Monday, May 12, 2014

"How far ya goin'?"

It seems that every time we stop somebody asks some variation on the question: "Where are you headed?", or "How far have you gone?". Young or old, biker or cager, the bikes draw attention everywhere we go. I'm surprised by how many people notice the licence plates, and pleasantly surprised by how many Americans know where Ontario is, the assumption is that they don't know about anything beyond the borders of their own state. In Alturas a kid from the next hotel over kept dragging his dad over to let him see the bikes, he quickly declared the blue one his favorite. The youngster obviously does not have very discerning tastes. Mine is much prettier.

Tornadoes are forecast all through the midwest for the next few days so we decided to continue with our original plan when the weather blew through and arc up through the bottom corner of Oregon, zig-zag through Idaho, cut the corner of Montana, into Wyoming and Yellowstone Park, then head for Sturgis South Dakota. Assuming the roads are open, some of the them were closed last night because of snow, including a short stretch of interstate we'll need after the Beartooth Highway.

As we were leaving the hotel Ray looked over at the mountain range we had to cross and said "I don't remember seeing snow on those when we left here yesterday." They were covered with a carpet of white, and we were headed straight through them. I thought about the tornadoes and decided I'd rather take my chances with cold. And it was cold. I felt like the Michelin man when I climbed on the bike. It was a struggle getting my leg up and over the seat. For my upper body alone I had no less than 5 layers on. A long sleeve insulated Under Armor base layer, a light sweater, an insulated windproof shell, then the jacket with it's insulated liner installed. My neck warmer was sealed into it all then wrapped over the lower half of my face and tucked up inside the helmet. I had heavy duty insulated gloves and my grip heaters on full, a quilted layer aver my long underwear inside the ballistic pants, merino wool socks, basically everything I could wear and still function.

And we needed it. It got colder and colder as the scenery got better and better, we climbed and descended a couple of mountain ranges, going from gas station to gas station through an almost deserted landscape. We stopped to take pictures on one arrow straight stretch of road in a desert valley that stretched into the distance as far as the eye could see. No telephone poles, no hydro lines, no houses, no traffic. We took some pictures but there was just no way to capture the feeling of isolation. Strangely enough Ray discovered he had excellent cell reception. About the only living things were ground squirrels sunning themselves on the pavement that scattered as we approached, and free range cattle, like the squirrels they wandered wherever they chose. Dry lake beds, a red graveled valley covered with lush green vegetation with the road weaving downhill for 40 miles, it went on and on.

Ray keeps marveling at how much we've seen in a week, all the places we've gone, the diversity in just an hour between desert, forest, high plain, mountain pass, cultivated fields, orchards, and back to desert, over and over. And yet I wonder about all the roads we had highlighted during our planning but don't have time to ride. But we're doing our best to hit the points. I'm already trying to talk Ray into coming back next year.

Today we leave Boise Idaho headed to Idaho Falls where we've got the bikes scheduled for oil changes the first thing tomorrow. Here's a description of part of our route lifted from the Butler Motorcycle Map:
Highway 21 keeps things interesting with continuous G2 and G3 riding. On the approach to Lowman, the riding becomes more thrilling as the road tightens and bends it's way into town. At the Grand Bend turnoff ID-21 gets hemmed in by two of Idaho's most gorgeous wilderness areas as the road begins it's climb to Banner Summit, 7,056 ft. (Road may be closed periodically due to avalanches)

We've recovered from Highway 36, a couple hundred miles of continuous corners leaves you all twistied out, exhausted physically and mentally, but still smiling.





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