EJ Rider

DAY SEVENTEEN - or "I am a fat bloated warthog!"

noreply@blogger.com (Elemental Jay) — Mon, 03 Nov 2008 03:04:00 +0000

Sunday, 2 November 2008.

Now that I am running out of major sights to see along my way, this is becoming a run for home. I've been gone two and a half weeks now and it would be nice to sleep in my own bed for a change. Looking at the map, I think today will be another hard run to get as many miles down as possible. I'll stop if anything catches my eye, but I don't see anything on the map that makes me want to stop ahead of time.

After leaving Albuquerque, I don't stop for anything but gas and snacks as I make my way out of New Mexico and into Texas. It fascinates me how different the terrain and vegetation are in just a few hours drive even though I never noticed the change as it was happening. Today was the first time in quite a few years that I've seen tumbleweeds blowing across the road. The wind was pretty vicious all day, in fact, and it made riding difficult at times. When you are constantly counter-steering to fight the crosswind and you catch up to an 18-wheeler that blocks you from the wind, you find yourself suddenly steering toward the truck. Once you regain control you're already getting past the truck, and the wind coming around the front end of the tractor pushes you hard toward the median. Nothing but fun right there. And this went on all day.

By the time I reached Amarillo, I was beat. I had only ridden 300 miles, but I was ready to take a break. I decided to stop for gas on the east side of town and then look for somewhere to sit down for dinner. That's when I spotted the Big Texan Steak Ranch. "Home of the Free 72 oz Steak." Sounds like my kind of place. I went in to look around and was greeted by a nice little old lady who has apparently written a book about the place and was autographing copies for sale. We chatted for a bit and I told her I was thinking about taking on the challenge - turns out the 4.5 pound sirloin is only free if you can eat it (AND a salad, roll, baked potato, and fried shrimp) in an hour. No bathroom breaks, no getting up from the table, just eat. She told me she didn't think I could do it. She said that I seemed to be a very confident person and didn't have anything to prove to anyone, so I probably wouldn't get the job done. Of course, I took that as a bit of a challenge and started making a few phone calls. I called my wife who thought it was crazy but a neat idea. Then I called my daughter who, of course, told me to go for it - especially when I told her she could watch the whole thing live on the web-site. Last I called was my friend Suzy to ask how many of our geocaching friends were online. When I explained what I was going to do, she got online and started sending phone calls and text messages to everyone she could think of. By the time I sat down to eat, there were over two dozen folks online to watch me eat myself into a stupor. And that's in addition to a regular Sunday night dinner crowd AND two school buses full of teenagers who arrived just as I started eating. What a show THIS was going to be. (If you look at the steak in the picture, you need to realize that those are "regular" sized grill marks on that steak. Once they had filleted it open, the darned thing was nearly a foot and a half long!)

It actually turned out to be a lot of fun. People constantly came up to the table to take pictures or just stare. Some folks would come up to wish me luck and some of the teenagers would occasional start chanting my name just to be funny. I didn't talk to people much because this stupid steak was just a monster and I knew I was going to have to eat fast before my body figured out what I was doing to it. I did pretty well, too. At half an hour into it I had finished about half the steak, as well as the salad, potato, and shrimp. But I could tell I was going to be in trouble soon. I still had over two pounds of steak to eat and it was getting cold, which seemed to make it tougher to chew. I could also feel my stomach expanding. A LOT. If you look closely at some of these screen shots, you can actually see me getting bigger around the middle. With about ten minutes left to go, I knew I wasn't going to be able to finish. I stayed with it as long as I could, but when it got to the point where I'd urp every time I tried to swallow another bite I knew I was done. I let the waiter know that I was done.

The drama wasn't over yet, though. It was a huge effort trying to just get up from the table. Then I had to stagger to the other end of the building to find the men's room. To my horror, all the stalls were occupied when I got in there! It took several minutes before I was able to relieve a little of the pain that was fast setting in to my guts. I went back to the table and collected my consolation prize t-shirt ("I TRIED to eat the whole thing!") and made my way toward the exit. (You pay before you sit down for this meal.) It was now after dark and there was no way I was riding that bike more than a couple of blocks to the nearest motel. I was a little worried about being able to get a leg over the seat! I found a Motel 6 that looked like it would have comfortable bathrooms and settled in for the night. I wasn't as miserable as I thought I'd be and I had a lot of fun, even if I wasn't able to finish the steak. A couple of calls and checking the forums let me know that everyone watching had fun, too, which was the real goal. This wasn't something that I am likely to try again, but it was another once-in-a-lifetime experience that I'm glad I decided to try on this trip. (I only rode 307 miles today for a total of 5800 so far).

DAY SIXTEEN - or "A shooting star gone horribly, horribly wrong."

noreply@blogger.com (Elemental Jay) — Mon, 03 Nov 2008 03:03:00 +0000

Saturday, 1 November 2008.

Well, the Needles Inn does NOT look any better in the daylight. The place has been in business since the road out front was still called Route 66 (which was actually kinda cool), and it seemed to still have the same bedding from that time. The Krylon that was unsuccessfully applied to the deteriorating porcelain in the bathtub didn't improve my opinion of the place, either. I got online to blog and check out the forums for a bit, but then hit the road almost immediately. It was only 8am and it was already nearing 80 degrees. This was going to be a great day for a ride.

I had looked up the Racetrack Playa in Death Valley on the internet while at Viking Manor. It turned out that the only way to access the lakebed was over 27 miles of unimproved washboard gravel road. No thanks. That was just too far to risk laying the bike down or bouncing into the ditch. So I decided, to my own chagrin, to skip Death Valley. Instead, my first goal this morning was Kingman, Arizona. From there I would turn north to visit the Skywalk over the Grand Canyon.

It was nearly noon when I pulled into Kingman, and I went straight to the local visitors' center to get my bearings and find out any suggestions for my trip north. The visitors' center was in a converted electric plant which was a huge old brick building with a lot of tall arched windows. It also housed a Route 66 museum and a large gift shop. Outside was a huge old locomotive and caboose that seemed to be well cared for. I went inside and talked to the nice lady at the counter and got some rather distressing information from her. Apparently the tribe that owns the skywalk has chosen to invest their considerable income from this venture (did I mention that it costs almost $80 per person between parking and entry fees?) in an airport rather than improving access roads. According to the lady at the visitors' center, the last seven miles approaching the skywalk area are unimproved gravel roads that are bad enough to keep the speeds down to about 15 mph and make you wonder if you'll ever get there when riding in a car. Her advice to me - "don't do it on a motorcycle; you'll hate it." She had been there herself and also told me that the floor of the skywalk is not actually clear acrylic that you can look through. You have to hang your head over the guardrail to get the desired effect and the views are not as spectacular as the "main" part of the canyon. Overall, this was another bust to my plans. I decided to listen to that inner voice telling me to just head home, but I was still pretty peeved to miss two of my major goals for this trip in as many days.

Back on the road, I started seeing remnants of old Route 66 and some abandoned reminders from the Mother Road's heyday. Small cafes and "trading posts" had been bypassed by the new highway, and without a nearby exit ramp many of these places were doomed. I recognized the Twin Arrows trading post from one of my books on Route 66 and was a little sad to see that it was out of business and giving way to vandals and Mother Nature. A sad little part of me thought about how cool it would be to put it all back together and get the neon working, just to save a little part of this country's past. Many miles on down the road I actually saw a rare sight - a trading post from the Route 66 era that was still open and doing business. It was still tough to tell where I should exit from the highway to visit the place, so I just pulled to the side of the highway to take a picture across the fence. That is actually old Route 66 running in front of the store. VERY cool.

About three in the afternoon, I saw a couple of billboards for Meteor Crater. When I saw the one that said the crater was only six miles off the highway, I decided "what the heck" and pulled off to check it out. You could see the crater rim from several miles away as you approached. This is another one of those features of the American west that just overpowers you with its sheer size. The little square spot on the side turned out to be the entire visitors' center complex. The crater itself is nearly a mile wide and nearly 600 feet deep,and the rim rises more than 150 feet above the surrounding desert floor. I paid my entry fee and went inside, checking out the museum before heading out back to the observation platforms. The upper platform was oddly similar to the one overlooking Mount Saint Helens, and gave a similar expansive view. I shot a set of five pictures that were then stitched together by a good friend to form this panorama (thanks Ken!). For a sense of scale, the black spot in the middle of the bottom of the crater is some left over mining equipment from the 1920s expedition to recover the meteor (before they knew that it had been obliterated on impact). It's about ten feet tall and fifteen or more feet long. For some really good background and a great aerial shot of the crater, go to http://www.barringercrater.com/science/. After sightseeing, I went into the gift shop and bought walking stick badges and golf balls, and got my son a piece of the actual meteor as a souvenir. I'm pretty sure he'll like that. Then I headed out to hit the road again.

On my way out, I was fussed at by one of the locals - a crow the size of a small buzzard. The park "ranger" standing out front told me the crow was a bit of a jerk. Apparently he has figured out how to sit on the edge of a trash can and methodically pull up on the side of the bag until it has turned inside out and spilled the contents onto the ground. Then he goes rooting through it for chow. I got within about five feet of the guy and leaned on the handrail to take this picture. When he took off, the entire handrail shook. I can see how these things creeped out Edgar Allen Poe.

I finally got back on the road and started putting some miles under the bike again. I only stopped a little while before sundown to take this last picture and visit a "real" Native American trading post. It turns out that you can tell the "real" stuff by the outrageous price tags. The smallest hand-woven rugs (about 2' x 3') were on sale for 50% off their original price of $700! And all the jewelry started out around $120 and went up from there. Guess they're still a little ticked about the whole Manhattan-for-blankets trade thing, huh? After that, I was able to make it to Albuquerque, New Mexico not long after dark, resulting in 550 miles covered today. The total mileage for this trip is now up to 5490 and I'm starting to feel it a little. But at the same time, I'm feeling good about getting closer to home.

I also had another small epiphany today after leaving Meteor Crater. I had been pretty upset that I had been forced to skip two of my planned stops on this trip. What had really happened, though, is that I had forgotten my "mission" for this trip. I came out here to enjoy the ride and see what I could on the way. I had become so focused on making certain things happen during the trip that I was starting to forget that the trip itself was supposed to be the focus. The epiphany was that this same concept applied to my current situation "back in the world." I have been so focused on forcing certain things to happen a certain way in my personal life that I was forgetting to actually live my life. I don't know if I will be able to keep this mind set when I get home, but if I can I believe it will definitely help me to accept things better and to deal with troubles as they come instead of trying to force them to work out my way ahead of time.

Enough psychobabble for one day. I still have 1500 more miles to cover and it's time for bed.

DAY FIFTEEN - or "Where the heck was Barstow?!"

noreply@blogger.com (Elemental Jay) — Mon, 03 Nov 2008 03:02:00 +0000

Friday, 31 October 2008.

Happy Hallowe'en. I woke up this morning to the sound of nothing. It was weird. The Viking family had gotten up and gotten ready for school and work without making any noise apparently. They were letting the old dude sleep, I guess. After staying up talking late into the night, it was nice to sleep in a bit without worrying when check out time was. Mrs. Viking had made cranberry muffins before heading off to work and we stood around chatting for a bit before it was time for me to hit the road. Like the other cachers I had met so far, the Vikings were gracious hosts and even nicer in person than they seemed online.

After leaving Lompoc, I headed toward Los Angeles. The 101 spent some time running right along the coast again. It was a warm beautiful morning for riding and the views of the beaches and the ocean were much clearer than they had been farther north. There were dozens of buses full of migrant workers on the road headed for the fields. Each one pulled a trailer with a couple of porta-potties on it. I hadn't really thought about bathroom breaks in a farm field. I passed the buses pretty quickly to avoid any "sloshing." It was interesting to see these folks in fields within yards of million-dollar homes right on the beach, making a couple of bucks an hour breaking their backs. It gave me something to dwell on as I rode on down the highway.

Although it doesn't look far on a map, it took more than three hours to get from Lompoc to Rancho Cucamonga. I was going to meet a cacher named Webfoot after his teaching job was done for the day, so I arrived with more than an hour to spare. I found a coffee shop with free wi-fi and sat for a while drinking Chai and browsing. The barista was an interesting gal. I at first thought she was wearing the scarf around her neck because the boss wanted her to hide a tatoo. Turns out that she had gotten a nurse friend to sew large stitches into her neck Frankenstein's-monster-style for Hallowe'en and was hiding them to keep from freaking the customers. She must have been a Mac user ("10% of the market, 90% of the weird").

I finally met Webby at the appointed time and we went back to the coffee shop. My original intention was to just hang out and socialize for a bit then hit the road again. It turned out that he and his family had already made plans to invite me to stay for dinner, though. So I changed plans and followed him home. We stopped on the way so that I could find one of his caches in a nearby park, then we went on to his house. It was still a couple of hours until dinner time, so we had plenty of time to sit around and chat and walk to the local grocery for dinner supplies. I got to meet Webby's sons and Jack, their lovable but lunatic dog, then Webby's wife when she got home. After sitting around chatting for a bit, I got to have a second delicious home cooked meal in as many days. This time it was salmon and vegetables, followed by home-made cookies-and-cream ice cream. EXTREMELY good food once again.

It was dark by the time dinner was over and trick-or-treaters had started knocking at the door, as well as parking outside to go through the local haunted house set up by one of Webby's neighbors. All this action was making Jack completely nuts. I still wanted to at least reach I-40 at Barstow before I stopped for the night, so I decided to leave the Webfoots (Webfeet?) to try to calm their poor dog. I had greatly enjoyed the food and the company and was glad to have met this family, but it was time to hit the road. I didn't want to be out on the highway for too long on a Friday night.

An hour later my gas tank was almost empty as I rolled into the outskirts of Barstow on I-15. I stopped for gas at the first exit but then rode on again, intending to find a hotel on I-40. Turns out there wasn't one. I have no idea what happened, but I expected a decent-sized city to be somewhere near the intersection of two major highways and it just wasn't there. The usual gas stations, hotels, and fast food joints that populate every exit near any decent-sized city disappeared as soon as I merged onto I-40. So did the exits. A few miles after I first changed highways, I came to the next exit. There was one Bates Motel-looking inn tucked under the overpass and I decided to skip it. The highway sign said there was another town about 40 miles down the road, so I decided to head for it. It was still just after 8 pm so I figured I had the time. Another bad call. The "town" of Ludlow consisted of one truck stop and one seven-room motel with a sign that said to ask at the truck stop if I wanted a room. The only room left had three king-sized beds in it, but no internet or even a telephone. They wanted $70 for it. I asked the overworked register-jockey where the next hotel was. He told me I could head back to Barstow or I could drive another 90 miles to Needles. Wow. I dug out the cold weather gloves and hit the road again. It was really wild to drive through unlit desert for an hour and a half, passing very few other vehicles and even fewer exits, none of which seemed to go anywhere. I saw more stars that night than I had seen in one place in years. It was peaceful and almost meditative, but became a little lonely after more than an hour had passed. Finally, just as the isolation of it all started to creep me out a little, a slight glow on the horizon let me know that I was approaching civilization again. I had reached Needles. I took the first exit with any sign of commercial activity and pulled into the first crappy motel that had "Free Wi-Fi" on the sign. I paid the nice lady at the front desk, checked the bedspread for cockroaches, and crashed. This had been a lot longer drive than I had planned (like two hours longer) and I was freaking tired. I guess the blogging could wait another night. I had ridden 433 miles today, putting me less than 60 miles from 5000 for the trip. I even ignored the freight trains passing by just across the road and fell into a pretty good sleep.

DAY FOURTEEN - or "MMmmmm, chicken!"

noreply@blogger.com (Elemental Jay) — Sun, 02 Nov 2008 14:01:00 +0000

Thursday, 30 October 2008.

Finally in California! Now that I have turned south and am within reach of my last couple of goals for this trip, I can feel a change. It was still cold and foggy this morning, but it's easier to keep riding. I feel some anticipation for turning toward home now. And I have a healthier definition of what "home" really is and what it means to me, too. I believe that at the end of this trip I will definitely feel much more like I've come home than I have so far this year. At least I hope so.

On the recommendation of one of the California cachers familiar with the area, I sought out the Avenue of the Giants. This is a stretch of 2-lane about 30 miles long that runs parallel to highway 101. The road was was built in such a way as to leave the trees alone as much as possible. This means that there are places where I could stick a hand out and touch a tree on my way past sometimes. The road is not very technically demanding for a rider, but it gets tough when you try to look up and see the tops of the trees. They are just so incredibly tall (some over 300 feet and 3000 to 5000 years old) that you get vertigo just trying to take it all in. I took a couple of pictures, but I don't think any photograph can give a good sense of scale of these things. And they almost don't seem real. Most of these redwood trees are perfectly straight and perfectly tapered. All you'd have to do is knock the branches off a fallen tree (don't even THINK of cutting one of these things down - I'd beat you myself) and you'd have a perfect building log a couple HUNDRED feet long. Just amazing. It was difficult leaving this path and getting back on the highway, but I had a lot of miles to cover today.

A few hours and a few small towns later, I was on the northern outskirts of San Francisco. I had been here sixteen years before when the ship on which I was stationed made a port call here, so I wanted to see how things had changed (or hadn't changed) and get a few pictures. I had thought of cutting around the city to save time, but I really felt like staying true to the "mission" of this ride, so I drove through. I stopped at an overlook just west of the north end of the Golden Gate Bridge. Hundreds of pictures have been taken from this spot (including an opening scene in Charmed), but no one else's had me in them, so you're just going to have to suffer with another vanity shot. I then drove into the city, where the highway turns into Lombard Street. Another famous landmark of the city, one block of this street is the steepest in the city (some say the world) and does eight switchbacks in one block. So of course I had to ride the bike down it. I parked at the bottom and tried to get a good shot. You can't really see the street, but you can definitely see how steep it is. Then I turned around and took this shot of Coit Tower. After that, I went down to the Ghirardelli chocolate factory and bought candy bars fresh from the factory for my wife and daughter. Although there isn't much remarkable about the picture, I have an identical one that I took sixteen years ago from the same spot. Only this one's got that awesome Harley in it. Finally, I rode a couple of blocks down to Fisherman's Wharf, but couldn't find any parking for motorcycles (the lots and the parking garages don't allow them for some reason!) so I took a cable car picture and headed out of town.

I got back onto 101 and headed south again. I ran into some light rain for about a half hour, but thanks to leathers and a windshield I was dry again half an hour after it stopped. That had been my first encounter with precipitation since I started this journey. My final goal for the night was Lompoc and the home of a geocacher I have been friends with through the discussion forums for a couple of years now. Cache Viking is a very patriotic guy and is not shy about showing it. While I was in Iraq, he sent a picture that his daughter had drawn, along with a poem she had written. I have them framed at home now. I arrived at their home just in time for dinner, and CV was grilling chicken. That guy definitely knows how to set fire to poultry. I recommend that he post his secret recipe here to share it with the world. CV gave me the tour of "The Reno" as he has named their house after he and his wife did EXTENSIVE renovations and add-ons to it. He was very modest about the whole thing, just pointing to things and telling how it used to look and what they did to change it. But don't let him fool you. He and his wife did most of the work themselves and they have added tens of thousands of dollars to the value (not to mention the beauty) of their house. He is entitled to a great deal of pride in his work. It's a great place. I then sat down to dinner and met the rest of his family. We spent another couple of hours talking cars and motorcycles and politics late into the night and then I crashed in their guest bedroom on the most comfortable bed in the quietest house and neighborhood I had been in for quite some time. I had ridden 585 miles today, putting me at 4507 for the trip, and it was good to get some peaceful rest.

DAY THIRTEEN - or "I can see why they need this thing!"

noreply@blogger.com (Elemental Jay) — Sat, 01 Nov 2008 14:13:00 +0000

Wednesday, 29 October 2008.

I was a little excited about today's ride. I was on the coast highway now and I knew I was going to get to see the Pacific Ocean for the first time in sixteen years. After high school I joined the Navy and wound up stationed on an aircraft carrier out of San Diego for over four years. I know it sounds completely cliche, but the sea really does get into you. Whenever I get near any ocean it has an immediate calming effect on me and this time would be no different. Except maybe that this time I NEEDED to be calmed a little more.

When I actually hit the road this morning, though, I started to wonder if I really would see the ocean at all today. Most of the coast was socked in with fog. I had driven more than an hour and knew that the beaches were a hundred yards or so to my right, but they may as well have been a hundred miles away. The only time the fog really cleared was when I would get into the tall forests. It was like the trees were eating the fog. It was clear and sunny inside the forest areas but as soon as I came out of the trees I was right back into the fog. I was finally able to get a view of the ocean when the highway literally butted right up to a thin rocky beach. I pulled over and took a picture in case it was the only decent look I was going to get today.

A little ways farther down the coast, I stopped for gas in a little town that had a sign for a lighthouse. I've never been close to a lighthouse, much less toured one, so it seemed like a nice diversion for the day. The fog was really thick as I decended to the beach to find the road up to the lighthouse. The little museum and gift shop at the Umpqua River lighthouse (http://www.oregonstateparks.org/park_121.php) is housed in the old Coast Guard barracks next door to the lighthouse itself. The Coast Guard now has regular housing built nearby and troops still live there today. As it turned out, the museum only takes cash, so I had to drive back down the hill and across the beachhead to the little town to find the one working ATM and withdraw some funds. Then I rode back up to take the tour. It was a short little 15 or 20 minute guided walking tour with a very informed guide. It's nice taking a tour that's not guided by some lackey motivated only by his paycheck and reciting obviously-memorized lines. I won't go into all the details about this lighthouse, but one interesting thing is that it's one of only two in the US with access to the bulbs from the bottom. This means that you can climb up inside the light while it is still operating. They let visitors stick their heads up inside for some really beautiful pictures of the inside of the lens. I took a few pictures and made my way back to the gift shop. I toured the museum for a few minutes. It has some great photos and large models of ships and boats of the region, as well as a surprisingly large gift shop. I soon got back on the road, happy that I'd made this side stop.

The rest of the day was spent hauling down the coast highway, heading toward a meet-up with more geocacher friends the next day. I was intent on getting as many miles down as I could, but the fog and the chill made it uncomfortable at times. Still, the farther south I got the taller the trees became and I was looking forward to getting into the redwood forests the next day. I finally stopped for the night in Eureka, California, eager to rest up and hit the road early tomorrow. It had been another very cool day. I had put another 275 miles on the bike (total of 3922 for the trip), and I was feeling pretty good.

DAY TWELVE - or "Look at the SIZE of that thing!"

noreply@blogger.com (Elemental Jay) — Thu, 30 Oct 2008 13:48:00 +0000

Tuesday, 28 October 2008.

As I was blogging and posting in the forums this morning, I got a phone call. It wasn't a bill collector this time. It was a geocacher I hadn't seen in the forums in quite some time. One of the forum regulars had contacted a cacher local to the area (nicknamed Hoppingcrow) to make sure my planned route to Mount Saint Helens wasn't already closed for the season and he gave her my number (thanks, Jim). She was located just about an hour south of me so we decided to get together for a few minutes at a truck stop just off the highway, where highway 12 meets I-5. It turns out that 12 runs into 5 from one side, shares the road for about 20 miles, then continues on its merry way on the opposite side. Turns out Ms Crow was at one exit and I was at the other, even though we were both at the intersection of 12 and 5. Worst part was that we were talking on the phone telling each other that we were "right here!" at the Shell station and the 76 station is across the street. Both exits had both brands of gas station. The Shell station was closed where she was, though, so she thought I was nuts when I told her I was sitting inside the McDonalds at the Shell. We finally figured out the problem and I drove south to meet up with her. We spent a few minutes in the parking lot socializing and taking pictures, then went our separate ways. Hoppingcrow is definitely another of those people I've met who are even nicer in person than they seem to be in the forums. Seems to be a running theme.

After pulling away from the truck stop, I headed for Mount Saint Helens. It was around noon by that point, so I pulled into a little mom-and-pop diner for lunch. After I ordered I realized that all the tables were occupied. Moments later, however, three ladies offered me their fourth seat. For the rest of my lunch we chatted about the ride, where I'd come from, where I was headed, the best place from which to see the mountain, and other things. I said that I was interested in going to Death Valley to see the moving rocks there (http://geology.com/articles/racetrack-playa-sliding-rocks.shtml) and one of the ladies said she had been there a few times. We had to describe them to the other two ladies. Overall, it was an almost surreal lunch with the leather-clad biker dude chatting with the little ladies from the local bank.

The drive was almost 40 miles from the freeway on a smooth, newly-paved gently twisting road. As I got closer to the mountain, the surrounding environment changed in a predictable way that was still weird to see. Outside of the blast area was mostly old growth or second growth fir trees of different sizes and ages. As I got within the blast radius, the forest was still there, but it didn't seem real. All the trees were the exact same size and there were stumps interspersed densely through them. Apparently all these trees were exactly 28 years old, having been started soon after the eruption. Within about ten miles of the blown out side of the mountain, the land was still barren, 28 years after the blast. There are still acres of downed trees that look for all the world like a giant Pick-Up-Stix game gone horribly wrong. Grass only grows in sparse patches if at all.

When I finally arrived at the visitor's center at Johnston Ridge Observatory (http://www.mountsthelens.com/), I was able to see how massive this mountain really is. All the best photography in the world can't give you the true scale of this thing the way leaning over the guardrail and realizing that you are still several miles from this thing and that even the crater is a mile wide. What looks like a riverbed flowing down from the mountain is actually a canyon with walls fourty our more feet high on each side. The mountain just dwarfs everything around it on such a massive scale. Then when you concentrate for a minute and realize how much rock was there before the thing exploded, it's a lot easier to understand all the devastation around you. One scientist estimated that the 1980 eruption blew enough ash in the air for every person on earth to have 15 buckets. Yikes. Inside the visitor's center they have a tree stump on display. This thing is probably six feet in diameter and solid. According to the display, the tree was several miles from the mountain when the eruption occured. The entire tree just broke off. If you've ever tried to break a stick that was as big around as your wrist, you might have a tiny idea how much raw power it took to snap a tree off. Amazing.

After leaving the observatory, the ride back to the freeway was very nice because the sun was out and the temperatures were in the 60s by that point. I rode a couple of hundred more miles, all the way to Eugene, Oregon, and then turned west to get to 101 in Florence. It was dark by that time, and I had already ridden 390 miles by that point (for a total of 3648 on the trip) and was beat again. It had been another great day and I was ready for sleep. If I do this right tomorrow, I will be well into northern or maybe central California by tomorrow night. More scenery with the beaches and the redwood forests, but I didn't know if it would be able to rival the mountain from today for sheer overwhelming grandeur and size.

DAY ELEVEN - or "I can't let you do that, Sir!"

noreply@blogger.com (Elemental Jay) — Wed, 29 Oct 2008 15:24:00 +0000

Monday, 27 October 2008.

I have come as far north and as far west as I can. (The picture is of the Canadian border - mere blocks from Tee's house.) It's time to turn toward home, whatever THAT is. I'm going to head south now until I get into the middle of California and then turn back east. I didn't make it very FAR south today, but it's a start.

Through the coordinated efforts of Brian, Tee, and Suzanne, it was arranged for me to visit The Lilly Pad, also known as Groundspeak Headquarters. Groundspeak is the company that runs the Geocaching website (http://www.geocaching.com/), as well as develops new applications to add to the fun of the game. I'm sure they do a lot of other things of which I'm not aware, but I'm not engrossed in the hobby enough to look it all up. Suffice it to say that for many of the "hardcore" cachers, The Lilly Pad is a bit like Mecca. It doesn't hurt that they are in downtown Seattle within blocks of the bay, either. It's a beautiful place. I got there around 2 pm and was let in by Annie (they don't like folks just walking in and nosing around so they keep the door locked). I don't know if it was just random luck or her assigned job, but Annie was definitely a great choice for greeting the "pilgrims." I also met Jen. She is a big fan of Jeeps like I am (I'm currently on my third Jeep), so she is now near the top of my "Favorite Groundspeak Lackeys" list (sorry, Ken - she's better looking than you, too.) They both were very polite and friendly and are both very good at putting up with the random babblings of strangers. I got to see the interactive touch screen that tracks the latest finds around the world and shows them on Google Earth (THAT was cool!). I also got to log the cache that is just inside the front door - it's a full-sized treasure chest. Not exactly "hidden," but still very cool. I thanked them for their time and got back on the road. I had another geocacher friend to meet for the first time!

Loriahn is a cacher and a Soldier, too. She and I were both at camp Udari in Kuwait at the same time waiting to head north into Iraq back in June of last year, but we didn't know it at the time. We eventually made contact through e-mail and were able to keep in touch for most of the year that I was there. We both had rough times and we were able to help each other keep our sanity (or least not lose as much of it) during some of the worst of those times. When she heard that I was going to be out this way, she threatened me with bodily harm if I didn't stop in to see her. As our schedules worked out, it turned out that if I wanted to hang out with her I was going to have to go with her and her bridesmaids while she tried on her wedding dress. Seems she's getting married to a pretty great guy next summer. Lucky dog. So we had a quick dinner at RAM Brewery (LOVE their beer cheese dip!!) and then headed for the bridal shop. I mostly sat and made snarky comments and took a few pictures, but we had fun. She had to get up early the next morning for a uniform inspection, so I headed out right after she was done so I could find a room for the night. That's when the real fun started.

My first thought was to head for Fort Lewis, right around the corner from Loriahn. I needed a temporary pass so I stopped at the visitor center. First the guy tells me to take a number. I was the only person in the lobby. So of course my number comes up immediately (it was one of those automated number callers). Then he asks me for my license, registration, proof of insurance, and motorcycle safety course card. Ummm... I took that class in 2001 in Germany. Pretty sure I don't have that. "Well, sir, I'm afraid I can't give you a pass. They're really cracking down on that stuff." Great. I drive five miles down the interstate and spend half an hour checking with the two hotels at that exit. Both are booked solid. Now it's late and I'm getting cold and irritated. I wind up driving another ten miles down the highway before I find a place with a room. At this point I don't even care if the shower works. Just give me a place with an internet connection and a bed. I only rode 200 miles today, (total of 3260 so far) but I'm still beat.

Still, I had a good day meeting the lackeys at Groundspeak and hanging out with a "battle buddy," so I can't complain. And if finding a room is the most trouble I have this trip, I will count myself extremely lucky.

DAY TEN - or "Eat your beansprouts, Moonbeam!"

noreply@blogger.com (Elemental Jay) — Wed, 29 Oct 2008 04:25:00 +0000

Sunday, 26 October 2008.

This turned out to be a down day for me. Or an up day. Depends on how you look at it.

It was a down day today because I did not ride anywhere. It was an up day because I got to spend my down time hanging out with Tee. She and I are pretty close to polar opposites in so many ways that it's amazing we can talk to each other without it ending in fisticuffs. What actually happened was that we spent endless hours helping to enlighten each other regarding the other's points of view. Tee is a self-proclaimed "dirt-hugging tree worshipper hippie." She has a little grabber tool that humanely catches bugs so she can release them outside her apartment without harming them. She meditates. She grows her own bean sprouts. She is very proficient at brewing her own black tea. She has laid claim to Mount Baker (you can just barely see it in the background of the picture here) as "her" mountain. She would not be the least bit out of place in a '67 VW Microbus with a peace symbol on the front and pot smoke rolling out the windows. I, on the other hand, am a self-proclaimed "trained professional killer" (USUALLY stated in jest). In order to keep myself and those who work for me safe while in combat, I've received classes in Combatives (the army's new version of hand-to-hand), I've become extremely proficient with my assigned weapons and teach others to do the same, and I constantly read up on the evolving fighting tactics of those whom I may face in combat some day. To me, beansprouts are not food, they are what food eats. Sweettea (one word) is a food group.

And somehow we spent the entire day discussing the nature of both inner peace and world peace. We realized that we have a couple of things in common, such as our tastes in music, our affection for animals, and our disdain for toy store employees who act like Baby Huey (don't ask). We came to the conclusion that the only way peace can ever come about in this world is for both of us and those like us to keep doing what we're doing. And we each realized that the other can give us insight into ourselves that can help us achieve a little bit of inner peace during our own troubled times.

Then we went to dinner. Not surprisingly, the hippie chick was right at home on the back of a Harley. We rode to the local Mexican restaurant. Tee ordered the vegetarian plate (who is surprised by this?) and I ordered what turned out to be the best steak burrito I have ever eaten, bar none. If you're ever near Sumas, Washington, stop in at El Nopal and get a steak burrito and a Dos Equis. Yum. That's all I have to say about that. Yum.

After dinner, Tee took me to find one of her local geocaches, then we went back to her house and stayed up until 3am discussing the nature of conflict and the roles of both peaceful resistance and the threat of returned violence in stemming the tide of both local and global violence. Then I crashed for about 6 hours before getting up to get on with my trip. For a "do-nothing" day, I think we made good progress in solving the question of world peace. I know I've said this already, but the people I've met on this trip are still the highlight of the ride. Even the weird hippie-chick with the ADHD cat who thinks I'm the antithesis of everything she strives for. Funny who you can make friends with, huh?

DAY NINE - or "Dang, that's a lot of apples!"

noreply@blogger.com (Elemental Jay) — Mon, 27 Oct 2008 04:52:00 +0000

Saturday, 25 October 2008.

My intent today was to reach Sumas, Washington by the end the ride. A geocaching event was going on and three of my friends from the caching forums would be there waiting for me. No choice now - gotta drop the hammer and get moving.

Leaving from Butte, the weather was cold but clear. It got colder as I climbed the Continental Divide toward Coeur d'Alene, Idaho. The drive was beautiful again today, with a lot of twisting and climbing, even on the major highway that is I-90. Because of my time limits and great distance to cover (almost 700 miles), I only stopped once for pictures on this side. I figured you folks have seen enough mountain shots for this trip. I took this picture because of the interesting rock sticking out of the side of the mountain (it's several stories tall), and because of the bright yellow trees. They look coniferous, but I thought conifers were also called "evergreens" for a reason. I'm going to have to look into why certain strips of these trees had turned bright yellow.

After crossing the pass and heading down the western slopes of the mountains, the temperature improved by at least ten or fifteen degrees as I decended into Idaho. By the time I had passed through Coeur d'Alene, I had seen dozens of motorcyclists (granted that it was a weekend, but I hadn't seen another bike since leaving Butte until that point) and several folks were driving convertibles with the top down. I stopped for gas and got back on the road. With the weather improving, so was my mood and I was ready to put down some miles.

Washington state seems very flat and a little barren after leaving the crags and forests of western Montana. Still, it is a beautiful change and made for some easy riding that allows the mind to wander (a little - it IS still a motorcycle, after all). The Cascades still lay between me and my destination, but they were not going to be as challenging nor as tall as the Rockies by any means. I did stop to take one picture on my way through the central part of the state. It shows how flat most of the area is, and it also shows another interest of mine - railroading. A local railroad museum was just starting their collection and this early 1900's boxcar was their roadside attention-getter. It's in great shape for being over a century old.

I had turned off I-90 after passing through Spokane, choosing to take the more direct route of state highway 2. The ten-mile stretch of mountain road from Waterville to Orondo was another great ride on a gently twisting highway. The picture shows a house overlooking Lincoln Rock Lake, I believe. If it had a few trees around it, it would be my perfect retirement home. As the road dropped into the Wenatchee River valley after Orondo, I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I knew that Washington state was famous for apples. I just didn't realize that they all came from this one valley. Row after row after orchard after orchard of mostly bare apple trees. One roadside stand that I drove past advertised over 100 different varieties of apples. (On a side note - who the heck does he plan to sell those to? Everyone else in the entire valley owns a dozen apple trees of their own, apparently mandated by city ordnance or something). I called Ed, one of the cachers, and asked him how far I had to go. I was apparently still more than three hours out, and it was already 5 o'clock. Looks like it's going to be a long one.

I only made one other stop between Wenatchee and Sumas, just to take a picture. I passed through the very sureal town of Leavenworth just as I was entering the Cascade range. The entire town, including the fast food joints and hardware store, are all done up like a German alpine village. With the snowy crags as a backdrop, it felt for all the world like I had fallen into southern Germany. As it was a Saturday evening, there were hundreds of tourists around checking out all the little shops. I pulled off long enough to get a picture and then moved on. Dark was coming on quickly and I still needed to get out of these mountains. I actually wound up crossing the last rise (Steven's pass) just at dusk. It was above the snow line and the temps were in the 30s, so I spent about half an hour worrying that the patches of melted snow on the road had refrozen into black ice. If I slid to the edge, I would have plenty of time to contemplate my screw up before I hit the bottom.

I was slowed down significantly when I got to the coastal side. It turns out that highway 2 becomes a local road for several miles before meeting up with I-5. It took me half an hour to cover the last 10 or 15 miles. Finally, around 9 o'clock, I arrived in the border town of Sumas. Even though the two who lived out of town still had a hundred miles to drive that night, they patiently waited for me to get there. As I had not eaten all day, we met at Bob's Burgers and Beer. Despite the cheesy name, it was a great lodge-type restaurant and bar with excellent sourdough burgers and HOT chocolate that takes the edge off the cold. The others sat and watched me eat and we talked for about an hour before the restaurant closed. Everyone walked out with me to check out the bike, then we loaded up and drove back to Tee's apartment (she's the cacher who lives in town). The guys headed home andI wound up crashing on Tee's couch for the night as I was exhausted from riding 687 miles and crossing both the Rockies and the Cascades. I am now over 3060 miles into this trip, and these meetings with friends are still the highlight of my trip.

DAY EIGHT - or "On the road again..."

noreply@blogger.com (Elemental Jay) — Sun, 26 Oct 2008 20:59:00 +0000

Friday, 24 October 2008.

Last day of training. This has been a really good time, but it's time to hit the road. Of course, the bike has 11,000 miles on it and I didn't get the 5,000 mile maintenance done so I definitely needed to get the 10,000 mile checkup. Luckily, the local Harley dealership is just a couple of blocks from the hotel. The printing company has a deal with the local cab company, so I got a free ride back when I dropped the bike off over lunch. When I told the guy what I needed, he immediately went to the back of the bike with a tread gauge. Turns out that the rear tires are only rated for about 8000 miles, and I only had 2/16" of tread left, so it was time to change the rear tire. Ouch. That was some funding I wasn't ready to spend. It beats sliding off the side of a mountain on a wet patch, though.

After the last class, I caught a ride back to the dealership (Teton Harley Davidson in Idaho Falls http://www.tetonhd.com/) and got ready to head out. I love that part of the maintenance package is washing and drying the bike. They had 2000 miles of bug guts to get off that wind screen. Better them than me! My original goal was to reach Missoula, Montana, by night fall. I did not leave the Harley dealer until almost 4:30, though, so that was out of the question. I decided just to hustle as far as I could as fast as I could (stopping for the occasional photo op) and just stop when it got dark.

My first stop was just over the state line of Idaho in Montana, just past the continental divide. It was SERIOUSLY cold by that point. Every guy in the gas station wore a huge cowboy hat and boots. They all looked at me like I might suddenly rob the place or burst into flames or something. I don't know if that was due to the abundance of black leather or the fact that I was riding a motorcycle in sub-40 degree weather. Didn't matter. The till-jockey was a good guy who asked me which way I was headed and gave me some good advice on how far I could get before dark and where to watch out for deer. He was right about the deer. I saw several herds just a few miles up the road where the highway crossed over a river and had one run across the road ahead of me at the next town where he told me to watch out. It really is always good to talk to the locals and not be a jerk at the gas station. It could save your life.

I saw a large red fox on the side of the road not long after the deer ran across. Then I saw something just as rare - another biker headed in the opposite direction. I hope I don't look like Nanook of the North as bad as he did, but I probably do. Of course I waved back as we passed. Bikers most always wave like that just because of the lifestyle choice of owning a bike. But when you see another guy as dumb as you out riding in the cold, you definitely share something profound (and a little frightening).

As the sun was going down it played gorgeous colors onto the clouds. My daughter loves colorful sunsets, so I pulled over once more to take some pictures of it before finishing the ride. I finally reached Butte, Montana, just after the sun went down and got a room. It had been a short ride and had been cold again, but it was a gorgeous day and there were great views with at least a couple more wildlife encounters. I got some sorely needed maintenance done on the bike, and I rode 238 miles and wound up with 2372 miles on the clock for this trip so far.

DAYS FIVE, SIX, AND SEVEN - or "I'm not riding in this stuff!"

noreply@blogger.com (Elemental Jay) — Sun, 26 Oct 2008 17:44:00 +0000

Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday 21-23 October 2008.

This is why I came to Idaho. I'm here for job training and won't be doing any riding for these three days. I rode to training the first morning here and I got snowed and sleeted on before I got there. That's enough of that. The day got nicer and it was a good ride back to the hotel, but I left the bike parked for the rest of the week and took the bus to and from training instead.

On the plus side, I got a really nice room in a hotel by the falls. I'm on the seventh floor and my balcony overlooks the river. The hotel is round with the elevators at the core and each room radiating out from that. It makes the room slightly wedge-shaped, but also gives each room its own balcony.

The "falls" are an interesting story in themselves. I was expecting some large plunging bit of water over a high cliff. Turns out the falls are all of five or six feet high. Now granted, they're really really WIDE. But if you look at this last picture, that's part of the falls as seen from my balcony. Apparently someone built some kind of hydro-electric doo-hickey beneath that wall and they extend quite some distance either side of that picture.

I will start posting again when I leave here. I am getting some really good training here and I'm getting excited about getting this business up and running. But I'm also ready to get on with this trip and to see the rest of the country. More to follow.

DAY FOUR - or "Look! A bear!"

noreply@blogger.com (Elemental Jay) — Sat, 25 Oct 2008 05:01:00 +0000

Monday, 20 October 2008.

This was supposed to be another "drive until you drop" day to get all the way to Idaho Falls. I needed to be there by 6pm for a welcome meeting and dinner. I wound up not making it on time, but they were okay with it. Besides, I blame the bear. And Google Maps.

Perhaps I should explain.

I slept in a little this morning to let the weather warm up. I knew I had plenty of time to get to my meeting. The drive across the rest of Wyoming and up into Montana was fairly uneventful. It was a cool but mostly sunny morning and I started getting plenty of miles under the bike. Besides fuel stops every 150 to 200 miles, I only stopped once to take a picture when I started getting close to the mountainous part of the middle of the state. I was just hoping that my route wouldn't take me high enough to reach the snow line on them. It looked really cold up there. Fortunately, the interstate did a fine job of winding its way between the mountain ranges and it stayed a cool and sunny drive.

My first sign of trouble came after I had turned south onto highway 89. Thus far Google maps has done a fine job of getting me where I needed to go pretty efficiently. Speed limits out here, even on the state highways stay around 75 and I had been making good time all morning. As I got to the Montana/Wyoming border, I entered the town of Gardiner. I pulled over to get a quick picture of a motor lodge that consisted of tightly-packed log cabins. The place looked like a Route 66 transplant, complete with a sign right out of the 40s. If it had fit my schedule I would have loved to stop there for the night. As it was, I continued to the other side of town and got lost. The highway seemed to come to an end. The road teed. To the left was an "employees only" gate and to the right was a small secondary road. After driving around for a few minutes trying to get my bearings, I rode back to the town gas station. The nice lady inside let me know that I was at the north entrance to Yellowstone National Park. Officially the highway ended at the gate. She told me how to get through the park and continue on my way. Technically, Google Maps was right because the roads connected the way it said. The problem was that for the next 60 miles I was going to be on National Park roads - speed limit 35 or 45 mph through the whole thing. Dang. With no quicker options available, I paid the $20 fee at the gate and headed in.

Within the first couple of miles, I encountered my first wildlife. Silhouetted against the sky on a high ridge were two more big horn sheep (they're not mountain goats as I first claimed - it's been a while since I watched Animal Planet. Sorry). I wasn't able to get a good picture before they bolted, so I drove on. The pace was starting to get to me as I watched the clock on my dash move a lot faster than I was. Still, the drive was beautiful and started thinking that it wouldn't be such a big deal if I was late. I had never been to this park and I was really enjoying this drive.

As I got to the "town" of Mammoth Hot Springs, I nearly ran into more wildlife. Strolling around the town like they owned the place were more than half a dozen large elk. They were just eating grass from the median and generally just seemed unconcerned about the few vehicles trying to get past. I was waiting for one to just plow me off my bike, but it didn't happen. Those dudes were BIG!

The coolest encounter of the day happened about 20 miles outside Mammoth. As I came around a bend, I discovered a couple of dozen cars parked on the side of the road. There were a couple of park rangers keeping things orderly. The drivers and passengers were all gathered in small groups at the edge of a small lake just off the road. Most of them had cameras with huge lenses or large binoculars on tripods. I asked a ranger what the big deal was as I drove past. She pointed across the lake. A huge grizzly had killed an elk and was eating it at the edge of the lake. Four wolves were also prowling around waiting for their turn at the carcass. While I knew I was on a time crunch, I also couldn't pass this up. I jumped off the bike, zoomed in as close as I could with my little digital pocket camera, and got a decent shot of the bear. Although I couldn't get the wolves in the shot, it was still a very exciting thing to see. I quickly got back on the bike and drove off, stopping only to take one last picture of a lone bison grazing in the distance.

As I exited the park more than an hour later, I saw a sign telling me that I had more than a hundred miles to go still. I hit the gas and did my best, but wound up arriving at my hotel almost an hour late. The meeting was still going on and I got caught up quickly. There was even some food left on the free buffet, so I got dinner out of the deal, too. Then I headed up to my room to crash. This had definitely been another surprising day in which I hadn't expected to see much but wound up with a couple of very memorable experiences. I guess I can forgive Google Maps for taking me through the park, considering that I got to see a wild bear for the first time in my life.

Miles under the bike today - 585. Total miles this journey - 2134.

DAY THREE - or "Live animals and dead Presidents"

noreply@blogger.com (Elemental Jay) — Wed, 22 Oct 2008 02:47:00 +0000

Sunday, 19 October 2008.

So today was going to be the day to do a little sight-seeing and then hit the highway toward Idaho. After talking to the couple sitting beside me at the bar last night, I made some changes to my route. I would go back down Spearfish Canyon during the morning, check out Deadwood on my way through, then cruise through Sturgis before heading down to Mount Rushmore and Crazy Horse Monument. Then I would head out of town and stop at Devil's Tower on my way through Wyoming. I didn't have retrace any routes that way and it would allow me to see the most in as little time as possible.

The drive through Spearfish Canyon was even more amazing during the day. There were cliffs and bluffs and outcropping and waterfalls. The smell of the decaying Aspen and Birch leaves was refreshing and almost sweet in the cold morning air. It was difficult to concentrate on the challenging drive with so much beauty around me at every turn. I had overslept (stupid hotel alarm clocks) so I only stopped once to take a picture that does very little justice to Bridal Veil Falls. Just imagine another twenty miles of scenery just as beautiful as that and you will have some idea of the drive I took this morning.

I made a souvenir stop in Deadwood. It's a very cool little town. The main street with the oldest building is occupied almost exclusively by casinos, bars, and gift shops. There is a Harley store that sells licensed merchandise. One of the casinos was also raffling a customized Ultra Classic Electra Glide. The town was nice and quiet on an early fall Sunday morning.

I continued on to Sturgis which turned out to be a bit of a let-down. All I saw there were bars (which were closed), gift shops (which were also closed), and empty store fronts that apparently only did business during the motorcycle rally. I didn't have any maps of the city to show me where the "cool" part of town was, and I didn't have enough time to go exploring for it. I'm just going to have to come back during the rally, I guess. I'll bet I find the cool parts of town THEN!

Finally, I got on the highway to Mount Rushmore. It was on highway 16 near the monument where I had my first close encounter with wildlife for the day. Several wild turkeys were hanging out on the side of the highway poking around for lunch. I turned around and parked near them to take a picture. Like the rest of the animals in this state, they really didn't much notice me. I took a couple of good pictures of them and drove on. I only wound up spending about an hour touring the monument but got to see great views and even took the path that goes right to the base of the mountain. I took the time to stop and read a lot of the historic descriptions and I took a LOT of pictures. But since this is one of those seriously over-photographed national monuments, I won't flood this post with them. Still, I like this one a lot and you'll just have to put up with it. I was surprised that there didn't seem to be much of a museum on the premises. I did take the time to look through the gift shop and get my kids a couple of pressed pennies, then I hit the road again in order to get to the Crazy Horse monument. It was already after lunch at this point and I still wanted to get out of the state before dark.

Thanks to the helpful suggestion of the stranger at the Badlands National Park, I decided to ride to Crazy Horse via Iron Mountain Road out of Rushmore and then north on Needles Highway. As it turns out, both roads were slow going due to the great twists, curves, and spirals. The spirals on Iron Mountain Road were done with bridges called "pig-tail bridges." There were no good pull-off points to get a good picture of one, but take my word for it that there is an old wooden bridge under the spiral in that picture. As I first entered Custer State Park from Iron Mountain Road, I had my second wildlife encounter of the day. I have no idea where he came from nor why, but there was a donkey in the road. I stopped far enough back to get a picture without scaring him away. I really needn't have worried about it, though. A car approached from the opposite direction but he just watched it pass. After I took this picture, I rode on past the donkey. He just stared at me as I went by as well. My next encounter came just a couple of miles later. I have no idea where the mountain goats came from, either, but at least the terrain seemed a lot more appropriate for them to be there. And just like the donkey and the wild turkeys, they didn't seem to really care that a couple of cars and a motorcycle stopped to take pictures and drive slowly past. In fact, one of the mountain goats walked out into the road when a car approached. He definitely seemed to be expecting some lunch. We all just drove past, though. I soon found out where Needles Highway got its name. Although both roads had tunnels and rock formations, there is a rock formation called the eye of the needle that is a large narrow opening in a tower. Directly behind it is a tunnel that felt for all the world like driving through an eye of a needle as well. While I didn't get a picture of the rock formation, here is a good one of the tunnel. It is only covered for the first half (as you approach the camera) - the last half is open to the sky up a very narrow crevice. It was a gorgeous drive.

Even though the scenic route probably added twenty minutes to my drive, it was absolutely worth it. The problem was that just as I arrived at Crazy Horse, thick clouds began coming over the next range over and obscuring the sun. That really bugged me because the Crazy Horse monument has a great complex of several buildings dedicated to recording the building of the monument as well as native American history and modern native American crafts and artwork. There is even a pair of custom motorcycles representing the monument, one of which was being raffled off. If I thought I could spare the $20 I would have tried to win the new white Street Glide, too. As it was, I made due with more pictures. I spent well over an hour exploring the complex and taking pictures. As I was leaving, I decided to get a picture of myself and the bike with the monument behind. (A modern military leader and his ride with a representation of an historical military leader and his steed behind? Probably not, but it's nice to pretend.) The employee who took the picture for me was also a Harley rider. He told me that for a $125 donation, I could be escorted to the top of the monument. Or I could wait for the first full week of June to join thousands of others for a donation of a few canned goods. I may have to make the larger donation just to get a "private" tour. This is a beautiful monument that I hope is completed in the coming years while I'm still able to ride.

Finally, with clouds closing in it was time to get out of the state. After all, I needed to be almost 900 miles away in a little over 24 hours. I still wanted to get to Devil's Tower. Since it was only a couple of dozen miles off my path, I decided to risk getting caught by the imminent weather and go for it. "There's no bad riding weather, just poor clothing choices," right? I had my last close wildlife encounter of the day just after I left I-90 on my way to the tower. While I had seen quite a few road-killed deer and a couple of live ones in South Dakota, as soon as I crossed into Wyoming I started to feel like I was in one gigantic deer preserve. The picture shows just the first of more than half a dozen HERDS of deer that I saw close by the road as I finished my trip for the day. Highway 14 winds a lazy way to Devil's Tower and is a nice relaxing drive. I stopped once more when I got my first glimpse of the Tower, and one last stop at the souvenir store at the base. This store was the first place I had found that carried walking stick badges similar to the ones that the kids and I collected in Germany, so of course I bought three sets. I took a little time to warm up in the shop as the overcast skies helped drop the temperatures that were in the high 60s earlier quickly down to the low 40s. Then I hit the road one last time for a blast until dark, finally stopping at a Days Inn in Gillette, Wyoming for the night. Total miles ridden for the day - 318. Total covered so far - almost 1550.

DAY TWO - Part Two

noreply@blogger.com (Elemental Jay) — Mon, 20 Oct 2008 02:03:00 +0000

When we last left our intrepid hero... oh, wait. That was some other guy. Sorry.

At the end of my last post, I was in the middle of South Dakota, heading toward Sturgis. My goal at that point was to drive through Badlands National Park then head for the Black Hills. On Brian Klock's suggestion, I decided to drive through Spearfish Canyon and stay the night in the town of Spearfish before checking out more local attractions the next day.

I got a bit of a surprise driving through the middle part of the state. Indiana's unofficial motto is "there's more than corn in Indiana," to which someone usually adds, "yeah - endless freakin' soybean fields." Some of the really adventurous farmers in Indiana will put out a field of wheat on occasion. Party animals, that bunch. I had to actually pull over and take a picture when I saw a field of SUNFLOWERS in the middle of South Dakota. I definitely wasn't expecting that.

Since I decided at the beginning of this journey to stop at whatever grabs my attention (within reason and time constraints), I pulled off at a roadside "attraction" called the Badlands Petrified Forest (I think). It was a little museum/gift shop with an enclosed back yard full of large specimens of local petrified wood. The place was well-organized and it was fun just walking around looking at the unique pieces. I especially liked the logs that had been flattened by intense pressure before being petrified, making them look for all the world like a gigantic loaf of petrified french bread. Several pieces were so perfectly petrified in natural colors that I had to touch them to be sure they were actually made of stone. There was even a ten or twelve foot high log. It was a massive stone that must have weighed several tons. I picked out a piece of petrified wood for my son and a piece of rose quartz for my daughter from their rock-hound yard and went inside to check out their museum and store. There was more petrified wood, as well as many large dinosaur bones and other fossils. As I was taking pictures, some movement on the floor caught my eye. A juvenile bull snake had come inside the building and the cold concrete floor was making him lethargic. I picked him up and he seemed to appreciate the warmth of my hand. I asked the owner if it was a shop pet before releasing him back outside. Overall, this was a really great little stop for such a small little roadside stand. I'm definitely glad I stopped.

Next it was finally time to head through the Badlands National Park. For a small fee, you can drive a 35 mile loop that comes out about 20 miles further down the interstate. Very convenient. The drive itself is a lot of fun for motorcyclists due to the hills and curves. The park also has several turnouts and overlooks with information boards telling about the sights. All told I spent well over an hour driving from stop to stop and taking pictures. At the first stop a family asked me to take a picture for them, and I asked them to take a couple of pictures for me. The husband asked where I was going and then made suggestions for nice sight-seeing and driving and gave me a good map of the area. As I continued on the road, it dropped down into and wound its way through the crags and canyons and then would come back up and follow along the rim. At one point, I even came across a wild prairie dog "town." Apparently these little dudes aren't afraid of much of anything. One seemed to like having his picture taken, even. It was really a beautiful drive and I could have spent a lot more time walking the trails and seeing the sights that were further off the road. Visiting this park could easily be an all-day trek, especially if you stop to shop in the very nice visitor center and gift shop. As it was, I had over a hundred miles to ride still and it was getting well into the afternoon. So I headed out.

Although I didn't have much interest in Wall Drug, stopping there seemed like a sort of rite of passage for folks traveling through South Dakota. As it turns out, the town of Wall is at the western terminus of the Badlands National Park loop, so I didn't have much excuse, really. I took a quick look through the place, but didn't see much that interested me. Mostly it was just a lot of shops. There was a penny press machine though, and since my kids like to collect the stamped pennies I decided to get a couple. I walked across the street to the little bar to use their ATM. Since I needed change, I stopped to get a Coke. There were several locals there drinking, and I started chatting with them. They looked for all the world like they were right out of a wild west painting. It turns out that one of them was a rodeo legend from back in the 60s and 70s. Apparently the guy had been read last rites three different times from bad bull rides, including being gored in the head twice. He's the guy with the falling hat in the picture. I stayed in the bar chatting for almost half an hour. These were very cool people and it was worth the time getting to know them before heading for Spearfish. I'm glad I needed to find that ATM.

Finally, I drove toward the Black Hills. It took almost another hundred miles to get to Sturgis, then I had to get to Spearfish Canyon. The route from Sturgis took me through the towns of Lead and Deadwood. The sun was going down so I didn't have time to stop in these towns, but I planned to visit them the next morning. Along the twisty two-lane I saw several mule deer right on the edge of the road - got a bit of a chill imagining what would happen if one started out in front of me. There was still a good deal of snow in the shady areas from the 8" the region received the previous weekend. As the sun went down, the temperature quickly dropped into the low forties and as I went up in elevation it got down to the high 30s. By this time, I didn't care. This was the most beautiful stretch of road I had ever seen. I spent the last 20 minutes of the drive twisting back and forth on switchbacks and hairpin turns. There were very few straightaways. Even in the failing light I could tell that this was a beautiful area. I was definitely going to drive back through here the next morning to see what I was missing tonight.

At the far end of the canyon, I stopped at a busy little restaurant called the Spearfish Chophouse. Man, those guys know how to kill and cook a cow. I had a ribeye and fries to celebrate my great day. I knew it was a good place to eat when I saw the cow skull on the wall above the entrance. (For those who don't know, I've had a similar skull mounted to the front of my Jeep for over four years now.) The meal was great and I immediately headed to a hotel to crash for the rest of the night.

As I lay in bed writing notes for this blog and remembering all the cool stuff I had seen and done and the great people I had met, I realized that THIS is why I took this trip. What a great day. Total miles ridden today - 470. Miles this trip - 1230.

DAY TWO - or "THAT'S why I took this trip."

noreply@blogger.com (Elemental Jay) — Sun, 19 Oct 2008 13:21:00 +0000

Saturday, 18 October 2008.

Looking back, this was the single best day I've had in a very long time. The weather was better, I saw some great sights, I drove some amazing roads, and I met some really great people.

The day didn't start off so well. When I hit the road, the area was covered in fog so dense that I missed my exit to get onto the interstate. I only realized this fact when the mile markers seemed to be numbered wrong. I pulled over and got out my GPS receiver, which told me I was several miles north of the interstate. Thank you, Garmin!

After that dubious start, the weather was once again starting to get me down. I didn't think I was ready for another freezing overcast day. It was less than 30 minutes later when that all changed. The fog lifted, the skies cleared, and my mood improved dramatically. Although the eastern part of South Dakota is pretty flat, it is still beautiful country. Even though the temperature was still pretty chilly, I enjoyed the ride quite a bit.

About an hour away from Sioux Falls is the town of Mitchell. I had seen billboards for the Corn Palace and a doll museum which I thought my kids would enjoy, and I needed gas, so I decided to pull in. Just before the exit, however, I saw a billboard for a shop called Klock Werks. Anyone who has glanced at a motorcycle magazine lately has probably heard of Brian Klock. He makes custom parts for motorcycles, especially touring "baggers" like my own, and builds complete custom bikes. I suddenly wondered if I could find his shop and if it would be open today.

While there were no signs for Klock Werks, there were plenty for the Corn Palace, so I headed that way first. Apparently, some crazy folks back in the 1800's started decorating the outside of their building with corn; ears of corn, stalks, leaves, the works. Every year they change the design and every year the birds eat the building. Very odd. The latest building has a basketball arena inside (for reasons unknown to me) and the walls are decorated with murals made completely of ears of corn. The picture below shows this year's decorating still in progress. This place is hard to describe but should be seen at least once if you have the time. The pictures showing the changes each year are worth the time. The doll museum across the street looked like it was a nice place, except that it had gone out of business.

Luckily, the concession stand was open so I was able to luck up Klock Werks and find the address. One of the girls working there was able to tell me exactly how to find the place, so I set out hoping to at least see the shop where the World's Fastest Bagger was built.

When I rolled up outside, I knew I was in the right place because there was a custom bike built to look like a 1920's Harley Davidson with a sidecar. Better yet, the shop was open! I went in hoping to see a few bikes and just get a feel for the place. As soon as I was inside, two dogs came right up to greet me. Right behind them was Brian Klock himself. He had a pushbroom in hand and seemed to be busy, but he immediately came up and said hello. After I introduced myself and told him about my trip, he said "well, come with me," and started showing me around the shop. For the next hour, I got to see a dozen bikes that he was working on, to include the motorcycles on which his wife and his daughters set land speed records this past summer. We talked about teenaged daughters on motorcycles because my own 13-year-old now wants a bike of her own. We talked about his dogs. I got to meet his wife Laura who was just as friendly as Brian. I even tried to help chase down their dog when he bolted from their shop! In spite of their busy morning, the Klocks took time to make me feel welcome and to show me around. When I start customizing my Road King, I will definitely bring whatever business I can to these great folks. If you can't make it out here, check out http://www.kustombaggers.com/ to see what they are all about. The picture below is of Brian and Laura, with their Shelty and their Husky.

I will relate one story of the many Brian shared with me today. Apparently one of his neighbor's parents passed away recently. The neighbor's father had a 60 year old motorcycle that he had not ridden in 40 years or more stored in his barn. When the neighbor inherited the bike, he brought it to Klock Werks to see if they could clean it up and get it running. Brian strongly suggested against the "clean it up" part because of the much higher value of the bike in completely original condition. Every car or bike guy dreams of this - a completely original 60-year-old vehicle that has low miles on it and has been stored for years. All you bike guys eat your hearts out. (And yes, that is the World's Fastest Bagger in the background.)

As I was leaving, the Klocks suggested a ride for me to take later in the day as well as a couple of places to stop. I took their advice and my next stop was the Lewis and Clark rest stop just above the Missouri River. It has an interpretive center inside describing the Lewis and Clark expedition as well as showing that they had camped at that exact spot. It was a very cool and educational place with an amazing view that I would have missed if not for Laura Klock's suggestion to stop there. (Thanks, Laura!) This is a view of the river from the campsite on the bluffs above.

There is a lot more to the story of this day, but I need to get on with the NEXT day now. I will post the last half of the story of this day later this evening. As we say in the army - "more to follow."

DAY ONE - or "Pheasants? Seriously?!?"

noreply@blogger.com (Elemental Jay) — Sat, 18 Oct 2008 04:19:00 +0000

Friday, 17 October 2008.

When I started out this morning, I did not expect to have much to write about at the end of the day. My intent was only to put as many miles under the bike as possible and maybe meet up with a geocacher in Iowa. Looking back, that brings to mind a quote about Interstate 80 being paved with good intentions, or something like that.

*note to self* - when this trip is over, hunt down the guy who writes the forecasts for weather.gov and smack him. Hard.

I checked the forecast and saw that it was expected to get up around 60 degrees today. I was glad to see that because when I left home, it was in the high 30s. I was pretty cold but figured if I could tough it out a few hours until the sun came up I would be okay. The ride across Indiana and Illinois was rough. But the sun was starting to come up as I approached the Iowa state line. Unfortunately, approaching from the west at the same time was a wall of cloud cover. I spent the entire rest of the day under thick clouds. No sun was visible to warm anything up and the high for the day never got to 50 degrees. I wound up stopping ever hour to two hours just to get the feeling back in my toes.

As I was passing through Des Moines, well into my day by that point, I spotted a huge Harley dealership that looked like a big barn. In fact, that's what the place was called - http://www.bigbarnhd.com/. Since I was stopping for gas anyway, I figured I would stop in there and have a look around. I wound up spending the best $40 I have shelled out in a long time. If you look closely in the following picture, you'll see that there are now "pleather" shin-guards attached to the engine guards. These things did a fabulous job of keeping a lot of the wind off my lower body. I HIGHLY recommend them for cold-weather riding.

After leaving Des Moines, the terrain of Iowa started to change. It had been flat like all of central Indiana and central Illinois up to that point. Soon, though, I began to encounter rolling, undulating hills. They were fairly small and compact, giving the countryside almost a roller coaster feel to it. It was beautiful to drive through. I attempted to get a good photo, but none of them do justice to the landscape. Part of the beauty of it was the way it just kept going. Every time you left a valley full of this rolling countryside, you topped a hill and found even more of the same.

Apparently, these rolling hills do a great job of funneling winds because I wound up driving through a huge wind farm. The most modern of these windmills had blades approaching 80 feet in length. I DID get a couple of good pictures of these.

Around this time I got in contact with a local geocacher I've known through discussion forums for a year or two now but never met. After a bit of schedule wrangling, we were able to meet in Sioux City. We spent nearly an hour talking as I was having dinner and it was a lot like we were continuing conversations that we had already been having. It's nice when you meet someone in person and find out they are just as nice as they seem to be online.

Just before taking that picture, a group from the local adult special-needs home came out of the restaurant. One of the guys stared at me and the bike as he walked by. Apparently even the special needs kids think I'm retarded for being out riding in this weather!

After leaving Sioux City, I rode to Sioux Falls. I made an interesting observation on the way there. Iowa just isn't very creative in naming things. On my way across the state, I passed through Iowa (the state), as well as Iowa City and Iowa county. I passed near Iowa Lake, which was near the Iowa Speedway. South Dakota has more interesting names for things. Sioux Falls is in the county of Minnehaha. It is incredibly difficult for me to say that name out loud without chuckling. All I can imagine is some pale-face explorer getting his scalp handed to him right after he busts out laughing when the serious-as-a-heart-attack chief proudly tells him the name of his tribe.

I stopped for gas in Sioux Falls. The cashier asked where I was headed, and I told her I was trying to get close to Sturgis. I asked her if there were any decent towns about an hour away in which I could get a cheap room for the night. She told me the name of a town, but said I needed to call ahead or I might not get a room. When I asked why not, she said "tommorow is opening day!"

"Opening day of what?" I asked.

"It's pheasant season," she explained to me, speaking slowly like I might be a bit retarded (to her credit, I WAS on a motorcycle and the temps had dropped back into the 30s at that point). She went on to tell me that South Dakota is the pheasant capitol of the world. Tomorrow morning approximately 17,000 hunters will fly into the local regional airport. This is besides the tens of thousands who drive in. They come from as far away as Australia and Germany every year. I have no idea why. Maybe they're genetically engineered pheasants or something. The local Cabella's store releases a specially-tagged pheasant every year with a one million dollar prize to anyone who shoots it and brings it back to the store. No one has brought one back in the three years they have done so. Makes me want to buy a shotgun, though.

Anyway, after a few frantic calls to local hotels and motels, I found a room nearby for a good price. It turned out to be the oldest run-down motel/RV park I've ever personally stayed in. But the room was clean. And after I helped the manager reset his wireless router, I even had wireless internet free in my room. I had covered 760 miles today and it was time to rest.

A couple of simple observations here. Although the cold-weather riding was tough, it didn't kill me. I realized that until your body actually fails you, you have no idea what you can endure. It's all a matter of talking yourself into achieving intermediate goals. If I had tried to do this ride with the end as my goal, I would have given up and gotten a room for the day. Instead, I told myself I could survive an hour and then stop. And I did. I hate to admit that it is a metaphor for the larger problems in my life right now. I can probably talk myself into surviving today. Then tomorrow I will try to tell myself I can get through "just today." And so on. Sometimes I hate when I have these "deep thoughts" but they really do help when you get down to it. Maybe they'll go away if I get some sleep. Tomorrow should be a lot of fun if I don't get blasted with bird shot.

Pheasants? Seriously?!?

First post

noreply@blogger.com (Elemental Jay) — Fri, 17 Oct 2008 02:47:00 +0000

I have no idea what I'm doing here, but I will try to make this good. In about seven hours I'm going to get on my bike and ride. A LOT.

I will start job training in Idaho Falls, Idaho in four days. I live in Lebanon, Indiana, just north of Indianapolis. Rather than fly to Idaho and then just fly home again, I have chosen to throw a gym bag on the back seat of my Harley and ride out there. It's going to take almost 1900 miles to get there because of the route I am taking. Once I leave Idaho, I'm going to continue to the west coast before heading back home.

The job training is merely an excuse for me to take the rest of this trip. I NEED this trip. I returned from my third tour in Iraq this past April and my life has been in turmoil ever since. I'm not certain that I've actually returned home yet. This trip will be a once-in-a-lifetime solo adventure for me, and my goal is to find my sanity by the end of this trip.

I have a few other goals as well. I plan to meet up with several people around the country with whom I've associated through a discussion forum - some for a few years now. I have never met these people in person. I also plan to pursue one of my hobbies, called geocaching (see www.geocaching.com), by finding at least one geocache in each state through which I pass. Lastly, I hope to visit several places in which I have long been interested but have not previously had the opportunity to visit.

This will be a photo blog. It will also be a narrative of both my discoveries throughout the country and my discoveries about myself. Feel free to skip the psychobabble and just enjoy the pictures if you so desire. This blog is for me AND you.

See you on the road tomorrow.