| Author | Message | ||
     Xl1200r |
Tubing Across America and Why Talking to Strangers is a Good Thing A good number of people at Homecoming (and in other sects of my life) seemed pretty interested in this story, and more importantly, the photos that accompany it. I don't consider myself an expert photographer nor a particularly talented writer, but I think I can hold my own so bare with me as we cover something like 4,000 miles, 15 states and 12 days together. This thing really started waaaayyyyy back, probably three years ago or better, when I tried planning a cross-country trip for the first time. Three years passed and no trip, mainly due to time and my self-imposed unwillingness to leave a significant other behind for the month or more I'd be gone. Fast forward to October of 2009 and the announced closure of Buell - needless to say this was something that hit us all in soft spot and within 2 weeks two things happened: a) Homecoming was loosely planned and I decided this would be the year I would attend, and b) I would sell my 45-year-old Sportster which I hardly rode and trusted even less and finally get myself the S3T I've always wanted. I was 'lucky' enough to find one of the exact year and color combination I wanted for sale when I first started looking, and not too far from me. A 2002, Orange and Grey - sex on wheels. The deal was made and I rode it home, 250 miles, from NH to find that, despite being told otherwise, the front iso and motor mount were toast, saddlebags cracked, and a slew of other issues that I won't need to go into detail about. Needless to say, preparation of the bike for Homecoming wasn't going to be a small task - in addition to fixing what was broken I also elected to install an HID headlight to get rid of the downright dangerous stock bulb, fabricate a luggage rack since you can't just buy one, change all the fluids and put on new tires. But I got it done, just in time. While all this was going on, I was staring at a map at work as I so often do and quickly decided that I would continue west after Homecoming and see the Black Hills and South Dakota Badlands and come home to Albany, NY via the north, the Michigan UP and Ontario, Canada. A few weeks went by and I realized if I was as far west as the Black Hills, I was closer to the Pacific than I was to home, and after some quick planning I decided I would make the trip one way to California and ship the bike home via truck, while I took to the sky for my return journey. Not ideal, but this was how I was going to fit in a cross-country trip on my budget and on my schedule. I just turned 27, I have a mortgage and a dog, who knows when wife, family, kids and such would keep me home. Now was the time. I spent the whole night before packing, hardly slept from all the excitement, but I felt ready. The bike was packed, all I had to do was wake up, jump in the shower, suit up and go. And say goodbye to the girlfriend... not easy. I'll do these in one-day installments or so and include lots of photos as I know folks are interested in those... so, without further ado, we begin... | ||
| Roadcouch98 |
Have a Great time, be safe, take a lot of photos, talk to everyone you meet and this will be a trip to remember. (Message edited by roadcouch98 on July 02, 2010) | ||
| Blake |
Mark, Will move this/your thread to the "Tail Section". Have a great ride! | ||
| Xl1200r |
Day 1 - June 15th, 2010 This was an early start - I woke up sometime around 5:00am and wanted to be on the road by 6:00am as I had a long day planned - one of two for the entire trip. Starting in Albany, NY, I needed to get to Marietta, OH. I would be meeting up with Joel, a friend and fellow Bueller who I'd be riding to Homecoming with. My route was about 10 hours of ride time and a tick over 615 miles. My start was a bit late as I fuddled with breakfast and getting some things ready, and, of course, saying goodbye to the honey, but I was on the road by 6:25 or so, so I considered lift-off a marginal success at this point. Obligatory Departure Photo (and only picture I have of NY State):  BTW - upon leaving my house, the bike just felt PERFECT. It was the first time I was riding with everything loaded up and it just gave me that intrinsic feeling of being "right" and we'd have a good ride together. From home I decided I wanted to make some decent time at the start because I both had a long day and have also pretty much already seen the area I'd be riding through (Catskills), so I hopped on I-88 and headed towards Binghamton. My first gas stop was a good one only because at this point my gas light wasn't on but I managed to put 4.5 gallons of fuel in the girl, and at the 45-55mpg I had been averaging, 200 miles on a tank would have been no problemo and trekking across the deserts of the West didn't seem so daunting. After the interstate, I crossed into PA and took some roads I had never been on before. I think throughout the day I had hit 3 State parks in PA, so the scenery was entertaining. Early on I also decided I'd practice my hand and taking photos while riding - here's the first attempt somewhere in central PA:  At this point I need to explain that my camera has a wide-angle lens, so photos taken of scenery without any zoom (such as from the saddle of the bike going 70mph) makes things seem smaller and further away than they actually are. Use your imagination, kids. The mountains through this new-to-me section of PA were very nice and reminded me of what I had seen in the SE section of OH to a degree. Passing through a small town (don't ask me the name 'cause I don't remember), I rode by a church:  ...and immediately pulled a u-turn to take a closer picture of this:  There you have it - a sign. I was protected by the Lord himself on this most excellent adventure and no wrong could come. More on that later... The rest of the ride through PA was "more of the same" with a bit of interstate mixed in to get myself around Pittsburgh with as little fuss as possible. Philosophical thought of the day: Pennsylvania has more road construction than any other state I've been to, yet has the worst roads of any other state I've been to... Crossing into West Virginia brought the heat late in the day, and the massive traffic jam due to road construction didn't help any. I managed to get through it and before I knew it I had crossed the Ohio River into OH. The scenery was a little more breathtaking by this point:  "Progress" in coal country:  Shortly after this my GPS (which I've programmed to have an Australian accent and lovingly refer to as Gretchen) began to flutter with the power supply... great, Day 1 and I already need to spend $700 on a new girlfri- err, GPS... I eventually got to Joel's after hitting some of the NARLY roads near his house (look up route 26 near Marietta, OH), though I was too tired and mentally drained to really enjoy them, and learning to feel confident with my AirHawk seat pad (which makes it feel like you flat tire in the twistys) was new to me and I didn't have the patience for it. I pulled into Joel's Driveway around dinner time - a solid 12 hours and 45 minutes on the road. I enjoyed it, but was glad to have it done, as the next few days would all be nice short, easy rides to East Troy... I think... Accommodations for me:   Accommodations for the bikes:  After a nice dinner with Joel and his family and some time to unwind, I hit bed a reasonably good hour as our ride the next day, while not many miles, would include a few notable stops that would take some time. A quick chat with the honey buns and it was off to dream land. | ||
| F_skinner |
Excellent... I look forward to more.. | ||
| Xl1200r |
Day 2 - June 16th, 2010 Today was a decently early get-going, I think we hit the road not much after 8am. I'm not typically an early-riser, but the excitement of this trip is made it hard to sleep in any. Departing from Joel's 'driveway' (and I use the term as loosely as the gravel it's made of...):  For those that haven't ridden in the SE Ohio area as well the bordering areas in West Virginia, I HIGHLY recommend it. No pictures from this part of the journey as the roads were a hair too technical to attempt to pull out the camera, but if you close your eyes and try really hard you can make out the McDonald's breakfast we had prior to riding through some fantastic hill country all the way to Columbus. Somewhere in this time I turned Gretchen back on to see how she was doing, hoping that a good nights rest fixed her up. Not the case. Flickering and fluttering with the power, I was thinking I had a bad base for her. At one point, I just tried downshifting, brought the revs up to 4 grand and that seemed to be the magic fix. She didn't act up the whole rest of the day, so obviously something as trivial as revving the engine fixed all my worries with this one... Well, just shy of Columbus because we elected to stop and spend a few hours at:  Perhaps even more impressive than the exhibits here is the visitor motorcycle parking - I wish all establishments were like this - covered, lockers, benches for getting in and out of gear - marvelous.   The exhibits inside were fantastic - I'll post a few photos just to get the point across...   A poster, but no bikes...  We spent a few hours mulling about the "artwork" and hit the road, but not before a lunch stop at Skyline Chili. Made with cinnamon and served over pasghetti, the aroma hits you as soon as the underpaid waitress leaves the kitchen carrying your order.  The Chilidog as a side dish seemed appropriate. After Columbus the riding got BORING. The mountains were all gone and the roads were all straight. The goal from here was a short hop to Ft. Wayne, Indi- You know, I can taste that Skyline Chili as I type this... Anyways, Fort Wayne, IN. Boring roads, but here's a shot of Joel's bike to give you an idea of how to set up a CR for touring duty:  Moving along somewhere near the Ohio/Indiana border. VERY windy, lots of trucks to get around - take or leave it area for me.  We made it to the hotel around dinner time - I don't recall mileage but it was well under 300 - not breaking any records by any means. Accommodations for the night:  You guys all get a two-fer with this one... Accommodations for the bikes AND artistic shot of the day!  We chillaxed for a bit before heading to dinner - a local steak and seafood joint, Cork and Cleaver I think was the name. Pretty good, and the most expensive meal I had on the trip. Back to the hotel and another sorta-early night to get on the road early tomorrow. OH, one more thing... On the edge of the Eastern Timezone... it was crazy how late it stayed light out!  | ||
| Babired |
I saw your post on the excellant adventure and had to check it out. I jealous no travel for me this year. Keep going with the photos this is great. K | ||
| Xl1200r |
Day 3 - June 17th, 2010 Today would be another short day - I think something around 250 miles. The original plan was to take backroads until outside of Chicago and then stay on the interstates to get to East Troy and Alpine Valley. However, Joel's GPS was having a bad morning and routed us on the interstates for the entire trip. I don't think he treats his as nice as I treat mine. Speaking of my darling Gretchen, she was acting up even more today, to the point where it was pretty hard to even follow any kind of route. My mind starts racing. Could it be the base? You can't just buy the base, I'd need to buy a whole new GPS. Not thrilled about that. Okay, what else could it be... Maybe it's not losing power, it's just not getting enough to register it as being plugged in. Phew, that must be it, the GPS is okay. But wait, then my bike isn't. Is my stator going bad? Visions crossed my mind of having a dead bike somewhere in the middle of the Nevada desert. Panic set it for the next 100 miles. But, at a gap stop, I noticed the light flickering. And then I noticed that if I jiggled the plug I could make it flicker. Thank god, I just needed to wire in a new plug to replace the 99 cent one I had on there. Easy peasy once we're in East Troy and the surrounding areas. More interstate, no photos, crossing into the Central Time Zone -FUN! I finally pulled the camera out as we got closer to Chicago. Neat bridge in an industrial area:  Approaching downtown Chi Town:  After this point, traffic got pretty heavy and slow, and eventually came to a crawl. It seems like just about everyone got caught in this. Again, I have no photos of this part of the trip, but if you'd like, find a neighbor with a diesel box van, sit right behind staring at the back sucking in the exhaust fumes and set up a dozen heat lamps pointing at you and you'd be pretty close. ARRIVAL! Shortly after checking in at Alpine Valley:   Slopeside accommodations - seriously. This is ski mountain, all of it, Wisconsin style:   After settling in, we took a ride up to Hal's to check out the Buell merchandise - almost bought a shirt but didn't love it enough.  What I did do is take a salesman's offer up on test riding a Fourty-Eight, lol.  WARNING - HARLEY-DAVIDSON CONTENT AHEAD - PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK The Sporty was COOL. Handled way better than I expected, sounded good, went good, stopped ok. At one point I was gassing her pretty hard and hit a cigarette butt and nearly flew off the back due the complete lack of suspension, but I'll be damned if I wasn't the most bad-assed looking biker dude in all of the Great Lakes Region. From here we stopped at a Wal-Mart to get some fender washer to help affix Joel's tank bag better, which had let go somewhere just north of Chicago, and for me to get a new plug for Gretchen. Then it was some grub at a local diner, fill the tanks and head back to Alpine Valley. Upon our arrival, I noticed a crowd of people staring at a half-dismantled Buell Blast (they kicked it over on the ground at one point, no lie). No better time than now to fix my baby up as well. Plug in the new plug and..... crap. This one doesn't work right either, which means it's the plug on the bike that's mucked up. Apart she came to get to what I needed to get to, and by the time I had everything apart - wouldn't you know it, I couldn't get it to act up. I fiddled with it for a half hour, never getting it to flicker, so I buttoned it back up convinced that my short worship service at St. Mark's a couple of days prior allowed the hand of God to work through me for this short time to fix Gretchen up. Oddly enough, she didn't so much as sneeze the entire rest of the trip. Then to the bar for some drinks, and eventually outside for the party where I got to catch up with some old and new friends. Shortly before bedtime:    After a bit more beer and a lot more good times, I called it a night and headed to bed. | ||
| Xl1200r |
This will be all for today as it's the misses' birfday and some preparations are in order. | ||
| Rotzaruck |
Great Stuff! Waiting for the next installment. Oh, be sure she has a merry birthday, you appear to be indebted! | ||
| Jlnance |
Very cool. I remember that smoke stack. Somewhere along I-77/I-64 right? | ||
| Xl1200r |
Oh, be sure she has a merry birthday, you appear to be indebted! This was the first go around we had with birthday's (just started dating in late Jan) and it has been quite a party - Mine on the 1st, hers on the 2nd, combined with the 4th and a long weekend to boot... lots of partying. Very cool. I remember that smoke stack. Somewhere along I-77/I-64 right? This isn't too awful far from I-77, but far enough that you wouldn't see it from the highway. This was along Ohio Rt. 7, maybe 25 miles north of Marietta. It's be quite a weekend and consumed far too much beer to be able to write anything since last Friday, but I'm feeling rested and ready, so let's get back into it... | ||
| Xl1200r |
The first thing I'm going to is fill in a couple holes I've been reminded of after reading the journal I was keeping on the road. Day 1 - Lots of heavy fog in the morning along I-88, visibility was likely less than 100 yards at points, and my helmet visor looked like it was raining it was so thick. Day 2 - My illegible scribbling says something about rather having Katie on the back of the bike rather than a bag full of clothes.... Day 3 - Joel and I stopped for lunch at a rest area just north of Chicago to let traffic thin out a little. In the parking lot is where we noticed Joel's tank bag was no longer affixed correctly and we spent a bit of time getting a solution together until we get to a Wal-Mart to get some parts to fix it up. I think all the tugging and pulling got the bike sitting funny on the kickstand and as soon as he threw a leg over it it got dropped. Don't ask me how, but aside from a little cosmetic damage to his helmet, there wasn't a spot on the bike whatsoever. And now back to our regularly scheduled program... (Message edited by xl1200r on July 06, 2010) | ||
| Xl1200r |
Day 4 - June 18, 2010 This was going to be the first big day of the trip in so much as this was the day that prompted the entire journey in the first place. Following the previous nights libations, I allowed myself to "sleep in" until about 8:30 if I remember right, and felt surprisingly rested. Folks were milling about in the parking lots that morning heading in and out for food and riding. I got myself ready and Joel and I headed into East Troy to get breakfast before heading out for a ride. The place we ate at was great - I forget the name but it was on what I think was the southwest corner of the "downtown" area. Downtown East Troy, by the way, is absolutely picturesque. For those that have never made it there, it's essentially a small park with a pavilion in the center surrounded by a square of small shops and the architecture looks like it hasn't changed in decades - both in style and condition. Everything was just neat and clean.   We don't have towns like this where I'm from, but I've noticed them all over the mid-west and even in parts of the southern Atlantic coastline states. After a good breakfast (served by a very hurried woman, it seemed), we mulled over some maps and made up our own route to the north. The countryside is gorgeous in this state - I was really surprised by that - but almost no curves to speak of. After a few missed turns and struggling with the GPS's, we found a good little section of road about the same time as another large group of Buell's, heading in the opposite direction and had been crossing paths with for most of the morning. During our wandering we came across a nature preserve area and decided to get off the bikes and go for a little walk.      Now, as long as I'm here... after the hike we hit the restroom, and something began to strike me as odd. It seems that around here, all of the urinals are the tall to-the-floor type that I haven't seen since my elementary school. I found this fascinating and took a photo:  From here we shot over to a Walgreens so Joel could pick up some batteries for his camera and I could pick up a second memory card for mine as it was clear I was going to fill up the one I had brought. Then it was back southward to start the party. Erik Buell Racing:  Just tons of Buells. It was pretty much exactly how I've imagined heaven to be, only with less girls. A sad sight but intriguing at the same time:  Under the tents were some serious goodies, including this 1190RR Race bike (though I think it had an 1125RR engine):  The tents were just chock full of parts, and they seemed to never stop bringing out new stuff. FANTASTIC DEALS, guys were grabbing up everything from drive belts to tires to bodywork. The two most interesting things I saw were the tail sections to an S2 and an S3, both unpainted and the S2 still needed quite a bit of work before it was ready to be painted. Makes you wonder how long those things have been kicking around. As you can imagine, everyone and their mother was looking for Erik's attention and a signature, so it was hard to get him, but Joel, Froggy and I managed to get him to sign all of our bikes, though it took something like 4 days to get it done. The Man just seems so busy and having so much stuff going on that I almost feel bad asking for a moment of his time for something as trivial as a signature on an item I can't even easily bring to him. And everything I want to say to him is likely nothing he hasn't already heard a thousand times. I've decided I'll just write him a letter, he can read it on his own time when things aren't so hectic and I can feel good about letting him know what's on my mind about this whole thing. Joel's bike:  Froggy's frankenbike;  There was also this bad-ass XR1000 kickin' around...  Posing for photos:  ...and after being egged on to ride the 1190RR back, Erik reluctantly obliged:  By this time, the storm that everyone with a smartphone had been keeping a constant eye on was more or less on top of East Troy, and there was a mass exodus out of the Buell Race Shop to get back to Alpine Valley and under cover. We hit a couple raindrops on the way back but it really held off for a few minutes after we parked the bikes. Impending doom at Alpine Valley:  How fitting...  A little nap and some getting ready and we were off to the banquet. Now, I'll let everyone know here that I'm not going to post photos of the banquet or concert for two very important reasons. 1) There are at least a dozen other people on this board who have posted photos that you all can look at, and... 2) I didn't take any. Dinner was good, the concert was good, the ensuing party afterwards was good. For me, it was VERY hard to get to bed as I was heading out early in the morning the next day, so this would be goodbye for me for many old and new friends alike. Specific memories include hanging out in some of the Ohio crew's room, Squids8126730375203485 (or whatever it is) dancing with Mike Stone's woman (we'll need to get Gary to post the video of that), and saying final goodbyes to Chili and Vamp whom I was lucky enough to spend a decent amount of time with both in New York City and again in East Troy. After a late night call to the honey before bed, Chili caught me out in the parking lot to give me a copy of his CD (which is good stuff, BTW, it's been through the car stereo more than once, which is good given how often I drive the car). After putting it off for long enough, I went back to my room one last time, crawled into bed and closed my eyes. | ||
| Xl1200r |
Day 5 - June 19th, 2010 It's been very easy for me to split this trip up into at least two parts in my mind - the first being getting to Homecoming, the second being getting the West Coast, and even the second half could be split again between my original plan to just see the Black Hills and my modified version that would carry me to the Pacific. More importantly, the first half was amongst friends, old and new. The second half would be on my own until I reached California - I wouldn't know a single soul along the 3,000 miles between East Troy, WI and San Dimas, CA. Today I begin part two. I will also ride the most miles this day of the entire trip - something in the 620 range. I felt prepared for the worst as I would be making my first voyage ever into the Great Plains, so I wasn't expecting much in terms of riding enjoyment. However, everything I would see from this point forward would be new, and by the time I stopped for the night I would be the furthest west I have ever been my life, and only push further as the miles went on. The goal today was to cross the rest of Wisconsin, all of Minnesota and about a third of South Dakota to sleep in Chamberlain, SD. I NEEDED to make Chamberlain in order to have a nice-but-not-too-long route the following day through the Badlands and Black hills, so this route was pre-planned in the GPS. However, my aversion to interstates made for a 13-hour route to get there, and at the last minute I opted for a 9-hour route that was mostly I-90 once I got partway across WI. The rest of Wisconsin was pretty similar to what I had seen; patches of trees and gentle, rolling hills, but things were beginning to flatten out noticeably after only a couple hours on the road.   Things were pretty uneventful up until the point I crossed my first major geographical marker, the Mississippi River: Ladies and Gentlemen, on your right is Wisconsin, and to your left, Minnesota.  Please note how much more FUN the Minnesota side looks. I lied, it wasn't uneventful. Along the way I started to play tag a little bit with Wolfridgerider and his roommate at Alpine Valley (who's name escapes me now). I wondered how far they were going West... turns out later they were just going to see "The Big River" because they never had before. Sounds like a good enough reason for me. That first section of Minnesota was a lot of fun - even though it was interstate, the combination of (sort of) sweepers, 70mph speed limit and drastic elevation changes for 10 minutes or so really worked to keep my sanity. Crossing into MN, Gretchen told me:  I was still a long way from my destination. Once I rode up out of the hills, traffic began to thin and I was getting into some serious country, and what I thought was flat before was nothing now - you could see, quite literally, forever. The first photo-worthy sight was this MASSIVE windfarm. Please remind yourselves of my wide-angle lens and what that means for how the objects in the photo appear. These things are huge individually, and they stretched for as far as you could possibly see, just peeking over the horizon at their furthest. Look carefully, there were probably hundreds where I was and every little stick you see in the distance is a windmill. Progress on the Great Plains:  Things were pretty uneventful and mellow the rest of the way through MN. I felt calm and relaxed, not hurried, not bored. At my first gas stop after crossing into South Dakota, I decided to give my GPS a check and see how far off I was from my original 13-hour route. It turned out I was right on it, so I decided to get away from all the "traffic" on I-90 and hit some 2-lane through the plains.   TWISTYS!!! South Dakota style (or so I thought at the time...)  The 2-lane was neat. The speed limits were 65mph, but a complete lack of cars and almost total absence of any towns meant you pretty much moved along as fast as you wanted, so traveling at the same rate of speed as on the interstate wasn't hard.  Overall I was rather surprised at the scenery: it was a little more hilly that I had imaged, and a lot more trees and greenery than I was expecting. Approaching Chamberlain meant approaching a river, and the topography got very pretty once I was close to town:  It was at this time I settled into my evening grind - Although I planned what town I was going to head to that morning, I had no idea where I was going to sleep, so the routine was get to town, stop for gas and get on the cell phone to find a room. The Bel Aire Motel - cheap rates, good name, bitchin' sign:  I didn't notice this sign until after: -checking in -getting settled -walking around town -getting dinner -getting drunk at a local bar I then proceeded to laugh, out loud, at this sign as I stumbled back to the motel. I'm sure the evening call to my love bug was entertaining for her, I know it was for me. Because of the sign. The town is quaint and something from a Hollywood set:  And my accommodations for the evening:  Then it was time for sleep - tomorrow was going to be a big day. | ||
| Xl1200r |
Day 6 - June 20th, 2010 Today started with an early morning stroll (as in walked) to the local McDonald's for a scrumptious pair of breakfast burritos. Then it was back to the hotel, suited up and off I went. Holy hell - I crossed the river I had approached the evening before and the scenery instantly changed to what I had imagined the Great Plains to be. The trees were gone - it was all grass, and views as far as you could see, interrupted only by a lone silo or a herd of cattle.   Now, one thing about being on the plains and being able the land for ever and ever, means that you can also see the sky for ever and ever. And today, forever away was a storm or two on the horizon. Every time it seemed I was heading straight into it, the highway would change direction ever so slightly and I'd look to miss it. A few miles later, it'd change back into the path. When the time came, I managed to skim by the tail edge of the storm. It didn't rain long or hard, but enough that I was glad my new riding suit ended up being as waterproof as was advertised. Traffic was minimal and cops less so, so I tucked in, rolled on the gas and pushed through the rain at about 90mph. After this little weather escapade, I decided it was time for a little stop and to get some fuel. The exit I stopped at just so happened to be a model of an 1880's town, albeit with a modern gas station. There was a guy there riding a Concours 14. My first real stranger! Turns out he was heading back east to Tennessee after visiting from friends in Washington State. We chatted for a while about bike, our routes, riding through the plains, the desert, etc.  From here it was back on the bike heading into Buffalo Gap National Grassland, and like the name implies, there was a LOT of grass:  Now it was onto the big guns - entering the Buffalo Gap Grasslands meant I was close to my first big destination of the day. All of the sudden, out of the flatness of the plains and grass, I saw it:  The South Dakota Badlands. Holy crap. At this point I'm just overwhelmed with a feeling of "I've made it". Yeah, I made it to Marietta. Yeah, I made it to Homecoming. But this was different. I had ridden across, literally, days of nothingness to get here. It was the first on my list of big scenic destinations of the trip. It marked something around the halfway point of my journey. It brought me to edge of tears, not kidding. This was a big deal to me. BIG deal. I quickly composed myself and got off the highway to take the scenic bypass through the Badlands National Park.  After paying my $10 entrance fee and receiving my park map, I proceeded in. My first stop wasn't all that far in, but the scenery was already overwhelming.    This canyon was at the end of a short path - I was able to get these shots off working my way through a tour bus group of Australians:    Riding through the park was a bit surreal - I hadn't seen anything like this in my life.  I parked again at a second spot not much further down the road that had some more and longer hiking trails. I decided to strip myself of my riding suit and spend some quality time off the bike.  This wall was just massive   Something got ate'ed...     At this point, I decided I had taken enough photos, so I filled myself with fluids to combat the formidable but not oppressive heat, suited up and headed on with my camera off and packed up to allow myself to just "be" here and enjoy the scenery. This was for ME now, not taking pictures to show others, but just riding through, enjoying the twisty roads and the breathtaking views. These are images I have saved in my mind and can enjoy on my own. I made one more stop towards the end of the park for a final photo op, and more importantly to empty myself of the gatorade I had just pumped in.  I talked briefly with a guy, I think from SD or a neighboring state. He asked about the bike, was very interested in my suit, and then gasped at the fact that I was riding all the way from New York, like I was crazy. Maybe I am, but this felt like the top of the world. It wasn't even lunch time and I felt like I had already done a full days worth of riding just based on the things I've seen so far. But onward I went. Exiting the park and getting back on the highway meant seeing the Black Hills in the distance almost right away. It also meant seeing a storm hanging out over the southern end of the hills. I came in through Rapid City, which seemed like a typical mid-western bustling metropolis. Taco Joe's provided some much needed caloric nourishment and a place to put the camera battery on the charger. Then it was heading into the hills. Still no photos here, but the scenery is very interesting along the eastern border of the Black Hills. The blotches of trees just make for an entertaining view, and the roads begin to meander through the terrain. Before I knew it, I was heading up in elevation into the meat of the hills. I was beginning part dos of the day and was feelin- CRAP! CRAP CRAP CRAP!!!! HOLY CRAP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I glanced down at the dash and out of the corner of my eye I saw the WORST thing I could possibly see. That red glow of the oil pressure warning light. I immediately hit the kill switch and pull over. Two things hit me: a) I'm as far as I can possibly be from both home and my destination b) Thank GOD I thought to pack an extra quart of oil. Crossing my fingers in hopes that this was a leak and not an oil pump failure, I was a little relieved to see the bottom of the engine covered in a film of dinosaur juice. I took the seat off and pulled the dipstick. Dry. Looked in the tank. Empty. And I mean empty. I dumped the whole quart of oil I had in the bike and it still didn't register on the stick. I started it up, the light went out, so I called it "good enough" for now and stopped at the very next gas station I found. I bought, and put in the bike, an entire second quart of oil. Just touching the bottom of the dip stick. I just added 2 quarts of oil to a bike that only takes 2 quarts of oil during an oil change, and it was just barely touching the stick. So I added half a quart more and proceeded extremely carefully, not yet knowing how bad this leak was and thinking that light would come back on at any time. Thankfully my next destination wasn't far and I was able to give my nerves a rest for a while. I spent more time at Mount Rushmore than I had thought I would. This wasn't the "get off the bike and snap a photo" stop I imagined it would be - there was a lot here. In the parking lot:  Just past the entrance - the flags from all 50 states are here:   At the bottom is an amphitheater:  I decided to take a walk along the Presidential trail which allowed for some interesting views of the sculpture:   Looking back at the main viewing section:  In the "studio", a model of what the finished product was supposed to be:  And back at the parking lot, an up close and personal view of that storm I had seen earlier...  Lightning abound, but I was feeling okay about things and elected not to alter my planned route. My next stop was Crazy Horse. If you ever get to the Black Hills, I HIGHLY recommend you SKIP Crazy Horse for two reasons: hardly anything is done on it, and you can literally see the entire thing from the road going in before you even pay. I pulled up to the booth where I was supposed to pay, looked forward at the barely done sculpture in the distance, looked at the $10 entrance fee, and looked at the thunderstorm knocking on the door, and decided to turn around and move on. Riding through the Black Hills is nice:  After my meandering journey through the hills and managing to avoid the rain thus far, I entered Custer State Park to make my way southward out of the Black Hills. I wasn't expecting to need to pay an entrance fee just to travel on this road, but it was only $6 and the nice girl assured me the views were worth it. She was right. Crazy rocks:  One-lane tunnel through the stone - the Race Pipe sounded GREAT!  NICE  Bad light, but this is the Needles rock formations, and the last photo I took before the rain set in:  The rain never got heavy despite all the lightning, but the narrow, twisty roads full of tourists in cars made for some VERY slow progress. I exited out the bottom of the storm pretty much at the same time I came out of the mountains. Thankfully, the road was still wet and turned to a freshly-oiled gravel surface. I'm being sarcastic. The Black Hills had changed into rolling hills with open pastures - Bison country:   Some kind of deer/antelope things  I SO wish this was a paved road...  The last stand of picturesque pastures yielded more Bison with some fresh offspring:  At this short stop I met an interesting guy from Texas riding a 2010 Electra Glide. This was a super nice 2010, brand new. Did I mention he had a nice, new Harley? It was red. He was going to stop into Rapid City to visit the Harley dealer the next day to see if they would wash his bike. Did I mention his Harley? Boy this guy was proud, haha. Seriously, it was a good chat, and I think it was eye-opening for him to understand why someone would want to ride a bike like my S3 cross-country. I followed him into Hot Springs, SD. After a few failed attempts at getting a cheap room, I backtracked to a REAL seedy place I had seen at the beginning of town to find a vacant room. The motel owner was an old timer that seemed to have lived everywhere and was very interested in talking to anyone who would listen. He and I chatted for quite for a bit about this and that, my trip, his family. He even let me borrow his cell phone to call my momma and the sugar bee to check in as AT&T was dead in the entire town. Accommodations:  I stopped into a Dairy Queen for some chili dogs for dinner which paled in comparison to Skyline Chili, and then drove out of the valley to a truck stop to talk a little more with the honey buns and to phone my pops to wish him a happy father's day. Back to the hotel a little after dark and it was lights out for me. I had just crossed into the Mountain Time Zone as well. Looking back, it's amazing to me how much I fit into this day, and how drastically the scenery changed in such a short distance - I had been in South Dakota for a day and half at this point. This day, from a life experience standpoint, was the best yet of the whole trip. I had completely forgotten that tomorrow I would be seeing the Rocky Mountains - things were only going to get better from here. | ||
| Vampress |
Awesome so far! Such breathtaking scenery, in what I can only imagine was a breath-taking journey.Thanks for the virtua-trip. P.s Wolfs room-mate was Gary...and What the hell got ated???!! (what's worse...what ated it!!??) (Message edited by Vampress on July 08, 2010) | ||
| Doerman |
Great writing and photography! Looking forward to the next installment. A quick question, though. Why have you named the GPS Gretchen? | ||
| Xl1200r |
and What the hell got ated???!! (what's worse...what ated it!!??) You know, I tried to figure that out... I didn't witness anything alive that was the size of that thing, and I couldn't decide if there two dead animals or one that had been split (note there are two spines in the photos). My guess as to what got to it would either be Coyotes (knowing that they're prevalent in similar places like Kansas) or a snake since there were warning signs for rattle snakes all over the place... but it would have had to be a pretty damn big snake. A quick question, though. Why have you named the GPS Gretchen? Maybe the same reason you named the S1 Elvira? lol - basically no idea - she's Australian and tells me what to do, Gretchen seemed fitting (and I just like the name). | ||
| Vampress |
she's Australian and tells me what to do Yeah...you get that a lot here! Lol! You are a great story-teller Mark. I like seeing the little things as well as the big things. Sometimes it's the little ones that can make a trip just as memorable. | ||
| Xl1200r |
Thank you, Vamp - I do wish this was a little less of a "free-style blog" form, because it's usually a couple of hours after, like when I'm falling asleep, when I think of different/better/more humorous ways to write certain things. But I elect not to drive myself insane trying to "fix" every little thing and I appreciate that people are enjoying the read regardless. Like I said in my first post, I don't consider myself a great writer or photographer, but being able to take this trip and put this little story together had made me realize that I enjoy both immensely... might be thinking about a new a camera, lol. | ||
| Xl1200r |
Day 7 - June 21st, 2010 Yesterday was a big day - the biggest of trip for me to this point - and today, I would be traveling to places that would make the Black Hills look like they were made by a small army of ants in my backyard. Today I would be Rockies-bound with hopes of staying the night in Steamboat Springs, CO. The morning got off to good start. I pulled the seat off the bike to check the oil level and found that not much had leaked out since I last topped it off, so I was feeling better about this not being a catastrophic leak, but rather something I could manage for the rest of the trip. While packing the bike up for the morning I made small talk with a couple from Oklahoma who had ridden up on their Harley, but were on a loaner due to a breakdown. I remember talking about how great the riding was here and how I'd like to come back some day and spend more time in the area. We also talked about riding with the right gear on and so forth - good to know that not everyone thinks I look like a Power Ranger going down the road... The motel operator was also up for another lengthy conversation and I obliged for about 20 minutes or so before heading out. Although Hot Springs was technically out of the Black Hills, there are plenty of remnants of that topography all around you, and the ride out, while not terribly technical, was very satisfying scenically. As I approached the western border into Wyoming, things were starting to flatten out again, traffic was disappearing, and your mind is allowed to wander. Unlike most of my journey through the Great Plains, however, this bit would be all 2-lane backroads. Not long into the ride I noticed this:  The clouds looking awfully low. At first I didn't think much of it, but after a couple miles of this I decided to page through my GPS...  I was nearly 4,000 feet above sea level. This was the high plains. I also began to think back to all those shows on the History Channel and recalling that Wyoming was the least densely populated state in the country, or one of them. I better stop for gas at every town I get to. The scenery slowly got better and better as I moved deeper into Wyoming - things remained mostly flat, but there were nice rock protrusions beginning to push out of the earth:    And then...  And this wasn't the highest I was - I broke 5,200 feet for a good stretch and this what I was looking at:  Let me put this into perspective for you: Mt. Marcy is the highest peak in New York State. The summit is 5,343 feet above sea level, and it takes a vertical drop of 4,914 feet to reach it. I'm as high as the summit of Mt. Marcy, and yet I'm not on a mountain. I'm on a plain. There's nothing here, not even a tree. This was just mind blowing to try and wrap my head around. No wonder it was a little chilly this morning. In fact, it was cold enough that I put on a sweatshirt at my first gas stop in Lusk, WY and chit chatted with a couple guys who were on a few-day ride. They said how far they had gone out and were on their way back - I remember they were from Wisconsin, but I can't recall where they were coming from. I didn't really understand when they told me, either, as I'm not at all familiar with where I am. Along the way you'd get spurts of big rocks pushed up, but they tended to be isolated areas and not the norm:  Like I was saying before, no traffic. I felt like making time. I leaned on my right wrist a little and churned along at 90mph for probably a half hour, and saw maybe 3 other cars. I did see a lot of land. A LOT of land. Which in itself is funny. For someone like me, born and raised on the east coast and used to large pockets of civilization and being in the "country" means 30 minutes from town at most, being out here is just a whole new world. When I say there's nothing, I mean there's nothing. The fields along the road are guarded by a wire fence, but there's nothing on the other side. Once in a while you'll see some cattle, or a small house in the distance. You realize that what your eye interprets as nothingness, someone else's eye sees a way of living, a paycheck, home. After my little high-speed internal philosophy session, I soon I bumped into I-25, and soon after that made a lunch stop in Cheyenne, WY. After half a day of seeing no more than a small town, this place felt like Manhattan. Back on the road and heading south into Colorado, I seem to remember that you could almost see the Rockies as soon you crossed the border:  You can see them along the horizon. This was neat. I was now around 6,000 feet above sea level, and there were giant mountains in the distance rising up from that. Let me bring you all into my head as I make part of this journey along I-25... Do dee doo.... yeah yeah yeah (humming along with the music from my GPS playing through my headphones). I can't believe you can see those mountains from here, amazing. Hmm, traffic is picking up, I hope there's not too many tourists going through the park today. Hey, look - a COP! Holy cow, I haven't seen a cop since... well... damn, I don't think I've seen a cop since Pennsylvania! Definitely not since Wisconsin. Wait, what's he doing? Check my speed - right on the speed limit, not doing anything wrong. He's getting in behind me and - lights. Seriously? Ok, moving over, onto the shoulder, shutting down the engine. Waiting patiently... "Sir, I stopped you because it's illegal to wear headphones while riding." ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? First off, I know it's illegal to wear headphones, at least in both ears, in pretty much every state I've ever ridden in, and I've never been stopped for it. I've also learned that riding without them or earplugs is painful, uncomfortable, damaging to your hearing and just plain tiring, making the law stooooopid, or at least poorly written. But wait - more importantly... In Colorado, it's illegal to wear earphones on a bike, but anyone can roll down the freeway in their car with the stereo cranked, fiddling with the A/C controls and making sure their kid hasn't puked on the nice leather seats in their Escalade. You know what else you can do in Colorado? Operate a motorcycle WITHOUT a helmet. That's right. No helmet, a-ok. Earphones? Well, now that's just downright dangerous. Ok, so my little mini-rant is over, and of course I stayed polite and respectful on the outside towards the officer. I explained I didn't know and immediately took them out. He gave me a warning and no ticket, thank god, and even became a little interested in my trip, offered an alternative route to what I had planned, and told me that Steamboat Springs, at least to him, was probably the prettiest place in the state. I decided to take his advice on the route alteration. Good thing, too, because it shaved off about an hour from my ride time. This was the view heading into the mountains - they seem to just rise up out of nothing:  The Rocky Mountains, from this entrance, welcomes you with an extremely rewarding ride on a twisty road following a stream and through a canyon with the most amazing scenery I have ever seen up to this point in my life, period. This cop's advise was spot on.   I was too taken back to even take photos of the REAL good stuff. Before I knew it, I was in Estes Park.  The view from a quick gas stop:  From here it was a short ride to Rocky Mountain National Park, where I paid my $10 and got my map. I would be riding along Trail Ridge Road, and the park ranger informed me of some construction, wind and lose gravel along that route and to proceed carefully.  This was my first stop-and-get-off-the-bike spot. If I remember right this was at right around 10,000 feet above sea level. Getting off the bike really hits you - the air just tastes thin, dry and cool, and the slightest physical activity puts you out of breath and light-headed.     Just to prove I was here, a nice gentleman asked me to take a photo of him and his wife, and offered to take my picture as well:  This guy was friendly:  As I traveled further I was struck by how much the terrain changes. In the distance you can constantly see the quintessential "Rocky Mountains", but the road travels along some flat stretches of land, just as high as the peaks you see across the valley, called Alpine Tundras. Around 11,000 feet:    It's really hard to grasp the distance you are from the next mountain top. My last stop:  I would see 12,240 feet before heading back down. I did the most walking here, and in any other state the trail would have been cake - but in this thin air it was hard work, but the views were worth it.         From here I made the same decision I had yesterday in the Badlands - I put the camera away and enjoyed the rest of the views for me. The ride down was mostly fantastic - great road and traffic thinned out to allow a spirited pace. I had been dealing with broken up road and construction the whole time, but soon it came to head not far from the exit of the park where the gravel was the loosest it was, and multiple sections of single-lane road meant sitting and waiting for quite a while. I probably burned a good 45 minutes just stopped. Heading west out of the park was completely different scenery - much greener, much more open in certain ways. Eventually, it gets just as desolate as anywhere else I've been on this trip, but the mountains keep you entertained. The ride along Rt 40 between the National Park and Steamboat Springs is just fantastic. Almost no traffic, almost no towns, and a road that's just one fast sweeper after another. Bliss. The mountains are very different here:   As the sun set, a chill came in over the land and was especially noticeable as I passed over a ridge and picked up some elevation. That time sitting in construction had really put me behind where I wanted to be. I once again thanked that cop for shaving some time off my route. It was getting late by the time I pulled into Steamboat, and as quaint and nice as the town looked from the hotel I had found to stay, I was just too beat to venture out for dinner. Domino's delivered right to my room - I pigged out, chatted with my connections back east to let them know I hadn't fallen off the side of a mountain, and passed out. | ||
| Lemonchili_x1 |
Very cool story and pics, really enjoyable  I'm only halfway through, but will catch up over the weekend. Looking forward to more posts | ||
| F_skinner |
Mark, I have enjoyed reading your thread every morning... I am always interested to hear peoples comments about riding in Colorado. I am from the East Coast as well (Jacksonville, NC) and when I first was stationed here in 1992 I new this was the place I would end up for the rest of my life. I think your pictures reflect that area very well. I have been in the mountains every weekend. I know I did not see you because if I saw a S3T like yours I would have chased you down. | ||
| Xl1200r |
Colorado was surely one of my favorite states on the trip. I hadn't really done much research on anything past South Dakota, so everything I saw after the Black Hills was mostly a surprise. I think what struck me most about Colorado was how much it changed. Everyone knows the Rockies, but the high plains on the east, the ROCKY Rockies, the grassy rockies heading west, and then things get dry and eventually turn to desert (which we'll see in Day 8). Just a very wide range of things going on. Not very many Buell sightings on the trip outside of Homecoming, so chances are I would have chased you down as well, lol. I'm glad you feel the photos capture the state well - When I show them to people, I feel like I have to explain, "This is what it looked like, only way bigger and way better." | ||
| Xl1200r |
I'll give you guys one more since I'll be out of town tomorrow and might not get to write another until Sunday night or Monday... Day 8 - June 22nd, 2010 I woke up feeling well rested and ready to go. I grabbed some of the continental breakfast at the hotel and pulled out my iPhone to go over the day's route. I had been looking things over the night before and I was going to try to get myself as close to Provo, UT as I could - essentially a "nothing" day, just to set myself up for another "nothing" day to get me into Las Vegas the following evening. Essentially, heading straight west into the Nevada and then diving south. Wait a minute... this seems like a waste. Two days with not much to see? Don't get me wrong, I'm sure there will be nice scenery, but nothing major came to mind. Looking over the map a little closer... hmmm... if I were to head south sooner, I could make Page, AZ by tonight and see the Grand Canyon tomorrow. That was all the convincing I needed. The next two days of riding would be by the seat of my pants. I had no idea the impact of this decision. Just about ready to leave and I noticed this:   Heading west, the city of Steamboat Springs, CO:   Not far out of town, things began to start to dry up:  Now, normally I loathe interstates and I wasn't expecting much when I hopped onto I-70, but the stretch east of Grand Junction, CO is the most scenic interstate I had been on the whole trip:  I stopped in Grand Junction for gas and a quick bite and made small talk with a couple riding to St. George, UT on a Sportster. This thing was loaded to the GILLS, easily twice the GVWR (okay, maybe not that much, but it was a stretch for two people, plug gear). Now, AFTER, Grand Junction, well that's a different story. More nothing. Again. And plenty of it. In fact, this is how Utah welcomes you:  A scenic pull-off not far into the state results in piles of rocks.  Soon enough, though, the topography gets more interesting. These cliffs were just massive and somehow reminded me of a George Lucas-style sentinel overlooking the desert:  ...and some softer mountains:  This was getting to be a long, hot ride. The highway was straight, the scenery, while nice, was kind of far away. Traffic (and humanity in general) was disturbingly absent. The wind gusts would nearly pick you up off the road and toss you a mile away, never to be found, by anyone, ever. What had I gotten myself into. "Next Exit: No Services" uh oh. The exit I was due to get off was approaching and there wasn't much sign of anything. Thankfully, there was a gas station right there. Nothing else. Just a gas station. I filled up, bought some snacks and water and ended up talking for a while with a couple of guys on a BMW GS and a big KTM doing some off-grid riding. Turns out the one guy was from New York. The two of them were great to talk to. We discussed just tolerating the heat, tolerating long rides, traded stories and just had a good time for a solid half hour before I packed it up and pointed the front tire south. Oh my god. The scenery. Oh my friggin' god. Spoiler alert: Utah was, without a doubt, my FAVORITE state to travel through. Before I knew it I was traveling between Arches National Park and Canyonlands National Park, and had great views of both:   I can't remember where Moab, UT was in relation to all this, but someday I'll come back, stay in Moab and just ride around the desert on something with knobby tires for a week.  A hole in the rock.   Once in a while they tossed in a little green:  Just awesome roads to ride through:   Seriously - the good stuff was just NON STOP. It was constantly evolving both in shape and color. Once in a while I'd come across a nice little stretch of road to either get up or down a change in elevation where I could lean things over a bit, but to be honest, I didn't need it. I was so entertained, so enamored with what was around me I was perfectly content to just sit on a straight road and look at it all. In addition to some good roads, the elevation changes also brought changes in temperature. On top of the cliffs, things were hot, but not unbearable. In the valleys, well, let's just say you wanted to get back up on the cliffs.   Then... I saw it.  Monument Valley. I remember being a kid in elementary school looking at pictures of this very place, looking down this very road and dreaming of the day I'd be able to ride a motorcycle down it. The world of Buell had all but eliminated "straight road dreams" from my mind, but this brought it all back. And to think, I got here on a whim. Holy cow.   I get choked up just looking at the pictures I took in Utah. This was some seriously cool stuff. Monument Valley would mark the end of my short time in Utah. Onto Arizona. The Welcome Wall... just giant. I remember looking at this, taking in the size, and wondering how the Grand Canyon could be much bigger than this...  This mountain had a name, but I don't recall it. The pictures do the size no justice:  After a quick gas stop, where I noticed everyone in the town lived in a trailer, I played back and forth with some guys on Goldwings - I pass, they pass. This went on FOREVER, and was getting a little annoying. I happened to look behind me and noticed this neat rock and the fact that you could see the moon, so I pulled over to snap a photo:  eventually, there wasn't much else to look at.   Approaching Page (I was getting very anxious to just get in and settled):  Trying to find a motel in Page proved a little difficult - places either wouldn't answer the phone. What I was finding was everyone was the same price. So when I was told for the same price as the small single rooms I could get a suite at a small ma and pop joint, I jumped on it. This place was great - so much character.    Entrance to my unit from the back and the community gardens:     After getting in, I set out for some dinner. I wanted Mexican, and both the places in my GPS were no longer there, so I hit a local bar & grill type place and ate well. Afterwards, I walked across the street to the gas station to take a peek at a map to see if I could find a good way to the Grand Canyon, then headed back to the bike to see if I could find the same roads on the GPS. During my search, a great couple from Vancouver approached me, though their accents sounded German-ish to me. The loved the Buell, and they themselves were traveling on bikes around the area. They often did trips in the Western U.S. I talked to these guys for a long time - they were seasoned travelers and had tons of great ideas and advice that I'll surely employ on the next venture. They also suggested that I see the North Rim of the Grand Canyon - less crowded and more "natural", not as touristy. That was all the convincing I needed. I think these guys were my favorite strangers of the trip - tons of character. I headed back to my room, chatted with the sugar bear on the phone for a bit and hit the sack. | ||
| Xl1200r |
Day 9 - June 23rd, 2010 Today started like pretty much every other day in that I woke up reasonably early, although I skipped breakfast this time. My first stop of the day came about from the motel operator the evening before. He had asked how long I was in town for and when I told him I was passing through on my way to Grand Canyon, he highly recommended that I spend a little time at Horseshoe Bend - essentially the start of the Grand Canyon. The pull off for this was only a few miles from town, so it wasn't a long ride and if it weren't for his suggestion I would have just passed on by. I pulled into the parking lot probably somewhere around 7:30am, and as you can expect, there was no one else there. I decided to leave my suit on as it looked like a short hike up a small hill. It wasn't. It was already pretty hot, the sun beating down, and once I reached the crest of the hill, I saw it was more like a half mile walk, up and down hill, mostly in soft sand. Oh well, no sense in turning back at this point. Some shots along the path... note the scale - you can see how small the path is in the distance in the lower right corner:   As soon as I reached the ledge, it was quickly apparent that the walk was worth it:  The view looking down - no guard rails here:  The scale is just HUGE:  I sat around a bit, peered over the edge enough times to feel mortal, took some photos and headed back. From the top of the first hill heading back to the parking lot (some other visitors had shown up by this point, bike is on the right of the parking lot):    At this point I was sufficiently sweating my balls off and immediately realized that I was traveling through the desert with no friggin' water. None. I was feeling brave so I nutted up and got back on the bike and pressed on. The scenery from here was MUCH better than I had seen roadside thus far in Arizona:   Just passed the bridge you see in the above photo I stopped for gas, stocked up on water and ate a fantastic breakfast of granola bars and Swedish Fish. When I came out of the store a burly looking dude on a Harley was gassing up and began making small talk. His wife walked up soon after and she was alarmed at the fact I had ridden from NY all the way to AZ (and going further) - she asked if it was something I read about in a book. These guys were pretty entertaining, and we chatted about the kinds of places we all grew up, riding with gear despite the heat and other random topics. They were looking for a real breakfast and I was looking to get moving again so we parted ways. The road was straight from here, but I got a good stretch of twistys heading up in elevation and was reminded of the guys I talked to in Utah who mentioned that the roads heading into the North Rim were pretty good provided there wasn't any traffic. There wasn't. Life is good. Now pay attention because things change fast here... All of the sudden, you're in the middle of a pine forest:  And just as quickly, that pine forest is all burned up:  And then meadows...  It really felt like I was thousands of miles east. By this point the air had enough of a chill in it that I had to close up all of the vents on my suit just to be comfortable. It was a beautiful ride into the North Rim both from scenery and good sweepers. I parked the bike and headed to the EDGE... The Grand Canyon is ABSOLUTELY FREAKING HUGE. The distance and height we're dealing with here was literally only matched by the Rocky Mountains. In fact, it was so deep that at no point was I able to see the Colorado River at the bottom.   The historic lodge at the rim:  I had ventured onto some of the paths you could walk on and out on the ledges that they allowed you to be on - which meant the views were hindered by fences, guard rails and, worst of all, people. So when I saw a small, narrow and challenging half-assed attempt at a path which led to an unofficial outlook point with none of the hinderances of the others, I jumped at the chance. Coming out of the bushes, I noticed I'd have some company:   Arms-length away:   My private vista:  Some random scenic photos:   Another private ledge - I realized I cell signal here and made a call to my honey - totally surreal.     All in all, I spend nearly two hours here - much longer than I had figured on. I didn't regret any of it. Heading back to the bike, I noticed a not-so-talkative owner of a Uly sharing my parking spot. We talked a little, mostly about the bikes, before he headed out. I was having another snack and getting some water in me and within minutes another bike pulled into my spot: the same couple on the Harley from earlier that morning! So, of course, we talked again for a while - this time it was mostly with the wife who wanted me to show off pictures of my girlfriend, and I proudly obliged. She asked how much I was being charged to have such a fine specimen hang out with me since it couldn't have been voluntary. I packed it up and headed back out - some more traffic this time, but nothing I couldn't make quick work of. A quick stop for lunch at a cafe, some gas and a little top off of the oil and it was westward once again.  By this point it was mid-afternoon and hot as balls out. Recalling some things I had read about riding in hot weather, I made a stop to soak my t-shirt in water. Ahh. Much better. But wait, 20 minutes down the road and I was bone dry. It was that hot and that dry out. Next stop I soaked it real good and closed up all the vents - not as cool but much more tolerable and things stayed comfortable for longer. I would head up into St. George, UT, then back to cut the corner of AZ before crossing into Nevada at Mesquite. Here's a gas station in Mesquite and a view of the Sierras (I think):  Still hot as hell, but finally I could see my destination for the night - LAS VAGAS!!! Hmm... not as great as I'd thought - busy, lots of people, smells like a big dirty city, haha. Anyways, stopped for gas and called around for a room and found the best deal at the Stratosphere. The view from my room:  After having to park my bike in the garage and lug all my stuff through the casino to my room, I went out for an evening stroll down the strip. As soon as I left my hotel I noticed a guy jumping from the tower:   Now, at this point, let me point out the major difference between Las Vegas and most other destinations I've had on this trip. When you enter the Badlands National Park, you pay $10 and get a map. When you enter Custer State Park, you pay $6 a get a map:  When you enter Rocky Mountain National Park, you pay $10 and get a map:  When you enter Grand Canyon National Park, you pay $12 and get a map:  When you get to Las Vegas, however, you pay the homeless lady 75 cents and you get a parking ticket and a pile of catalogues for prostitutes:  Instead of scenic vistas and wildlife, you get things like this:  and this:  And for the BadWeB crowd...  Okay, but seriously, Vegas is a neat town. I walked just about the entire length of the strip and got some nice shots:      Dream cars for rent...  After getting back to the hotel, I went up to the observation deck:  Accommodations for the night:  By this point it was late and I was beat - as much as I wanted to stay up and see more of the town, I knew I needed to head out painfully early in the morning to avoid passing through Death Valley in the middle of the afternoon. So I packed it in and got some needed shut eye. Tomorrow I would reach my final destination - San Dimas, CA. | ||
| Doerman |
I got more popcorn left! Enjoying the story and how you tell it in words and pictures. Spot on with the fees and maps, and then there's Vegas! | ||
| Xl1200r |
Day 10 - June 24th, 2010 Ugh... I did not get going as early as I would have liked this morning. I was shooting to be awake by 4am, but that was pushed to more like 5:15 and I was on the road by 6 (I think, hard to recall at this point). It was great walking through the casino so early in the morning to find people sitting around gambling still. I should come back with friends at some point - I can see having a real good time here. Packing up the bike got me my required cardio for the day since I was parked so far away from my room and it took a few trips to get everything down. The weather was comfortable right now and I headed south out of town and rode the entire length of the strip. Things were noticeably quieter than last night, but there were many more cops about detaining people on the sidewalks. I'm fairly certain this is a regular occurrence in this town. The scenery just outside of Vegas is great, and there are some mildly entertaining roads to be has as well:   However, it didn't take long before I would find myself in the most baron and desolate area I had been in to date. There was NOTHING here, not even another car. NOTHING:   There was so much NOTHING that when I crossed into California, the only way of knowing was by watching the little blue arrow cross the dotted line on Gretchen's screen. I have never crossed a state line and not seen a sign welcoming me. But here, there was none. I was getting some miles on the tank and was looking for a place to rest, grab some breakfast and fuel up since I got the sneaking suspicion that gas stations would be few and far between out here. I passed through 3 towns which all looked to be abandoned. Granted, it was still early in the morning, but it was a weekday. There were houses, cars, businesses, but everything was silent. No movement from anything, like everyone had just left the night before. Maybe they're all in Vegas.  Three towns, all silent and none having gas. Uh oh. Thankfully I did come across one about 100 miles from Las Vegas - the longest I had gone on this trip without seeing gas.   Gas was expensive here - well over $4.00/gal if I remember right. The only motion, the only sound in the entire town was the store clerk talking to a couple of guys about boxing or something. Everything else was dead. I was hoping to grab some breakfast at the cafe across the street but it was closed, so I headed into the store and got a pastry and Swedish Fish. I loves me them Swedish Fish in da mornin'. When I was being rung out, I made a comment to the clerk along the lines of, "There ain't a whole hell of a lot out here, is there." She laughed and said, "Nope, where you headed to?" "Death Valley." "Yeah, there ain't gonna be much more until you get there, either." Kinda cool, kinda disturbing. I took off and the scenery was getting better and better and before I knew it I was on the heels of Death Valley.   I stopped at a pull-off to check out some of the scenery and this time, having learned from my little hike the day prior, I immediately stripped out of my riding suit despite the hill I needed to climb looking unintimidating. It was 9:00am by this point and I'm guessing it was over 90 degrees already.    Foreigners all up in my sheet:   As I pressed onward I got a kick out of watching Gretchen's info screen inform me of my elevation. Sure enough, I found this:  Please note that the road goes DOWN from here. Soon enough I reached a new elevation record, both for this trip and for me in general:  Hard to read, but I'm at 243 feet below sea level. And this what was there:   It was really neat riding through this area and taking it all in, wondering how hard it would be for water to find it's way here. At the bottom it looked like a dried up lake bed as it were, so I'm sure this was all underwater as some point in the distant past. I then began to gain elevation and rise out of the valley. There were some fantastic roads here (though they're not shown in the picture):  And that's the last photo I took on my ride that day. After this, believe it or not, it got even MORE desolate than it was before Death Valley. I'd ride down a straight road for what seemed like weeks, come to a mountain pass,, have a little stretch of good riding, and then when I got to the other side I would see the road continuing straight for MILES down in the valley. There were even INTERSECTIONS! WTF. I'm having a real hard time understanding why the road I'm on is even here, but another road? Really? I don't think I can effectively get across what it felt like to be here. No towns. No cars. No people. No traffic. I did 100 mph for 30 minutes and only slowed down because I got bored. As I headed south, civilization started to pop up somewhat. I was able to find a place to get gas and rest up a little, and not far from there I'd find myself on a main road. I forget the number but it was a frustrating road for me. There was as much nothing as before, but TONS of traffic (for this kind of place). Slow moving trucks I needed to get around, slow moving cars, I even saw a Jeep flat towing a Ford Ranger with a cast-iron bath tub full of hay in the bed. I found myself getting frustrated, anxious and annoyed and I decided I better take an impromptu lunch stop to just let myself settle down. DEL TACO! WAY better than Taco Bell. Anyways, the stop was uneventful so I pressed on. I was feeing better and actually felt a little relieved when I got on the highway. I think it was the combination of knowing I was close and being able to move along at a good pace. After I took my exit and made a couple of wrong turns, I found my destination in San Dimas, California. I would be staying with Asbjorn (Doerman here on the board). The view from Asbjorn's house:  And then no more photos for today. After getting in and settling down and shooting the breeze for a bit, we headed to a local Mexican restaurant to hang out and get some drinks. Feeling pretty good, we headed back to Asbjorn's where he made an AMAZING meal - tri tip on the grill, a fancy salad, I think there were potatoes involved, and beer. Oh yeah, and a shot of Irish Whiskey for desert. I think I was going to like to like it here. A bit more drinking, the best cup of coffee in my life (I still need to buy a french press) and a lengthy, half-in-the-bag conversation about music and it was time for bed. To the surprise of both of us, I had managed to stay up past 4:00pm. It felt good to know I was somewhere I would be staying for a couple days. No more traveling, just enjoying where I was and the company of a new friend. Off to bed. Tomorrow would be exciting! | ||
| F_skinner |
Best Thread in a long time.. Thanks |
