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."
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