SUNDAY, JUNE 26, 2011

Winthrop, Washington to Vancouver, BC

247.9 miles/3,129.1 miles

Last night was the coldest of the trip, and we woke up to ice on the seat of the BMW - BRRR!  Up early -we were the only campers within sight that were up - we started to pack up the tents and everything else onto the bikes.  After using the nearby restroom, we heard a loud hissing sound and, looking for its source, we saw a balloon being filled with hot air for an early morning flight.  If it's cold on the ground, how cold must it be a couple of thousand feet in the air, we wondered?!

The Balloon Takes Off.........

........Ever Higher in a Cloudless Sky

Al, Up Uncharacteristically Early

A couple of days ago, I had commented to Al that, for all the RVs we've seen, we hadn't come across a single Airstream, that one-time ubiquitous, sausage-shaped, aluminum camping trailer, first built in the 1930s.  This morning, at our last campsite, I saw one parked across the way, and went over to chat with Art about his Airstream.  

Art lived in Alaska for fifty years, and now lives in northwest Washington, and bought his Airstream two years ago, and goes everywhere with it.  I said that I remembered reading about Airstream caravans that traveled in a very orchestrated manner, all over the U.S., and Art said he saw them frequently in Alaska,  during the summer months.  As a large group, they would arrive at a particular spot, and form in a large circle, similar to wagon trains of the 1800s that we have all seen in films.

Art With His Airstream

Today's highpoint - the last ride day for me - was going through the spectacular Northern Cascade Mountains, and we delighted in the rugged mountains.  I found it quite difficult to negotiate the winding road, mesmerized as I was by the stupendous views, both up and down, so we pulled off frequently to take it the views.  We each had on pretty much all the clothing layers we could possible put on, and were glad to have them - including winter riding gloves.

As we climbed up from the lower elevations on the east side of the mountains, we began to pass various bicyclers, amazed at their strength and endurance.  At one point, much further up the grade, we pulled over for a View Stop and saw that there were support vans for the bikers in the pull-off, and I walked over and talked with one of the riders, Patrick, for a few minutes.  


All the bikers we had seen were part of a single group who, yesterday, had covered the same road, west to east; they spent one night on the east side of the mountains, and were now on their way back - 68 miles and 6-7 hours each way!  We decided it wasn't the time to complain about our little aches and pains from riding motorcycles.  Given our frequent stops, we saw Patrick at another rest stop further up the mountain.

A Mountain Pull Off

Bike Riders Up the Hill

Tom at the Pull Off

Patrick, the Bike Rider

Further along the upgrade, I had dropped back a few miles from Al and Tom, stopping here and there for photos.  As I continued up, unbeknownst to me, Al and Tom had stopped and were taking photos of me riding up the hill.

Joe, on the Way Up

The......

......Many Views.....

......Through the Mountains

Once over the pass, we had less snow immediately around us, but the vistas were no less compelling.

Al's Bike, with Tom, and Mountains....

....Mountains.....

.....Mountains.....

.......and More Mountains, Our Constant Companions

At a stop to view a roadside waterfall, I walked back to the bridge to get a photo, and I met John Pakele, a native Hawaiian, and his family,  who are from the northwest corner of Washington.  John, a motorcycle enthusiast himself, asked some questions about the bikes, where we had been, etc., and I promised him that, once home, I would send him the link to the blog.......for inspiration, John!

John Pakele and His Family......

.....Who I Met While Viewing a Roadside Waterfall

At a later rest stop, overlooking Diablo Lake dam, we met John, with his unusually decorated Harley, with The Hulk peeking out from his fender and side panel.  He also had a small pig mounted on the top of his tank, the only thing left from his previous bike, which he totalled in an accident.  John's bike had an amazing paint job, which glitters in the sun and changes color as you move around it.

John and His Harley......

...With The Hulk.....

....Peeking Out......

...and the Mounted Piggy Perched on the Gas Cap.

Al, at the Diablo Lake Dam Overlook

Prior to our stop at the Diablo Lake Dam Overlook, we had gone further down the road, into the small town at the base of the dam, created for the staff and families that operate the dam at the west end of the lake.  Although we rode around the few streets of the community, and saw trucks and cars parked in the driveways, flowers in the windows, and a playground for kids, we didn't see a single person1970.  Then, when we saw the phone booth, and I checked and realized it was functioning, we knew we were in..........The Twilight Zone!  We hightailed it out of there, not even stopping to warn the couple who were innocently walking in with the cameras around their necks as we rode out, past the unmanned security gate.

The Pleasant Town....

..........with no People

Once we were through the mountains, we continued west on Route 2 until we came to Route 9, north, taking it to the town of Sumas border crossing, which, thankfully, only took a few minutes.  From that point, however, our thankfulness quickly evaporated as virtually the entire, remaining distance to Vancouver - another 40+ miles on Canada Route 1 West, was one, continuous construction zone (AHHHH! ARGGGG! #@!!#!!), with agonizing (our wrists!!), stop and go traffic, for two and a half hours!

When we finally arrived in the city, in the middle of Vancouver, in heavy traffic, in a somewhat sketchy part of town, Tom's motorcycle just stopped - overheating from the continuous stop and go finally taking its toll - and we pulled over to the curb for 15 minutes or so, while the local denizens gathered around us, allowing enough time for Tom's bike to restart and, finally, make it to our apartment on the west side of downtown - for me, 3,129.1 miles (and 54 miles per gallon) after starting out on The Al, Tom and Joe Big Motorcycle Adventure, ten days ago.  It was certainly all that and more!

Once off the motorcycles and in the apartment, we took a short walk with Rachel to a nearby restaurant, eating outside, under the trees, enjoying the gratifying quiet and the company over dinner, accompanied by a cool breeze.

I enjoyed every minute of The Big Adventure with Al and Tom, my boon companions, greatly appreciating our Camaraderie of the Road, happy to be along for the ride with them, and thankful that we had such good weather for virtually the entire trip.  We looked out for one another,  saw a lot of the country, managed to see some friends and family along the way, and shared some time and conversation with a wide cast of characters that we met in our travels.

Al, Tom and Joe
The Three Road Amigos

At this point I have asked Tom to recount his and Al's adventures starting with there departure from Vancouver on Monday morning, June 27, which he does with great gusto (and some photos).  Tom also felt compelled to provide the readers with a bit more detail regarding our arduous passage to and through the city of Vancouver and, finally, up to our apartment.

Where Tom Provides a Detailed Description of Our Harrowing Passage Through the City of Vancouver

I will attempt to resume the narrative where my good friend Joe left off, oh, perhaps recapping our arrival in Vancouver a little differently from my point of view.  Forgive the dearth of photos, especially of the most interesting parts, but I just didn’t think of taking pictures while events were unfolding (overheating, customs check, high-centering etc.)

The day we crossed the border from Washington state into Canada was one of the few very warm days I recall from the trip. How many were there, guys, two?  Imagine that!  End of June and not really summer weather yet...until  that day (and maybe one other), and it was quite warm.  As Joe mentioned, our 70 km trip from the border-crossing point to Vancouver was one long line of murderous stop-and-go traffic. I pulled the clutch lever so many times I thought something was probably going to wear out or break. The V-Strom’s heat gauge showed three bars the whole time (two is normal running temperature). I knew this was not good for the bike, but what could be done?  

We kept at it until we reached Vancouver, then, when we exited into the city, we were able to pick up some speed to cool the bikes down.  I particularly remember crossing a bridge and looking down onto the water. However, once into the city center, stop-and-go traffic resumed and it was hotter than out on the freeway. As we were making our way between stop lights (there were an awful lot of them), the Suzuki suddenly quit without warning. No coughing or sputtering, no sounds of metal against metal, just STOP.  I shifted to neutral and coasted to the side of the street.  After some hand-signalling and yelling over the din of the city, I made it understood to Al and Joe that my bike had simply quit. Overheated, I thought, and I needed to let it sit for a few minutes and cool off.  That understood and accepted, all three of us sat there a while and observed the local denizens.  

After a few seconds I saw we were stopped on something akin to the American “skid row” with bums, drunks and dopers milling around. I think most of them were so out of it that they didn’t realize I was stranded on a broken down bike, otherwise, I figured, they’d be trying every possible angle to get money out of me or to otherwise somehow take advantage of my vulnerable position.  As it turns out, we didn’t attract that much attention and they pretty much kept their distance except for one pair, who, when they weren’t scuffling over something they had spied in the gutter, staggered my way.  One said something to me in what sounded to like English with the French Canadian accent, but then I’m mostly deaf, had my helmet on and hearing aids turned down, so who knows what it was he said or what language he said it in?  

In any case, I merely acknowledged it with a nod and a weak smile and continued appearing as if I were simply parked there enjoying the ambiance, as Al likes to say. This response satisfied my visitors fully, and they ambled off into the crowd.  Happily, a police cruiser arrived, hooted its siren briefly, and the cops inside began a conversation with one of the locals. I imagined he was their informant giving them the lowdown on the latest dope dealing going on in the area. What better cover than to hold their clandestine conversation right out in front of God and everybody?  In any case, the presence of the heat lightened the ambiance (as Al likes to say).

Finally, after about 10 minutes, I decided to give it a try, and the engine came immediately to life with two bars showing on the heat gauge. This qualified as a relief.  We continued down the street, now only a few blocks from Joe’s apartment, but I commented to Joe that I wasn’t sure how the Suzuki was going to behave from here on out since the heat had climbed back up to three bars right away.  As it turned out, the bike continued in fine style all the way to Joe’s parking garage where Al and I parked on the upper level, while Joe continued down to what I assume was his assigned parking spot.

Arriving at Joe’s apartment with the gear we needed to clean up and overnight, we were greeted warmly by Rachel, who made us feel at home and promptly served up some cool drinks and appetizers. We spent some time recounting our adventures and admiring the apartment and the gorgeous view the Lafo’s have of the harbour and nearby park, and then it was suggested we go out to eat at a respectable restaurant.  I was able to scrounge up a white shirt from one of my side cases to lend a modicum of respectability to my otherwise decidedly scroungy appearance.  The shirt was clean and I had packed it not to wear to nice restaurants but to ward off the scorching desert rays should I get caught riding in mid-day under the Nevada sun (Note: I generally wear a T-shirt when riding in NV. The method is to put the white shirt on over the T, leave it open in the front to catch the breeze but fasten the cuffs so my arms do not burn.)

 The restaurant meal was fantastic. The waitresses were charming. The hosts were generous. The company was witty. The evening was comfortable. The neighborhood upscale.  And, well, the ambiance was perfect.  Thanks once again to Joe and Rachel for the treat.

Back at the apartment, we showered, talked, enjoyed Rachel’s wonderful chocolate chip and ginger (three kinds of ginger!) cookies and eventually sacked out.  

SATURDAY, JUNE 25, 2011

Newton, Washington to Winthrop, Washington

311.2 miles/2,881.2 miles

Once on the road, with the Gravel Camp nightmare experience behind us, we continued through yesterday's landscape, now, with clouds above, looking like we might have a little rain to ride through and, sure enough, we got about thirty minutes worth, evident on Al's windscreen when we stopped to consult the map, and my donning my rain gear for the first time.

Al Reviewing the Map

Joe in Rain Gear

As noted above, the landscape continued on, similar to yesterday, with farmland rolling by, always with mountains in the background, accompanied by a mixture of overcast skies and sunshine, with increasing trees as we continued west, towards the ascension into the Cascades, tomorrow.

A Field of Wild Flowers

The Engaging Landscape

A Solitary Tee as We Near the Campground

A Barn in a Hay Field

When we arrived at today’s campsite in Winthrop, Washington - happily, grass! - we had a spot in the middle of three empty sites and, as soon as we pulled in, we had a greeting party of eight kids, ranging in age from 3 years to 8 years old, who wanted to know everything about motorcycles, what we slept in and our gear.

Tom Providing a Lesson in Stake Hammering

We Finally Have Groupies!

Tom Explaining the Fine Points of Something

Some Very Detailed Questions from our Admirers

The youthful gang immediately gravitated to Tom, insisting on helping him erect his tent, with Tom providing guidance on the hammering of tent stakes.  Once I had my tent up, three of the kids wanted a tour of the inside, climbing right in, and noting “our tent is bigger than yours!”

Tom and His Tent Gang

At the end of the day, one of the kids - Carter - had moved his bike from his parent's camp area, and  placed it in the row next to ours.

Carter's Bike

FRIDAY, JUNE 24, 2011

Seeley Lake, Montana to Newton, Washington

303 miles/2,570 miles

From Seeley Lake, we had originally planned to head north into Canada, and then west on Route 3, to Vancouver.  However, a couple of days ago, Rachel had dinner with our neighbors, Dave and Corinne, and another guest suggested that we change plans and take Route 20 across northern Washington, which we decided to do over breakfast this morning at Bud’s. 

So, we went back down the “hill” to Missoula, went north on Route 90 for a few miles, then onto Route 200 until we reached Route 20.  Route 20 will take us to far-western Washington before we make our final turn, north, to Vancouver, in a couple of days, where I will be dropped off and Al and Tom will continue south, back to Reno and San Diego. 

The GPS spot tracker that Al has strapped to his arm has allowed our arm-chair traveling companions to observe our every step and, via the wonder of the cell phone, quickly comment on our every wrong turn or lengthy stop (the spot checker also caused us, in Nevada, to skip the whorehouses we passed - thanks, Al).  


Earlier today, for example, with me leading the way, I missed the turnoff of Route 200 to the west, and meandered along, blissfully ignorant of the misdirection, until we saw signs that we were 13 miles from the Canadian border!  Oops!  Nice scenery, revisited.  Naturally, we got a bit of commentary on our turnaround.  Hey, this isn’t called an Adventure for nothing!  Lewis and Clark, on the first United States exploration to the Pacific Ocean (1804-1807), I’m sure, missed the same turn off......and they had a guide!  Did anyone make note of that?  No!  Technology is just too advanced!  

As we ride along, we have seen many abandoned houses, barns and other assorted out-buildings and, though some have been without the human element for many decades, each, at one time, represented hopes and dreams, family and friends, happiness and sadness – perhaps, many generations worth.  

Abandoned House

When I was younger, I gave the houses I lived in an animated liveliness; that each house enjoyed happy occupation and was disturbed by sadness and strife, and always retained a bit of each as the families came and went, to be supplanted by the personalities of another family, and so on, for the life of the house.  


When I was around 15 years old, by which time I had decided to be an architect, we lived in a house that was part of a subdivision, within which our house plan was repeated every fourth or fifth house.  I wondered if the lives in those houses, therefore, were similar to ours, but realized that the house itself was not the determining factor – personalities, objects and myriad other small differences made them, effectively, different as night and day.

What of these places that we pass, with their ghostly personification of their departed human presence?  What secrets and stories of lives do they hold that can never, now, be known, as nature, with wind and rain and snow and spreading plants, slowly consume their place in our world?  There is a story there, to be read and considered, where time passes, alone and aloof, and the intent of habitation of a particular place blows softly away in the wind and, eventually, that place disappears.

From Idaho, through Montana and, now, just into Washington, we know from conversations with folks at various stops, that we have had the good fortune of good weather that is very recent to the region; other than the 10 minutes of rain we rode through outside of Missoula, we have had the sun with us for the entire trip.  However, every river we have ridden along is full and fast; occasionally, we glide by flooded houses, indicative of the heavy, winter snows now melting, and the constant rain, here and elsewhere, we have all seen on the news.

High water rising, the shacks are sliding down
Folks lose their possessions and folks are leaving town

Bob Dylan, from High Water

This afternoon, we rode by Lake Pend Oreille, an unexpectedly huge lake, and then, for several hours, along the Pend Oreille River, a large tributary of the mighty Columbia River, the largest river in the Pacific Northwest, "with a drainage basin roughly the size of France," which we will cross later on the trip.


So roll on, Columbia, roll on
Green Douglas firs where the waters cut through
Down her wild mountains and canyons she flew
Canadian Northwest to the oceans so blue
Roll on Columbia, roll on

Woody Guthrie, from Roll On Columbia

Lake Pend Oreille

At one point, we stopped to stretch somewhere along the Pend Oreille River and, as we contemplated the view, Al's battery was quietly discharging - he had left his lights on.  Getting back on the bikes and ready to go, suddenly Al let out a number of Very Bad Words, which I can not reveal here, lest his family be shocked!  Most fortunately, we had stopped on a slight incline and we were able to get the bike started the old-fashioned way - Tom and I pushed, Al got a little speed up, put the bike in second gear, popped the clutch, and off we went.

Tom at the Pend Oreille River, while Al's Battery Discharged

Soon after the river stop, we pulled into the next town to gas up, then we were ready, finally, for a nice, long ride after a series of stops for various and sundry reasons; leaving the gas station, however, with Al in the lead, he immediately goes straight across the road, and stopped in front of another building - driven, as he was, by his unerring nose for.........ice cream!

Al with His Ice Cream.....

....and Tom with His

The greatest pleasure of the trip has been having an extended period of time with Al, the duration of which far exceeds any opportunity we've had to be together for many years, certainly, since I left San Diego to move to Portland, Oregon in 1978, eventually, moving to New England, where Rachel and I lived for 26 years, prior to relocating to Vancouver, BC in the summer of 2009.  

Time and distance combined for just occasional get-togethers, but not for such a stretch of time.  We've always enjoyed each other's company and contact via telephone but it's nice to have the luxury of time together, even if for a short time.  Laughter is always present when we're together, which manages to ease the tensions of life, and we've been able to reminisce a bit about our younger lives together.


This trip sparked remembrances of a previous road trip we took together, in the summer of 1971, the duration of which - confidently planned up through California, Oregon, Washington, across Canada, down to Connecticut and, then, west across the U.S. - ended, rather ignominiously, with a blown engine in my 1960s Volkswagen van (30hp!) in Eugene, Oregon, where we wiled away our time, while the mechanics drained our "bankroll," by watching the recently released Planet of the Apes.  We limped back to San Diego.  We hope to complete this trip with no such mechanical similarities.


On that trip, at one point we were driving at night, and it was quite warm, so we decided to turn the side screen windows - small, operable windows in front of the door window, that pivoted so you could get air movement inside the car without having to fully open the window - so that wind was directed directly on us (no air conditioning back in Those Olden Days).  Within a few miles, however, we drove through a massive ball of tiny insects, many millions of which, then, entered the car, caught and directed into our faces, via the open and turned screens.  We pulled over.  Quickly.  Ah, memories!

Al and Joe

While today's ride, through the first parts of Route 20, has been less dramatic than many of the places we have gone through, it was not without it's pleasures of gentle rolling hills, green farming areas, and a ray of sun on the landscape - of which Tom, waving his arms and stopping, pointed out that I should take a photo.  Tomorrow, and the following day in particular, we'll be traveling through the heart of the Northern Cascade Mountains which, I'm sure, will afford us plenty of dramatic land forms and vistas. 

A Farming Valley with a Ray of Sunshine on the Landscape.....



    

           ...and the Ever-present Mountains

At one of the rest stops today, we had a view within what was, 30 years ago, a huge fire, the remnants of which are manifested in the remaining, black, mostly branchless, tree trunks, with the new trees growing densely as far as we could see.  It was here that Tom and I brought up a Trip Event Which Cannot be Revealed (due to the very strict Code of the Guy Trip), about which, Tom and I were convulsed with laughter....at Al's expense!

Al and Tom at a Rest Stop

Tom, Convulsed with Laughter.......

.....and Wiping Away a Tear

When we finally found tonight's campground, we pulled up to the entry office, signed in and payed the overnight fee; we were surprised to see that they felt the necessity of an actual swing gate.  Once we paid, they opened the gate bar, and Tom and I drove through;  just as Al was driving through, however, they decided that this was the appropriate time to close the gate....on his head!  Fortunately, he had his helmet on, as the wooden gate shattered and broke off on impact with the helmet.  The next morning, we rode back to the gate and staged a reenactment, with Al, sans helmet.

The Gate Incident: a Re-enactment

The Offending Gate: a Detail

The campground, as it turned out, was really set up for RV vehicles, not tent campers, and each camp site was gravel, rather than the grass we were accustomed to from previous camp stops.  Thank god for air mattresses and tired bodies - we had no problems with sleep!

Al and Joe, Setting Up Camp on the Gravel

Tonight, on a clear, moonless night, the stars are in their full glory and summer denseness, and we lie in our tents as the spinning and hurtling Earth, in its place within the Milky Way,  revolves around our Sun, one of 300 billion or so within this galaxy.  For some, there is insignificance in that consideration, but I am ever-appreciative to have the capacity to wonder at those things around us – close and far, far away – and consider such musing as one of the privileges of life as we know it.