Day Four - And Now the Vacation Begins

Today: 127 miles

Total: 2224 miles

So what can I say about today?  When I was thinking about this ride it seemed to make sense to me to ride hard for the first few days and then have an easy day into Lake Shasta and relax.  That is pretty much what happened.

I took my time this morning.  Had a long conversation outside of the motel with two guys who are on their way to Prudhoe Bay.  Clearly one of the ultimate bucket list rides for anyone who likes motorcycles.  I would love to do it someday but a Harley Ultra Classic is not the bike for that ride.  You need a sport touring bike, something lighter, with knobby tires.  Like a BMW GS1200. The fantasy bike I will never own but still lust after.  (It is free to go to the BMW store and sit on it.)

Different tools for different jobs.  The Harley can’t handle the periodic gravel and often muddy Haul Road to Prudhoe Bay.  But it did a great job today of cruising through beautiful northern California on Hiway 44.

My motel last night sat right on Hiway 36.  Who knew?  I guess I didn’t realize that 36 joined 395 sometime along the way.  So all I had to do this morning was turn right and follow the road.  One more right on 44, another on I-5, and I was at the exit for The Fawndale Lodge, my home away from home for the next two nights.

Today’s ride was great.  Most of the ride was lined with evergreen trees that smelled wonderful.  Like riding with one of those green trees hanging from grandma's rearview mirror.  I didn't take any pictures today but I did make some music videos.  

Click here if you want to join me for 10 minutes of today's ride - including coming around a corner to see Mt. Lassen off in the distance, rising 10,457 in the air.  

Having it on video is great but nowhere near as majestic as it was in real life.  A good point to remember about everything we see on television.

At some point today I was over 5000 feet above sea level.  The weather was perfect.  The road was beautiful, tree lined almost the whole way.  And then I stopped for the only gas stop of the day.  At that point I had been going downhill for awhile.  What I didn’t realize is that I would still be going downhill 20 miles later.

Redding CA sits at 495 feet above sea level.  While it was cool in the high lands, it is HOT in Redding.  I believe that Redding is the hottest place I have ever been.  Last summer it was well over 100 degrees when I got here.  This year is just as bad.  It is blistering hot.  My fingertips were burning as I rode into town and up the freeway to Fawndale Lodge.  I’m going to have to remember to wear gloves on Saturday when I leave.  It is brutally hot here!

I got here early enough (c’mon, I only road 127 miles today!) that I could set up my room, run to town for food, etc., and still have plenty of time to hit the pool.  There I met a guy named Rocky.  He lives here with his mother.  Both of them receive social security disability payments.  I didn’t meet his mother but it is clear to me that Rocky could not possibly hold down a full-time job and normal life.  I’m thinking he is called “Rocky” because, if I wasn’t talking to him, he constantly rocked back and forth.

Rocky told me that a lot of the people who live here full-time are on SSI.  It is cheaper for the people in their families to buy an RV, and pay $400 a month rent to live here.  He said that Debbie and her husband (the owners who run the place) are very nice people.  I agree.  Debbie couldn’t have been more welcoming when I checked in.

So I add it all up and I think I’m staying in the perfect place.  I’m on vacation!  And tomorrow I head into town to Russell Cycles to get a handmade, custom, built live just for me, motorcycle seat.  This IS living large.

Day Three - Addendum

Like I said, I'm playing with a new camera.  This literally took hours this morning for YouTube to process, but here is a better quality movie of coming down another pass into Austin, NV.

Click here to join the ride...

And now I'm off to Shasta Lake.

Day Three - Leave with a Full Tank

Today: 642 miles

Total: 2097 miles

The planning for long rides begins in the backyard with the Harley Road Atlas.  I know where I am going and about how long I can be away, I use the Harley Road Atlas to start because I look for the roads highlighted in yellow.  US 50 across Nevada is one of those roads and I can verify that it deserves its status.  What a great day of riding!

The morning began in full vacation mode.  Leave the watch at home, go to sleep when you’re tired, get up when you wake up, leave when you’re ready.  My body clock told me I was ready to go at about 9:00 AM.  My motel was right on US 50 as I would be for the rest of the day.

Since I was starting in Salina, UT, I figured I could get to Delta, UT, pretty easily on the gas that was left in my tank.  So I decided not to fill up as I left the motel.  Before I left Salina, I changed my mind. You can’t go wrong if you start out with a full tank. 

Which made me think about how I had spent my morning.  At church I have been holding these bi-monthly learning times around prayer.  I’ve encouraged everyone that comes through that to set aside a 10 minute block of time each day for intentional prayer.  Sometimes I do that in the morning before I leave my house.  Other times it comes during the day.  On a motorcycle trip I have plenty of time while riding to connect with God.  But, time and again, I have learned the value of starting my day off on the right foot.  Whatever the content or style of such morning prayer, it is always best to start the day with a full tank.

So off I rode.  For all of its fame, US 50 out of Salina is nothing to write home to mother about.  It is just a two lane road that heads out into some beautiful desert country.  12 miles out I ran into my first road construction delay of the day.  Fortunately, it would be my only road construction delay of the day.

The real beauty of US 50 on a motorcycle is that you are either riding across the desert on a flat straight road where you are basically alone and can go as fast as you want, all the while seeing the next mountain pass that you will ride over coming closer and closer OR you are climbing the twisties to the summit and then flying through the twisties on the way down.  There are 17 such passes across the state, I hit a bunch of them.  In the 409 miles between Delta and Fallon, you only go through three small towns (Ely, Eureka, and Austin).  I stopped for gas in each one.

This is basically how I spent my day.

The plan was to stop for the night in Sparks/Reno.  I figured there would be plenty of hotel rooms and that would leave an easy 200 miles to get to where I’m going. As the day wore on I thought about the rides I used to do with groups.  Many years ago, that would mean ending the day about 7:00 PM, finding the motel, dropping off our stuff, finding a place for dinner, and then heading to a local dive bar for beer.  In bed by 10:00 PM or so then wake up and do it again.

Call it age or changes of priority but I’ve left those days behind.  Now all that really matters to me is getting to the motel and into comfortable clothes, talking to Kelley on the phone for awhile, having dinner and going to sleep.  Dinner is optional.  And writing a bit about each day.  Which, I’m learning, is often done best the next morning.

So I got to the Reno area but there was lots of sunshine left and only 83 miles to Susanville, CA.  I decided to get gas and ride on.  I don’t know why I expected the countryside to change once I left Nevada but it didn’t.  For a while.  Then suddenly, about 60 miles or so north of Reno, the hills to the west were covered with evergreen trees.  After a day in the desert, it was great to see trees.  It makes me look forward to Thursday.

Day Two - Enough with the waving...

Today: 560 miles

Total: 1455 miles

I woke up early but took my time getting ready to go.  Today was going to be Wolf Creek Pass day, from the mountains to the desert.  Wisely, I wore my leather coat.  I figured it might get a little chilly up higher.  Since I was staying on the north side of town, the morning began with a meandering ride through Walsenburg.  Which turned out to be a much more interesting town that it seemed to be from Exit 52.

When I finally cleared the town and headed out into the country on US 160, the truck in front of me turned right and I suddenly realized that I was following a law enforcement officer.  That's an interesting feeling, isn't it?  Even though I was not speeding and had nothing to worry about, just seeing that car with the lights on top and the ticket book hidden somewhere inside was enough to put a damper on the excitement of riding into the mountains.  Eventually he pulled off to the side of the road... and ...once I realized that he wasn't going to pull back in behind me, I breathed a little easier.

I think that is one of the reasons that people stay away from the church.  It feels like the law is breathing down their necks.  I get that.  But, when trouble comes, how quick are we to dial 911? 

By the way, I just inserted a tiny video of my friendly law enforcement officer pulling off and out of my way.  Figuring out how to do that is part of the reason I didn't write last night when I landed.  I hate to say it but the go pro camera idea is pretty much a waste.  At least for my purposes.  Or at least until I figure out how to do it.  The rest of the pictures I took are compromised by the big fat bugs that smashed into the camera lens at some point in the morning.  So much for that.

Mountain passes are fun.  By their very nature, we don't spend much time at them.  Few people live there so most of us are just visitors.  I was hoping for something spectacular but Wolf Creek Pass wasn't much to write home about.  It was actually tame.  Yet still cold at the top.  I took a great video - except for the bug part - of the ride up and over.  But it created too big of a file to upload.  So much for that.

I passed the Great Divide sign instead of stopping.  All that way and I didn't feeling like giving a few minutes to actually seeing and reading the sign.  I've used the idea of that sign in a few sermons along the way and I passed up my chance to take a selfie next to it.  But that is how I am almost the whole time on trips like this.  Mind pictures and stories to tell are far more important to me than actually pictures.

I thought about that for awhile after passing the Great Divide, until I got to the waterfall on the other side of the pass.  Made a quick decision to try the selfie thing and see if it makes any difference.

I realize some people might think that is better but me, not so much.

On into Pagosa Springs and down the road to Durango.  The first time I came through that particular stretch of road was on a trip to Sturgis with a big group of friends.  Kelley had called ahead and reserved rooms for us in Durango.  It had been a long day through New Mexico.  One bike needed work. We all needed something to eat and drink and a soft bed.  Add that together and I didn't fully appreciate how nice the road is between those towns.  

I got excited again as I passed through Durango because I was heading into uncharted territory.  At some point just outside of town I decided to quit waving to motorcycles.

I don't know where this tradition started but motorcyclists always wave to each other.  Always.  Even when I am commuting into Houston on I-10, if I meet a bike coming the other way on the HOV lane we will usually wave to one another.  At least people who have come to appreciate the tradition.  I've done it since I was riding my 1973 Honda 750.  It is a nice tradition.  Kind of a solidarity sort of thing.

But then there are "rally rules". Rally rules state that you don't wave to one another if you are in the vicinity of a motorcycle rally. You can't possibly wave to everybody if you are riding around the Black Hills during bike week in Sturgis.  It wouldn't be safe.  So, rally rules come into effect.  Once you cross the South Dakota state line you are wave free for the rest of the trip.

Well, the roads around here are as full of motorcycles as Houston is of Ford Expeditions and F-150's.  And frankly, I got tired of waving.  I invoke rally rules. I'm on vacation. No more waving for me.

From US 160 I headed north on US 491 and US 191 to ride through Moab and up to I-70.  It got hot.  Seriously hot.  As I passed through Monticello I decided that, if they had a Dairy Queen, I was stopping.  They didn't.  But they did have a little old fashioned looking ice cream stop so I decided to give it a try.  I passed it first and then had to U-turn through a gas station.  As I did so I remembered all those times my sisters and I begged our Mom to stop for DQ on long drives.  Sometimes we did stop.  Most of the time we didn't.  That is why stopping was actually a treat instead of an expectation.  Those days weren't all bad.

With all of that still in mind I walked up to the counter and told the girl taking my order that I decided that since I had been a very good boy all day, I would like a chocolate sundae please.  Good stop.

A person could spend weeks on vacation in Utah.  Who knew?  The rock formations on both sides of Moab are amazing.  I was thinking I could spend a whole day just looking at the same formation, seeing the shapes morph from ducky's to horsey's to wherever your mind wants to go.  Finally I got to I-70 and headed west.

I stopped for gas in Green River.  Here's my theory on how that town got settled:  Whoever got there first saw the water and said, "That's it. I'm done. I'm not taking another step." If that was the case, then they missed something spectacular.

I had no idea how magnificent riding west into the sun on I-70 was going to be. The sun painted all the distant mountains that pale shade of watery blue. The sights were incredible. The sign tells you that there are no services for the next 106 miles.  At first that sounds like a long stretch and you're glad you got gas in Green River. But once you start into those miles you are grateful that there isn't a Loves or Pilot or anything much to detract from the wonders of nature.  I'm ready to ride through there again.

But now I'm in Salina, UT, and it is time to hit the road again.  Next up, US 50, the loneliest road in America.  I don't know what that means but I'm looking forward to it.  Once I pick it up, just outside of town, I'll be following it all the way to Reno.

And I'm pretty sure I won't be waving much.  Probably anyway.

Day One - Texas Is A State of Mind

Today:  895 miles
Total:  895 miles (easy math this time....)

There is not a whole lot to report today.  I woke up at 5:15 AM, had everything ready, and was rolling out of the garage at 5:30 AM.  I entered the address for the motel in Colorado into my GPS and it estimated my arrival at 5:39 PM (there's a time change involved.)  I got to the motel at 6:15 PM.  Now I'm confused but it looks like the day worked out just about how I thought it would.

What is there to report about riding across Texas on the same roads I have ridden many times before.  Hiway 6 has less road construction than it used to.  The loop around Waco is a must.  Fort Worth doesn't look any richer from the freeway than Dallas does but I guess it is anyway.  And then there's US 287.

I think of US 287 as a very utilitarian road.  Its function is to get you from here to there and it does a great job of that.  It is the closest thing to a shortcut to Colorado that Texas can offer.  But man...  Most of the time it basically looks like this:

Except for the towns you have to remember to slow for instead of picking up a ticket and ruining your vacation.  And the trucks you have to dodge.  But mostly the trucks aren't a problem.  I actually like trucks and truck drivers very much.

What I don't like is what happens when you get to Amarillo and head north.  Through feedlot country.  Where the trucks carry animals that make quite an impression on motorcyclists who get the full Monty smell thing with occasional "what the heck was that???" splatters. I just duck behind my windshield when I see them coming.

Nothing went wrong.  I didn't stop except for gas and all that entails.  The weather was great.  Tail wind most of the way.

It is true that nothing actually went wrong...but I did pull my usual "Kerry and the gas" stunt.  Sometimes I just get so lost in my thoughts and enjoying the experience that I forget to pay attention to how far I've ridden since the last gas stop.  It isn't like the odometer is hard to see.  But I just don't notice it.  Over 100 miles slipped away unnoticed until I glanced down and saw that I had ridden 183 miles since my last gas stop and I had no idea how far it was to Raton, NM.  Fortunately I had my GPS to reassure me.  And I must have gotten great gas mileage with the tail wind because I filled up at 197 miles and only put 5.1 gals in my 6 gallon tank.

But then, for the next 16 minutes, I got to enjoy what I had ridden 800 miles to do.  Riding over a mountain pass.  This was my first video attempt and it worked.  I clicked the right buttons and everything.  Unfortunately, it seems the resulting file is too large to upload so that will have to wait until I edit this post sometime in the future.

No alarm tomorrow morning.  I get to ride over Wolf Creek Pass way up on the great divide, biking on down the other side right into Pagosa Springs.  Believe it or not, this has been a bucket list thing for me ever since the song first came out.

The Best Laid Plans....

Soon I'll go to bed.  When I wake up, I leave on my trip.  That is the plan.  It has been the plan since I made the appointment at Russell Cycles about four months ago.  I finish up my Sunday, go to sleep, and leave whenever I wake up.  I know I have about 14-15 hours of solid riding ahead of me so getting good rest is more important than leaving at any particular time.

But you know what they say about the best laid plans....

We didn't exactly schedule this but Kelley and I decided this weekend that the time has come for us to move to town.  So we picked out precisely where we want to live, checked the Web, found a great place, made a visit, signed a lease, and now we're planning our move.  Mind you, we woke up Friday morning knowing that "someday" we want to move closer to town.  So all of this happened this weekend.  We begin moving into the townhouse in a couple of weeks.  Here it is, right on the corner.

Whenever I get up to leave, it will be the last long ride that begins and ends in the garage where my bike has always lived.  From now on it will live under a carport and wake up the neighbors.  I'll suddenly be "that guy" in the complex.  But an 8 minute commute to work for each of us is worth it.

But it does mean a serious adjustment to my trip planning.  What was supposed to be a quick but interesting dash to Northern California followed by a long leisurely tour through the West has suddenly become a quick dash in both directions followed by getting our house ready to sell and moving into town.

How do I explain how it feels to know, at the same time, that we are doing a crazy thing and that we are doing exactly what we need to be doing at the same time?  To me, that about sums up my experience of what following God in my life has always meant.

Crazy things happen but they turn out to be some of the best learning experiences in our lives.  I make stupid decisions but God redeems them and there are nice surprises on the other side.  The whole thing is a grand adventure.

I'm not taking much stuff this trip.  A few clothes, packing for both hot and cold.  Water.  Anything else I need I can get in gas stations and they do have grocery stores on the way.  I'm looking forward to trying my new camera.  And I'm looking forward to writing about the trip along the way.  I've reached that stage, I guess, where creating memories also means creating shared memories that can last longer than my memory can.

This afternoon I attended the 100th anniversary of the first church I was called to as an associate pastor.  I sat next to my senior pastor, my mentor, a man I am blessed to have known.  Amazingly, I remembered a lot of names.  I saw faces of people who were very important to me at one time.  They remain important but in a very different sort of way.

The church seemed familiar but I clearly had a sense that I have moved on.  Time has passed.  Change has happened.  Some of the change has been growth.

Best of all, I got to sit between my daughter and my grandson.  I got to hold my little 5 week old granddaughter until my nose told me that she really wanted her mother....  I felt old.  And happy.  And content.  I realized that "old" is the price you pay for this kind of gratitude and I'm thinking it is a sweet deal.

Now it is time for sleep and adventure.  The adventure of riding through the air only to turn around and ride back home again.  The adventure of setting forth into a whole new way of living with my wonderful wife and partner, and my delightful, beautiful, step-daughter.  And I'm realizing now, with only another sentence to write, that one the reasons I love taking long rides is knowing that the first mile I ride away is merely one mile closer to returning home.

I trust that I'm living God's best laid plans for my life and I'm grateful.