Motorcycle Philosophy

Heading Down a Different Road

2011-12-05T21:39:00.001-08:00

Just when you thought you've hunkered down for a long ride on a straight road, you happen upon a detour and all of a sudden your itinerary is laid to waste.

Not that it's all gone to Hell, quite the contrary.

The divorce papers were signed off a couple of months ago, and technically it won't become final for another five months, but I'm already feeling like I'm on a different set of wheels, heading down a different road, with no destination in sight.

Kinda like when you show up every Saturday morning to ride with the same set of guys, to go riding on the same roads, and wind up at the same bar at the end of the day. It's satisfying to a point, and for some guys that kind of predictability offers a sense of security, and from that security, a feeling of purpose.

But for me, I want to feel a sense of the unknown, like I only know what road I'm riding on today, and who knows where I'll be sleeping tonight.

I left her with nearly everything, the house, the furniture, the money, and most of my tools, except for those I need the most to work on my ST. Otherwise, everything I had owned seemed meaningless to me. The more shit I have to carry with me, the more I have to manage. And I don't want that. I only have so much room to carry on my motorcycle, and the less stuff I have, the more free I feel.

All I kept for myself is my motorcycle and my pickup truck, and I only kept the pickup because I knew she'd never use it, and besides, it's my pickup truck.

So for now, the road takes me deeper into Southern California, into San Diego, where I grew up as a kid. Maybe I came here because I needed to come full circle, back to the city where my childhood came to an end. Maybe this is where the road begins for me.

I never believed in God.

Instead, I figured the Universe has a way of bringing things together. The Moon with the Earth. The planets with the Sun. The Sun with the Galaxy. The more we think our way through our problems, the more we interfere with that way. If we get in touch with our souls, with what's in our hearts, we allow the Universe to bring ourselves in tune with whatever was meant to be.

For me, right now, it's here in San Diego, with my Honda ST, and with what little possessions I opted to keep.

I spent the first 45 years of my life learning, and those years weren't necessarily mistakes, just learning.

The next 45 years, I'm going to focus on feeling.

The Road to Hell

2011-08-16T11:07:00.000-07:00

Motorcycles were never intended to sit idle for lengths at a time, nor to be ridden around town to run errands.

At least not a sport tourer like the Honda ST.

It waits patiently in the garage, thinking of the next long ride. I open the door and look at it, and it looks back. Its spirit awakens, like a resting dog lifting its head up off the floor, analyzing my every move.

Some people prefer to dig their roots down deep, build a home and settle into their community. Others are just transitory, looking and waiting for the right moment to start their lives. And then some of us just keep moving on.

We build a dam to hold back the water to create something that will sustain ourselves for a lifetime. It's a continuous job of checking for cracks, patching holes, upgrading equipment, and managing people. And even when you've done your best, the water level rises and you just can't hold it back any longer.

And then, I just want to ride away.

I don my jacket, pick up my helmet, and I can feel that motorcycle connecting with me already. The engine fires up with a sense of resolution that I'll solve these problems once more.

Ah! A freeway never felt so good.

Weaving in and out of traffic, as fast as I can, with no particular direction other than to get out, I can feel the pressure lifting.

Phoenix? Too hot.

Las Vegas? Too much trouble.

Santa Barbara? Too expensive.

Big cities are good for blending into the background. Small towns seem pretty, but everyone knows you. I'm not sure where, just listen to my heart and see what the road brings.

I never intended to cause trouble or pain for anyone. I only wanted to live, love, and laugh. But each of us have dirty laundry, sharing our lives with others always seems to end up hurting someone.

I've heard it said that, "The road to Hell is paved with good intentions", yet I can always jump on my motorcycle and find another road.

Coming a Thousand Miles, Day 5

2011-07-30T10:43:00.000-07:00

Just over one thousand miles separates Casper, WY from my home in Menifee, CA. And yet it doesn't seem like much at all.

I left Provo, UT on my shortened motorcycle ride to make the final 650 miles back home, and all of it on the slab.

For me, just riding the ST1300 is better than not riding at all, no matter if it's on the Interstate or a narrow piece of pavement up a mountain.

And even though my two to three week motorcycle trip was shortened to five days, it seems I still gained the focus and clarity I needed to refresh my conscience. I've been struggling with a conflict between my past and my future, between my mind and my heart, between obligation and freedom. I've become so imprisoned, of my own doing, with guilt and responsibility, that I couldn't feel free to be myself.

Only riding the ST for an extended trip into nowhere particular was all I had to break away, but even that's only temporary.

The ride south along I-15 through Utah, Nevada, and California was hot. It peaked at 115 degrees F through a 20 mile stretch from Baker, CA to Yermo, CA. At that hot, the wind heats up, it doesn't cool down. My leather jacket, with all of its vents open, kept me from dehydrating too quickly.

I saw many cars broken down on the side of the road, all of them abandoned as roadside service vehicles were out in full force.

I knew that one flat tire on my ST, or anything else that went wrong, would leave me stranded on the side of the road as well, but without air conditioning or shade. When temperatures are that hot, you don't realize how precarious the situation is until you're fully immersed in it.

When I finally got home, I made my resolve and addressed the issues I had come back to address. Even in this day, when cell phones make it possible to text, e-mail, or call from anywhere, I needed to do this in person to express myself fully, and move forward with a greater sense of freedom.

And now I've come a thousand miles in conscience alone.

When You Can Finally See the Horizon, Day 4

2011-07-29T08:21:00.000-07:00

Highway 220, Wyoming

Realizing the situation was urgent, I packed up my things and began heading home. This trip I was on was supposed to go two to three weeks, and yet I was already making my way back home after three days.

In another perspective, I had seen much of Wyoming, which consisted of mostly hills and grass. But in a way it was quite stunning to see how vast countryside can be when you don't have all the buildings in the way.

Though Wyoming didn't offer much in the way of twisties, it provided lots of solitude. Highways are sparse with traffic. I'd pull the bike over to get a panorama shot of the landscape and never see another vehicle for miles in either direction.

And solitude was why I did this ride. I needed time to get back in touch with myself, clear my head and feel my soul once more.

What it is that we seek in our lives often gets clouded over by the smaller things that pull on us from every direction. You find yourself managing your life instead of living it.

Somehow a place so vast and so open as Wyoming lets you see past those details and puts the horizon into focus.

Highway 220, Wyoming

But I needed to get home fast.

Once I rolled into Rawlins, WY, I jumped on the I-80 West and did 90mph into Utah, and then Highway 189 into Provo. And somehow there were no cops to be seen.

I was fortunate to have sunshine all the way, except for when I got into Provo. That's when it dumped rain all over me. It poured in buckets. I looked further south and saw only more storm clouds.

So I chose to get a room for the night in Provo.

The Storm Clouds That You Didn't See Coming, Day 3

2011-07-26T09:47:00.000-07:00

50 miles south of Lander, WY on SH28.

One nice thing about Wyoming is that you can spot a rain storm a hundred miles away. The lightning strikes and the black clouds in the distance give you time to react and adjust.

I was still about 50 miles south of Lander, WY on State Highway 28 in the middle of grassy hills and nothing else, when I realized that storm system was moving fast. I was going a leisurely 70mph and it seemed doubtful I could make town before it hit.

So I reacted by cranking up the throttle to 90mph to make it to Lander and find shelter. It's a good thing Wyoming State Troopers don't patrol these highways; at least I hadn't seen a cop yet.

But I'm too late on the throttle. Winds start blowing, the temperature drops from 85 degrees F to 55 in a matter of minutes. The rain hits. Gusts of wind blows my bike across the road. It's getting too difficult to control. I slow the bike down to 65mph and prepare myself to get soaked.

But luck comes my way, and I see a sign announcing a rest stop ahead. And I'm even more lucky, it has covered picnic tables with coverings large enough to keep me dry. I stop here and wait out the storm.

And the storm gets worse. The winds blow more fierce, hail comes down. I can see the rain falling almost horizontally. How lucky was I that I found this shelter?

Rest stop along SH28, about 30 miles south of Lander, WY

Once the rain subsided, I managed to ride on to Lander, and then found plenty of sunshine to last me into Casper, WY.

I suppose in our relationships you don't always have the luxury of seeing a storm coming your way. You think you're basking in sunshine. You think everything is good.

And then the storm hits you by surprise, like a ton of bricks.

And then you wonder what the heck happened, why you didn't see it coming.

And then you think about your priorities, what means most to you, what's too precious to give up, and what you can save for later.

And then you assess what to do next.

Shelter from the storm

Why I love to take these adventures on the road has to do with a desire to be in touch with myself. To feel the real me apart from all outside influences. On the one hand, it's like running away, and on the other it's like learning something new about myself. And as it turned out, I learned something new again.

So from here, I've made the choice to cut this trip short and head back home. I need to take care of something important. Doing a two-three week ride is something I'll always be able to do another time. But what I stand to lose back home is something I just don't want to lose.

More than likely I'll be overnighting somewhere in Utah tonight, and then back home tomorrow.

Guided by Our Internal GPS, Day 2

2011-07-26T07:48:00.000-07:00

Entrance to Zion National Park

Where you want to go is different than where you need to go. With where you need to go, you must plan and stick to those plans. With where you want to go, you need only follow your heart.

On the morning of Day 2, I looked at Google Maps on my phone and figured I could ride across the State of Utah and wind up at Flaming Gorge.

I started by riding through Zion National Park, one of my favorite national parks, with its twisty roads and majestic rock formations. And while waiting in line to enter the tunnel, I met a fellow sport-touring rider from Quebec. He was on a BMW RT1100, but he didn't say much.

I noticed storm clouds up ahead, and started to rethink my path. If I was to take Highway 12, which is one of the most beautiful roads to ride in my humble opinion, it would take me right into the middle of the downpour, while navigating moderate twisties at high elevations.

Or I could stick to Highway 89, which is more straight, with some easy twisties here and there, but appears to miss most of the rain.

I listened to my heart, and it said to stick to Highway 89.

Downpour on Highway 89, near Panguitch, UT

As such I remained mostly dry, though I did hit patch of hard rain, but only for a few minutes. Yet, I found it relieving. The 100+ degree temperatures that afternoon cooled down to 80+ temperatures in the rain fall, and found myself wishing for more rain.

In Panguitch, I looked for a bar. My mouth was dry and I was hot and sweaty from the heat. But I found no bar, no saloon, no nothing that appeared to serve beer. Then I realized, "I'm in frickin Utah!"

And here I still have another 300-400 miles to get to Flaming Gorge.

I really looked forward to walking into a dimly lit, dive bar and ordering up the best beer they have, which is often Samuel Adams or a Newcastle, and talking to folks about whatever. And now I wondered if I could endure more of this heat without my favorite beverage.

But I knew for certain that there are bars in Salt Lake City, because I've been to them before.

So I did another gut check, and my gut said to go to Salt Lake City.

And that's how I got here.

80 MPH speed limits on the I-15, one of the things I like about Utah

Red Rock Brewery has its own bar and restaurant, and I was able to enjoy a few beer with a chopped salad. Seated next to me was an architect from New York City who was here doing some work. We talked about stuff for awhile. And I also got to visit another favorite bar of mine, Squatters Pub just a block away.

My grandmother, who was a Buddhist, often told me about the Universe and its spiritual force. This force is in everything, including ourselves. When you think, you interfere with that force. But when you let go of your thoughts, let this force guide you, good things happen.

Finishing the day with an
Amber Ale from Red Rock Brewery

It's like when you spend a few minutes looking at the cue ball on a pool table, measuring the angles, and then carefully hitting it just right, only to find that you missed the shot. And then the next time, you simply shoot without thinking and you sink it easily.

That's what I'm talking about.

A Road Into Desolation and Beauty, Day 1

2011-07-24T23:24:00.000-07:00

Lonely roads that meander through deserts always seem to stir my interest. So dry and so arid, it almost seems lifeless. Few ever want to come here.

I know that something so much as a flat tire could bring about my demise, not because I might lose control of the motorcycle, but because being stranded in such desolation, under 100+ degree temperatures, can be fatal.

Maybe there's a fascination with being so close to death. Maybe it's tempting Fate that draws me in? Somehow the character of this place seems so comforting to me.

The reddish hues of earth found in the hills and canyons around Lake Mead, NV and the nearby Valley of Fire State Park, paints the desert in a different light. Dabs of gray-green sage and chaparral, and a broad brushes of blue skies create a bold contrast to what is otherwise a hot, dry, rocky landscape.

State Highway 169 plots a relaxing but entertaining course through canyons and over hills offering easy twisties along smooth pavement. A sign post up ahead with the number "30" warns me of a more sharp curve coming up. I take notice and slow the ST1300 down to 60mph, but realize I could've done 70.

Highway 169 through Lake Mead National Recreation Area, NV

But I'm not disappointed.

Thinking about my life may seem monotonous at other times, but this time something about the desert and this relaxing ride helps me sort stuff out in a productive way. A place such as this is not so much lonely as it is solitary, and Highway 169 being an easy ride, doesn't demand much of my focus.

But I didn't set out on this ride to think. Rather, I wanted to feel. Feel what's inside me. To feel good about being me, and not having to feel guilty, or responsible anymore.

Eventually, the highway lead me into a town called Overton. At 109 degrees F that afternoon, Overton appeared lifeless too.

I found a dive called "Sportsman's Bar". I decided to stop there for a couple of cold ones. A few people at the bar took notice of me walking in, and then immediately resumed their attention.

"What will you have?" the bartender asked.

"Give me something cold and wet." I answered.

"I'll bring you my ex-wife" he replied.

We had a good conversation after that.

Sportsman's Bar in Overton, NV

Originally, I thought about heading to Zion National Park afterwards and camping out for the night. But I found the weather forecast in Zion to be 100+ degrees F as well, with mid-80s being the coldest overnight. I just didn't want to sleep in a tent under those conditions.

So, I opted to spend the night tonight at Virgin River Hotel & Casino in Mesquite, NV. $25.00 rooms with air conditioning sounded too good to pass up.

Ah! The joys of not planning ahead.

A Long Distance Journey to Nowhere

2011-07-23T09:05:00.000-07:00

What it boils down to is that I don't really know where I'm headed, nor for how long. And that's the way I planned it.

Tomorrow I'm headed out for a two to three week ride across the western USA. I haven't looked at a map, I haven't made any room reservations. I figure I can spot a campground or a motel along the way and see what's available. I'm not sure if I'll be camping most of the time, or moteling most of the time or what. I just figure I should take my camping gear just in case.

Aside from a few change of clothes, some toiletries, my laptop and cellphone, that's all I'm taking. Anything else I need I can get at a gas station or grocery store along the way.

Isn't that just freedom? When you simply plan to leave but don't plan anything else? It's a mystery what the road will lead you to.

Actually, a couple of destinations do come to mind. I'd like to stop into Sturgis, just to see the place. I don't plan to go there during the actual rally, but maybe a week before. And then, I'd like to visit my mom in Denver.

Also, a friend of mine, Larry, said he'll be doing a coast-to-coast and back again ride around the same time. So maybe if things work out just right, we can hook up somewhere.

One bit of news about Motorcycle Philosophy, I've set up a Twitter and Facebook if you'd like to follow there. I'll try to post some additional photos and thoughts there as I ride across the country...

http://twitter.com/MotoPhilosophy

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Motorcycle-Philosophy/234443479923297

A Baptism by Asphalt

2011-07-22T08:20:00.000-07:00

Senses become heightened, and anticipation grows great in the waning hours before leaving. I try not to plan or strategize, only to stay in tune with what my spirit calls for.

Finally free, the clutch engages, the rubber bites down, and I'm catapulted into escape!

Temperatures drop the higher the road ascends up mountain passes. Road signs and trees are but a blur across my peripheral vision, leaving me focused at the lines on the road.

The crisp mountain air, the scent of pines, cleanses my mind and washes away the sins influencing my thought processes. I can breathe now, I can listen to my heart, I can feel myself once again.

I spot another rider headed the opposite direction. Is he looking to cleanse his mind as well? Is he seeking the same salvation? I hold my hand out, and he holds out his, and we pass each other by in a mere second.

And for just that second, we made a connection. That we're here at this same place and time, on the same quest, with the same understanding. Hands need not be shaken, and business cards need not be traded, only an acknowledgment is necessary to have made a friend.

Yet each of us remains alone to reconnect with ourselves and to reset our minds to that simple essence inside of us.

"It's all a matter of perspective" the old saying goes. But who's perspective? Who influences me? Am I really in control of myself?

I don't really know where I'm headed. The destination isn't the point. The journey itself need be the only quest.

The Roads I Didn't Take

2011-02-16T23:09:00.000-08:00

Just pick a road and follow it, is what people often say.

A road doesn't offer any promises, doesn't claim to take you where you plan on going, doesn't guarantee any smooth sailing. It is only what it is, just a road.

It's a road less traveled, one that few ever want to ride, but seemingly combines glorious views of pristine Southern California wilderness, the trickle of running water, the songs of birds, and the aroma of wildflowers, yet it does so along a narrow, bumpy, sandy path filled with tight turns that kept me riding slowly between first and second gear.

I could have spent time admiring my surroundings, but the technical nature of this road demanded more attention, and left me wondering why such a road that offers such serene beauty, demands one to look at only pavement.

And it seems like that's how everything is, in opposite extremes that compete against each other. Whether it's beauty and ugly, rain and sunshine, love and hate, right and wrong, it's always a struggle to find our comfortable balance between the two. Did I choose this road to get someplace, or was it because I wanted to indulge my senses?

Another road up ahead comes into view and I wonder if it's worth following. I turn my head and look down as I pass it by to see if it might go somewhere or just dead end.

I'm already half-way along this route but decide to turn back and see where that other road goes. Will I find more beautiful scenery? Will it take me someplace memorable? Or will it disappoint and cause me trouble? Am I better off sticking to the road I was on?

I guess I'll never know if I don't check it out.

Perhaps if all I had to worry about was myself, it wouldn't matter. If I didn't have other commitments, or didn't make other promises, I'd have all the time in the world to take a chance on a different road, and uncover the mystery of what lies behind the next curve.

But I'm really only adding pressure to myself with these thoughts, ending up only confused, and constantly at odds with deciding what to do and where to go. Perhaps in life we pass by many roads that we chose not to take; the balance between keeping focus on the road, looking at all the wonder around us, and even the constant reevaluation of our decisions, leave us to second-guess or to justify our choices.

As riders always say, "It's not the destination, but the journey".

It's Why We Do Things Like This

2010-12-07T16:00:00.000-08:00

The transmission winds itself up into a whine as I kick the ST from fourth down to third, and coast into a tight, but sweeping 20mph switchback.

Riding the inside edge of the lane, I keep a straight line for as long as I can until the curve leaves me hitting the double-yellow. And then I make my move, dropping my shoulder, bending my elbow, pulling my foot back, and taking a hard lean to the right.

There isn't any time to think, only to do.

The painted lines along the road, along with the wooden posts of the K-rail, are all that I see ahead of me, streaming by like being in a rollercoaster on a 360 degree loop.

Just follow the lines.

Slingshotting out across the lane and over to the outside edge, I've only seconds to prepare for yet another tight turn to the left.

Thought processes in my brain calculates the approach velocity, the body positions itself again, and I make the next move.

It's like I've done all this before in video games as a kid, except this is real. The adrenaline is real, the dangers are very real, and the variables are so many. It's a mental exercise that leaves you feeling exhausted and satiated.

"Ahh!" the sip of a cold Oatmeal Stout inside a darkly lit cafe in the middle of a desert oasis, helps relax the body. The smell of burgers and french fries cooking up in the kitchen, creates a contrasting ambiance from just minutes ago.

After evaluating curves and calculating approach velocity in a relentless assault on the cerebral cortex, I sit back in my chair, close my eyes, take in a few deep breaths, and smell the aroma wafting out of the kitchen. Everything here is sitting still.

It's no wonder why so many riders along Montezuma Valley Rd choose to stop at Carlee's.

I take another swig of the stout.

The meaning of all this I wonder?

The road and the rest stop are inseparably joined. Perhaps Montezuma Valley Rd would not be as great of a road to ride if not for such a relaxing place like Carlee's to unwind, and Carlee's would be just another struggling hole in the wall if not for such a great stretch to road to ride.

To be, at this place and moment in time, in this mood and with this sense of awareness, because the road exists to be ridden, and Carlee's exists to put it all into perspective, is why we do this.

The Unwritten Language of Motorcycling

2010-11-14T22:13:00.000-08:00

Numbers like 12, 89A, 191, 212, 550 might not mean anything to most people. But when you drop two wheels onto long twisty stretches of asphalt, a pattern emerges from those numbers.

Despite the oceans that separate our continents, and despite the differences in language and culture, there's still an understanding common to all who set out on two wheels. The G-forces that pull you back, the centrifugal-forces that pull you down, the friction of rubber against the road, is a feeling that can't be explained but yet needs no explanation.

"So what were the most memorable points on your trip?" I asked Gary, who was on his last day of a five-month long motorcycle adventure across the United States.

"There was the Million Dollar Highway between Silverton & Ouray (US 550), there was Highway 666 (Coronado Trail US 191), the 89A through Sedona and Jerome, Bryce Canyon in Utah (SR 12), and the Beartooth Highway (US 212)." he answered, though not in those exact same words.

He had just read off some of my all time favorite roads ever. Even though Gary comes from England, from another continent, from another culture, and even though he's traveled all across these United States, the first roads that left his breath were the same roads that I would have spoken of. Gary might have been a foreigner, but I could easily recognize him as one of us.

I smiled and nodded my head in approval.

Later on, Gary was telling me about a moment when he stood at a viewpoint, photographing some really cool twisties, and someone asked him what the heck he was photographing.

There's an old saying, "If I have to explain, you wouldn't understand." But amongst those of us who understand, it doesn't have to be explained.

Electric Motorcycles and Freedom

2010-11-11T17:46:00.000-08:00

Riding motorcycles has seemingly cultivated a love for freedom within me. It's either that, or I've always had a love for freedom, and naturally gravitated towards riding motorcycles.

In any case, it's no wonder why I love motorcycles that get lots of range on a tank of gas. I like to keep riding and riding and riding.

But where is the freedom in an electric motorcycle if only gets 40 miles range on a charge?

Not all electric motorcycles are so limited, the Mission One, produced by Mission Motors, can go up to 150 miles range on a charge. However, it takes about 2 hours to recharge. Not quite practical when doing a month-long trip to Alaska and back.

Mission One Electric Motorcycle, Mission Motor Company

Today the California Energy Commission reported that it awarded $9.6 million to eight different companies, which includes $505,000 to the said Mission Motors to help bring its electric motorcycle to market.

The California Energy Commission, is of course, a California State agency funded by taxpayer dollars.

Perhaps there's a market for electric motorcycles as a commuter vehicle, but until technology can improve to a point where electric motorcycles can get 200+ miles range, and recharge in the same amount of time it takes to fill a tank of gas, there just isn't going to be a market for such vehicles for touring, or even weekend joy riding.

And if I pull into an electric charging station, will it cost me more recharge than to buy a tank of gas?

And are electric motorcycles truly "green" if it requires electric utilities to burn more diesel and coal to generate more electricity?

I don't know.

At this stage of my riding interest, I don't care about exhaust sound anymore. I can accept an electric motorcycle, as long as it contributes to my enjoyment of freedom. But a 2 hour recharge? Not likely.

It's All Coming Back To Me

2010-10-25T14:51:00.000-07:00

Three full weeks is a long time for a motorcycle rider to go without riding. Somehow, the planets must have aligned just the right way for me to finally to get out.

The fact is that the planets had aligned the right way three weeks ago when we got the call we had been waiting for the last several years. A perfect kidney matching the right blood type and tissue type was available, and I rushed my wife to the hospital. After a week there, Lisa was discharged and has been recovering well.

Adjusting to the new medications have been rough for her, and the staples holding the incision together keep snagging on her clothes. But she finally seems able to walk through the house and take care of herself.

"So when you do think you'll be able to get out for a ride?" a friend of mine asked.

"I don't know, maybe soon. Depends on how she feels." I said.

"How about this Saturday?"

"I don't know, probably too soon. Maybe next week."

So, I get a message from his wife offering to stay at my house and keep Lisa company while I go out riding. I asked Lisa if that would be OK with her. How could she say no after I've been waiting on her the past few weeks?

Eight of us left Temecula headed over the Santa Rosa Mountains and down into the Coachella Valley and over to Palm Springs for lunch at the Blue Coyote. It was a great time, just like the old times, good riding and lots of laughs.

On the way home, Mike's bike decided to quit. We called Tracy (who was keeping my wife company) to bring the truck and bike ramps. By the time she got there, it was getting dark.

Jack wanted to take Hwy 243 back home. If you don't know about this road, it's only one of the best roads in all of Southern California for motorcycling. 30 miles of 30mph sweepers that winds it way up the San Jacinto Mountain range taking you through Idyllwild and on to Mountain Center.

Except Jack and I rode it in the dark, and we doubled up the speed to 60mph. By the time we got to the top, it was fogged over. I think I slowed it down to just 55mph.

And I still have on the same set of tires I rode to Alaska with last June/July. A little over 13,000 miles on a set of Michelin Pilot Road 2's. They're right at the wear bars, but that only means I still have some decent tread left.

The funny thing is that when I left home that morning, Lisa pleaded with me to be extra safe, and so I set out with a frame of mind to just lay low and take it easy. The last time she was stuck at home for medical reasons, she was recovering from radiation therapy for thyroid cancer. I left home on a ride that day and crashed my bike and was laid up in the hospital for eight days. Lisa went nuts not being able to leave home to visit me.

But somewhere along the way yesterday, everything seemed to come back to me and just fell into place. You start out trying to take things conservatively, but the road has a way of bringing out the real you.

My Way of Remembering 9-11

2010-09-11T23:56:00.001-07:00

The way I look at it, if I died, I wouldn't want people remember me in some big production. I'd rather they just keep doing what they always do, but maybe just step it up notch, just for me.

So today when I rode my bike, I opted not to attend any of the big 9-11 rallies around here, and just hit up Angeles Crest Hwy and hit them twisties a little harder than I normally would, just for the men and women who lost their lives nine years ago today.

That's my way of expressing freedom.

Can I Get By With Only a Motorcycle?

2010-08-11T14:16:00.000-07:00

Grapefruit have become a favorite breakfast item for me lately, and the best grapefruit I've found thus far in my local area is the Pala-Rey fruitstand in Pala, CA.

So I put the trunk on my ST and rode down there yesterday.

As I placed the grapefruit in the trunk I wondered if I could do all my shopping this way. Could I just fit everything into my trunk and saddlebags and get everything I need?

No. The day before I bought a 12 foot long pruning saw; I have queen palms in the backyard that have grown quite tall. No way I could carry that on my ST. That's why I have a pickup truck.

Which raises a question...

"Why do I have queen palms?"

Well because they look nice in my backyard.

"Why do I need a nice looking backyard?"

And if you were to continue that line of questioning down, you get to the question of why we have so many things in our lives. The more stuff we have, the more stuff we have to maintain, which eventually requires having to buy a pickup truck, or SUV, or whatever floats your boat.

And then I have to maintain insurance on the pickup truck, registration, and then the costs for maintaining the truck. The madness just compounds itself.

If I simply rented an apartment, how much more simpler would my life be? At that point, could I just get by with a motorcycle? Well, probably.

In college a motorcycle was all I had, and I got by for three years. I actually didn't buy groceries, I always did fast food or an occasional restaurant, and then of course weekends visiting my mom for dinner.

But what happened is that I got tired of getting rained on and tired of the bitter cold morning commutes. That's why I bought my first pickup truck. And once I bought the pickup truck, I just stopped riding the motorcycle altogether. And then the path towards luxuries and buying junk ballooned from there.

Before too long, I needed a bigger place to house all my stuff. And now that I have this bigger house, I have to spend more time and money maintaining it.

The more stuff you own, the more it anchors you down.

I like being able to hop on my motorcycle and ride for very long distances at anytime I feel like it. I want to migrate myself towards that position.

I look around my home office and I see so much stuff, 90% of which I hardly ever touch. Why did I buy all this shit? I can't help but wonder had I not bought all the things I hardly ever use, I could have had the second-mortgage paid off by now.

And if I had the second-mortgage paid off, my income requirements would be lower, thus putting me in better position to ride away.

Are We Safer With More Rules?

2010-08-08T08:42:00.000-07:00

One man's chaos is simply another man's grace. The rules of the road were written to ensure that we can travel along the highways in an orderly fashion.

Some of these rules we just take for granted. I mean, whoever actually thinks about driving along the right hand side of the road (or left hand if you're in Britain)? It's just something that you do without thinking.

If a pedestrian is walking across the street, do you actually take the time to think if you or he has the right of way? At least in the USA, you always give the pedestrian plenty of space and just stop until he's passed by. You don't really think about it.

So, watch this video of traffic in Vietnam...

Vietnam is obviously a different society, one that seems to have fewer rules along the roadways, despite what we see as a hardline totalitarian regime. What appears to be a very chaotic intersection is probably something graceful to them.

Vietnamese riders obviously have to have a wide field of vision, and a deep field of vision as well, in order to navigate through that. It shows that when humans are faced with chaos, they learn to become more vigilant, and diligent.

In the United States, we expect drivers to stay on their side of the road. We expect drivers to stop at a stop light. We expect drivers to yield to pedestrians. Our system demands that we place a lot of trust in each other, in order for things to work smoothly.

I'm sure traffic accidents still happen in Vietnam, just as they still happen here in the USA. But considering Vietnam has so many more motorcyclists, I'm betting the number of accidents per miles traveled is far fewer than in the USA.

The Real Freedom in Riding a Motorcycle

2010-07-17T07:24:00.000-07:00

Freedom is a big word. We express it everyday, and here specifically in the United States, we mention the word a lot.

Motorcyclists use the word "freedom" to describe the feeling they get when they ride, associating it with the open road, the wind in their hair, escaping into the grandeur of the mountains and canyons.

Freedom is of course relative to another man's freedom. Where I might consider myself free, another man claims I'm limited and bound. It's dependent on natural conditions like stopping a ride to answer the call of Nature. There are social conditions as well; if my thoughts and opinions were influenced by the society I grew up in, am I truly making choices all my own?

As I sit here this morning trying to decide on where I plan to ride my motorcycle, I can choose from a wide variety of roads to take. But as banal as it seems, I can only choose the roads I know about. The roads I know about are those I've ridden before, or that which I can see on a map.

And that bring us to the ultimate expression of freedom: motivation.

If I wasn't motivated to investigate all the roads around Southern California, and if I wasn't motivated to study a map, then I would have limited myself to just the handful of roads I know of in my immediate area. That limits my freedom.

When we elect presidents, we start out feeling hopeful that we made the right choice, and then a year later feel disappointed. How many of us were motivated to learn enough about a candidate to know the consequences of electing that person?

Not knowing the consequences of our actions and inactions is perhaps the opposite of freedom. Apathy is when you're satisfied to remain bound.

Here in California, I can choose to ride a motorcycle without a helmet even though there is a law requiring me to wear one. I can ride well above the speed limit, and make my exhaust pipes as loud as I want. But all of that comes at the risk of punishment. Yet within the confines of the law, it is still within my abilities to do them if I feel so motivated.

Dissidents in China are perhaps some of the freest people on Earth, choosing to stand up to their government despite the risk of imprisonment or death, doing and saying what they please to the point of mockery.

True freedom is not just being without constraints, but being motivated to shed those constraints despite the risks.

You might feel free riding your motorcycle, but what is more free, riding a motorcycle when your wife said it was OK, or riding a motorcycle when she said it was not OK?

What We Need is a Better Odometer

2010-07-15T11:28:00.000-07:00

Looking back through this blog I found that there are 205 articles published, and 161 articles in draft. The ones in draft are articles that I wrote, but decided I didn't want to publish.

Even the articles I've published went through a process of editing and rewriting. Some of my closest riding buddies know that when I write an article, I actually don't publish it right away, opting to put myself into a "cooling down" period, and rereading it to make sure I really want to say that.

If I were to jump on my motorcycle and go for a ride, and no one was able to read about it, then did the ride ever happen?

Our journeys are always recorded in the odometer, though without any detail. The court system makes a small paper trail of your ride if you get cited by a cop. If you used your credit card to buy gas or food, another tiny paper trail is made. Or you may have documented your ride with some digital photos.

This blog has documented many rides I've taken, and it was only after going back through it did I remember some rides I had all but forgotten about.

When I write about a ride I try not to go through a dry recap of where I rode to...

"We left the gas station at 10:00am, then we headed down Hwy 79, and when we got to Hwy 78, we turned right and headed to Julian. We had lunch at Rongbranch Saloon. I had a cheeseburger."

Instead, I try to find something else in the ride that lets me share my feelings, opinions, or go into something philosophical.

But over so many rides, sometimes I can't think of what to say. Sometimes I just didn't take any photos. I even paid for my lunch with cash. Maybe just the gas was charged to my credit card, yet I don't keep my credit card receipts. And because of that there are many rides I'll never remember.

Only the odometer is keeping track, and yet even that won't show me each ride I did.

I guess it's about time someone designed an odometer with more features.

Safe Riding Versus Unsafe Riding

2010-07-14T00:05:00.000-07:00

When I left on my motorcycle ride to Alaska a month ago, my wife uttered the same words she says to me every time I take off for a ride, "Be safe!", and to which I always reply, "Yeah, ok."

Even I have found myself mentioning those same words to fellow riders. It's not that I think they're likely to get themselves killed, but just that I want them to think about safety. And their response to me is always, "Yeah, ok."

The fact is that we all try to ride safe. Or perhaps more correctly, we never intend to get ourselves killed. We all know that riding a motorcycle is inherently dangerous, and therefore we tend to ride at a level where we feel comfortable and in control.

So if we never intend to hurt ourselves, why must we ask each other to "ride safe"?

Well it's because we all know that we're human and can make mistakes, or have lapses in judgement. We hope that by muttering those words, we did all we can do short of imposing our will on someone.

Not even the Motorcycle Safety Foundation says anything in its materials that it will teach someone how to ride safely. If we're all prone to making mistakes and having lapses in judgement, then the MSF suggesting it will teach you how to ride safely would expose them to litigation.

Safe riding is not anything that can be defined, except for simply that if you return home without incident, then you obviously rode safely.

If you somehow managed to ride your motorcycle down the freeway at 100mph, weaving in and out of cars, and returned home without an incident, then you could point that you rode within your means and was in full control. Yet it just seems logical that if you ride with the flow of traffic, and always use your turn signals, then you're "riding safely".

But obviously we know that isn't true. We know that even the most safety-minded rider can still make a mistake, or will still wake up with wild hair up his ass and give that throttle a good crank. Lapses in judgement is part of what makes us human.

Yet isn't it true we have a tendency to judge people based on that one mistake they made? We never pay attention to the hundreds of times someone made the right decisions and kept their minds focused. We only take notice when they take a fall, and then go on to question their abilities.

I continue to shake my head in bewilderment over the phrase, "Never ride faster than your angel can fly". I'm still not really sure what that means, aside from the obvious that one should ride safely. But specifically, how fast is too fast? If an accident can happen at any speed, and if we can err at any moment, what exactly are we supposed to do?

As it turns out, safety, as well as the lack of, can be found in any activity whether it's shooting a gun, chopping wood, or walking down a flight of stairs. Any of these things can result in serious injury.

Perhaps because of the attention that motorcycling gets as a dangerous activity, it might actually be one of the most safest, if you consider the lengths we go through to ensure our safety. I'd venture to say that more people are killed by heart attacks than by motorcycle accidents. Yet do we ever require someone to obtain an endorsement before ordering a three-piece meal at Kentucky Fried Chicken?

The bottom line is that you can't differentiate unsafe riding from safe riding. All you can do is compare the number of times you returned home safely with the number of times you've been hurt, and then decide if you need to make changes.

So when you mention the words "ride safe", what exactly is someone supposed to do?

Riding Your Motorcycle to Alaska

2010-07-12T21:33:00.000-07:00

Clement Lake, Stewart, BC

Riding a motorcycle to Alaska from the Lower 48 is often described as a "trip of a lifetime", at least that's what some people have told me. And sure enough I'll probably remember it forever.

Here's some observations of mine...

Give yourself lots of time. Canada and Alaska are huge. There's actually quite a bit to see. We only allotted 30 days, with "only" being the key word. That's roughly two weeks to ride up to Fairbanks. What you find is that we had to spend some days riding 500-750 miles. You get really tired, and you end up passing up a lot of great places to visit. Try 60 days, ride for about 200-300 miles in a day, and see stuff.

It's going to take longer than you planned. You might have plotted out the route and figured out the time, but you'll find the scenery so stunning that you have to pull over and get photos. You'll find moose, bears, bison, along the side of the road, and you'll want to stop to photograph them. You'll meet other motorcycle riders doing the same ride as you, and you'll end up chatting with them for awhile. Before you know it, it's 7:00pm and you're not going to make your destination in time.

Expect lots of rain. Even if you ride during the summer months, just know that this time of year is the wettest season for Alaska and the northern areas of Canada. Definitely bring rain gear, you're going to wish you had it. I brought my Frog Togs. You can also use a leather jacket, it'll keep you dry and keep the air from penetrating.

Bring heated gear. When it rains all day long, which you will experience, you'll get very cold. And there's no way to ride to Alaska without having to ride up into higher elevations where temperatures drops into the 30s. I brought my Gerbings heated gloves and jacket liner, and was so glad I brought them.

Hyder Road near the Alaska/Canada Border

Dirt roads. There is simply no way to ride to Alaska without having to ride on dirt and gravel roads. The Alaska Highway is the main highway into Alaska, and at the Alaska/Yukon border is a 5-mile stretch of gravel road that they simply don't pave. Also, all along the Alaska Highway they're constantly doing repairs due to the frost damage. When they repair it, they pull out the asphalt in five kilometer, or three mile sections. You'll encounter at least four to five of these sections. Prepare to ride on a minimum of 40 miles of dirt road, round trip.

Most of this stuff is easy to ride on; the dirt and gravel is well packed, and even in the rain there's good traction. But some of it gets hairy. When raining, I found some dirt sections quite slick and felt the back end sliding. I also rode over some loosely packed gravel and felt the front end trying to wobble out of control. Yet still, I managed to keep the bike up.

Metal and wooden bridges. There are several bridges in Canada where they use metal grates instead of pavement. Every time I rode over one it was dry. But in raining conditions, I imagine these get pretty slippery. There are also several bridges where you ride over wooden planks. But these too were always dry when I rode over them. I don't know what it's like to ride over them when wet.

Bring Deet. British Columbia, Yukon Territory, and Alaska are chock full of mosquitoes. If you have to stop your bike along the shoulder for any reason, the mosquitoes zero in on you and are relentless. I also brought all the deet-free mosquito repellents, including the bracelet, the incense, and a couple of others, and they only worked partially at best. But deet always worked well for me. I bought a can of 40% deet.

If you don't want to spray it on your skin, then wear a hooded sweatshirt, and spray it all over that. Spray the arms, the hood, the front and back. It'll keep the mosquitoes about 12 inches away from you. You'll still see them flying all around you, but they won't land.

Salmon Glacier, British Columbia

Waterproof boots. I bought a brand new pair of boots for this trip, and got a pair of Wolverines, waterproof. Mike didn't have waterproof boots, and when it rained his feet were soaking wet the whole day.

Brand new tires. Buy a brand new set of tires for your bike before you leave. Even if you have a tire with only a couple thousand miles on it, replace it anyways. You can still keep your old tires in the garage. Paul wore out a front tire by the time we headed north to Fairbanks, and had to buy a new one at the Honda dealer.

Full face helmet. Definitely bring it. On those times I needed to pull over for something, maybe to get a good photo, or put on my heated gloves, I was attacked by mosquitoes. I found I could keep my full face helmet on, with the faceshield down, and those little suckers couldn't get me. It'll also keep your face dry when it's raining all day long.

Wear sun protection. Consider that if you're riding for 30 or more days, that's lot of outdoor time, plus the sun never sets up there, and you can get really sunburnt. If you don't like to put on sun block, always wear long sleeves and gloves.

Big I Pub & Lounge, Fairbanks, AK

Cash and credit cards. Many gas stations in British Columbia and Yukon don't accept American Express, and hardly any accept Discover. But they all take Master Card and VISA. They all seem to accept US dollars, on the other hand. You don't really have to exchange your cash into Canadian. But if you use US dollars, they're going to give you change in Canadian.

I found you can pretty much get by with just credit cards, but you'll definitely want cash. You need cash to pay the park attendants at Jasper and Banff National Parks. If you're camping, you need cash for the self-pay kiosks (assuming you're honest), and fast food restaurants in Canada seem to only take cash.

Interestingly, while I was up in Alaska, someone told me a story that a guy was not allowed to enter Canada because he didn't have enough cash. He had only brought like $40.00, and the rest in credit cards. I had $800.00 in cash with me. And when I entered Canada through Abbotsford, BC, the customs agent asked me how much cash I had with me. I'm wondering if Canada doesn't want you in their country if you don't plan to spend any money.

And by the way, I still came home with about $250.00 in cash.

Oh, and don't worry about trying to spend all your Canadian currency before returning to the USA. I found that most American businesses in the bordering states take Canadian money.

87 Octane Gasoline. A lot of the gas stations in the tiny towns throughout Canada only offer 87 octane gas. Honda says to use exclusively 91 octane or higher in the ST, but I found 87 octane worked just fine, with no knocking, no pinging, and I think I actually got better mileage.

Muskox Stroganoff in Whitehorse, Yukon

Gasoline is lot more expensive in Canada. They sell gas by the liter and priced in Canadian dollars. One liter is equivalent to roughly 1/4 of a gallon. As of this writing, British Columbia has gas going for about $1.10 per liter, so consider that about $4.40 per gallon. Alberta has the cheapest at about $0.90 per liter, Yukon is more expensive around $1.30 per liter. Right now, the US dollar is valued the same as Canadian dollars.

Fuel up as often as you can. In many places along the Alaska Highway we'd go a hundred miles before seeing another gas station, and some of those gas stations looked like they were not doing business. I saw one gas station that was open in Kitwanga, BC, but didn't have any gas. There were RVs stopped there waiting for the next delivery.

Not all gas stations are open 24 hours. In the small towns, they have old pumps where you pump first and pay later. These require employees on hand to collect money. So when the day ends, they simply close up the station. It can become tricky because up in Yukon and Alaska during the summer months, it never gets dark. At 10:00pm at night, the sun is still up and skies are bright blue, and you think that you can still keep riding, yet everything is closed at that time.

Gas canisters. I didn't bring a gas canister or jug, but Mike and Paul each did. And they needed it too since they rode up to Deadhorse and back. But even riding back home through Montana, Paul ended up running out of gas. That wasn't because there are no gas stations in Montana (there are plenty), it's just that over a 30 day period of riding across North America, it's easy to make a misjudgement on your gas situation.

Even though I was able to get 340 miles on a tank with my Honda ST, all that does is make me ride for longer periods of time. I still pass by several gas stations thinking I have plenty of gas. There were a couple of moments when I milked it down to just a few more miles left in the tank, but was constantly recalculating my range and knew where the next towns were.

Start of the Alaska Highway, Dawson Creek, BC

Everything is metric in Canada. Distance signs are measured in kilometers. A kilometer is roughly 2/3 of a mile. If something says "300 kilometers to Whitehorse", then convert it to miles by cutting it into one-third (100) and then doubling it (200). 200 miles is what it converts to.

30kph speed rule. We didn't encounter any problems with cops in Canada, and hardly saw any. But Mike learned from one of the locals that if your speed is 30kph over the posted limit, they take that as a very serious offense. As it turns out, speed limits in most places in Canada are a little bit lower than what you find in the USA.

Bring camping gear. I know a lot of riders don't like to camp, and I'm not necessarily an avid camper either. But I found that it's difficult to predict where you're going to end up at the end of the day. It's good to know that I had my tent and sleeping bag with me. Yukon provides a lot of campgrounds located right off the highway, specifically for tired travelers.

Also, the motel rooms in Canada and Alaska are expensive. The Motel 6 in Anchorage charged $140.00 a night, and then tacks on 12% room tax. Some of the most run down motels in Canada are still charging $100.00 a night. You're going to go broke if you think you can motel the entire trip.

There were a few nights where I looked for rooms in the town I ended up at but could not find any vacancies. I had to pitch my tent, and was glad I had that option.

I probably camped half the nights, and roomed the other half. I think Mike got a room on six or seven of the nights, while Paul camped the entire time, going so far as to find free camp spots. At one night, he asked if he could pitch his tent behind a gas station.

Kootenay National Park, BC

Bring only what you absolutely must have. The more you bring with you, the more you weigh yourself down, and the more work it's going to take unpacking and repacking all your stuff. Certain things you can always pick up at gas stations and stores along the way, like food, maps, toiletries, medicine, bug repellent, batteries, etc.

Shoot photos while you ride. There's going to be so many things you'll want to photograph, you'll be wanting to stop every 10 minutes. So what I did was put my camera on a chain and hang it around my neck. I could photograph stuff riding down the road, and if I needed to put my hands on the grips immediately, I could drop the camera and know it's still hanging there.

Mike put his camera a long leash and kept it in his pants pocket. He has riding pants with wide pockets and made it easy to pull out. Between the two of us, we shot about 4,000 photos.

Passport. Canada will ask you for it when you enter their country, and the USA will require it to get back into the country. If you don't already have one now, go to a post office, they usually have the forms to get one. Expect anywhere from 3 to 4 weeks to get your passport, though they say it can take up to 8 weeks.

Get the passport card in addition to the passport booklet. The card costs extra but is a lot more easier to manage.

Johnston Canyon, Banff National Park, AB

The ranger stations are your friends. I stopped at a few of these places on the way back through Canada and the USA. They give you free provincial and state maps. They'll tell you about the road conditions and construction work. They'll tell you about the best places to camp, and if you want to find free camping, they'll tell you where to find it.

In Montana, some bikers told me that the Beartooth Highway was closed. So I stopped at the next ranger station, and the ranger there called the station in that area, and found that it was closed the day before, but is now open. In the Yukon, under the pouring rain, I stopped at one and the people there offered me free coffee, and told me about the closest places for camping or motels.

Bring tools and learn as much about taking your bike apart as possible. I was fortunate my Honda ST never had a problem, and no flat tires. But if I had a flat out in the middle of Yukon or Alaska, more than likely I'd have to remove the wheel, and take it someplace with a tire changer. So, at least bring the tools to remove a front or rear wheel, and know how to do it.

Paul discovered his front brake pads wore down unusually quick, and by the time he reached Whitehorse on the way back home, they were just metal against metal. He found a Honda dealer in Whitehorse and installed new pads himself. He actually had several new pads at home, but just didn't think about bringing extra brake pads with him. You just don't know what's going to happen.

Howling Dog Saloon, Fox, AK

Don't eat the same chains you find back at home. Take the time to experience the stuff unique to the area you're visiting. I found a restaurant in Whitehorse that served Muskox, and I wouldn't have experienced that if I opted for something familiar. This is why you ride to Alaska, to find out what the world is like way the Hell up there.

Talk to the locals. Go into the bars and cafes, talk to the servers, and chat with the other customers. You get to learn so much from them. I bought beers for some of them and had a great time hanging out with them. They told me the best places to visit, where to get the best chow, and learning about the area adds another dimension to your experience.

About my trip to Alaska

At first I thought spending a month on this trip was going to be a lot of time, but going to up Alaska and back, it's actually not enough time. There's so much ground to cover, that we were riding 300 to 750 miles a day. It would have been best to cover 300 miles at the most, and spend more time visiting places.

But when you ride with other people, you find yourself having to compromise. As it turned out, each of us took opportunities to split off on our own ways at various points, and then reconnect at other points. It gave us more freedom.

So if you want to read about my trip, here are the day-to-day ride reports...

Burger Barn, Dunsmuir, CA

Monday, June 14, 2010 - Menifee, CA to Siskiyou Lake, CA. All slab up through the San Joaquin Valley, with a burger stop in Dunsmuir.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010 - Siskiyou Lake, CA to Bellingham, WA. All slab up through California, Oregon, and Washington. Picked up Paul in Tacoma.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010 - Bellingham, WA to McLeese Lake, BC. Entered Canada through Abbotsford, rode the Trans-Canada Highway, explored Highway 8, dined at 70 Mile House.

Thursday, June 17, 2010 - Lake McLeese, BC to Hyder, AK. Lunch at Houston, BC, jumped on the Stewart-Cassiar Highway, saw Bear Glacier, camped overnight in Hyder, AK.

Friday, June 18, 2010 - All day in Hyder, AK and Stewart, BC. Lunch at the Seafood Express in Hyder. Visited Bear Glacier. Explored back roads around Stewart. Rode 40 miles of dirt up and down from Salmon Glacier. Partied with the locals at Sealaska Inn.

Hyder Rd, 20 miles north of Hyder, AK

Saturday, June 19, 2010 - Hyder, AK to Big Creek Campground, YT. Rode the Stewart-Cassiar Highway. Lots of great scenery. Wildlife along the road. Chatted with other riders on their way to and from Alaska.

Sunday, June 20, 2010 - Big Creek Campground, YT to Tok, AK. Riding the Alaska Highway (AlCan), bison burger at Kluane Lake, rough road through the border, raining in Alaska.

Monday, June 21, 2010 - Tok, AK to Anchorage, AK - More rain, some decent twisties into Anchorage. Beer at the Peanut Farm and Moose's Tooth.

Tuesday, June 22, 2010 - Anchorage, AK to Seward, AK - Boat cruise of Resurrection Bay, beer at Seward Alehouse, Summit Lake Lodge, pizza at Uncle Joe's, Glacier Brewing.

Reindeer scramble, Snow City Cafe, Anchorage, AK

Wednesday, June 23, 2010 - Anchorage, AK to Willow, AK - Snow City Cafe for breakfast, Chilkoot Charlie's, Iditarod National Headquarters in Wasilla, Willow Creek Trading Post.

Thursday, June 24, 2010 - Willow, AK to Fairbanks, AK - Wal-Mike's, Petersville Road, Denali National Park, Paul heads for Deadhorse, dinner at Pike's Landing.

Friday, June 25, 2010 - All day in Fairbanks, AK - Pioneer Park, downtown Fairbanks, oil change at the Harley dealer, Alaskan Pipeline, Howling Dog Saloon, Silver Gulch Brewing.

Saturday, June 26, 2010 - Fairbanks, AK to Chena Hot Springs, AK - Mike takes off for Deadhorse, hiking around Chena Hot Springs, relaxing in the hot springs, beer at the bar.

Sunday, June 27, 2010 - Chena Hot Springs, AK to Congdon Creek Campground, YT. Rode the Richardson Highway, raining all night on the Alaska Highway, killed my camera, brief respite at the Koidern information center.

Camping at Congdon Creek, Yukon.

Monday, June 28, 2010 - Congdon Creek Campground, YT to Whitehorse, YT - spending all day and night in Whitehorse, YT.

Tuesday, June 29, 2010 - Whitehorse, YT to Skagway, AK - Visited Yukon Brewing Company, met Harley riders from Colombia, rode the Klondike Highway, Skagway Brewing Co, Red Onion Saloon, camping in Skagway.

Wednesday, June 30, 2010 - Skagway, AK to Whitehorse, YT - Spent all day in Skagway, rode back to Whitehorse.

Thursday, July 1, 2010 - Whitehorse, YT to Takhini Hot Springs, YT - Bean North Coffee roasters, Yukon Wildlife Preserve, relaxing in the hot springs.

Friday, July 2, 2010 - Takhini Hot Springs, YT to Fort Nelson, BC - Raining most of the day on the Alaska Highway, northern Canadian Rockies.

Sola's Bar & Grill, Dawson Creek, BC

Saturday, July 3, 2010 - Fort Nelson, BC to Dawson Creek, BC - Reached the end (or start) of the Alaska Highway, expensive rooms in Dawson Creek.

Sunday, July 4, 2010 - Dawson Creek, BC to Jasper, AB - Can't handle the high price of everything in Canada, entered Jasper National Park, Maligne Lake, bar hopping in Jasper.

Monday, July 5, 2010 - Jasper, AB to Banff, AB - Rode the Icefields Parkway, Lake Louise, Bow Valley Parkway, Johnston Canyon, bar hopping in Banff, Mike heads for home.

Tuesday, July 6, 2010 - Banff, AB to Browning, MT - Kootenay National Park, entered Montana, Glacier National Park, dinner in Browning, MT.

Wednesday, July 7, 2010 - Browning, MT to Red Lodge, MT - Lewis & Clark Interpretive Center, Harvest Moon Brewing Co., Lewis & Clark National Forest.

Beartooth Highway, MT

Thursday, July 8, 2010 - Red Lodge, MT to Victor, ID - Rode the Beartooth Highway, visited Yellowstone and Grand Tetons national parks, sampled beer at Grand Teton Brewing, Paul heads for home.

Friday, July 9, 2010 - Victor, ID to Salt Lake City, UT - rode Teton Scenic Byway, toured through Idaho Falls, visited the Potato Museum, slabbed to Salt Lake City, beers at Red Rock Brewing and Squatters Pub Brewing.

Saturday, July 10, 2010 - Salt Lake City, UT to Las Vegas, NV - Visited Bonneville Salt Flats, Wendover, UT, rode Great Basin Highway, visited Cave Lake, Cathedral Gorge, Lages Station.

Sunday, July 11, 2010 - Las Vegas, NV to Menifee, CA - Rode I-15 south, Hwy 247 into Big Bear Mountain. World's Largest Thermometer and Alien Fresh Jerky in Baker. Big Bear Mountain Brewing. Finally back home!

Alaska Ride, Day 28

2010-07-11T21:48:00.000-07:00

Home is such a difficult word to define. It doesn't really describe a place, but rather a feeling. You could live in a place where you just don't feel like you belong, and then visit another place where the folks welcome you in, buy you a beer, invite you into a game of pool, and then put their arm around you and tell you jokes.

And so I left Las Vegas at 10:30am this morning and headed for home.

In a way, Las Vegas is like a home-away-from-home for me in that I've visited this town countless times. In years past, I've ridden my motorcycle through all the popular roads, Mt Charleston, Red Rock Canyon, Hoover Dam, and the 95 down to Laughlin.

This time I had it in my mind to take Hwy 161 from Jean to Goodsprings and on to Sandy Valley. This road actually loops back to the I-15 inside California at the Cima Road crossing. I had ridden the 161 about 5 years ago, but only as far as Goodsprings. I never took it all the way to Cima Road.

This sign is all that remains of Nevada Landing Casino, Jean, NV

But the heat, even at 10:30am, was already breaking above 100 degrees F. By the time I rode the I-15 to Jean, I thought about following through with my plan to Goodsprings and Sandy Valley, but the heat has an uncanny way of changing your mind.

So I stuck with the I-15.

The town of Jean, NV is not really a town, but an intersection where the I-15 and Hwy 161 cross. There used to be two casinos here, but the Nevada Landing closed up due to lack of business. The Gold Strike casino is still operating, but hardly anyone goes there. When Southern Californians visit Las Vegas they want to see The Strip, and Jean doesn't have it. So the Gold Strike casino lowered their prices way, way down on rooms and food to better compete. But as a result, it only attracted the dregs of Las Vegas which only shooed away everyone.

What would Las Vegas be without the I-15? It's the only road that connects it to Southern California, and Southern Californians flock to Las Vegas in droves. Today was a Sunday, and the day when they all go back to California. Except today the temperatures running through the Mojave Desert reached as high as 111 degrees just south of Baker, according to the gauge on my Honda ST.

I saw dozens of cars, vans, and buses pulled over to the shoulder with their hoods raised and blinkers on. There's actually a company that runs assistance trucks up and down the I-15 providing on-the-spot minor repairs, extra gas and coolant, and plenty of drinking water. I saw them out there working in full force.

The Welcome-Water-Tower at Baker, CA

And Baker, CA is another town completely dependent on the I-15. Probably only a few hundred people live there, but on blistering hot weekends like this, the addition of travelers swells the population to a few thousand. Baker sits about half-way between the metropolitan Southern California and Las Vegas. It offers restaurants and shops with copious amounts of ice cold air.

Baker, CA is also known for the "World's Tallest Thermometer". In the old days, it was associated with the Bun Boy, a family restaurant. Since then, Bun Boy closed up, and Bob's Big Boy moved in. Ask any Southern Californian about the World's Tallest Thermometer, and they'll say, "Oh yeah, the Bun Boy." "Bun Boy", "Big Boy", I guess it's about the same.

You'll also want to check out the Alien Fresh Jerky store. It's built around a concept that any intelligent beings smart enough to travel across the Universe must also be talented enough to make the best beef jerky. The whole store is filled with outer space alien exhibits, and some funny flavors of beef jerky. They also have a large collection of hot sauces with some of the most hilarious brand names.

The World's Tallest Thermometer, Baker, CA

I only took the I-15 as far south as Barstow, CA. From there I hopped on Hwy 247 and headed south for Big Bear Mountain.

The 247 connects Barstow in the north to Yucca Valley in the south. From Barstow it runs through Stoddard Valley, takes you up and over Ord Mountain Pass, and then drops you down into Johnson Valley on the other side. Both valleys are popular places for off-road recreation. I had ridden the 247 through Johnson Valley dozens of times, but never through Stoddard Valley, so this was new riding for me.

I rode past Slash X Ranch Cafe, which apparently is a popular biker hangout considering the number of bikes I saw parked outside. I normally like to investigate these places, but I already had it my mind I would escape the heat by heading up Big Bear Mountain. So I pressed on.

Highway 247, looking down at Stoddard Valley

From this angle, you go up Big Bear via Hwy 18, which offers some tight turns and switchbacks, though many of them in very bumpy pavement. But it definitely cooled down as I headed up, mainly because of the storm clouds overhead. It started raining on me.

Temperatures went from 100+ degrees to the mid-60s pretty quickly. It felt good.

Once in the town of Big Bear Lake, I stopped at Big Bear Mountain Brewing. I called up a guy named Jeff, who lives up here and recently launched a beef jerky company. We had e-mailed each other but never met. He came over and we talked jerky for a couple of hours. If you don't know already, I publish a blog on beef jerky and assembled a sizeable list of readers all of whom buy lots of jerky online.

Jeff introduced me to a new recipe he's working on, and brought several bags of jerky for me to try out. But as he laid out the bags of jerky on the bar counter, the proprietor of Big Bear Mountain Brewing was curious and asked about it. It seems he's been wanting to sell some beef jerky from his bar. So, Jeff and the proprietor hooked up. I guess it was a productive visit for Jeff, and so he paid for my burger and beers.

Big Bear Mountain Brewery, Big Bear Lake, CA

And then I just rode home from there.

Looking at my town, it's almost like I had never left. I can't quite believe I had been to Fairbanks, Alaska and back over 28 days. When I was up in Fairbanks I had thought of home, and how far away I was.

My Honda ST took me there and didn't give me any trouble, no strange noises, no flat tires. The entire time I never lost sight on how dependent I was on this machine for getting me back home. And yet it was absolutely reliable.

Arriving home, my wife grabs hold of me and hugs my body tightly and she's so happy to see me. Her voice cracks with emotion, but it's a familiar sound to me that I can't ignore, like a mother hearing its child cry. I know I'm back home again.

And now I'm back at my desk in my home office, feeling like I had never left home. The only difference is that I have these pictures in my head. I can still envision Kluane Lake in the Yukon Territory with the Alaska Highway running along its banks. I can still see the Stewart-Cassiar Highway, the Icefields Parkway, the Beartooth Highway.

I wonder what Meriwether Lewis did when he returned home from his historic expedition. Did he chop up some firewood, milk the cows, and repair another section of damaged fence? Did he slip back into his usual routine with all those pictures in his head?

Each morning I awoke expecting to spend the day riding and exploring, and after 28 days of that stuff my brain adjusted itself to that way of living. And now each day's destination is my home office typing on this computer.

Back home again

Feels good to be back in the land of fruits and nuts.

Alien Fresh Jerky store in Baker, CA

I've had this jerky, it's EXTREMELY hot, not good if you're a trucker.

Check out the collection of hot sauces at Alien Fresh Jerky, Baker, CA

If there was an alphabetical list of roads, Zzyzx Rd would be the last entry.

Cloudscapes over Pisgah Crater

Hwy 18 heading up Big Bear Mountain

Grizzly Bear Doppel Bock, Big Bear Mountain Brewery

Didn't know Harley-Davidson used to sell their own brand of wine coolers.

Alaska Ride, Day 27

2010-07-10T22:23:00.000-07:00

After 27 days of riding during this trip, my back has never ached so much than today, and as of this writing, it's still aching.

The pain feels like it's muscular, just below the shoulder blades, not in the spine itself. No matter how I twist and turn I can't seem to make it feel better. The only thing that seems to work is sleep.

I did 550 miles of riding today, from Salt Lake City, UT to Las Vegas, NV, by way of the Bonneville Salt Flats and Hwy 93 south through Ely, NV.

Bonneville is only a 100+ miles from Salt Lake City along the I-80, and since I'm this close, why not go visit it?

My bike out in the middle of the Bonneville Salt Flats

Funny, I kept expecting to see some structures there, like a building, or a grand stand, or something to indicate that there's a track there. But there's nothing. Absolutely nothing. There's not even anyone there to stop you from riding out on to the salt flats. The whole area is BLM land, and that means you're free to ride your vehicle on to the salt flats and go willy nilly.

There are however, signs warning you that in many places the salt is merely a thin crust over mud or loose dirt. And looking around, I could see other peoples' tire tracks that broke the crust and kicked up mud and dirt everywhere. Nonetheless, I rode my bike on to the salt and took her up to speed. However, I wussed out and only did 50mph at the fastest.

It seems the salt is quite bumpy, and quite soft in places. Where it's freshly caked up, it's quite soft and loamy. When your tires hit these spots it's like hitting a patch of soft sand on a gravel road; your front end jerks to one side or the other. And well, I just didn't want to chance it.

I'm guessing when they actually do these speed runs, they must flatten down a strip for several miles and make it more smooth, or something.

The salt crust in this area was only a 1/4 inch thick.

I rode into the town of Wendover, UT, just a couple miles away. Wendover sits right on the border with Nevada, and in fact on the Nevada side is "West Wendover". Wendover is chock full of hotels, restaurants, and stores, while West Wendover is chock full of casinos.

I kept looking for some kind of Bonneville Salt Flats museum, but I found nothing. In those towns, they don't really mention Bonneville all that much. Going through there you'd never know that Bonneville ever existed.

I headed south down ALT 93, which is a auxiliary highway to Highway 93. This connects Wendover to the 93.

ALT 93 is actually a pretty lonely highway. It's long stretches of straight road going through the northern Nevada desert. You could park your motorcycle in the middle of the road and sip a cup of tea before hearing a faint rumble in the distance.

ALT 93 south of West Wendover, NV

It finally connects to the main Hwy 93 at Lages Station, NV. Here, there's nothing but a gas station. In fact, the gas station is also a cafe, a bar, a motel, and an RV park all in one. "Stage Stop" is the name of this place.

I asked the proprietor for a beer at the bar, but he said the bar doesn't open until 7:00pm. So, I asked if I could buy a beer from the fridge, and drink it there. He said that would be fine, but he only sold them in six packs, and I would have to buy a six pack. So I opted to buy a root beer instead, and drank it there.

Highway 93 is known as the "Great Basin Highway", named after the fact that this entire area is located in the "Great Basin" of Nevada. But before it was named that, this stretch of road was once part of the "Lincoln Highway", the first coast-to-coast highway ever built in the USA. It once connected New York City to San Francisco. As you ride down Highway 93, you see plaques and memorials erected in various places describing the history of the Lincoln Highway.

When I pulled into Ely, NV, I had to make a decision on which direction to go. Should I go west along US50 over to Reno? Or should I keep going south on Hwy 93 to Las Vegas. I look up at the skies in the west, and I saw thunderheads. I grabbed my netbook and walked into the Hotel Nevada Casino and got online. I looked up the weather forecast along the US50 and it showed thunderstorms. Meanwhile, the forecast for Hwy 93 south to Las Vegas showed scattered showers and then 100 degree temperatures into Las Vegas.

And then my back aches seem to be getting worse with each day.

So, I opted to head to Las Vegas.

The Hotel Nevada Casino, Ely NV, is a big biker hangout

I still got rained on going south, but it was just on and off stuff. It actually cooled down the air, and in fact temps remained in the upper 80s pretty much until I got into Caliente, NV, and then the heat turned up from there.

Highway 93 is largely straight roads, but it has its moments where it gets into sweeping curves which you can still do at 70mph. Some of the scenery is just vast expanses of desert, while in other areas, the roads winds through gorges and canyons.

At one point, I got drowsy and my eyelids were doing their best to close. I kept shaking my head to wake myself up. I finally found a rest stop, and it happened to have picnic benches. One of them was placed under shady tree, and so I laid down on it and closed my eyes for 15 minutes. It definitely helped.

Some colorful scenery along Highway 93

I wanted to lay there longer than 15 minutes, my back was starting to feel better the longer I remained lying down. But I knew at this point I wouldn't make Las Vegas until 7:00pm, and so I needed to keep pushing on.

And the heat! As I made my way into Las Vegas, the temp gauge on my Honda ST read 109 degrees, at 7:22pm.

The aching back, the sweltering heat, the tired body, I just wanted off this bike in a hurry. I'm guessing after 27 days of riding, the back pains just build up intensity. Even though the pain subsides after a night of rest, there's still some pain that lingers and over the course of several days, it becomes more painful. I need several days of continuous rest, that what it is.

I checked into a room, took a shower, and then got me a salad and a couple of frozen margaritas. Then I headed back into the room to write this.

109 degrees F, at 7:22pm in Las Vegas, NV

The Great Salt Lake, Salt Lake Marina, UT

Along the I-80 heading towards Bonneville Salt Flats

I-80 heading towards Bonneville Salt Flats is long boring riding,
I rode for about 30 miles without hands, trying to keep my mind focused.

I tasted this stuff, and yes it's REALLY salty.

"Wendover Will" greets you into West Wendover, NV

Drinking a root beer inside the Stage Stop, Lages Station, NV

Cave Lake is located a few miles off of Highway 93,
Offers, fishing, hiking, camping, and dirt road trails

Cathedral Gorge State Park, lies a few miles off of Highway 93, Nevada.
The park offers several of these earthen mounds filled with crags.

The crags run several hundred feet into these earthen mounds.
They get quite dark the deeper you go, and temperatures drop by 20 degrees.

Alaska Ride, Day 26

2010-07-09T23:12:00.000-07:00

After visiting Yellowstone, Grand Tetons, and one of my favorite brewing companies, I was left without an itinerary, and studying maps to decide what else I should see.

Mike and Paul already left for home early, well ahead of schedule. Should I depart for home too, or should I take this opportunity to see more?

As it stands now, I'm expected home around July 14, which is one month after I left on June 14. Technically, I had six more days of riding left, but I was having trouble deciding where to ride to.

Upon leaving my campground in the Targhee National Forest this morning, I saw a billboard providing information about the "Teton Scenic Byway". It actually runs further north from where I stood, but only ran about 68 miles to the town of Ashton, ID. It sounded interesting, and it was something to do.

The Teton Scenic Byway is officially Idaho state routes 33 and 32. It's hardly scenic, however. It's all flat land and straight road, with little else to see but homes and buildings. As it turns out, it's an historic trail first blazed by fur trappers, which ultimately created many of the towns along this road. I think it was dubbed a scenic byway for the many historical markers and museums along this road. I didn't stop for anything, however.

The Teton Scenic Byway is a lot of flat scenery

Once at Ashton, I looked for a Wi-Fi coffee shop so that I could get some trip reports posted on this blog. But there were none to be found in Ashton. I headed south along US20 to Idaho Falls, which is a medium-sized town, and I rode all over Idaho Falls, and still couldn't find a coffee shop with Wi-Fi. I probably wasted an hour there.

I rode a little further south to Pocatello. There, I had a decision to make. Either I could take I-15 south to Salt Lake City and then decide what else to do there, or I could take US30 to Twin Falls, and then drop down into Northern Nevada. I opted for Salt Lake City.

The reasoning is that I wanted to find Internet access and I knew for certain I could find it in Salt Lake City. But also because if I still wanted to go into Northern Nevada, I could still get to there easily via Bonneville.

Of course I visited the Potato Museum in Blackfoot, ID

And in fact, I'm contemplating riding out to see the Bonneville Salt Flats, even with the hot temperatures there. From there I might jump on US50, and ride what is known as "The Loneliest Highway in the USA", basically a road that no one travels along.

And if I went through Nevada that way, it would set me up for a ride over the Sierra Nevadas, home to some of the best riding in California.

The other thing is that as it stands right now, if I were to take the I-15 straight home tomorrow, I'd get home with about 9,000 miles on this trip. I would like to boost it up to 10,000 miles, just because it's a nice number, and technically I still have some more days left until I'm supposed to be home.

This sign was one of the more interesting things to see along the I-15

Of course, my wife has been on the phone with me throughout the entire trip, and texting me as well. And I've been calling her too, and I do miss her much and would love to hold her right now. And she basically wants me to come home right now. But if I leave for home now, who knows if I'll ever do something like this again.

Well after making my decision to go into Salt Lake City via the I-15, the ride was unremarkable. Boring riding, boring scenery. In Salt Lake City, I picked out a room, and then found a couple breweries within walking distance, "Red Rock Brewery" and "Squatter's Pub Brewery". I visited both, and both are very similar in their decor and ambiance. Squatter's Pub seemed to have the better beer however.

So right now, I'm leaning heavily towards Bonneville tomorrow.

Red Rock Brewery, Salt Lake City, UT

Squatter's Pub Brewery, Salt Lake City, UT

Potato sack sewing machine, Potato Museum, Blackfoot, ID

Beer taps, Squatters Pub Brewery, Salt Lake City, UT

Alaska Ride, Day 25

2010-07-08T23:44:00.000-07:00

The Beartooth Highway has been written about and talked about amongst motorcycling circles ad nauseum as being one of the "must ride" roads for motorcyclists. Joe, a guy I've been riding with recently, has raved about it as well.

So, I wanted to take the time to ride this road during this Alaska trip. I finally got to do that today.

Paul and I left this morning at 8:00am sharp from Rattin Campground inside the Custer National Forest, right at the very start of the Beartooth Highway.

The highway, officially known as US212, stretches for 68 miles connecting the touristy town of Red Lodge, MT with Yellowstone National Park. It's designated by the US Department of Transportation as "America's Most Beautiful Highway", reaching an elevation of 10,947 feet at the Beartooth Pass.

Northern start of the Beartooth Highway, Montana

And it's one of the most twistiest highways as well, with several switchbacks rated at 15-20mph, but I think that's deceptive. Paul and I were able to lean into them at 30-45mph. The most twistiest parts reminded me of Palomar Mountain in San Diego County, while other parts offered a series of wide sweepers like Sunrise Highway, also in San Diego County. We must have passed by a hundred other motorcycle riders, including cruisers, sportbikes, sport tourers, and dual sports. Much of the road was in good shape, except for about 10 miles at the pass, where it seems that constant rain and snow eats into the asphalt.

The scenery up there, is spectacular for lack of a better word. Hundreds of little pools fed by melting snow, which reflect the blue of the sky. And we were lucky to have that blue sky, for just yesterday I looked up at the Beartooths and saw dark grey clouds. For whatever reason, the motorcycling gods were smiling on us today giving us nice 70 degree temperatures and clear skies.

Scenery along the Beartooth Highway, Wyoming side.

Yellowstone National Park is a place I had never visited, and also wanted to do in this trip, and it just so happens the Beartooth Highway leads you right into the park.

We visited all the biggest attractions, including Old Faithful, and several of the other pools and geysers.

The roads in Yellowstone are actually awesome for motorcycle riding, except there's too much traffic. You just can't open up the throttle and lean into something. Old Faithful itself is such a huge draw at Yellowstone that the road leading into it reminded me of Disneyworld. We saw signs for the clinic, the giftshop, the lodge, and the restaurant, and then finally, signs the geyser itself. The road splits up in to several lanes, and we saw more signs telling us which lane takes us to the hotel, and which one takes us to the restaurant, and which one goes to the parking lot. It's almost like visiting an international airport.

Celestine Pool, Yellowstone National Park

We tried to see as much as we could in Yellowstone, while still keeping to our itinerary for today. We only rode on half the roads in the park. You really do need several days to see all of it. If the traffic wasn't so bad, we probably could have ridden all the roads.

Grand Teton National Park borders Yellowstone National Park, and we took the road that connects the two. It's cool that they didn't charge us to get into both parks. This park is much less touristy and commercial. The entire park is basically built around some awesome views of some awesome mountains.

But I didn't spend a lot of time in the Grand Tetons. I wanted to get to Victor, ID to visit the Grand Teton Brewing Company before it closed up for the night. I actually did not know what time they closed, but figured if I wanted some time to sample a few brews, I needed to get there at least around 6:00pm. I managed to get into town 6:30pm.

The Grand Tetons, Grand Teton National Park

It was at this point, Paul decided to split off on his own.

Paul was concerned about the higher temperatures as we continued to ride further south. He just doesn't like riding in heat. So he wanted to put in more riding time during the evening, while I wanted to hang out and relax. Hence, we bid farewell and each a safe trip home.

I spent the rest of the evening sampling the brews at Grand Teton Brewing, and I got to have a good conversation with the quality control manager there. She was an avid motorcycle rider herself, and recommended some routes for me.

I looked around for a room in town, but I couldn't find anything that struck my fancy. The main thing is that I needed Internet access to do my work, and it seems none of the accommodations offered that. So it made sense to just to wander into the Targhee National Forest and pay the $10.00 for a camp spot. That's where I'm typing this out, with plans to upload it somewhere tomorrow.

Grand Teton Brewing Company, Victor, ID

Beartooth Highway, close to the pass

Grand Prismatic Spring, Yellowstone National Park

Fountain Geyser will actually shower you with cold water

Old Faithful draws a huge crowd, Yellowstone National Park

Highway 191, South, Grand Tetons National Park

Setting up camp inside the Targhee National Forest