America the Beautiful

Now that the Epic 25th Six Corners Tour is over I want to add some final thoughts.

I want to thank Kelley for letting my "bike thing" happen even if it caused her worry and cost us money.  Doing things like this is important for me and the self giving love she shows me is amazing.

I want to thank the 25th Anniversary Committee and the members of Faith Lutheran Church for giving me the time and financial support that allowed this trip to happen.  I really wish you could have a much better pastor serving you and your mission - but you have me (and soon Pastor Tan) so I pray that we make the most of it.

It was fun to actually use Facebook to update people on what I was up to and, while expensive, the GPS tracker technology was a winner.  I really appreciated knowing that Kelley could find out where I was and we could keep in touch along the way.

Thank you, Sue and Bob for our visit at the lake.  Thank you, Uncle Gordon and Aunt Darlene for taking time away from packing for our visit.  It was great to see you.  Thank you, Uncle Tom and Aunt Judy, for our time together including nights with you at the farm and use of your home in Mesquite.  Thank you, Dwight and Peggy Wendschlag, for a great night and morning in Kalispell.  Thank you, Aunt Ginny and Uncle Lowell, for our time together with Uncle Jerry in Mesquite.  I'm still shocked at his sudden passing but will be grateful forever for that time.  Ginny, our thoughts and prayers will be with you.

And THANK YOU Sue and Bill for such a great time at Big Lake.  The three nights I spent with you was my longest stay in one place for three weeks and I wish I could have stayed a lot longer.  But I know that old line about relatives and fish, three days and they spoil.  It was so great to get our family back together again and catch up.  Thank you.

As I finished up the trip today, figuring out the statistics and costs, it was amazing how three weeks could become such a blur as to make me wonder if it really happened, and yet each gas receipt brought back memories of where I was and how it felt to pass through.  I've never taken this many pictures on a ride before.  My hope is to turn these blog posts into a book that captures the trip and becomes a family momento.  I think there are internet sites that let you do that.

I could go on forever about this trip (and no doubt will with my friends until they tire of hearing the same stories too many times), but I want to finish up with three thoughts.

1.  When I visited my Mom's grave I thought about what I would most want to say to her about my life today.  My answer would be that I have never been happier in and with my life than I am today.  I came home to a beautiful wife, kids who are growing up, and a great congregation that does good in the lives of so many people.  I am blessed.  This trip was a great way to remember and re-think my whole life, not just the last 25 years of ordained ministry.  As much as my home town means to me and has shaped me, I realize anew that my home is now in Houston.  My mom would be glad to know that.

2.  I hope there is a strong movement in our country to replace our national anthem with "America, The Beautiful."  Having covered a lot of ground and seen a lot of sights, I hope we are ready at some point to recognize the blessings of our country with a song that captures its scope rather than one based on the thoughts of a person observing the start of yet another war.  God really has blessed us to live where we live, wherever that is.  Jesus said, "Blessed are the peacemakers."

I know that not everyone believes in God or appreciates the work of the church.  But like I heard in northern Minnesota, "I use the church to meet the deepest needs that people don't even realize they have."  I thought about that again when I was with my Uncle Jerry in the hospital.  He admitted to me that he seldom gave a thought about God or the church for his entire life.  Only at the end, only facing the end, did he reach out to the church.  And what did he find?  He found a pastor he could trust, a congregation where he mattered, and the love of God that transformed him from the inside out.  My Uncle Lowell told me much the same - he came to a place in his life where he needed a power greater than himself to help him do what he couldn't do on his own.  He found that in a new friend and in church.  I'm grateful to be part of a community that God can use to write that story into people's lives.

3.  And finally, Harley Davidson makes a heckuva motorcycle.  Thanks for taking a ride with me.

Days Twenty and Twenty One - Gas Stations

Start - National City, CA

Stop - Houston, TX

Today's miles - 1,954

Total - 12,742

Well, it is appropriate that a spectacular ride end in a fitting manner...I'll get to that.  But first, I realized yesterday that I haven't done justice to three of the greatest friends of bikers - gas stations, overpasses, and bars.

Bars.  Some bikers are basically drinkers who like to ride, others are riders who like to spend time with friends in bars.  Bar-hopping is a weekend biker ritual.  Or going to a certain place because you know you will find certain people there.  I enjoy that part of it.  My current "go to" place is Bryant's Icehouse.  But mostly I like to ride.  Twenty one days on this trip and I didn't set foot in a bar.  Group rides are different but solo rides, for me at least, invite focus.

Overpasses are a biker's friend.  They can function as an emergency rest room, an impending bad weather changing station, or an actively bad weather event shelter.  I have learned to value overpasses and I have discovered there aren't many in the desert.  But I only need one at a time so we're good.

Gas stations.  Now THAT is an important subject.  I'm not brand loyal.  I carried a debit card and a Discover card on this trip.  But gas stations matter a lot.  Here is my pecking order for a great gas station:

- It has a billboard on the highway several miles ahead so you can plan for it.

- It doesn't have a high pressure pump that doesn't allow you to top off your tank.  1/2 gal. in a motorcycle can be 20 extra miles.  And trying to top off a tank with a high pressure hose inevitably splashes gas on your bike.  You care deeply about that the first few months after you buy your bike.  Then it goes away.  You don't care so much by the second day of a trip but you still try to be careful.

- The restrooms are indoors, do not require keys, and do not require me to ask where they are.

- There is a good assortment of food and drinks.

- There is a place outside to sit (I seldom need that but my friends do. I have what I need on my bike.)

I don't think that is too much to ask.

So Saturday morning began at 6:30 AM (Houston time) when I packed my bike and headed to the gas station recommended by the hotel guy.  Since I wanted to cap off the Epic 25th Six Corners Tour with a Bunburner GOLD (1500 miles in 24 hours) OR a Bunburner 1500 (1500 miles in 36 hours), that meant I had to keep records.  I got the two guys working the hotel desk the night before to sign witness forms that I was in fact in the Best Western in National City, CA.  They were suspicious that I wanted their names, addresses, phone numbers, and signatures...but I look scary so they complied.

I also had to get receipts every time I got gas that included the date, time, and location and then I had to enter them in a log.  When the ride is over you send in the witness forms, the gas receipts, the log, and a map highlighted with your route and your stops.  Then the powers that be verify the information, they might even call the witnesses, and let you know if you qualified.

So I went to the local Arco station.  To finish the above thought, you can't go wrong with Shell, Exxon, Love's, Buc-ees, or Pilot.  I've come to learn that I hate Arco's.  De Tocqueville said that future trends will always begin on the west coast of the US so here is a trend you will not like - you had to swipe your debit card at a central location, not at the pump, and you had to agree to a .35 charge to pay for your gas with a card.  THAT ain't right.  But it was early and I was stuck so I got my gas and got.

I was on the road at 7:00 AM, Houston time (which was 5:00 AM Pacific, I have to write that down because it confused me all day as I passed through three time zones needing to log the time.)  It was a great time to leave San Diego.  The freeway was basically deserted.  I didn't know this before doing it but you are basically dealing with mountains for 90 miles as you leave Southern California.  I love that.  The views and the sweeps are great.

Then you get to the moon.  Wow there is some funky territory in central California.  It would be another day in the desert for me but at least I got to see the sort of desert I expected.

I was in Arizona by 9:30 AM (Houston time) and ready for my cooling vest.  Man that was a great $30 investment.  You just get it wet, wear it under your shirt (I found that worked best), and you are riding in cool comfort all day.

I crossed into Texas sometime around 6:00 PM.  This was one of the pictures I looked forward to taking:

Back now to gas stations - if you want to ride long, the best thing is to ride "tank to tank."  That means you store up your needs and deal with them only when you need gas.  Since I carry everything I need and always have ice water, coffee, and food available on the bike, that is easy for me.  So I basically take a long riding day one gas station at a time.  Other than that, I don't stop.  And I never stop for long.

I think the longest I got on a full tank of gas on this trip was 247 miles.  The shortest?  Van Horn, TX to Fort Stockton, TX against a brutal howling West Texas wind.  Since I was riding the speed limit of 80 mph, and since you need to get gas out there when the gettin' is good, I stopped after 121 miles and needed 4.6 gals. to fill the tank.  That was horrible.

It is and will always be scary riding in the dark on I-10 from Fort Stockton all the way to San Antonio.  I saw more deer than I can count.  No live ones on the road but plenty of rotting meat on the edges.  It did, however, keep me awake and on my toes.  

I wanted gas before I got into San Antonio so I stopped at a station between there and Boerne only to discover that the station was closed.  The gas pumps, however, still worked.  While I was filling up a police officer stopped to question what I was doing.  Even though I was a bit hazy after riding so far, I kept my tongue and didn't say a wisecrack to the idiot who is watching me putting gas in my bike as he asks me "So what are you doing?"

But what really bugged me was that I needed the gas station to pee as badly as I needed it for gas.  I considered heading behind the dumpster but the police officer was still parked and watching me so I just got back on the bike.  No sooner did I get back on the interstate than my bladder revolted and told me I was NOT going to ride another foot.  So I pulled off onto the shoulder and prepared to do my business.  Just as I reached for the Central Command Station, Mr. Police Officer cruises up behind me and hits the lights.  Again he asks the million dollar question, "So, what are you doing?"  Figuring that honesty was my best policy, I told him, "Man, I needed to piss at that gas station but it was closed.  I couldn't hold it any more."  So he tells me that there is an open station at the next exit.  I gulped, swallowed hard, and made a beeline to the pee line.  At least they had good coffee.  Exchange of assets.

I got on I-37 out of San Antonio headed toward Corpus Cristi.  That is also deer heaven.  Bottom line is that I doubt there is anywhere in Texas where it is safe to ride at night.  But I made it OK.  Got to Corpus and headed south.  Another gas stop in Robstown.  The road to Brownsville is a pain.  It wants to be I-69 when it grows up but, for now, it is either construction or going through towns, with speed limits varying from 25 mph to 75 mph.  Two lane, four lane, construction cones, uneven pavement.  Again, it kept me awake and on my toes.

After riding all around the United States and dodging just about all the bad weather that I could, the heavens opened just 42 miles from Brownsville.  But I just kept on going.  I stopped at the first gas station I saw inside the Brownsville city limits.  I met my Bunburner GOLD goal.  1,585 miles in 23 hours and 7 minutes.  Done.  That only included 11 gas stops (it would take two more to get home to Houston) - see how much more reasonable it is to look at it that way?

It took me 1/2 hour to find two strangers willing to certify that I was actually in Brownsville at 6:15 AM on a Sunday morning. 

From there it was a short hop over to the post office to get my 6th and final corner picture.  

Since I got to the gas station at about 6:00 AM, it was still dark.  So while my potential witnesses were mulling over the prospect of giving personal information to a complete stranger who looked completely strange, I was talking with Kelley about prospects for the day.  Since I was talking from Brownsville, she was 369 miles away.  But I ain't sleeping in Texas without my wife so I headed north.

I got to the house around 1:00 PM.  Grand total for the day was 1,954 miles in 30 hours.

This sounds weird but ending big rides like this has become quite normal for me.  When I was in college and rode out to Mount Vernon, WA, my final leg began in Twin Falls, ID.  I rode through the night, and through a pouring rain, from Portland, OR, through Seattle, to Mount Vernon.  The first time that I rode through Colorado by myself I rode home all the way from Durango down through Albuquerque and El Paso.  After the Hoka Hey ride to Alaska in 2010, my last leg was non-stop to Houston from Cheyenne, WY.  I guess I like the challenge and I "smell the barn" of getting to where I'm going.

Kelley was waiting with an open garage door, a kiss, a cool house, and permission to nap.  I took her up on all four.

I have some stuff to put together before I'm ready but I hope to write a final recap of the ride tomorrow.  Thank you for sharing the journey with me.

Day Nineteen - Poolside

Start - National City, CA

Stop - National City, CA

Today's miles - 50

Total - 10,788

I wasn't going to post a report for today but I changed my mind.  I actually did ride a bit today so that needed to be noted.  And I wanted to offer those reading this who are preparing for their own Four Corners Tour a couple of things I have learned.

Kelley called ahead to make an appointment for me this morning at Sweetwater Harley Davidson for service.  I'm staying at the Best Western Marina Gateway which is only one mile away from Sweetwater.  This worked out great.  I brought my bike over at 8:30 AM and filled out the paperwork.  I told them I wasn't in a hurry so they could take their time.  Then I walked back to the hotel.

There was a Denny's on the way so I made it my 2nd Denny's for the trip.  I guess there is a cafe at the hotel but I never looked for it.  I'm a little tired of guessing which continent the motel continental breakfasts come from.  But they do save time and money.  I just wonder if in fact those yellow round things lined up in the steamer tray actually, at some point in history, descended from a chicken.  

Then I proceeded to waste the rest of my day.  I read and I sat by the pool with occasional forays into the hot tub, then the pool, then back to the chair.

Around 2:00 PM, I walked back to pick up my bike.  Spit cleaned and polished, there it sat, itching to go.  But first I had to pay the fiddler and those of you who ride Harley's know that they don't play that song for nothing. 

From the dealership I came back to I-5 south and rode down to the Coronando exit, exit #4.  Stay straight there and you are on Hollister.  Follow it until it ends (being surprised as I was at the horse culture you pass through on the way) and turn right on Monument Road.  That takes you to the Border Field State Park.  There is a monument there that marks the farthest southwestern corner of the USA.  You can also see Tijuana from there, and a fence that runs down into the water.  At least that is what the guys at the Harley dealer told me.  Because you can only see that stuff if you get there on a Saturday or a Sunday.  Today is Friday.  I saw the sign and the closed gate. So I rode on.

I rode back to civilization, took a left to get to Imperial Beach, and started looking for the ocean.  I found some places I could turn into to get closer to the beach but all I saw were "No Parking Here" signs and no available parking spaces.  But I got close enough to see the beach which was the goal.

Then I went hunting for Hiway 75 which follows the coast up into San Diego.  I must say that the people who can afford to live here have it nice.  Beautiful weather, beautiful sights...just not much in the way of free parking.  Hiway 75 ended and I hunted and pecked my way, with help from my GPS, back to I-5.  I have never heard of the Coronando Bridge before but it is majestic.  I rode slow enough over it to peeve the other drivers around me but I wanted to see the sights and the sights from that bridge are great.

Then back to the hotel where a chair with my name on it was waiting by the pool.

So here are my final stats for the Four Corners part of my trip:

- 18 days on the road or hanging with family

- 8,639 miles from Key West, FL, to San Ysidro, CA

- 28 states (I'll add Arizona and New Mexico on my way home)

- I spent 11 nights in motels, 5 with family/friends, and 1 at the Iron Butt Motel on the Massachusetts Turnpike.

I'm going to bed soon without setting an alarm.  When I wake up it will be time to go.  I had the two guys working the hotel desk sign my witness sheet as I intend on attempting a Bunburner on the way to Brownsville.  I'm hoping for a Bunburner GOLD which is 1500 miles in 24 hours but I'll settle for doing it in 36 hours.  It all depends on how it goes.  It slows down after San Antonio and you never know how it will be getting out of here so we'll see.  But I doubt I'll be taking many pictures and I won't post another ride report until I'm back in Houston.

My final thought is this - I'm not sure yet what I will ultimately learn from this trip but one thing I know for sure is that it was important that I did it.  For lots of reasons.  And it was important that I made time to see people who have long been important to me.  My Uncle Jerry was doing well in the hospital on Wednesday.  We had a great visit.  But we both knew the end was near.  His lungs were failing due to complications from the chemotherapy he had been receiving for his pancreatic cancer.  None of that is good.  We said what needed to be said and that was that.

My aunt called me this evening to let me know that Jerry passed away this afternoon.  The end came much quicker than expected but there is mercy in that.  May God bless and keep all who knew and loved him.

And I guess, if you have ever wanted to ride a motorcycle all the way around the United States, there is no time like today to get it done.  You just never know how many days you have.

Day Eighteen - San Ysidro

Start - Mesquite, NV

Stop - National City, CA

Today's miles - 451

Total - 10,738

There really isn't a whole lot to say about today.  I will say that I was surprised to see that I had ridden 451 miles today, it felt much shorter.  And since I got to San Ysidro early, and thus to the motel early, I was able to look back over the chicken scratch records I have been keeping and I've discovered another math mistake on Day Ten.  So the mileage total for the whole trip is a little bit more today compared to yesterday.

Today's ride went fast because the whole thing was in traffic.  4th of July holiday trippers all around me all day.  I left early to avoid at least some of the heat and because I wanted to stop in Las Vegas.  Today was my 4th trip there and my most unwilling.  I considered blowing right by but I had a plan that needed to be tended to, if not agreed to.  So I got a picture of the bike in front of the original location of "Pawn Stars".  The sun wasn't in the right location so it isn't a good picture but I was there.  And yes, TV makes everything look bigger and better.  (And there isn't a thing that is real about any reality television - it is just much cheaper to make and they can still sell commercials if it gets popular.)  It really was a dump.

My second Las Vegas goal was to gamble $20.  I changed my mind on that one.  Decided to save my money for breakfast later in the day.  Which I had at Denny's.  Make that one stop at Denny's for this trip and NO stops at Waffle House.  Unheard of for a bike trip but I've been preferring gas station food the whole time.

The weather got hot quickly on I-15 and the traffic never let up.  It flowed well but there were always lots of vehicles around.  

There were three great things about today's ride.

1)  When you ride a motorcycle you are much more connected to the environment than in a car. Obviously.  So it was pretty cool to leave Barstow, CA, and notice that the temperature was starting to cool down, even just a little.

2)  The drop down into San Bernardino is spectacular.  I wasn't expecting that and it was marvelous.  I took I-215 to avoid some of the LA traffic which then brought me back to I-15 and then I-805 to the east side of San Ysidro.  I don't know if that was better than going all the way to I-5 but it worked well for me.  Again, the traffic was heavy all day but flowed well.  I can't imagine the traffic here if the freeways didn't have multiple lanes.

3)  Not long before I got to the San Ysidro exit, I got my first view of the ocean over off to the right.  The temperature actually felt cool on that last drop into the valley.  Beautiful really.  It was 82 degrees in San Ysidro.  This time I got my picture AND my gas receipt as I had no distractions.

Then off to the motel to check in, swung by the Harley dealer but they really want me to bring my bike to my scheduled appointment tomorrow morning.  (Thank you Kelley for making arrangements for me.)  Back to the motel for a dip in the pool and a nap.  Now I'm up and considering a meal in the restaurant next to the place.

Tomorrow I have no plans other than bringing my bike in for service and lounging around for the rest of the day.  I have 4,655 miles on my oil and a whole lot more than that since the last full service before I left.  I'm hearing sounds I haven't heard before which isn't surprising given the abuse I've been handing the bike the past week.  High temperatures sustained for a long time isn't good for anything, especially air cooled motorcycles that depend on their oil.  So I hope I don't get any bad surprises.

San Diego, at least as much as I have seen from the motel pool, has incredible weather.  You can't beat sunny and 82.  I'll enjoy it tomorrow and check back in with the blog on my way back home.  I still need to complete the Six Corners Tour with a stop at the post office in Brownsville, TX.

Day Seventeen - The Desert

I woke up this morning, pleasantly surprised to see that, though it was already 90 degrees on my bike's air temperature gauge, it didn't feel that hot.  How many times in my life have I heard those words, "But it was a dry heat."  At some point, heat is heat but the day didn't begin there.

Here is what I was looking at 10 miles out of town on 95A:

If you don't think that is pretty, then you aren't trying.  Don't those mountains off in the distance sound like they are inviting you to come and discover them?

Yesterday was all about the mountains, today was all about the desert.  Both have their charms.  Yesterday the thought occurred to me that it makes sense that the gay community found a home in San Francisco, there isn't a straight road in Northern California.  Well I rode down some straight roads today!  Check out this picture, make it bigger, yes, that is the same straight road I don't know how many miles ahead.  This shot also highlights the challenge of riding when you feel your tires slip on those hot tar snakes in the way.

From 95A, I picked up US 95 heading south.  Much like yesterday when I came around a corner to see Lake Tahoe off in the distance, today I was shocked to see Walker Lake in the same way, an utter surprise.

 

It just took my breath away.  I thought about those early leaders who realized, if we are going to make a home for all the people who will flock out here, they are going to need water, and later, they are going to need power.  God doesn't just drop such things out of the sky.  God creates possibilities and then people use their God-given ingenuity and sometimes marvelous things happen.

As I came around the bend to the "developed" side of the lake, I could see various homes leaning in to the hill above the lake.  Many were basically shacks.  A couple of nice little cabins.  And many travel trailers that won't see the road again in their lifetime.  And I thought, "I could do this life out here.  I could be a desert hermit.  I have it in me."  So much for that.

Next up came Hawthorne, NV.  The first thing you notice, as you scan for a gas station, is that there is a huge Army depot there.  Building after building.  On the way out of town (far from Walker Lake) there is a sign saying that it is the home of Navy Underwater Weaponry or something like that.  I should have gotten a picture but I had moving on my mind.  I also wanted a picture of the missile that made up the sign at a military shooting range.  Surprises abound.

So I came into Hawthorne and stopped for gas.  I told the lady at the counter that I really thought the lake was beautiful.  "Oh," she said, "You like our lake?  It is really beautiful but it is so sad to see that it is dying."

Just then the other guy behind the counter butted into our conversation.  "Did you know," he says to me, "that there are more spiders in and around that lake than around any other body of water in the world?  Yes sir, I saw it on the Nature channel.  It seems that the type of water in that lake is a great place for a certain kind of bug that spiders just love.  There are so many spiders around that lake that at night, when you drive down the road, you can see all the spiderwebs that you are driving through."

So much for my desert hermit fantasy.  I don't do spiders.

After Hawthorne I continued to learn that central Nevada isn't what I expected.  I expected something flat and featureless, like the deserts of Iraq or Kuwait, but it wasn't like that at all.  There are always mountains off in the distance, interesting rock formations, changes in how the desert looks.  There will always be beauty - even in the desert places in our own lives - if only we have the eyes to see.

I got to Tonopah and I had another decision to make.  I could follow my initial plan which was to jump around cross country on my way to Mesquite.  Or I could stay on US 95 south which would pretty much take me as close as I would get to Death Valley (since I don't know precisely where that is.)  Like last night, tempted to stay on US 50 in the north, I decided to stick with my original plan and I'm happy to say that my GPS agreed with me.  So we took US 6 out of Tonopah to 375 South.

Let me tell you about 375 South.  It was a very nice road and stayed that way for the next 100 miles.  Very soon after I made that turn, we dropped down as the temperature went up.  Yes, to 120 degrees where it stayed for the rest of the day.  At some point, I realized that I hadn't met a single car.  So I decided to keep track.

Over those 100 or so miles, I met precisely 20 vehicles, all traveling in the other lane as I didn't see a single vehicle in front of me or behind me the entire time.  Particularly interesting to me were Vehicles 8 and 9 in that, as I met Vehicle 8, I could see Vehicle 9 far off on the horizon.  Seeing two cars at the same time, even if I couldn't make out the type of the one three miles in front of me, at that point, was exciting.

I also laughed because Vehicle 18 turned out to be the UPS guy in his brown van.  I wondered if there was some lady living in a shack next to a cell phone tower who was addicted to the Home Shopping Network and driving that UPS guy crazy every week with her orders.

375 is known as the "Extraterrestrial Highway" but I didn't see anything suspicious.

I did learn today that, just because the map of Nevada includes a name and a dot signifying a town or village, don't be misled.  Such names mean nothing.  Warm Springs, though an inviting name and though it sits at the intersection of two highways, is nothing but a few abandoned buildings.  Pity the fool - not me today - who plans gas stops around such information.  Today I filled each time I got to a town with a pump.

At one point I smelled smoke.  I thought it was me.  But then I noticed what might have been a grass fire far past me.  And I thought about those smoke jumpers who died the other day.  I was a long way from that fire and I could already smell it.  I can't imagine the hell of fighting an inferno when you are already living in one.  May God be with their families and every other person who risks their lives for ours.

My cross country short cut paid off when I turned south from 375 on US 93.  That allowed me to take 168 and bypass Las Vegas.  The devil turned on the blast furnace when I picked up I-15 north to Mesquite.  Once again it was so hot that the air burned my fingers and I had trouble holding on to the handle bars.  Tomorrow I'm going to wear my dorky looking Coolmax glove liners and be done with it.

I've also traded my black LDComfort long sleeved shirt for a baby blue LDComfort shirt.  The black looks better but sometimes I would rather feel like a cool biker than look like a cool biker.  Which reminds me of the group I met at the gas station in Ash Springs.  THEY were bikers.  Wearing nothing but bandanas and cut-off t-shirts.  Brown as dirt.  I saw one of those old fashioned leather wine squeezee things hanging off a sissy bar, a far cry from my 100 oz. Camelbak with the insulated hose sitting on top of the dorky tank bag I use.

I went over to say hi and I tried out my line about the Home Shopping Network.  They deigned to give me a chuckle, told me they had passed the same truck, and then went back to their greasy paper maps to figure out their next move.  I thought about mentioning that they really out to consider investing in a cool GPS unit like the one I have on my bike but then thought better of it.  (I'm just kidding.  I wouldn't have said such a thing.  But I did think about saying it and how funny that would be.  Did I mention that all of this happened with me standing there in my baby blue long sleeve high tech water wicking long underwear shirt?  So I just rode on.)

My target for today was seeing my Uncle Jerry who lives with his wife, Ginny, in Mesquite, NV.  Jerry has always been someone I have admired.  He is as close to a self-made man as they come.  He parlayed a stint in the Navy and a two year degree in electronics at the junior college in my hometown into a career with Onan, the generator company.  Eventually he was in charge of sales for everything west of Denver, including Alaska and Hawaii.  He retired in Mesquite and has been battling pancreatic cancer since last October.

He took a turn for the worse this week and I found out today that he was taken to the hospital yesterday.  So that is where we visited.  He is living in the desert, in that place of test and trial and suffering.  But he has found God there, a pastor he respects, and a community where he matters.  He's not afraid of being dead, just parts of the process of getting there.  And, of course, the unfinished business that is life still calls his name with concerns for his family and all of that stuff.  My prayers will continue to be with him.  I'm glad I came.  Today's visit was part of the reason I wanted to make this trip.

  

Now tomorrow I head off to San Ysidro.  But first I have to pass by Las Vegas.  Honestly, I might just pass right by.  But there is a part of me that wants to do two things:  1) Get a picture of my bike in front of the original location of "Pawn Stars" if I can find the address tonight; and 2) Stop at one casino, ask the valet guy to watch my bike, walk in, get a free coffee, put a $20 bill in a $1 slot with a $3 max, hit the button six times, then cash out.  I might spend $18 on another lesson on why gambling turns everyone into losers or I might win enough to pay for servicing my bike on Friday for my trip back to Texas. You gotta love Vegas.  But you should also be wise.  

God uses deserts to teach us, ultimately, to rely upon Him with and in everything.  For that is what life is all about.  We should be wary of those who would use the desert for waging war or tempting us with the allure of something for nothing - neither is God's chosen road.

Blessed are the peacemakers and God be with Uncle Jerry and his family. 

Day Sixteen - Trust Your Gut

Start - Crescent City, CA

Stop - Verington, NV

Today's miles - 579

Total - 9,792

Imagine my surprise this morning to wake up early and walk out into a cold, foggy, dreary morning.  I thought I was in London.  I don't know what I expected but it wasn't that.  I guess I don't get out much.  But the coffee and the shower were great so I was ready to roll.

On the way out of town I took a left so that I could get a look at the ocean.  Seeing the Atlantic and the Pacific on the same motorcycle trip is fun.  The town was still asleep when I made my way to one of the beach access places.

I loaded up and headed south on US 101.  In my excitement, once again, I left with a less than full tank, not knowing when I would find the next station.  So I trusted my gut on this one and immediately headed back to town to fill up.

Then I was off in search of really tall trees.  (Redwoods would have to do, I don't want to take the time to hunt sequoia's on this trip.)  Another surprise - coastal redwoods aren't just in one park.  There is a whole series of parks and roads along and off of US 101.  I didn't realize that at first.  I just headed into the park.

Not long after I began the climb into the park the fog hit me like a rug.  I couldn't see my teeth in my mouth.  It reminded me of the time that Mark and I road all day in a pouring rain through Colorado.  When we finally stopped in Cripple Creek and got off our bikes I told him, "We rode through some beautiful country today if we could have seen it."  It didn't take long and there they were, in all their glory, some immensely huge trees lining the road.  It was like Bayland Avenue in Houston on steroids.

I kept looking over the edge of the road, wondering how far down those trees actually reached.  Every once in awhile the trees would give way to fantastic views of the ocean.  I took one of the side roads into a state park.  Since I didn't have a map or any idea of where I was going, again I just trusted my gut and I was glad I did.  I only shared the road with a couple of cars that I quickly let pass me and I just puttered along.  Just before I left the road came to a meadow where elk were feeding.  They drew quite a crowd.

Then it was back to US 101. I decided last night to skip the ride down to San Francisco as I originally planned.  I looked in the morning for a highlighted route back over to I-5.  I decided to leave US 101 at Arcata and take 266.  I'm glad I did.  It was beautiful.  A real snake trail. (Only later did I realize that decision meant that I missed out on seeing a tree big enough to drive a car through.  Oh well, mind picture.)

Imagine my surprise when I got to Klamath and saw, as big as life, Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox.  Even bigger I think than the ones in Bemidji, MN.  And Paul even speaks.  I guess they got around some.  I took a picture but it actually bugged me.  My 6th grade class trip included seeing Paul and Babe for the first time in my life.  When summer came, my Mom took all of us kids back there again.  I hope Minnesota got some steep royalties for California stealing their myth.

Not long after Klamath I caught up to a maniac driving a log truck.  He was actually driving at the perfect pace for a biker who doesn't know the roads.  I followed him quite a ways until we both stopped at a road construction line.  I got off the bike and went up to talk to him.  He told me he has driven those roads since 1974.  He also rides a Fatboy and looks the part.  He told me to hang a left at Weaverville and take 3 up to Trinity Lake.  I didn't do it - but I will next time.

My favorite part of 299 was following the Trinity River.  The water was so crystal clear that you could see the bottom everywhere along the road, even when we were way above it.  At one point I couldn't take it anymore and looked for an easy access.  I let the log truck drive get on with his day and I found a little park and walked down to the river.  It was perfect.  I gave some thought to creating my own personal Easy Rider moment and stripping to my skivvies for a dip but I was worried about the stuff on my bike.  So I settled for kneeling down and sticking my head in.  By then it had gotten hot and the water felt fine.

Just as I got ready to leave the parking area a Harley flew by.  I saw that the guy riding it was wearing shorts and a t-shirt, clearly a local.  I took off in pursuit.  I would never have caught him but we also ran into a road construction delay.  I saw him running up the shoulder to the front of the line and I followed him.  We had plenty of time to talk and he gave the lowdown on all the great places to ride around there.  He also gave me his name and phone number and the invitation to call him the next time I'm in the area and he would be my tour guide.  Now that is motorcycling.

The closer I got to Redding, CA, the hotter it got.  And I am talking hot.  I have never seen my air temperature gauge top out but it did today and it stayed that way until I started the climb to Lake Tahoe.  Here's the view once I got to a gas station in Redding - the fuel gauge on Empty and the air temp gauge on "It is time to take a break!"

But I didn't have time for much of a break.  I loaded up my Camelbaks with ice water, put on the cooling vest, and rolled out to I-5 south in search of Folsom Prison.  I can't describe how hot it was on that interstate but I can give you these details.  I wear leather fingerless riding gloves.  The air was so hot on my uncovered fingers that it was burning me.  I had to take turns with one hand on the bars to get some relief.  At first I put the cooling vest over my shirt.  In Florida that lasted a whole gas tank.  Today it lasted 27 miles.  I hit the first rest area I got to, re-soaked the cooling vest and put on it UNDER my shirt, and I traded out my riding gloves for my Coolmax glove liners.  Problems solved.

It was also WINDY.  I thought back to the days of riding my Honda 750 - a day like today would have meant leaning sideways and barely holding 60 mph.  With the Harley all that the wind really does is bake my fingers and eat my gas mileage.  I was concerned about my bike though so I didn't push it.  I just liked the way it sounded at 67 mph rather than the speed limit of 70 mph.  That turned out good as the cars all passed me and I passed all the trucks.

All day today I just trusted my gut and followed my instincts.  It worked out great.  My sister, Danelle, told me the other day that she had taken a Myers-Briggs test and found that she was an S - a person who likes to know the details, the facts, and figures, and data.  I am an N - an intuitive person who likes to see the big picture without worrying about the data points.  I follow instincts, hunches, ideas that initially seem good at the time.

Actually, at this stage of my life, I'm much more focused on discerning and following God's voice in my life.  I'm not sure how that feels to "S" people but to me it includes asking and listening for that still small voice.  I was thinking about that as the bike and I were frying on I-5.  Ironic, isn't it, to be thinking heavenly thoughts while feeling the burning flames of hell?  (I'm not really a burning flames guy but it was a good line.)

And I thought there needs to be limits on trusting my gut.  My gut can mislead me.  I thought that as I passed a huge newly planted olive grove.  I noticed the nice straight lines of the new trees, thinking that would make it easier for some type of mechanized harvesting, but it troubled me to see how many trees were not standing straight up.  I wondered if that bugged the owner of the grove.  Maybe he should send some people out with stick and strings to straighten them all up.

But it was only MY gut that thinks all trees should stand straight up.  And I realized, maybe the trees themselves don't want to stand up straight.  Maybe they have a God-given sense of the perfect angle, given their relationship to the other trees, to get sunlight and whatever they need to grow.  So then I paid attention to other, more mature trees, and I realized that few of them were standing straight either.

So then, MY gut wants straight trees but God, olive trees, and olive tree farmers don't much seem to care.  Which means I need to be mindful of other times that my gut misleads me.  When it comes to listening to God, that means checking thoughts against the Bible and talking to other people who are willing to be honest with me.

As I approached Sacramento I realized that God had planted a little bit of Eastern North Dakota right there in the middle of California.  Flatter than my Dad's crew cut.  But I didn't go to Sacramento, I took a shortcut to Folsom, CA, the next stop on my adventure.  I wanted a picture of my bike by the prison.

Johnny Cash was one of my childhood idols and remains a hero to me.  My favorite song is Folsom Prison Blues.  Sit me down on karoake night and I'll be the first to run to the DJ and get my name in.  So as I got closer and closer I started wondering why I like that song so much.  I think I figured it out.  It is a song about people on the outside (the guy in prison) looking and wanting what people on the inside (people riding by on the train) seem to have and be.  There it is.  I will always identify with people on the outside.  Because, I think, we are all on the outside and Jesus has come out to find us and invite us in to dinner.

I accidentally found the prison.  I had set the GPS to look for Folsom, CA, but didn't enter an address. I do that all the time on this trip to get a quick idea of how long it will take to get somewhere.  I checked the streets the GPS was planning to take me down and noticed one of them was "Prison Road."  I decided to just follow the directions until I got to that road.  Then I would follow my gut to turn left or right, giving myself one chance to find it on my own, and then I would stop for help.  So I followed the directions and lo and behold "Prison Road" was the entrance to the prison itself.  The guards were cool and let me take a picture.

I feel better now.  I'm glad that Johnny wrote that song and that he took the time to sing it in person to the prisoners in both concerts he played there.

Then it was off to Lake Tahoe.  I had a fantasy that I would get another chance to recreate my Easy Rider moment with a quick dip at a road side park.  But then US 50 started to climb above Folsom.  The higher we went the colder it got.  4000 feet, 5000 feet, 6000 feet, 7000 feet.  The air temperature gauge dropped nearly to 60.  I was just about to pull over and put my jacket on when we hit Echo Summit at 7382 feet.  And then we started down, down, down.  But it didn't warm up so I stopped to put on my jacket and change my sunglasses out for my clears.

I came around a corner not all that long after passing the Sierra ski resort, and there it was, off in the distance, Lake Tahoe.  It was huge.  I flew down past these remarkable rock walls until I got into the little bit of madness that was South Lake Tahoe.  Cars, people, motels, casinos.  I had thought about stopping there but I couldn't wait to get past it.  I didn't need the distraction or to be told that there was no room at the inn.  I decided to ride on.

My goal tomorrow is to visit my Uncle Jerry in Mesquite, NV, and maybe mooch a free night at his house.  I came with a plan for how to get there from Stateline but I had a moment of indecision where US 50 intersected with 207.  What to do?  Stay on US 50 all the way to US 93 South, both nice roads and probably more motel choices OR follow my own backcountry plans?

I took a right on 207.  As darkness fell, I did too.  10+ miles of non-stop downhill twisties.  Never in my childhood, let alone life in Houston, could I imagine riding downhill for over 10 miles.  I hope I never get over being amazing by such wonderful trivialities.  I called Kelley from a 7-11 station at an intersection and told her my plan - to ride off into the night until I get to a motel.  If I couldn't find a motel I would stay at the Desert Iron Butt Motel.

I almost missed the turn to 95A but I caught my mistake immediately.  Then it turned again in Yerington.  It wanted to go left but my gut wanted to turn right. Just in case.  And that is how I ended up for the night at the Copper Inn Motel.  (Coffee in the room and the Internet is down...just like it has been at every other cheap hotel I've stayed in.)  But it will do.  Like my Mom would say, "Beats a poke in the eye with a sharp stick."

Day Fifteen - Leave Some for Another Day

Start - Big Lake, WA

Stop - Crescent City, CA

Today's miles - 854

Total - 9,213

With some regularity I need to remind myself of my capacity for being profoundly stupid.  Today I got a double dose of humility.

It started when I got to Kent, WA, on I-5.  That is south of the Seattle airport, on the way to Tacoma.  The morning had gone very well to that point.  The night...not so much.  We went to bed around 11:00 PM and the power went off at 2:00 AM.  Since both my sister and I sleep with machines we were pretty much done sleeping for the night.  We were all up by 4:30 AM.  

I was excited about getting an early start.  The traffic around Seattle can be a nightmare.  So I headed out before 6:00 AM.  I wanted to get a picture of Fir Conway Lutheran Church, the first ELCA congregation that I joined before going to the seminary.  I'm still grateful for Pastor Gary Peterson for taking the time to meet with me and welcome me.

Then it was a quick stop at the Conway Store for coffee and water and I was off.  Everything went very well.  I got to use the express lanes all the way past Seattle's airport.  I got precisely 73 miles past having filled up at the Conway Store when I suddenly realized that I didn't get a gas receipt nor did I write down my odometer reading when we were in Blaine on Saturday.  I got the picture but I needed the rest to fulfill all righteousness for the Four Corners tour.

I thought about my options - calling and begging for grace, asking my sister to go get some gas at Blaine and mail me the receipt, asking John for a letter assuring the powers that be that I really was in Blaine - but there was really only one option.  I turned around and rode back to Blaine.  I added about 285 miles to my day.

So there you go.

As I headed back south on I-5 the traffic was fierce.  I started thinking about the holiday this week and all the people who would be on vacation.  My plan had been to ride to Albany, OR, and then go west to the Oregon coast on Hiway 20.  Then I was going to ride all the way down to San Francisco on the famous US 101. 

That route would be slow on a good day, horrendous on a holiday week.  So I changed my plan.  I'll leave the Oregon coast for another trip.  I got to Grant's Pass, OR, and angled down to Crescent City, CA on Hiway 199.  THAT was a great ride until it got dark.  Really dark.  25 mph hairpin curves when you can't see where you are going suck the fun out of the adventure.  

I got to town and got a $55 motel room.  Are you ready for my second dose of humility?

I had always heard of the huge trees at a national park in California.  Since I first began planning this trip I wanted to make sure and see those trees.  So I planned on going to the Redwoods National Park, which is just down the road from where I am now.  I'll go there tomorrow for the 31 mile ride down the Avenue of the Giants.

But then tonight I went to the hot tub and started talking to a man there with his little girl.  I told him that I wanted to see the big trees tomorrow.  And he - an immigrant from the Philippines mind you - said, "If you really want to see big trees, you should go to Sequoia National Park east of Fresno.  That's where they have the REALLY big trees."

Do I, or do I not, feel like a complete idiot?  52 years old and a graduate of two fine Lutheran institutions of higher education (though they might not appreciate that plug at this moment) and I can't tell my redwoods from my sequoia's.  So I'm going to spend some time with a map and maybe I'll figure out where I'm going tomorrow.  

I told my Uncle Jerry that I would stop by and see him on Wednesday.  In Mesquite, NV, on the other side of the state.

Sometimes, when you are having a hard time ending a great day of fishing, it helps to say, "Let's leave a few behind for another day."  That's how I'm feeling about some of the roads and some of the sights I hoped to see in California.  We might have to leave some for another trip.

Days Thirteen and Fourteen - Weekend With My Sisters

Start - Big Lake, WA

Stop - Big Lake, WA

Today's miles - 135

Total - 8,359

I spent the weekend with my sisters at my sister Sue and brother-in-law Bill's amazing slice of heaven just above Mount Vernon, WA.  The last time I was here was in 2008 when Kelley and I came here on our honeymoon to spend time getting to know our family.  I love this place.  Bill bought it many years ago and they have been slowly developing it.  I love every square inch, but especially the many little details of how they have built something out of nothing but a great location.

I got here earlier than I planned, on Friday rather than Saturday, so this has turned out to be a much better visit than I even hoped for.  After late night conversation, I went to bed in the loft of the log cabin half of Sue and Bill's house.  It was an apt location as I slept like the logs that surrounded me.

On Saturday morning we were a little slow getting going but eventually got around to leaving for Blaine and the next corner photo op.  I gave my sister a ride on the bike over to the home of John and Korynn, long time friends of ours.  John decided to make the run to Blaine with me.

Back in 2006 my Dad was very sick, in the hospital, and it became clear that he might not make it.  The girls called me on a Friday and said that it didn't look good.  Since I had spent a week with him the month before I just asked them to keep me informed.  I went to bed, couldn't sleep, so at 2:00 AM I packed up my truck in Houston and headed to Bremerton, WA.  I was in his room with my family on Sunday night.  He passed away on Monday with his wife and five kids at his side.  We started planning a Saturday funeral.  

Thursday of that week happened to be my birthday.  So John and Korynn invited me to spend the night with them on Wednesday and then I borrowed Korynn's bike and John and I spent Thursday riding around this beautiful country.  It was just what I needed.

Three years later John and Korynn decided to meet me in Sturgis and spend the week with me.  It just so happened that my Mom ended up getting very sick the week before we got to Sturgis.  I only got to spend a day with John and Korynn before I was called back to Mom's.  She died the day I got back to Houston.

All of that came to mind when I brought Sue to Korynn's and then headed out to meet John for the ride to Blaine.  Friends and family, shared life experiences, being there with each other in the midst of the worst times of life, "knowing" so much about each other, having that strange experience of not seeing each other for years and then time disappearing as soon as we're together as if no time passed at all  - isn't this about the best that life has to offer?

The ride to Blaine was fine.  I-5, one of the most highly traveled highways in the country, was moving well.  The temporary bridge over the Skagit River in Mount Vernon was a little creepy but we made it over without troubles.  At some point people around here will go back to taking bridges for granted but for now, the bridge collapse is pretty fresh on their minds.  It was on mine.

 We got back to Clinger Mountain and my bike didn't move again.

Sunday morning began with church at the Free Methodist Church in Day Creek, a little community east of Mount Vernon.  My niece, Laurel Lohman, and her husband, Travis, have been attending that church for years.  Recently Travis was commissioned as the lay pastor of the congregation so I was really looking forward to being part of worship.  It was fun.  A very different kind of experience than what people might have at Faith but clearly it was a community, Travis did very well, and the hearts of those people are in the right place.  It was a very good Sunday morning.

Then it was time to party!  With sisters and families and some friends, 31 people gathered on one of the most beautiful days I've seen in Washington.  Absolutely cloudless sky.  Mount Baker in all her glory.  And just about everyone was able to make it.  We had a great feast and spent the afternoon huddled in the shade, sharing stories and reconnecting.

Bill and Sue delight in calling themselves "rednecks", and that they are indeed.  You should have seen the kids entertaining themselves all day long hunting snakes and splashing in Bill's redneck pool, complete with water pumped up from the creek that runs 900 feet below their property.  I loved it.  It felt like my childhood, a time when the world was waiting for you to create your own fun, and we only had three channels on the TV (that all closed down for the night at midnight.)

Then came time for pictures.  I wanted two - one with my sisters and one with my brothers-in-law, all great guys.

Today made this whole trip worth it.  Eventually it came time for everyone to pack up and head for home.  I'll be doing the same in the morning.  It is on to points south and one step closer to Texas.

Day Twelve - LIfe is Better With A Full Tank of Gas

Start - Kalispell, MT

Stop - Big Lake, WA

Today's miles - 612

Total - 8,224

After a great night of conversation, sleep, and then breakfast, it was time to hit the road.  The plan for today was to ride, all day, in the mountains.  I wanted to stay on US 2 to Washington and then take State Hiway 20 all the way across Washington to my sister Sue's house.  As soon as I got on the road I checked the mileage and figured that I had enough gas to make the 90 miles to Libby.

What a ride that was - and what a ride the whole day turned out to be.  The road to Libby takes you through the Kootenai River Valley and its various passes and surprises.  "Kootenai" is a Native American word that means "OMG!  This place is beautiful!  I'm going to stay here FOREVER!" 

Now I might not be technically correct here but this is how I use the following words:  "Twisties" are tight corners that require downshifting, finding the right line, and accelerating.  "Sweepers" are relatively gentle curves that do not require slowing down or downshifting (they are actually even better if you accelerate through them.)  Those words matter because they, in addition to awesome views, are why it is fun to ride through mountains.  The road to Libby was sweeper heaven.

At one point I came up to three bikes in front of me.  I decided to hang with them for awhile.  They were puttering along, maybe five miles below the speed limit.  I followed.  I'm a fine follower.  I maintained the right gap, stayed in my lane, functioned like a sweep.  It isn't always OK to join a group like that but, since you can't read their minds while all of ours are being blown by the road, I took the risk.

It didn't take long before I realized again that, while I can be a fine follower, God has shaped me to lead.  That led to all sorts of other thoughts about working with people, second guessing things that have happened in the past, etc.  But then the speed limit jumped up to 70 mph and I couldn't take following anymore.  I got on it and waved to my newfound and suddenly long lost friends as I flew on down the road.

When I was about 30 miles from Libby I had a sinking feeling.  Once again, I wondered if my gas calculations had gone awry.  "Sure I can get there" became "I'm not so sure anymore I can get there."  Just as I realized that I probably needed to stop for gas we got to a stretch of road, a long stretch, that had neither civilization nor gas stations.  What it had instead was uphill climbs and a lot more wind.  It didn't look good.  Then it got worse.  The dreaded road construction delay.  I turned off my bike to save the fumes that were left.  I considered telling the guy pulling the camper behind me to stay with me in case I ran out of gas.  I considered it and realized what a total dweeb that would leave me looking like and didn't say a word.  I decided again to take my medicine.  I guess the lesson wasn't adequately learned.

Three miles short of Libby I got to a station.  I put 5.7 gals. in so, in retrospect, I WOULD have made it.  I hope I don't need to learn that lesson again.  Like I said earlier - I've never run out of gas on a bike, or in a car for the matter, in my life and I don't want to start now.

US 2 got me to Newport, WA, and I picked up State 20.  This would be a brand new road for me.  I was excited to get back to Washington.  Washington is like Montana if you left it in the dryer long enough to shrink it a bit.  It has everything and it isn't all that far from here to there.  But what Washington DOES have that Montana doesn't is a lot more traffic.  That's why Montana wins for me as the best state to ride in.  I love Montana.  If Montana was in Texas I'd move there (as long as Kelley, Emma, and I could bring Faith Lutheran Church with us.)

I had no idea what to expect from State 20.  I chose it for a couple of reasons.  First, it doesn't make much sense to cross the state on 20.  I-90 is the fastest, US 2 is next.  20 meanders, goes too far north, and wastes too much time.  Perfect for me because that means it wouldn't be very busy.  And second, State 20 is the pass through the North Cascades that I wanted to take.  I love that pass.   

The first time that I rode a bike across the North Cascades pass was in college.  My friend, Randy, and I decided to take a couple of days off of work.  He showed up at my house on his Yamaha 650 Midnight Special.  It was a much cooler looking bike than my Honda CB 750.  He had a duffle bag and a sheet of plastic tied to his sissy bar.  I had a duffle bag too, and a cooler with food and drinks.  Our letterman jackets were the closest thing we had to biker leathers.  We were good to go.  We headed up I-5 to Burlington and took off on State 20.  

Within a couple of hours we were having a snowball fight on Washington Pass.  Another hour and we were running the twisties down into Okanogan.  We rode on down to see the Grand Coulee Dam, through Electric City, and stopped before 5:00 PM at a camping place by a lake.  We took a swim, ate, drank, and then wrapped up under the plastic sheet for the night.  The next day we rode back over the pass on US 2 in the rain and flew home.  I remember I had a basketball game that night and I didn't want to be late.  We rode way too fast for the conditions but we were young and dumb.  For a while we switched bikes but I wasn't dumb enough to let that little experiment last too long.  As good as it looked, the Yamaha was a piece of junk.

So I headed north on State 20, looking forward to where it would take me.

 

The first mind picture I took was a sign that said "U.S.A.F. Survival School".  I thought that was pretty cool and added to the boondocks appeal of State 20.  I have no idea how many mountain passes I rode over but State 20 is twisty city.  I wasn't terribly surprised by the deer that darted across the road in front of me (he missed me by a mile) but I WAS amazed to ride into Collville and see a deer eating in someone's front yard, in the middle of town, along the main drag.  I had to turn around to get a picture of that one.  (Look closely, he's in front of the trees.)

After Kettle Falls I rode through some more passes in the Okanogan National Forest.  "Okanogan" is a Native American word that means, "Honey, don't forget to grab your sweater, it gets chilly up there."  It was great.  I remembered again that I love these signs:

I got to Tonasket and needed gas.  I checked my phone and Kelley had texted me, wondering if I had gotten off track.  I was too far north.  So I called to explain my rationale.  Taking State 20 was a great choice.  Along with the fun roads it also gave me the feeling that all bikers crave, the sense that they are the only ones on the road.  Nothing is better than riding in a world without cars and trucks.  That road was as close as I've been to that since Maine.

State 20 joins US 97 and heads south at Tonasket.  Out of the mountains we were suddenly in the desert and I was hot.  I turned east at Okanogan and let US 97 continue on its way to Wenatchee.  I like the sound of "Wenatchee" and that reminded me of a song that old school Washingtonians would remember:  "When Godzilla Ate Tukwila".

He ate Wenatchee and his throat got scratchy

So he sucked up Lake Chelan,

Piddled on Spokane,

And fertilized half of Yakima.

Great song.

And on I rode through the North Cascades.  Three passes.  Riding by more snow.  All good.  And even better in that I had been looking forward to it all day.

The pass spills out into the Skagit River Valley and the towns of Sedro-Wooley and Burlington.  They are just north of Mount Vernon and Conway - where I lived in high school with my Dad during the summers.  I did that for six years.  Immediately I noticed, as I remembered various things that I had done just down that road and just down that road...that I felt at home.  How weird is that?

My home state and my home town and I don't feel at home until I am actually inside the city limits.  But the Skagit Valley still feels like home.  My theory is that, since I was always only a visitor there, that "home" feeling here is tied to visiting again.  I guess my expectations aren't as high about visiting as they are about how "home" is supposed to feel.

I got to Sue and Bill's place they call "Clinger Mountain".  Fortunately they were home and my visit got a head start.

Truth is, we have no home on this earth that isn't temporary.  We're all visiting.  Maybe we need to rethink our expectations.  And now my Sunday With My Sisters gets to be my Weekend With My Sisters, which is even better.  Tomorrow we'll swing up to Blaine for Corner #4.

If in doubt, fill your tank.  Life goes better on a full tank.

Day Eleven - Montana

Start - Williston, ND

Stop - Kalispell, MT

Today's miles - 611

Total - 7,612

After negotiating my way down the gravel driveway, to the gravel road, to US 2, it was time to head to Montana.  As excited as I was to see my aunts, uncles, and cousins and to ride across North Dakota, I have been looking forward to Montana.  But first I had to get out of Williston.

The oil boom is exploding that city.  Amazingly, they seem to be figuring it out.  There doesn't seem to be much trouble finding oil, or finding people who want to make bonus bucks working in the oil patch, the problem is everything else.  Homes, streets, electrical power - none of that falls from the sky, or even lies underground as decaying biomatter.  People have to decide to build infrastructure, they need to plan it, pay for it, and build it.  And all of that takes time.

Much of North Dakota feels like a very laid back place.  A whole lot of waiting going on.  Waiting for crops to grow and animals to do their thing.  But Williston looks and feels like an ant hill, everyone scurrying and hurrying, all chasing dreams that have more to do with money than anything else.  Not that there is anything wrong with that - but haste makes waste and Williston is haste-ing up a storm.

Ten miles west of Williston I sat in a traffic line waiting for a road construction crew with my bike turned off, checking my email on my phone.  But once traffic started moving again, it was just ten more miles to reach Montana.

Hands down, I would spend a week riding bikes around Montana before any other state in the union.  In the summer.  I love Montana.

I also prefer crossing Montana from east to west.  You begin with the same expansive grassland and farmland that starts in North Dakota but somehow it just seems to stretch on further in Montana.  There is a reason they call it Big Sky Country and you will think that again and again as you pass through.  Starting in the east leaves the mountains in the west calling your name all day long.

I think of crossing Montana from east to west like going to your Grandma's for Thanksgiving.  You arrive at 6:00 AM but know you can't eat turkey until 4:00 PM.  You love being there all day but the anticipation is the best.

Between 9th grade and my second year in college, I spent most or all of the summers north of Seattle with my Dad and his family.  Each summer began and ended with a road trip between Conway, WA, and Wahpeton, ND.  I've driven or ridden lots of different combinations.  I-94/I-90 is the fastest and the simplest.  Plus you get to spend a few minutes by Coeur d'Alene.   The mountain passes are nice, in both states.  US 2 isn't nearly as fast or as easy.  It is old fashioned two lane highway driving, complete with timing your passing, slowing down for every little town that gets in your way, and actually seeing the way people live beyond the Gas Malls on the interstate.  Personally, because of that, I think that the mountain passes are better on US 2.  They come close enough together that you can make it a combo run.  Which I've done.

On this trip I decided to take US 2 the whole way.  It was an easy choice.  I've already ridden too much interstate for my taste.  I started off in Williston.  I have friends from my old church who have invited me to their home in Kalispell - thank you Dwight and Peggy!  And I have always wanted to ride the Going To The Sun road in Glacier National Park.  Got a plan, now work the plan.

US 2 was a fine choice.  

The first time I rode a motorcycle out to Seattle was the first week of May after my sophomore year in college, 1981.  I rode a 1973 Honda CB 750 Four.  (You gotta add the "four" there as it was so prominently displayed on the tank badge.)  I had nothing.  Very little money.  None of the right clothes or boots.  Nothing.  I had problems with a chain that wouldn't stay tight and broken spokes that I had to replace on the way.  It was bitterly cold and raining when I left Tom and Judy's.  I started out on US 2 but headed toward the interstate through Sidney.

I found out there was a snowstorm on the pass so I cut south through Hardin to Casper, then over the pass to Salt Lake City.  I went up to Oregon and followed the river to Portland before heading north on I-5.  The rain never quit falling from the time I left Portland.  I had no money so I had to ride through the night, sleeping in the Iron Butt Motel on rest area picnic tables, freezing half to death.  I finally got to my Dad's at 8:00 AM.  IT WAS AN AWESOME AND AMAZING TRIP!

So I thought about that as I rode down US 2 in the sunshine.  I haven't had any significant rain on this whole trip.  I have all the equipment I could want and a bike that feels like my big chair in front of the TV.  The miles whipped by.

I think about Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance every once in awhile when I'm moving.  Loved the book.  He and his son rode through North Dakota in that book, they even rode through Wahpeton.  Read it.  I'm right on that.  I was doing the Zen thing today...I would look up and another 60 miles were gone.  The wind was fierce and my gas mileage continued to be atrocious.  AND no one had gas higher than 89 octane.  What's with that?  Eventually I got a tank of 91 in Cut Bank.  (Forgot to bring those little bottles of octane booster I left in the garage.)

You pass through some Native American reservations on US 2.  I stopped at Fort Peck and Fort Belknap.  It is good for the soul to notice reservations.  Not comfortable but good.  Far better than just ignoring their existence.  Life is horrible on most of them.  Alcoholism, drug addiction, rape, suicide, diabetes.  Much of this is rooted in trying to change the pain of poverty, unemployment, despair, and hopelessness.  So I stop, get my coffee and stand in line.  I greet people.  And I ride on, praying for everyone who is working to bring a measure of decency, self respect, sobriety, and hope into the lives of the people who remain at the soul of our nation.  Especially those from the reservation who go back to make a difference.

And I ride on.  I was racing to get to Glacier National Park while there was enough sun to ride to it.

I first heard about the Going to the Sun Road when I was a kid.  My Grandma and Grandpa Fay took their camper on a vacation that included Glacier.  Grandpa Fay loved to laugh and little was funnier to him than getting Grandma's goat.  She was terrified on that road and Grandpa Fay laughed the whole time.  He laughed when she was telling the story.  I knew someday I would have to see for myself.

But I was always too busy.  I always just roared down US 2, right past the park, never taking time to stop.  Today I finally made it.

For those of you who have traveled that road, you understand when I say that it is hard to describe.  It is awe inspiring.  Not only the majesty of the sights - glaciers creeping down rocky faces, snow melt waterfalls misting the road, snow-capped peaks, beautiful mountain lakes - but also the human ingenuity that thought to make such sights available to us.  

I wanted to enter the road from the east because I was heading to Dwight and Peggy's house and it was on the way.  It was one of those things that, if I had time, I would ride it both ways just to see the differences.  Even the ride from Browning to St. Mary was fun - twisty roads, elevation changes, and glimpses of the grandeur ahead.

If you haven't ridden Going to the Sun, add it to your bucket list.  Make a plan.  Work the plan.

And thank you, Dwight and Peggy, for your wonderful hospitality.