“The hard way”… Well, not really
I had just returned home from my sidecar excursion with the kids, and was trying to figure out a way to break it to the old lady that I was leaving again in less than 48 hrs to head back down south on another bike trip.
I had been kicking the plan around for weeks. I was to hook up with Bandit and crew, and ride out to the Smoke out in Cottonwood AZ. I had already started packing before I even told her about it. After a while, I figured I might as well get this over with and propose the idea to her.
I told her of my plans, and then waited for the backlash. To my surprise, nothing happened. She was cool with the whole thing, and understood my need for the open road. Did I mention how lucky I am to have this woman by my side? Anyway, that’s a whole other story that I haven’t really figured out yet my self. So Sunday afternoon, I called Bandit to see when he was thinking of leaving. He wasn’t home, but Nyla tells me they planned to pull out on Thursday morning. YIKES! I’m located about 3 days away, and still had a ton of shit to do to the Glide before I could hit the road.
Monday morning.
I hit the ground running that morning with the destination of Port Alberni (where my bike was located) locked into my sights. Once I got to the bike, I immediately began tearing in to it. One of my main tasks was to pull the fairing apart, and fabricate 3 of the 4 brackets that hold the thing on the bike. The LA roads busted the shit out of them on my last trip down there with the sidecar. I also want to change all the fluids as well as do a quick repair on the main bracket that holds the tour pack on.
As is usually the case, once I started working on her, I remembered several other items that needed tending. I had to rig a toggle switch to replace the ignition switch that had calved on me the week before. It totally gave up the ghost after I had gotten home.
After a few hours of cutting and torching, all brackets were fixed, ignition was working, and I saved about $200.00 on parts from the stealership. I would leave on time. Although it was raining heavily at my departure Monday at 3:00 pm, I doggedly rode ahead for the ferry scheduled for a 5 pm departure to the mainland. I just made it before the ship was ready to depart. It stopped raining while I was on the boat, and I thought I was in for a break. NOT !!!
When I got off the boat, the rain really started to come down. Adding to the drama was the fact it was getting dark as well. Riding in the rain isn’t that big a deal on a touring bike, but riding in the rain and the dark, forget it! I tucked into some dumpy little motel right by the border, and thought to myself, I will hit it hard in the morning….
Tuesday morning.
I got up about dark-thirty and chugged a few Styrofoam cups of bad coffee while waiting for the daylight to appear. Unfortunately the rain was still lashing down like liquid knives ready to cut me to ribbons. I was encouraged by the rising sun hoping the new day would slow the rain, but I would have no such good fortune this day. So once again, I donned my rain suit, and loaded up for the road. Before I knew it, I was minutes from the border. I decided I would wait to eat breakfast until I crossed the border. I planned on some biscuits and gravy on the other side, a meal you can’t get in Canada. I rode for a couple of hours before finally stopping to eat. It was still raining off and on. My plan was to ride hard as long as I could, and head inland towards I-90, and then on to Yakima. I hoped to get a break in the weather as soon as I got over the Cascades. While it did ease up a bit, it still wasn’t the best.
I took I-90 to Ellensburg, then I-82 to Yakima, and got on to Highway 97; 97 runs all the way from Northern BC to the California border. It is a great Highway with decent speed limits, until you cross in to Oregon.
What the fuck is up with Oregon?
That state has a no fun law as soon as you cross the border! I was doing 75 mph plus with no problem until I crossed into Oregon, then BAM! I had to slow down to 55. Oh well, carry on and make the best of it. The weather was starting to clear up a bit, but still grey and foreboding. I stopped in Bend to have a look at one of the Harley shops along the way, but once you have been to one, you have been to all of them.
After a while, with a bit of sunshine poking through here and there, it really started to look better out. I jammed all afternoon, staying on 97 and after seeing a few deer on the side of the road, I decided to shut it down about 8:00 pm. I have an innate fear of deer after hitting one on my bike about 20 years ago in the dark. Believe me, they leave a mark.
I was just outside of Klamath Falls Oregon, near the California border. I had ridden about 600 miles. Not bad for day one in the rain. I checked into a cheap motel and got the weather report for the next day from the girl behind the front desk. RAIN!!! WTF?!!! In Klamath Falls? It’s like a desert here, and I hit it the one day a year they get rain? Oh well….
Wednesday morning…
She was right, it was raining out. I sat in the lobby and filled up on the free continental stale breakfast muffins and cereal. In the dark I sat, waiting for the sun which seemed as if it would never come. Finally, I toweled off the bike with some complimentary super 8 towels, and hit the road. It was just after 7:00 am. I crossed over into California less than half an hour later still on 97, and heading for Weed, Cal.
It was really coming down, but I could see off in the distance there was some sunshine. The combination of rain and morning sunlight created some of the most brilliant rainbows I have ever seen. I just had to get past this one downpour, and I did, shortly after hooking up with I5. It was nice now. Clear sunny skies and crisp morning air. The bike and I were digging it now.
I rode hard for the next few hours and ended up in Redding just before lunch. I stopped for fuel, a bite to eat, and asked the station attendant how long he would guess the drive to LA from here was. He says, “Oh no sweat, you are pretty much there, only another 550 miles, and absolutely nothing to see between here and there”. This guy wasn’t kidding man. It’s a wasteland along that stretch, like something out of Chopper Orwell. The good thing about it is you can really make time, so that’s what I did. This stretch of road was pretty uneventful, other than cooking along at sometimes up to 90 mph, and covering some major miles. I hooked up with another rider on an Electraglide like mine. We rode together for the next couple of hundred miles taking turns in the lead while really booking it. We never communicated, it was just an unspoken agreement, we were both in a freaking hurry, and would take turns riding out front…and risking the ticket. I finally lost him when I turned off for a rest after a 150 mile stretch without stopping, and he carried on.
The weather was nice enough now, I was down to a long sleeve T and a vest. This is the reason I ride all the way down here at this time of year. After some time in biker euphoria, I’m back on the freeway jamming. I knew I was getting close, and I didn’t want to stop. It was still warm when the sun started to go down, and I just needed to cross over the hills outside of LA and I would be done for the day. It got a bit crisp at the top of the hills, but was still warm enough to ride in a T shirt so I carried on making it in to LA before dark. I arrived in Santa Clarita around 7:00 pm, just as it started to get dark. I called Bandit to let him know I was there and that I would see him in the morning.He tells me I am welcome to spend the night at his place, but I am done. From where I am to his place was about an hour on some of the scariest freeways on the planet. Besides, it’s dark now, and I just rode about 700 miles. I’m spent. Thanks anyway Bandit, but I couldn’t if I wanted to. I grab a room at the same Motel 6 I just stayed in a couple of weeks before with my kids, which is just down the road from Magic Mountain. It is familiar, and I am tired.
Thursday morning
I woke early, and was stoked. It was a sunny and warm day, and I knew I was on my way to ride with a legend. I called Bandit and told him I would be there in an hour or so. “No hurry” he says, “we are just getting ready to load the bikes in to the truck”………….I said “Pardon”???…………………..He tells me that he and the boys are loading up the bikes and truck them out of LA as far as Parker AZ. After the ride from Santa Clarita to Long beach, and Bikernet HQ, I ask him if there is room in the truck for one more bike. I don’t know how you cats that live down there do it man. Those roads are THE SHITS!! No 2 ways about it and I’m on a bagger. Now I see why he wants to truck them until we hit the desert. I wouldn’t last 50 miles in downtown LA on a rigid.
I arrived at the HQ just in time to meet Nyla, who is just pulling out. I told her I was just going to grab a quick bite to eat, but she says “hang around, I am just on my way out to grab some breakfast burritos with Glenn.” She has Glenn Priddle from Australia with her, so I pull in to the high security compound at HQ, and a minute later Jeremiah pulls in on “The Hard Way”, a bad as shit rigid him and Bandit put together for the Smokeout. I had met Jeremiah a few weeks earlier at the Salt flats, so we had a good bullshit for a bit, while we were waiting for Bandit to get out of the shower. I was looking over their creation, and was in awe of the details that went in to this bike. Bandit hasn’t done a feature on it yet, but I’m hoping he will. It is unreal. Not a big buck show bike, just a mean as hell, in your face, shovelhead, rocker foot clutching, jockey shifting, sprung seat, open piped, bitchin rigid ride. I loved it right away…
Some of the mounts on this thing look like they should be in a museum, and Jeremiah tells me they are all Bandits doing. The oil bag and the oil filter mount he whipped up should have a patent on them. Easy to see why Bandit was chosen for the one and only chopper build that Monster garage has ever done.
The man pulled up the big garage door and we started getting things ready to roll. Nyla and Glenn P pulled in, and I got to meet Glenn for the first time. We hit it off instantly, and you could tell right away that this guy is the real thing.I play official photographer as the boys messed with tie down straps and what not, loading up the bikes. I ain’t touching these things….. Long story……
They got them lashed down, and we finished up our breakfast burritos, and hit the road. Bandit, Glenn, and Jeremiah in the Bikernet shop truck, and me taking up the rear on my E Glide. We were headed for Palm Springs to meet up with Larry Petrie from Chop N Grind racing team, and have a quick lunch at the “Handle Bar” right next door to the Harley shop. It is a dark and ominous place with waitresses that just oozed attitude, even in the middle of the day. I like it.
We had a quick lunch, then hit the road again. The landscape was surrounded by a thousand windmills sucking up the continuous gale force wind that this area is known for. I had never seen anything like it. Again, it reminded me of something out of Chopper Orwell; very futuristic.
We passed through Joshua Tree National Park and 29 Palms, on our way to the AZ border. It was downright hot out, but the roads were smooth and endless. I was still following the shop truck, but couldn’t stand the sight of these 2 beautiful choppers in the back of a pickup anymore. I had to twist the wick, pass the boys, so as to have the whole desert to myself, or so it seemed.
I love blasting through the desert on a bike, and this road is one of the most beautiful stretches I had ever seen. I know it was killing Bandit and Jeremiah to have those things in the truck, but we were just about at the unload point, in Parker AZ.
We crossed the border around dinner time, and I threw my helmet in the back of the shop truck at around 60 mph. Wouldn’t be needing that for a few days. We checked our room and went down the road to the local steak house. Several people had given us different directions but we managed to find it anyway. Had a great dinner, and then hit the nearest Casino for a few drinks and a bit of fun. Turns out Jeremiah is a master at the slots. He was winning small jackpots all over the place, but then started really searching for that one machine that would pay off. He found it.
He plugs a $5 bill in to his machine of choice, gives the side a gentle rub, like you would if you were trying to talk your old lady in to a night of passion, and then pulls the one arm bandit. Bells, lights and whistles fill the room…On his $5 bet, he wins $764.00…. Drinks are on Jeremiah tonight
We headed for one of the local taverns, had a couple of cool ones courtesy of Jeremiah, and shot the shit. We looked at the Thursday news on my little pocket PC so Bandit can make sure Sinwu is on the ball while he is away. After a few nightcaps, we headed back to our rooms. Glenn P and I shared a room and a late night bullshit session before we drifted off; another very good day. Tomorrow, we ride……
Friday
The next morning, Glenn and I were up early. We grabbed a free cup of luke-warm, stale coffee from the motel office. Bandit and Jeremiah are late sleepers from the look of it, so we shot the breeze in the morning sunlight, outside our room, admiring the two custom built bikes in the back of the shop truck. Finally, around 7:30, the boys are up. We unloaded the bikes and got ready to hit the road.I offer my ride up to Glenn, who is a long way from home and probably itching to ride. I had been on the road for 4 weeks already doing various trips, so a morning in the truck wouldn’t be so bad. Glenn accepted the offer, getting his gear on for a brisk morning ride through the Arizona desert. We decided to put on a few miles before stopping for something to eat. This was great, as it’s the way I usually roll, so for all of us to agree on this was unusual.
We stopped in a small town called “Hope” for fuel. After leaving town I see a sign on the side of the road “You are now beyond Hope”. I didn’t have a camera ready, so I missed the opportunity for a picture. After a few hours, we stopped for breakfast in a small, nameless, ghost town. There were 4 other choppers in the parking lot of this disheveled restaurant, and from the looks of them, they were headed to the Smokeout. 2 were highbar, springer, rigid choppers that looked like they were just completed the day before. No paint to speak of and a plethora of bungee cords holding belongings to whatever they could strap on to. One was a new triumph ridden by the only woman in the group. They were from San Diego, and were in fact on their way to Cottonwood.
We talked for a while when we entered the restaurant, and then followed them outside to see them off. One of them was having trouble with his charging system, so they had to keep swapping batteries back and forth between one of the other bikes. The lone woman was telling us what a long trip it had been from San Diego because of all the breakdowns they were experiencing, but nobody seemed the worse for wear. They were all in good spirits, and this was no big deal. Just what it takes to ride a home built, back-street chopper to the Smokeout.
Once they were underway, we went back inside for a great breakfast and then hit the road ourselves. Glenn rode my E Glide for a couple more hours, then I took over at the next fuel stop. It was sunny and warm day, and it was killing me to be sitting in the pickup truck. Bandit was the next to offer up his ride to Glenn, which he accepted gracefully, so Bandit jumped on the “Hard Way” and Jeremiah drove the chase truck. We were jamming through the desert, and it was perfect. I will remember that stretch of highway for ever.
I pulled out my camera and snapped a few shots as we cruised the barren desert. A couple of the shots I took that day are among my favorite pictures of all time. You know the ones; you take hundreds, and you get a few that really turn out. Thank God for digital cameras. I cant tell you which highways we were on, as I don’t have my map in front of me as I write this, and to be honest, the number of turnoffs, and changes we took after the directions Bandit got from one of his friends, still has me baffled. I just followed along.
We stopped for lunch a few hours later, and Jeremiah was ready to ride, so Glenn took over in the truck, and we hit it hard. Maybe it was just me, but I noticed the pace picked up considerably. I think it was probably the younger Jeremiah pushing us a little harder, taunting us to twist the wick just a bit more, so we did.
Approaching the town of Jerome in the late afternoon, there is a stretch of highway that is all twisties climbing up in to the mountains, and then descending again into town, which is about midway up the hills on the east facing slope. What a ride! We got lucky as far as traffic was concerned. There wasn’t any, so we rode hard up the mountain. My Glide was starving for power going up, and looking for breaks going down, but I wasn’t going to lose pace to Bandit and Jeremiah who were up front. These cats can ride!!! You would swear they were on a couple of sport bikes the way they attacked the corners, not a pair of rigid frame hand shifting stroked shovelhead choppers.
My twin cam was groaning under the pressure to keep up, but it did. Coming down the other side was a trip to remember. Hitting the stretches with way too much throttle, and then diving on the breaks for the hair pin mountain road turns to avoid the drop from the precipice at every turn. I know that if some of my riding buddies from home were with us, we would have been waiting at the bottom for them for a while. It was hairy, but exhilarating. When we reached the town of Jerome, I pulled up to Bandit, and yelled above the open pipes of his chopper, “What a fuckin hoot, lets go do that again!” He just laughed, and grinned a grin that told you he had done it a thousand times.
If you look on a map, Jerome is shown as a ghost town, and when you roll through it, you can see why. The streets are lined with houses that literally butt right up to the sides of the roadways. They wind their way through this hillside town like a snake. There are taverns on every corner it seems, and no particular rhyme or reason for any of the criss-crossing streets. I would guess they were laid out before the turn of the century, and haven’t changed much since. We didn’t stop here on our way through, but I did go back there in the next day or so, and it is a town I would like to visit again, when I have more time.
We carried on as we were only a few miles from our destination, Cottonwood Arizona, home of the “Smokeout West 2”, put on by Colonel Edge.
We went straight to our hotel to check in and get cleaned up. Bandit informed us we were invited to a luncheon put on by the Horse to welcome all staff and press to the event. The luncheon was put on in the Legion in Cottonwood, and they had a great spread of all kinds of food and deserts. It was around dinner time actually, so this was a welcome treat after another long day on the road.
We were introduced to Hammer from the Horse, and Edge, the event promoter, and quite a few other staff members from the magazine. It was great to meet all these people that I have been seeing in the magazine for years.
Now here I was sitting down to a meal with them. After a great dinner, and good company, we went back to our room, and got a few things ready before descending on the fairgrounds for the kickoff to the event at 5:30. The Smokeout was on!
We rolled in on our bikes, and found a place to park near one of the many buildings filled with cool bikes and chopper part vendors. Glenn and I hooked up and went for a walk around the site while Bandit was yakking with one of his many friends there.
You can’t walk 50 feet with Bandit at one of these events without him bumping in to somebody he knows, or someone who knows him. One of the vendors I saw there was a guy who could take any digital image, and transfer it on to a mug, or T-shirt, or anything you could think of.
It hit me right away. I went and took him my memory card, and had him make up 3 T shirts with one of the pictures I took earlier that day of Bandit and Glenn P jamming through the desert. One for each of them, and one for me to keep. It is now one of my favorite shirts.
I had to put the stall on Glenn as he kept hanging around the booth where the guy was making the shirts, so I gave him some bullshit excuse about not being able to find the bathrooms. I got him away from there and, anyway, long story short, I gave the boys the shirts later that evening. They were blown away.. gotta love modern technology.
We toured around the fair grounds, trying to take in all there was to see before things got crowded, but it was getting busier by the minute, and there was still tons of stuff to check out.
One of the highlights for me was seeing the Suckerpunch Sally’s booth there. I have been a HUGE fan of their bikes for years, and seeing them up close was the best. I got to meet Jeff briefly, and Donny, and got to tell them what a fan I was of their work. They both seemed like good guys.
Down to earth, the kind of guys you would want to hang out with and shoot the breeze over a cold one. Unfortunately, they were both pretty busy, understandably. I did get to spend way too much time scrutinizing their bikes though, and I can tell you first hand, these things are built tough. They have the appearance of a bike you could ride the shit out of, and then park it for the night, not ever having to give a second thought before getting up and riding the shit out of it again. I WANT ONE!!!! There was a ton of builders on hand there, but these bikes really stood out.
Another one of the builders that really caught my eye was Route 66 choppers.They had a board track racer style bobber there that I just fell in love with.As I was drooling over this bike and all the super clean details of it, I was pondering on how much a machine like this would be worth, when out of the blue, the owner, tells me it’s for sale. I was afraid to ask, when he volunteered the price anyway, $17000.00!! Are you freaking kidding me? This was sure to be one of those high dollar customs I could never afford, and could only dream about. Unreal!! As much as I would have loved to sign on the dotted line right there and then, it wouldn’t have been mine. I plan on building my next scoot, but I did get a bunch of ideas that would lend themselves well to my Suckerpunch bike that I plan on buying one of these days.
I went to tell Bandit about this board track racer in the show barn, and he was interested in taking a look, so when I took him back to the barn to introduce him to the owner, wouldn’t you know it, he knows the dude already. Go figure. “Hey, how ya doin man””My buddy says you got a bitchin bike on display?”So he takes us back to where his bike was, and Bandit was impressed. So much so, that this bike was one of his 3 choices for “Bandits Choice award” at the Smokeout. When I win the lotto, I will be calling Route 66 very soon.
There were so many stand out bikes there, I couldn’t possibly talk about them all here, but I will try to mention a few more. Another was the “Cadillac Gangster”, a chopped, FLH type, shovelhead that was clean beyond words. It had just the right mix of chrome and black accents with whitewalls and gloss black paint. Hand-formed copper hard lines were very tidy and discreet, from the rockerbox crossover tube to the copper spun oil tank; just a very nice job.
The “Dublin Mob” put together some very kool chops as well with details like revolver tail lights, black powder gun shifters, and heavy patina type finishes on their frames. These were tough looking bikes, like the kind, you don’t wanna fuck with whoever rides it, even if it’s a chick !!
Some of the coolest bikes there were not even in the show, but out in the parking lot, as usual. I tried to take pictures of as many of them as I could, but when I reached close to 300 pics, I thought, I had better slow down.
Friday night we decided to hit one of the local bars for a few drinks. We went back to the hotel and dropped off the bikes, flipped a coin to see who the designated driver was going to be and started for the bar. I don’t remember who lost the coin toss, but I hope it wasn’t me. It was a hoot. We ran in to the same group from the breakfast restaurant the day before with the lone chick rider, and had a good BS.
There was just as much going on outside the bar as there was inside, especially with all the bikes coming and going. There was a pretty strong police presence there, but they were not screwing around much with bullshit infractions. Seemed to me they were just looking for serious shit, like DUI and the like. They were everywhere, so I’m glad I wasn’t driving. At least I don’t think I was.
After returning to our hotel later that night, Bandit suggested we walk down to the lounge right in the hotel we were staying in. It was a quiet place, yet a good spot to sit and talk over a Jack on the rocks. Bandit, Glenn P, Jeremiah, and myself hit the lounge and had a great time just gabbin about all the shit we had seen as well as coaxing a few stories out of Bandit.
I have been reading his stuff for years, but let me tell you, it is nothing like sitting in a bar over a few drinks and listening to him tell you stories about back in the day. Some of them I had read here or there before, but listening to him tell them in person, you can’t help but feel you are in the presence of a motorcycle legend. This was one of the other highlights of my trip. Just sitting at the bar, bullshitting with the man.. What a night…
Glenn and I are up early again, and decided to jump in the truck and take the 20 minute drive to Sedona for breakfast. We knew it could be a few hours before Bandit and Jeremiah roll out of the rack..
Glenn had been to Sedona before, so he knew the best spots for scenery and good food. Unfortunately, we were there before most places were open, but we did find one spot that served up great food. After a quick bite, we went for a walk around town. This place looks like it just jumped off a post card. I can’t wait to go back again with the wife on the back of the bike. A quick walk around town to some of the local shops, and Glenn found a small touristy shop that had everything you could think of including some very cool leather works which, if you haven’t read any of Glenn’s pieces, is right up his ally. We took a few photos that he would use when he got home as patterns for making his own stuff. Glenn has made a few pieces that have been featured on this site, and most recently, the seat for Johnny Humbles’ brothers’ bike, that he is presenting to him on his return from Iraq. (You can check the coverage of the build here on bikernet in the garage section)
I buttered up Glenn to make a sheath for my switch blade that I carry on the bike with me. I will post some photos when he is done, although after hearing what his schedule is like, it could be some time before I actually see it.
We headed back to Cottonwood around 10:00 in the morning hoping that Bandit and his sidekick would be out of the sack. Glenn saw the bikes in a parking lot of a local eatery, so we stopped and joined them for coffee, and made a plan for the day. We headed back down to the Smokeout for the day, and took in some more of the activities to be had. Edge told Bandit that he was going to be presenting the “Bandit’s choice” award at 8:00 that night, so he had to get busy and check out all the bikes, a daunting task at an event this big.
Every time he turned around there was either some celebrity trying to get his attention, or some hottie who wanted her picture taken with him. I stuck to him like glue. We hooked up with Paul Yaffe, Myron Larrabe and Doug, the Cottonwood Police Cheif, for a visit, then Jeff and Donny from Suckerpunch. I hooked up again with Glenn, and we took in the wet T shirt contest, and the bikini bike wash. The girls were very busy, as the whole event was held in a gravel parking lot, and it was very windy most of the time, so every bike outside was covered in dust.
There was the roller derby girls, who put on a great show. We hooked up with Bandit again, and we got to meet Goth Girl from the Devil Dolls. What a hoot. A bit later in the day, we went for dinner at one of the local taverns, and then back to the bar from the night before, for a couple of drinks, then we had to high tail it back to the fairgrounds for the “Bandits Choice” awards. We hung out for a couple of the live bands that were playing there, who put on a wicked show. There was a great turn out for the shows and everybody was having a blast. Later on, we headed back to the hotel to take in the impromptu mini-bike races that were taking place that night at midnight.
George the Painter, and Gothgirl were there as well as a bunch of Horse staffers. The races were a hoot, but it was pitch black so getting pictures was tough, although one of the girls there was a professional photographer, and tried to give me a few tips. I think I will just wait to see her pictures show up in the horse.It was the small hours of the morning when we finally shut it down for the night, but we weren’t the last ones to call it a night. You could hear burn outs going until almost daybreak, and a party in every other room. The Horse staff knows how to party.
Sunday Morning
We were all up a bit later than usual, but not too late. We fired up the bikes and headed to Sedona for breakfast. It was packed and we had to wait about a half hour to be seated, but it was worth it, as the food was great. After Breakfast we went to Chris Kallas’s new house in Sedona for a visit. What a place. It was beautiful and he and his wife are very lucky. I am very envious. We hung out there for an hour or so, and then started getting ready to hit the road. Bandit, Jeremiah, and Glenn were getting ready to head back to LA via 29 palms for the night, but I decided to head north out of Sedona, and head for home.
We said our goodbyes, and went our separate ways. My weekend with Bandit and crew was one to remember. I had an absolute blast, but this was about week 5 away from home, so I was on a mission. I rode as far as Zion National Park on Sunday, and got a room just outside the park, as I wanted to check it out in the morning.
At first light, I was on the road in nippy Utah, and rode through the parks’ many tunnels, and winding mountain roads. This is now my new favorite place to ride. If you have never been there, I highly recommend it. I rode through Zion, then back on to the freeway heading north, and on to Salt Lake City and beyond.I rode in to Idaho and as far as Boise on Monday, where I shut her down for the night. Tuesday was going to be a ball buster.
I woke early and left Boise at first light headed for home. I wanted to make it to the ferry in Vancouver before the last sailing at 9:00 pm. I crossed over in to Oregon early in the day, and stopped only for fuel, and a quick bite to eat once in a while. The weather held out for me the whole way, right in to Washington state, but as soon as I crawled down the western slopes of the cascades, in to the Seattle area, it started to rain again. Welcome home.
I rode in the rain for a couple more hours before arriving at the ferry terminal around 6:00 at night. I loaded on to the 7:00 pm ferry, and treated myself to the buffet dinner they serve on this particular sailing. Upon hitting the Island, I cruised the last half hour in the rain to my folks place in Victoria. A little over 750 miles making it extra nice to be home.
As I drifted off to sleep, I wondered how I was going to break it to the Old Lady, that I was going on another trip in a week or so… I will let you know how that goes after I tell her.
