setting sun is nice and good and pretty. The sun setting over Jackson Lake and the Grand Tetons might have created the best photo op of the trip. We continued a little longer down the road and found Jackson Lake Lodge and decided to pull in. Any place in this location was worthy of our cash for one night. As we checked in, we realized Jackson Lake Lodge was fancy. We were dirty.
We checked into a rustic room, cleaned up, and headed back to the main lodge for some din-din. The meal was great, but really, they could have thrown fried dirt in front of me and I would have been satisfied in this spot. After dinner, we made our way to the bar for a nightcap. Dean/Kiefer/Beca/Zack tried their best to sell us on their party-life. They were one big traveling band of gypsies working at lake resorts in the summer and ski resorts in the winter. They had me convinced I was going to come back back and drive boats for a living. Yobo brought me back to reality by the time we returned to our room. I was definitely feeling the "sauce." We did a quick weather check before bedtime and it looks like we are headed into a shitstorm in the upcoming days. I quickly fell asleep with a nice buzz.
It was one year ago today I made the following comment on Facebook: "If someone asked me what day it was...I'd have to think about it."
/s/ Goda
Start: 1130 (0630 wake-up)
Finish: 2000
Travel Time: 8.5 hrs
Distance: 203 miles
Total Distance Covered: 2454 miles
One of these days, we'll get to sleep in, but until that day, we don't. Even though we woke up early, there was a leisurely feeling int the air. We were both pretty excited to be riding with Kyle. We started to pack up the bikes and do our daily checks, when an older couple a few rooms down started chatting with us as they enjoyed their morning coffee. Mickey and Carol were two well-traveled and well connected folk from TX on their way to a conference in MT to gain some support for developing trail systems in TX. They were accompanied by trailer full of quads. And not just any quads, these things ranged from your standard workhorse to a custom sand-dune racer complete with paddle-wheel-lookin rear tires. We chatted for a bit and Mickey reminisced about an old Bimmer he used to own. They headed over to Jan's for breakfast and Yobo, Kyle and I decided to join them just a bit later. It was starting to get late, but Mickey and Carol were just too interesting of a couple to pass up.
We enjoyed a great breakfast with some of the most savory sausage patties known to man accompanied by some huge hawtcakes. Mickey and Carol were a wealth of knowledge and told us about several great rides across the country. They couldn't say enough about Paut, Richfield, and Marysville in Utah. As for me on the East Coast, they noted the Hatfield McCoy trail system. And for roads...well the Twisted Sisters apparently is a must-ride. Before we knew it, it was approaching 1100 AM and we had to break away.
We started up and my tummy wasn't feeling right and I was realizing I probably filled up a bit too much. We weren't on the trail for more than 5 minutes when we noticed that Kyle was no longer with us. We waited for some cattle blocking the road, but still no sign. Eventually he caught up and told us he had forgotten his gloves back at the gas station. Kyle was definitely a great companion on the trails. It was too bad he couldn't participate in our helmet cam ramblings. The roads were mostly dirt and fast. Kyle was up front for a bit, but his GPS kept kicking off, so Yobo and I switched up the lead with Kyle in the middle since we both had the com systems. The dirt roads eventually made their way into the woods and the trail really narrowed up. I was bringing up the rear when Yobo shouted over the com system that he was down. His wheels had washed out in some water and mud. His pannier was a smidge deformed, but we banged it back into shape. Shortly after we came across a gate blocking the route. We found a little single-track bypass that snaked its way around the side of the gate.
The single-track eventually led us back on to the road. We hit up a joint Subway/Snowmobile shop for a late lunch. That's right...Subway/snowmobile shop. Apparently, people are stoked for snowmobiles in this part of the country. At this point we decided to part ways with Kyle. Yobo and I planned to head through Yellowstone since I had never seen the park and Kyle continued on the route. It was a beautiful sunny day and really got to enjoy what Yellowstone had to offer. We came across a buffalo chilling on the side of the road just a few miles into the park. We made the typical tourist stop at Old Faithful and sure enough...she blew, just as expected. Afterwards we headed over to the lodge for a quick snack, and to our surprise everyone was celebrating Christmas inside. It was Christmas in August, complete with Christmas tree, kids decorating ornaments, and elves walking around all over. We had to get a photo with Santa. As we positioned ourselves in the standard YoboGoda pose, Santa let out his own rebel yell and it was AWSUM!!!. We hit up the ice cream counter for some fresh Huckleberry Ice Cream and made our way back to the bikes. To be honest, this trip couldn't have been a better Christmas present.
It was late in the evening and we wanted to get to Jackson Lake to stay for the night. As we approached the lake, again the views were second to none. I know it's getting cliche by this point, but riding at night with the setting sun is nice and good and pretty. The sun setting over Jackson Lake and the Grand Tetons might have created the best photo op of the trip. We continued a little longer down the road and found Jackson Lake Lodge and decided to pull in. Any place in this location was worthy of our cash for one night. As we checked in, we realized Jackson Lake Lodge was fancy. We were dirty.
We checked into a rustic room, cleaned up, and headed back to the main lodge for some din-din. The meal was great, but really, they could have thrown fried dirt in front of me and I would have been satisfied in this spot. After dinner, we made our way to the bar for a nightcap. Dean/Kiefer/Beca/Zack tried their best to sell us on their party-life. They were one big traveling band of gypsies working at lake resorts in the summer and ski resorts in the winter. They had me convinced I was going to come back back and drive boats for a living. Yobo brought me back to reality by the time we returned to our room. I was definitely feeling the "sauce." We did a quick weather check before bedtime and it looks like we are headed into a shitstorm in the upcoming days. I quickly fell asleep with a nice buzz.
It was one year ago today I made the following comment on Facebook: "If someone asked me what day it was...I'd have to think about it."
/s/ Goda
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Trip Report Day 6: Stemple Pass, MT to Lima, MT
Date: Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Start: 0930 (0720 wake-up)
Finish: 2100
Travel Time: 11.5 hrs
Distance: 287 miles
Total Distance Covered: 2251 miles
Nothing like waking up in a sleeping bag, that's in a tent, that's on a field, that looks into the Rockies, with your best bud, on an adventure of a lifetime. We had good night's rest in the Nemo and started up the XGK to boil water for some oatmeal and tea. We rigged up the solar charger for a quick charge of some of our electronics, packed up. As we loaded up the bikes, Yobo noticed a HUUUGE spider just above his swing-arm that had started spinning the faintest of webs.
What goes up must come down. In order to get back to the trail, we had to navigate back down that gnarly little trail. My feet came off a few times just to stay upright. Soon enough we were back on the dirt road that got us here and worked our way down the other side of the pass. As we got closer to the bottom, the road got cozier and we had our first encounter with the larger wildlife common to the trail. Yup...cattle. A handful were lazily grazing on the side of the road. Once again we started snapping photos and shooting video like they were two-headed golden unicorns.
Once our amazement fizzled out, we started up again. The next 40 miles put into perspective the uncertainty associated with this route. Up to this point we'd made pretty good time and were probably averaging 40 miles an hour or so on the trail. Well, the next 40 miles ended up taking 2.5 hrs. That's right, a 16 mph average. The logging roads were twisty and rutted and just plain fun. Yobo seemed more comfortable on the terrain and I was happy to bring up the rear and play follow the leader. The road was equally technical going up and down. I spent a good amount of time outside of the saddle and my hands got pretty tense from holding the handlebars too tightly. Our huge weighted Touratech cases also made things a little trickier to maneuver. We ran into a northbound cyclist who was riding a portion of the trail. We managed to sneak up on him while he was taking a whiz and trotting around in his birthday suit. We chatted for a bit and were by no means envious of what he was up against for his next 40 miles. We managed and we managed well and really had no idea how the rest of the day would go.
So we're making good time when all of a sudden the road turns into mud and there appears to be a huge construction project up ahead. We stop and chat with the poor gal stuck directing traffic. Apparently there was a huge environmental reclamation project at a mine up ahead and we were not allowed to continue as planned. We tried using the Yobogoda charm, but with no luck. She agreed to put us in touch with the big guy in charge, so we waited and spent some time identifying possible reroutes and watching huge truck after huge truck pass by. Definitely not what we wanted after the slow travels this morning, but this trip is all about dealing with the unexpected. Not too long after we got to talk to the man in charge and explained our situation. He was definitely accommodating and agreed to lead us through the construction zone. He noted that if anyone stopped and asked us what we were doing, he didn't know us.
So we made it through the construction, over the pass and down into the tiny tiny town of Basin, MT. You know a town is tiny when there are just as many quads parked outside the stores as cars. There was even a shirtless local fixing an old dirt bike in the middle of Main Street. But, maybe our luck was now starting to turn, because the road we were on left us intersecting Main Street staring right smack at the Silver Saddle Restaurant with the self-proclaimed "Best bread putting in MT." Lunchtime!!! I ordered the meatloaf platter and Yobo had the burger and fries. We thoroughly enjoyed the lunch and one of our biggest differences became quite apparent. I eat food faster than Yobo eats food. Yobo eats his fries before his hamburger. Yobo is weird. I don't even know why I decided to go on this trip with him. Oh...the bread pudding. It was pretty damn good. I can't speak for all of MT, but I'll trust the owner on this one.
Basin was close to the highway and we made some good time to Butte where we stocked up on fuel and water. It was late afternoon and we were pretty far from our destination. We talked about stopping earlier than planned but agreed to see how the rest of the road went. We were actually putting in some good miles as the route stayed on highways for a bit. And then we ended up on a little gem of a road...Rt 73. It was like a twisty roller coaster. SO SO SO fun and a great way to complement the morning's adventures. We made some good time on the next section of dirt roads and got an extra boost of energy. After traveling at 50-60 mph on dirt roads we agreed to commit to the next stretch of dirt and try to reach Lima tonight. It's funny because just this morning, we were amazed at riding along a handful of cattle. Now we were encountering herd after herd as we rolled through MT cattle country. Again we were absolutely amazed by the terrain and found ourselves riding along with the setting sun. As we approached the end of this section we looked around us and we might as well have been in Canyon straight out of a Star Wars movie.
It was now coming up on 9 PM and we were back on the Tarmac and on our way to Lima. We found a little motel adjacent to a diner and hopped on it. Yobo went to the office and when he came out he said the owner told him another biker just like us checked in a few minutes earlier. We saw a KLR parked in one of the spots and based on the gear he was surely on the same mission as us. There's definitely a sense of comradery on the trail and we were looking forward to meeting the owner. We walked over to Jan's diner for a nightcap. It was complete with that typical diner server who's from...get this...Compton!!! She was covered in grease and close to finishing a long shift. We devoured a the classic combination of pork chops and apples (in the form of dutch apple crumb pie). A northbound hiker stopped over at our table to chat about our individual adventures. It's definitely a special breed that wants to do what we're doing on foot. We'll stick to the moto's.
As we made our way back to the room, we decided to try and meet the owner of the other KLR. This would end up being THE friendship of the trip. Kyle Cairns was from Canada and basically on the same schedule as us. He was super down to earth and genuinely seemed like a good guy. We agreed to meet up for breakfast and hit the road together. Today will be a tough one to top.
/s/ Goda
Start: 0930 (0720 wake-up)
Finish: 2100
Travel Time: 11.5 hrs
Distance: 287 miles
Total Distance Covered: 2251 miles
Nothing like waking up in a sleeping bag, that's in a tent, that's on a field, that looks into the Rockies, with your best bud, on an adventure of a lifetime. We had good night's rest in the Nemo and started up the XGK to boil water for some oatmeal and tea. We rigged up the solar charger for a quick charge of some of our electronics, packed up. As we loaded up the bikes, Yobo noticed a HUUUGE spider just above his swing-arm that had started spinning the faintest of webs.
What goes up must come down. In order to get back to the trail, we had to navigate back down that gnarly little trail. My feet came off a few times just to stay upright. Soon enough we were back on the dirt road that got us here and worked our way down the other side of the pass. As we got closer to the bottom, the road got cozier and we had our first encounter with the larger wildlife common to the trail. Yup...cattle. A handful were lazily grazing on the side of the road. Once again we started snapping photos and shooting video like they were two-headed golden unicorns.
Once our amazement fizzled out, we started up again. The next 40 miles put into perspective the uncertainty associated with this route. Up to this point we'd made pretty good time and were probably averaging 40 miles an hour or so on the trail. Well, the next 40 miles ended up taking 2.5 hrs. That's right, a 16 mph average. The logging roads were twisty and rutted and just plain fun. Yobo seemed more comfortable on the terrain and I was happy to bring up the rear and play follow the leader. The road was equally technical going up and down. I spent a good amount of time outside of the saddle and my hands got pretty tense from holding the handlebars too tightly. Our huge weighted Touratech cases also made things a little trickier to maneuver. We ran into a northbound cyclist who was riding a portion of the trail. We managed to sneak up on him while he was taking a whiz and trotting around in his birthday suit. We chatted for a bit and were by no means envious of what he was up against for his next 40 miles. We managed and we managed well and really had no idea how the rest of the day would go.
So we're making good time when all of a sudden the road turns into mud and there appears to be a huge construction project up ahead. We stop and chat with the poor gal stuck directing traffic. Apparently there was a huge environmental reclamation project at a mine up ahead and we were not allowed to continue as planned. We tried using the Yobogoda charm, but with no luck. She agreed to put us in touch with the big guy in charge, so we waited and spent some time identifying possible reroutes and watching huge truck after huge truck pass by. Definitely not what we wanted after the slow travels this morning, but this trip is all about dealing with the unexpected. Not too long after we got to talk to the man in charge and explained our situation. He was definitely accommodating and agreed to lead us through the construction zone. He noted that if anyone stopped and asked us what we were doing, he didn't know us.
So we made it through the construction, over the pass and down into the tiny tiny town of Basin, MT. You know a town is tiny when there are just as many quads parked outside the stores as cars. There was even a shirtless local fixing an old dirt bike in the middle of Main Street. But, maybe our luck was now starting to turn, because the road we were on left us intersecting Main Street staring right smack at the Silver Saddle Restaurant with the self-proclaimed "Best bread putting in MT." Lunchtime!!! I ordered the meatloaf platter and Yobo had the burger and fries. We thoroughly enjoyed the lunch and one of our biggest differences became quite apparent. I eat food faster than Yobo eats food. Yobo eats his fries before his hamburger. Yobo is weird. I don't even know why I decided to go on this trip with him. Oh...the bread pudding. It was pretty damn good. I can't speak for all of MT, but I'll trust the owner on this one.
Basin was close to the highway and we made some good time to Butte where we stocked up on fuel and water. It was late afternoon and we were pretty far from our destination. We talked about stopping earlier than planned but agreed to see how the rest of the road went. We were actually putting in some good miles as the route stayed on highways for a bit. And then we ended up on a little gem of a road...Rt 73. It was like a twisty roller coaster. SO SO SO fun and a great way to complement the morning's adventures. We made some good time on the next section of dirt roads and got an extra boost of energy. After traveling at 50-60 mph on dirt roads we agreed to commit to the next stretch of dirt and try to reach Lima tonight. It's funny because just this morning, we were amazed at riding along a handful of cattle. Now we were encountering herd after herd as we rolled through MT cattle country. Again we were absolutely amazed by the terrain and found ourselves riding along with the setting sun. As we approached the end of this section we looked around us and we might as well have been in Canyon straight out of a Star Wars movie.
It was now coming up on 9 PM and we were back on the Tarmac and on our way to Lima. We found a little motel adjacent to a diner and hopped on it. Yobo went to the office and when he came out he said the owner told him another biker just like us checked in a few minutes earlier. We saw a KLR parked in one of the spots and based on the gear he was surely on the same mission as us. There's definitely a sense of comradery on the trail and we were looking forward to meeting the owner. We walked over to Jan's diner for a nightcap. It was complete with that typical diner server who's from...get this...Compton!!! She was covered in grease and close to finishing a long shift. We devoured a the classic combination of pork chops and apples (in the form of dutch apple crumb pie). A northbound hiker stopped over at our table to chat about our individual adventures. It's definitely a special breed that wants to do what we're doing on foot. We'll stick to the moto's.
As we made our way back to the room, we decided to try and meet the owner of the other KLR. This would end up being THE friendship of the trip. Kyle Cairns was from Canada and basically on the same schedule as us. He was super down to earth and genuinely seemed like a good guy. We agreed to meet up for breakfast and hit the road together. Today will be a tough one to top.
/s/ Goda
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Trip Report Day 5: Whitefish, MT to Stemple Pass, MT
Date: Monday, August 23, 2010
Start: 0900
Finish: 1900
Travel Time: 10 hrs
Distance: 227 miles
Total Distance Covered: 1964 miles
We got a fair amount of sleep for today. We knew it'd be a day of trail and that the mileage would be less overall, however, what we weren't sure of was how long we can typically expect to spend doing those miles. When we scouted out the trip we noticed the trail days tended to be around 250 miles per day. Did those miles take 6hrs, or 12? We only had our first partial day of trail to really help us gauge, and by that measure, we expected a full day of around 8-10 hrs with some additional time for breaks, photos, food, and fun along the way.
All told, we were chomping a the bit to get back into the woods and take our second step of many down the Continental divide. We knew we could expect more trails and our first official pass of the CDT, but what we didn't expect was some of the roughest adventure riding and easily one of the largest logistical issues we'd encounter the entire trip.
First things first though, we need to get on the bikes.
It was a routine-enough morning. We wake up, wash up, prep the clothing and gear for the bikes, throw on the armor and head out for some breakfast. Today that would be English muffins, bagels, peanut butter and some fruit from the Whitefish Inns breakfast nook. We had some pleasant conversation with the attendant and stepped out into the brisk, sunny morning weather typical the mountain towns we grew up in, and began to go through our standard bike checks. (Chains, Tire pressure, bolt checks, rack checks, etc.) It was then that we encountered our first snafu.
You know when you think, "I require that object." Like the TV remote or an apple, but you notice that your best friend in the world is standing directly beside it...? So, you request that he/she simply toss it to you and your both on your way. Yes? Well, Chris came out of the second floor room and asked where his keys were. Of course they were right beside me 30ft below him, in the parking lot next to the bikes. "Yeah, i got em! Here you go!" I said casually as i motioned to toss the keys up to him. We both paused and caught eyes for a second and in that moment we seemed to each say, or at least think, to each other that this was a really stupid idea. I mean, we're both rather intelligent, practical, and level-headed individuals, right? BUT, there is something in every man that hearkens back to a time and age where we lived with no consequences.. Where we were burgeoning young beings living the moment and learning along the way what we were capable of. I like to call it "childhood", and the remnants of that time usually fade and give way to more "Grown-up", a.k.a, "realistic", a.k.a. "sensible" ideas and constructs... Never mind all of that though, we were Yobo and Goda. We were going to toss the keys, and toss them I did, into the air in a perfect arch, The keys flew, jingling and spinning like a fairy dance queen at Mr Pagoda's head. He caught them and said, "thanks bro", and then quickly retired to his in-room preparations entirely nonplussed.
I let slip a satisfied smile, and went back to my own preparations.
OK that's not what happened at all. In fact, while this completely non-essential item that we definitely didn't need to continue the trip, and had definitely not decided to throw into the wide-world of unpredictability had indeed arced in a perfect parabola at Mr Pagoda's ocular region, and while he had indeed attempted to secure them from flight, the attempt resulted in failure as this object was jingly and sparkly, qualities that frighten Mr Pagoda to his core. In his weakness, he faltered and the keys that we, again, definitely didn't need to continue our trip, fell to rest on a small, rickety rooftop between floors.
We focused our efforts and began to construct a retrieval device using some of the bungees from our kits, but that resulted in knocking the keys off of the roof and into the gutter. From there it was clear that someone would have to go out onto this rooftop. Neither of us are un-massive enough to make that a comfortable proposition however, so we stood there, un-talking, on-looking, and somewhat vexed.
We decided to take a moment to gather our thoughts. What did we have? Two brilliant pollocks, one set of lost keys, a bungee retrieval system that didn't work, and one working bike. Hooking the keys from above was taking way too long ... we moved a bike under the awning, held it stable and sent Mr. Pagoda to get the keys with his go-go-gadget arms. NoooOOooo problem. Now lets go spend the rest of the day in the wilderness on 500 lb two wheeled vehicles going 50mph. What could go wrong?!
---Goda speaking now. So here we are one year since our adventure and trying to remember all of the bits and pieces. Not an easy task. We had jotted down notes shortly after our trip but nothing had included the failed key reception noted above. Thanks Yobo for your keen memory and command of the English language that allowed me to relive the event on its one year anniversary.
We headed out to fair weather, through the first section of backroad pavement, passing through meadows and the occasional country neighborhood until we hit the first section of trails again. We encountered a Doe and two of her fawns just waking up in a meadow on our way and stopped for picture time. It was difficult to not stop and take a million pictures the whole way. On a trip like this, you're living the moment the whole time and you keep thinking, "We're never gonna see a view like this.", or " We're never gonna get another section as cool or as effin gnarly as what we just rode." So we put our cameras away and eventually escaped reality again. We found ourselves on some nice windy mountain roads that got pretty bumpy at points. We started going downhill at spotted some fellow ADV riders. It was a group of eight guys making their way north-bound on the trail. They were rolling with a Jeep sag-wagon full of fuel and supplies. They basically had all types of bikes that covered everything from DRZ's to KLR's to F800's to KTM's. They were a little more suited for the off-road than us and were traveling a little more lightly on the bikes...one of the advantages that come with a sag-wagon. It was great to chat and get some beta on the trail ahead.
After a few wrong turns and backtracking, we stopped for our first trail-side lunch along a pool in quiet creek. It had long flat-topped log,that someone had fashioned into a diving board. We were both tempted, but decided against jumping in. Turns out we weren't that far from the road at all and hooked back up with the pavement to get to the next section. It was approaching evening and we wanted to rough it for the first time, so we looked for a good spot to camp. We made it to the top of a long windy dirt road and explored a bit off trail at Granite Butte. Yobo went ahead and scouted a field with a great view that looked ideal for camping. The ride to the top was our gnarliest of the trip and I almost went down a handful of times. The view at the top was way worth it and we had a front row seat to the westward setting sun.
We were both on a "Man vs. Wild" kick and wanted to start a fire with some flint Yobo had packed. Turns out it isn't always as easy as Bear Grylls makes it look. We tried for over 30 minutes to no avail and caved to the powers of the lighter. This first meal wasn't going to be just any meal. It was going to be a super duper ours goes to 11 potato apple pie stew. Our ambitions were greater than our cooking skills however and the foil packet failed miserably and we ended up with a mix of burnt and under-cooked potatoes. The warm apples were tasty tho. We relaxed with some tea, recorded a quick video blog watched the sun set. Really a great night and worth the effort to set up camp at this vista.
--Yobo & Goda
Start: 0900
Finish: 1900
Travel Time: 10 hrs
Distance: 227 miles
Total Distance Covered: 1964 miles
We got a fair amount of sleep for today. We knew it'd be a day of trail and that the mileage would be less overall, however, what we weren't sure of was how long we can typically expect to spend doing those miles. When we scouted out the trip we noticed the trail days tended to be around 250 miles per day. Did those miles take 6hrs, or 12? We only had our first partial day of trail to really help us gauge, and by that measure, we expected a full day of around 8-10 hrs with some additional time for breaks, photos, food, and fun along the way.
All told, we were chomping a the bit to get back into the woods and take our second step of many down the Continental divide. We knew we could expect more trails and our first official pass of the CDT, but what we didn't expect was some of the roughest adventure riding and easily one of the largest logistical issues we'd encounter the entire trip.
First things first though, we need to get on the bikes.
It was a routine-enough morning. We wake up, wash up, prep the clothing and gear for the bikes, throw on the armor and head out for some breakfast. Today that would be English muffins, bagels, peanut butter and some fruit from the Whitefish Inns breakfast nook. We had some pleasant conversation with the attendant and stepped out into the brisk, sunny morning weather typical the mountain towns we grew up in, and began to go through our standard bike checks. (Chains, Tire pressure, bolt checks, rack checks, etc.) It was then that we encountered our first snafu.
You know when you think, "I require that object." Like the TV remote or an apple, but you notice that your best friend in the world is standing directly beside it...? So, you request that he/she simply toss it to you and your both on your way. Yes? Well, Chris came out of the second floor room and asked where his keys were. Of course they were right beside me 30ft below him, in the parking lot next to the bikes. "Yeah, i got em! Here you go!" I said casually as i motioned to toss the keys up to him. We both paused and caught eyes for a second and in that moment we seemed to each say, or at least think, to each other that this was a really stupid idea. I mean, we're both rather intelligent, practical, and level-headed individuals, right? BUT, there is something in every man that hearkens back to a time and age where we lived with no consequences.. Where we were burgeoning young beings living the moment and learning along the way what we were capable of. I like to call it "childhood", and the remnants of that time usually fade and give way to more "Grown-up", a.k.a, "realistic", a.k.a. "sensible" ideas and constructs... Never mind all of that though, we were Yobo and Goda. We were going to toss the keys, and toss them I did, into the air in a perfect arch, The keys flew, jingling and spinning like a fairy dance queen at Mr Pagoda's head. He caught them and said, "thanks bro", and then quickly retired to his in-room preparations entirely nonplussed.
I let slip a satisfied smile, and went back to my own preparations.
OK that's not what happened at all. In fact, while this completely non-essential item that we definitely didn't need to continue the trip, and had definitely not decided to throw into the wide-world of unpredictability had indeed arced in a perfect parabola at Mr Pagoda's ocular region, and while he had indeed attempted to secure them from flight, the attempt resulted in failure as this object was jingly and sparkly, qualities that frighten Mr Pagoda to his core. In his weakness, he faltered and the keys that we, again, definitely didn't need to continue our trip, fell to rest on a small, rickety rooftop between floors.
We focused our efforts and began to construct a retrieval device using some of the bungees from our kits, but that resulted in knocking the keys off of the roof and into the gutter. From there it was clear that someone would have to go out onto this rooftop. Neither of us are un-massive enough to make that a comfortable proposition however, so we stood there, un-talking, on-looking, and somewhat vexed.
We decided to take a moment to gather our thoughts. What did we have? Two brilliant pollocks, one set of lost keys, a bungee retrieval system that didn't work, and one working bike. Hooking the keys from above was taking way too long ... we moved a bike under the awning, held it stable and sent Mr. Pagoda to get the keys with his go-go-gadget arms. NoooOOooo problem. Now lets go spend the rest of the day in the wilderness on 500 lb two wheeled vehicles going 50mph. What could go wrong?!
---Goda speaking now. So here we are one year since our adventure and trying to remember all of the bits and pieces. Not an easy task. We had jotted down notes shortly after our trip but nothing had included the failed key reception noted above. Thanks Yobo for your keen memory and command of the English language that allowed me to relive the event on its one year anniversary.
We headed out to fair weather, through the first section of backroad pavement, passing through meadows and the occasional country neighborhood until we hit the first section of trails again. We encountered a Doe and two of her fawns just waking up in a meadow on our way and stopped for picture time. It was difficult to not stop and take a million pictures the whole way. On a trip like this, you're living the moment the whole time and you keep thinking, "We're never gonna see a view like this.", or " We're never gonna get another section as cool or as effin gnarly as what we just rode." So we put our cameras away and eventually escaped reality again. We found ourselves on some nice windy mountain roads that got pretty bumpy at points. We started going downhill at spotted some fellow ADV riders. It was a group of eight guys making their way north-bound on the trail. They were rolling with a Jeep sag-wagon full of fuel and supplies. They basically had all types of bikes that covered everything from DRZ's to KLR's to F800's to KTM's. They were a little more suited for the off-road than us and were traveling a little more lightly on the bikes...one of the advantages that come with a sag-wagon. It was great to chat and get some beta on the trail ahead.
After a few wrong turns and backtracking, we stopped for our first trail-side lunch along a pool in quiet creek. It had long flat-topped log,that someone had fashioned into a diving board. We were both tempted, but decided against jumping in. Turns out we weren't that far from the road at all and hooked back up with the pavement to get to the next section. It was approaching evening and we wanted to rough it for the first time, so we looked for a good spot to camp. We made it to the top of a long windy dirt road and explored a bit off trail at Granite Butte. Yobo went ahead and scouted a field with a great view that looked ideal for camping. The ride to the top was our gnarliest of the trip and I almost went down a handful of times. The view at the top was way worth it and we had a front row seat to the westward setting sun.
We were both on a "Man vs. Wild" kick and wanted to start a fire with some flint Yobo had packed. Turns out it isn't always as easy as Bear Grylls makes it look. We tried for over 30 minutes to no avail and caved to the powers of the lighter. This first meal wasn't going to be just any meal. It was going to be a super duper ours goes to 11 potato apple pie stew. Our ambitions were greater than our cooking skills however and the foil packet failed miserably and we ended up with a mix of burnt and under-cooked potatoes. The warm apples were tasty tho. We relaxed with some tea, recorded a quick video blog watched the sun set. Really a great night and worth the effort to set up camp at this vista.
--Yobo & Goda
Monday, August 22, 2011
Trip Report Day 4: Spokane, WA to Whitefish, MT
Date Sunday, August 22, 2010
Start: 0800 (0545 wake-up)
Finish: 2000
Travel Time: 12 hrs
Distance: 339 miles
Total Distance Covered: 1737 miles
Once again a super early start. It was nice getting a bit more shut-eye than the first three nights. We put a little extra care into the bike check this morning because if all went well, we'd be on the trail this afternoon. It was drizzly out when we started and we were sent off by a rainbow just over the adjacent building.
Shortly after crossing over the MT border we came up on the Libby dam. We stopped for a few pics, but the anticipation of reaching the start of the CDT had us quickly back on the road again. Before we knew it, we were in Roosville. We filled our tummies with fried chicken and then hit the grocery and hardware store for some essential snacks and last minute items for the adventure. I was so anxious to hit the trail, I left my credit card at the gas station, which made it that much more excruciating to have to turn around and pick it up. Eventually, we made it to the border. We contemplated actually crossing over into Canada just for the photo op of us heading into the US, but no way was it worth waiting in the line of cars.
So this was it. Yobo said many times that he felt this was the actual start of the trip for him. One of the best moments for me was leaving his apartment, but I must say this point was pretty epic. Knowing what we went through on roads just to get here really put things into perspective. We now had 12 days in front of us to get to Mexico. My experience riding off tarmac prior to this point was a few hours in the Jersey Pine Barrens and Yobo didn't have much more. Regardless, there's no one I would have rather had at my side for this phase of the adventure.
The first stretch was a mix of pavement and dirt roads as we made our way deeper into the woods. The roads appeared to be used for logging and access to some back country campsites. To say it was gratifying to finally break free of the pavement is a gross understatement. The road eventually opened up and we had a pretty spectacular view of the west side of Glacier National Park. It was tough to stop taking pictures of the trails and vistas whenever these views presented themselves. The dirt roads were a blast. Lots of curves and lots of holes to avoid. As we got deeper and deeper into the woods the sky became more and more ominous and we soon found ourselves in the midst of an early-evening MT hailstorm. Baptism by fire I guess.
I couldn't help but think what kind of beating my bike was taking. I tried to avoid as many holes as possible, but some were just too tough to miss. Will these bikes last 2700 miles of trails??? This is a riot because not long after, we're speeding along, when all of a sudden my bike veers of f to the left. I hear Yobo over the intercom..."Dude! You lost your pannier!!!" I looked backed and it was already out of site. We recovered the pannier, but I was missing some of the fasteners that held it on. As we were evaluating the situation, someone comes walking down the road. Remember this is out in the middle of nowhere MT. Turns out Ted rode motorcycles and worked for Boeing. We chatted about our trip and we all worked up a quick fix using my ROK Straps. Seriously, these things are bomber and a must for any adventure. The case actually seemed more secure than without the strap. We said our good-byes and headed towards Whitefish.
--yobo here - so I have to chime in on this part. Goda hits the nail on the head when he says we were wondering about our bikes holding up to the beating. To start, the trails were more like one-and-a-half-lane dirt roads. You could these roads were at least minimally maintained because there was typically a good amount of thumb-sized rocks layered over the dirt. This helped keep water flowing off the trails and thus, prevents any serious trail erosion, potholes, etc... but as the day wore on the trails went from access roads to straight up four wheeling trails. They were rutted, and potholed, and much more muddy than anything we'd encountered before. Like Goda said, you do your best to pick the right line through the crags, pits, pots, and football sized rocks that occasionally stuck out of the trail, but every once in awhile you just nailed one of those suckers and it really got you thinking.
So our first mishap occurs... just as we got back onto some of the more groomed access roads, out of the hail storm, and within sniffing distance of proper tarmac, I see it happen... We were "just riding along" (inside joke to mechanics in the industry) when I see 40lbs of aluminum suddenly give way and start spinning down the road wildly. Goda's bike wobbled, veered, and then regained its line and both of us "exclaimed" into our headsets. The pannier had tumbled a bit, and settled on its side, and was presently spinning like a giant ninja star headed right for my front tire. (In truth, it probably wasn't headed right for my front tire, but that's all i could think about as I veered my bike left in an attempt to balance what I felt was the safe limit of fast-maneuvering.) To anyone who has ridden moto, you know there's a sort of eerie calm and focus that comes with those close calls or otherwise emergency-type situations.
In no time, we had come to a stop, popped off the bikes and headed up the hill to access the situation. We had passed out trial by fire, for now anyway, and it was honestly sort of a relief to have had this happen. The wonder and anticipation can take a back seat to solving the problem and getting back on schedule.
Our friendly wilderness visitor, Ted, added a friendly word as we pulled away.
"Hey guys," he said,
...
"Stay off the roads..."
Cool as a cucumber. --yobo
It was dark and drizzling when we hit the town. Whitefish is a big resort town in close proximity to several lakes and mountains. We found a room at the Whitefish Dowtown Motel and snagged some eats at the Craggy Ranch. Both of us housed some of the best Mac n Cheese we'd ever had while enjoying some motocross on the TV. Fantastic finish to our first day on the trail.
/s/ Goda
Start: 0800 (0545 wake-up)
Finish: 2000
Travel Time: 12 hrs
Distance: 339 miles
Total Distance Covered: 1737 miles
Once again a super early start. It was nice getting a bit more shut-eye than the first three nights. We put a little extra care into the bike check this morning because if all went well, we'd be on the trail this afternoon. It was drizzly out when we started and we were sent off by a rainbow just over the adjacent building.
Shortly after crossing over the MT border we came up on the Libby dam. We stopped for a few pics, but the anticipation of reaching the start of the CDT had us quickly back on the road again. Before we knew it, we were in Roosville. We filled our tummies with fried chicken and then hit the grocery and hardware store for some essential snacks and last minute items for the adventure. I was so anxious to hit the trail, I left my credit card at the gas station, which made it that much more excruciating to have to turn around and pick it up. Eventually, we made it to the border. We contemplated actually crossing over into Canada just for the photo op of us heading into the US, but no way was it worth waiting in the line of cars.
So this was it. Yobo said many times that he felt this was the actual start of the trip for him. One of the best moments for me was leaving his apartment, but I must say this point was pretty epic. Knowing what we went through on roads just to get here really put things into perspective. We now had 12 days in front of us to get to Mexico. My experience riding off tarmac prior to this point was a few hours in the Jersey Pine Barrens and Yobo didn't have much more. Regardless, there's no one I would have rather had at my side for this phase of the adventure.
The first stretch was a mix of pavement and dirt roads as we made our way deeper into the woods. The roads appeared to be used for logging and access to some back country campsites. To say it was gratifying to finally break free of the pavement is a gross understatement. The road eventually opened up and we had a pretty spectacular view of the west side of Glacier National Park. It was tough to stop taking pictures of the trails and vistas whenever these views presented themselves. The dirt roads were a blast. Lots of curves and lots of holes to avoid. As we got deeper and deeper into the woods the sky became more and more ominous and we soon found ourselves in the midst of an early-evening MT hailstorm. Baptism by fire I guess.
I couldn't help but think what kind of beating my bike was taking. I tried to avoid as many holes as possible, but some were just too tough to miss. Will these bikes last 2700 miles of trails??? This is a riot because not long after, we're speeding along, when all of a sudden my bike veers of f to the left. I hear Yobo over the intercom..."Dude! You lost your pannier!!!" I looked backed and it was already out of site. We recovered the pannier, but I was missing some of the fasteners that held it on. As we were evaluating the situation, someone comes walking down the road. Remember this is out in the middle of nowhere MT. Turns out Ted rode motorcycles and worked for Boeing. We chatted about our trip and we all worked up a quick fix using my ROK Straps. Seriously, these things are bomber and a must for any adventure. The case actually seemed more secure than without the strap. We said our good-byes and headed towards Whitefish.
--yobo here - so I have to chime in on this part. Goda hits the nail on the head when he says we were wondering about our bikes holding up to the beating. To start, the trails were more like one-and-a-half-lane dirt roads. You could these roads were at least minimally maintained because there was typically a good amount of thumb-sized rocks layered over the dirt. This helped keep water flowing off the trails and thus, prevents any serious trail erosion, potholes, etc... but as the day wore on the trails went from access roads to straight up four wheeling trails. They were rutted, and potholed, and much more muddy than anything we'd encountered before. Like Goda said, you do your best to pick the right line through the crags, pits, pots, and football sized rocks that occasionally stuck out of the trail, but every once in awhile you just nailed one of those suckers and it really got you thinking.
So our first mishap occurs... just as we got back onto some of the more groomed access roads, out of the hail storm, and within sniffing distance of proper tarmac, I see it happen... We were "just riding along" (inside joke to mechanics in the industry) when I see 40lbs of aluminum suddenly give way and start spinning down the road wildly. Goda's bike wobbled, veered, and then regained its line and both of us "exclaimed" into our headsets. The pannier had tumbled a bit, and settled on its side, and was presently spinning like a giant ninja star headed right for my front tire. (In truth, it probably wasn't headed right for my front tire, but that's all i could think about as I veered my bike left in an attempt to balance what I felt was the safe limit of fast-maneuvering.) To anyone who has ridden moto, you know there's a sort of eerie calm and focus that comes with those close calls or otherwise emergency-type situations.
In no time, we had come to a stop, popped off the bikes and headed up the hill to access the situation. We had passed out trial by fire, for now anyway, and it was honestly sort of a relief to have had this happen. The wonder and anticipation can take a back seat to solving the problem and getting back on schedule.
Our friendly wilderness visitor, Ted, added a friendly word as we pulled away.
"Hey guys," he said,
...
"Stay off the roads..."
Cool as a cucumber. --yobo
It was dark and drizzling when we hit the town. Whitefish is a big resort town in close proximity to several lakes and mountains. We found a room at the Whitefish Dowtown Motel and snagged some eats at the Craggy Ranch. Both of us housed some of the best Mac n Cheese we'd ever had while enjoying some motocross on the TV. Fantastic finish to our first day on the trail.
/s/ Goda
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Trip Report Day 3: Bend, OR to Spokane, WA
Date: Saturday, August 21, 2010
Start: 0900 (0630 wake-up)
Finish: 1800
Travel Time: 9 hrs
Distance: 394 miles
Total Distance Covered: 1398 miles
It was our third straight pre-0700 wake-up. Even though we're behind in the sleep department, we woke-up feeling good knowing that our miles would be a lot less than the previous two days. The change in plans did us both some good for the body and mind. We started off with some tea and quiche at Strictly Organic Coffee. It was too bad our time in Bend was short because it seems like a haven for anyone that loves the outdoors.
We fueled up and hit the road. Again, Rt 97 gave us some great new vistas. Vast green fields and gently rolling hills as far as the eye can see. We even got to sneak a peak at Mt. Hood and Adams off in the distance. At one point it hazed up pretty good and we were riding through remnants of a nice-sized fire. As we approached the Washington border, it got extra exciting as we encountered the heaviest winds of the trip. Gusts had to be over 40 mph and both of us were getting blown around. All of the wind farms off in the distance were an indication these conditions weren't uncommon to this area. We enjoyed a nice gradual decent into Biggs. We noticed a pretty pimped KLR in the parking lot and ended up chatting with it's owner Jim for a bit. He was an avid adventure motorcyclist and told us about some great riding in British Columbia.
We paralleled the Columbia River to Umatilla where we filled up with some grub. We got some strange looks from some of the older lady folk in the joint. Maybe it was due to how fast we downed our hot doggies...or the fact that we looked like two giant storm trooper ninja trooper avengers. We crossed the Columbia and soon after were in Spokane. It felt great to roll into our destination with some daylight to spare. We explored town in search of a place to stay and decided on another cheap motel and then rolled down to a sports bar for some din-din. The bartender Jared hooked us up with the adjacent hotel computer and we transferred all of the GPS data to my device. This was key becuz tomorrow we were on the trail. We busted out Facetime with some friends back home and made it back to the room.
Both of us were pretty anxious. The trip was crazy so far, but the real adventure would begin when we hit Roosville, MT tomorrow. Heading into the unknown is a feeling like no other.
Start: 0900 (0630 wake-up)
Finish: 1800
Travel Time: 9 hrs
Distance: 394 miles
Total Distance Covered: 1398 miles
It was our third straight pre-0700 wake-up. Even though we're behind in the sleep department, we woke-up feeling good knowing that our miles would be a lot less than the previous two days. The change in plans did us both some good for the body and mind. We started off with some tea and quiche at Strictly Organic Coffee. It was too bad our time in Bend was short because it seems like a haven for anyone that loves the outdoors.
We fueled up and hit the road. Again, Rt 97 gave us some great new vistas. Vast green fields and gently rolling hills as far as the eye can see. We even got to sneak a peak at Mt. Hood and Adams off in the distance. At one point it hazed up pretty good and we were riding through remnants of a nice-sized fire. As we approached the Washington border, it got extra exciting as we encountered the heaviest winds of the trip. Gusts had to be over 40 mph and both of us were getting blown around. All of the wind farms off in the distance were an indication these conditions weren't uncommon to this area. We enjoyed a nice gradual decent into Biggs. We noticed a pretty pimped KLR in the parking lot and ended up chatting with it's owner Jim for a bit. He was an avid adventure motorcyclist and told us about some great riding in British Columbia.
We paralleled the Columbia River to Umatilla where we filled up with some grub. We got some strange looks from some of the older lady folk in the joint. Maybe it was due to how fast we downed our hot doggies...or the fact that we looked like two giant storm trooper ninja trooper avengers. We crossed the Columbia and soon after were in Spokane. It felt great to roll into our destination with some daylight to spare. We explored town in search of a place to stay and decided on another cheap motel and then rolled down to a sports bar for some din-din. The bartender Jared hooked us up with the adjacent hotel computer and we transferred all of the GPS data to my device. This was key becuz tomorrow we were on the trail. We busted out Facetime with some friends back home and made it back to the room.
Both of us were pretty anxious. The trip was crazy so far, but the real adventure would begin when we hit Roosville, MT tomorrow. Heading into the unknown is a feeling like no other.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Trip Report Day 2: San Fran, CA to Bend, OR
Date: Friday, August 20, 2010
Start: 0930ish (0600 Wake-up)
Finish: 2300
Travel Time: 13.5 hrs
Distance: 528 miles
Total Distance Covered: 1004 miles
So we totally re-evaluated our route. Yesterday's trip put the today's journey (650 miles) into perspective. We decided to head towards Bend instead of Portland. This would knock off over 100 miles from our destination and Bend ain't a bad place to reroute through. After Bend we'd try to get to Spokane tomorrow and then get to the trail the following day. We both had sore shoulders and back from what had been the longest day either of us have ever spent straddling a moto. I was waaay too tense on the ride into SF last night and my wrists and hands were paying for it this morning. Today's mission: 650 miles to Portland, OR, our longest mileage day of the trip. Again we woke up with good intentions of hitting the road early, but felt we should fuel up the tummies for the mission. We found a cafe with some guhhhoooood n dope bacon and eggs sandwiched between some classic SF sourdough. We tooled around some of the back side streets in SF and stumbled upon Hyde St. and its 27% grade made us feel like we were going up the first hill of a roller coaster. We weren't far from the Golden Gate and eventually made our way across. The fog hadn't lifted yet, but we still had a good view of one of America's most iconic landmarks.
We worked our way through Napa Valley and ran into some strip malls, so we thought it would be a good time to hit up a Best Buy and try to transfer the GPS data from Yobo's device to mine. When I started unpacking I realized I had actually lost all of the memory cards for my helmet cam. This hurt because Best Buy was charging almost twice what I paid for them...bahhhhh. We worked our way over to the Geek Squad counter to see how they could help two guys dressed like storm troopers in critical need of an electronic data transfer for the success of their mission. Turns out, Best Buy didn't think this was as critical as we did. At least within a reasonable time and cost. We'd have to pay over $300 and he couldn't even get to it right away. We could have built a new PC for that money and time. We left dejected but with a micro-SD reader that we could hopefully utilize to complete our transfer, at a hotel down the road. On our way out, we realized it wasn't a straight-forward entrance back onto Route 5 so we asked what looked to be an older couple. They were cute and argued a bit about which way was best.
The ride up Rt 5 wasn't the most exciting and we ran into some traffic. We made a mid-afternoon pit-stop at a diner. Traffic eventually cleared up and we approached the mountains around Mt. Shasta. We fueled up and got a little extra energy boost from Shasta peering over us. We rode some goofy circles in the rear lot of the gas station and were on the road again. We hopped off Rt 5 and got on Rt 97. Turns out Rt 97...is a pretty nice road and offered a great change of scenery. The sun was starting to set as we made our way to Klamath Falls. Our meals were all out of wack so we had ice cream for dinner. As we sat on the curb, one of the local mom's started to ask about our trip and warned us of the "Midgies" as we rode around Upper Klamath Lake. Apparently these bugs could take over and make a mess out of the highways and windshields. We were lucky and didn't have that bad of an experience. Again, the scenery was totally unexpected and the sunset over Upper Klamath Lake was nice and good and red and orange and pretty.
The miles and fatigue kicked in as we entered our last stretch to Bend. You wouldn't think you could doze off on the motorcycle, but when your head starts to drop and eyes close, that means it's time to do something. We stopped for some Red Bull to get me through the last couple miles. The last stretch was kinda nuts because it was the darkest road we'd ever ridden. We hopped in the draft of a tractor trailer so he could clear the way of any rogue deer that tried to cross the highway. As we got closer the white lines went away and there were lots of cones and reflectors and it totally felt like some space highway video game. Well guess what? We totally got the high score, cuz we rolled into Bend just after 1100. Crazy long day. We parked our bikes to find some eats and lodging and got approached by some Bendly friendlies. From then on they would be known as "The Mayors of Bend" cuz it seemed like they owned the place. They recommended McMinimans for some late night grub and we hopped on it. Our server Ginger had some extra energy and was super nice. We scarfed down our dinner just after midnight and found a cheap hotel to rest our weary bodies.
So our vow yesterday to not ride late night lasted...well...it didn't. It was nice to survive today.
/s/ Goda
Start: 0930ish (0600 Wake-up)
Finish: 2300
Travel Time: 13.5 hrs
Distance: 528 miles
Total Distance Covered: 1004 miles
So we totally re-evaluated our route. Yesterday's trip put the today's journey (650 miles) into perspective. We decided to head towards Bend instead of Portland. This would knock off over 100 miles from our destination and Bend ain't a bad place to reroute through. After Bend we'd try to get to Spokane tomorrow and then get to the trail the following day. We both had sore shoulders and back from what had been the longest day either of us have ever spent straddling a moto. I was waaay too tense on the ride into SF last night and my wrists and hands were paying for it this morning. Today's mission: 650 miles to Portland, OR, our longest mileage day of the trip. Again we woke up with good intentions of hitting the road early, but felt we should fuel up the tummies for the mission. We found a cafe with some guhhhoooood n dope bacon and eggs sandwiched between some classic SF sourdough. We tooled around some of the back side streets in SF and stumbled upon Hyde St. and its 27% grade made us feel like we were going up the first hill of a roller coaster. We weren't far from the Golden Gate and eventually made our way across. The fog hadn't lifted yet, but we still had a good view of one of America's most iconic landmarks.
We worked our way through Napa Valley and ran into some strip malls, so we thought it would be a good time to hit up a Best Buy and try to transfer the GPS data from Yobo's device to mine. When I started unpacking I realized I had actually lost all of the memory cards for my helmet cam. This hurt because Best Buy was charging almost twice what I paid for them...bahhhhh. We worked our way over to the Geek Squad counter to see how they could help two guys dressed like storm troopers in critical need of an electronic data transfer for the success of their mission. Turns out, Best Buy didn't think this was as critical as we did. At least within a reasonable time and cost. We'd have to pay over $300 and he couldn't even get to it right away. We could have built a new PC for that money and time. We left dejected but with a micro-SD reader that we could hopefully utilize to complete our transfer, at a hotel down the road. On our way out, we realized it wasn't a straight-forward entrance back onto Route 5 so we asked what looked to be an older couple. They were cute and argued a bit about which way was best.
The ride up Rt 5 wasn't the most exciting and we ran into some traffic. We made a mid-afternoon pit-stop at a diner. Traffic eventually cleared up and we approached the mountains around Mt. Shasta. We fueled up and got a little extra energy boost from Shasta peering over us. We rode some goofy circles in the rear lot of the gas station and were on the road again. We hopped off Rt 5 and got on Rt 97. Turns out Rt 97...is a pretty nice road and offered a great change of scenery. The sun was starting to set as we made our way to Klamath Falls. Our meals were all out of wack so we had ice cream for dinner. As we sat on the curb, one of the local mom's started to ask about our trip and warned us of the "Midgies" as we rode around Upper Klamath Lake. Apparently these bugs could take over and make a mess out of the highways and windshields. We were lucky and didn't have that bad of an experience. Again, the scenery was totally unexpected and the sunset over Upper Klamath Lake was nice and good and red and orange and pretty.
The miles and fatigue kicked in as we entered our last stretch to Bend. You wouldn't think you could doze off on the motorcycle, but when your head starts to drop and eyes close, that means it's time to do something. We stopped for some Red Bull to get me through the last couple miles. The last stretch was kinda nuts because it was the darkest road we'd ever ridden. We hopped in the draft of a tractor trailer so he could clear the way of any rogue deer that tried to cross the highway. As we got closer the white lines went away and there were lots of cones and reflectors and it totally felt like some space highway video game. Well guess what? We totally got the high score, cuz we rolled into Bend just after 1100. Crazy long day. We parked our bikes to find some eats and lodging and got approached by some Bendly friendlies. From then on they would be known as "The Mayors of Bend" cuz it seemed like they owned the place. They recommended McMinimans for some late night grub and we hopped on it. Our server Ginger had some extra energy and was super nice. We scarfed down our dinner just after midnight and found a cheap hotel to rest our weary bodies.
So our vow yesterday to not ride late night lasted...well...it didn't. It was nice to survive today.
/s/ Goda
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