SME 8.9 – The Spring Shakedown
The Plan
What plan? There was
no plan. The week before the week of the
event I broached the subject at home. It
didn't go over well with Linda but it didn't bomb either. There was hope. Eventually we worked it out and I got the
time off from work. The actual plan was
to have the bike ready to go by Tuesday evening so I could leave immediately
after work on Wednesday, ride two long days and arrive at Burr Oak late Friday.
Tuesday night the bowling league banquet ran long, extremely
long. No time was left for sleep and
preparations, like packing. I decided to
sleep and pack just before leaving. On
Wednesday I realized that wasn't a good plan either so also took off Wednesday
afternoon. I finished packing and headed
out about 3:30 pm pacific daylight time for parts east.
The Ride East -
Wednesday, April 28, 2004
I had gassed up on Tuesday so I started with full tanks,
main and auxiliary. I hit Oregon highway 22 and traveled with the flow toward the Santiam Pass,
Sisters, and Bend. Traffic was relatively light and when the
opportunity presented I made roll on passes of any slow goers. At Bend
I headed for US-20 towards Burns and Vale.
Traffic was almost non-existent as the green western hills of the
Cascades gave way to the brown and barren high desert of Central Oregon. It is spring time and here and there green
patches amid the earth tones proved it.
In Burns I gassed up as I knew I did not have quite enough
to make Vale. Out of Burns there is a
long 20 mile straight before the road bends 90 degrees left and makes for the
first of several high desert mountain passes.
Soon the first couple of passes were behind me and the Malheur river
valley was company and diversion as the meandering river necessitated a meandering
and twisty US-20 along its banks. The
fun peters out as you approach Vale, a longtime farming and ranching community,
and the road straightens out. Past Vale
I turned north away from US-20 to make the quick jaunt around Ontario to pick up I-84 east. By now it was getting dark as I hit the
entrance ramp on I-84.
As the night progressed I began to tire, quite a bit more
rapidly than I had planned on. I had
intended to ride all night at close to BBG miles to make the second day short
and sweet but my body and brain would have none of it as my attention began to
wane. At Mountain Home, Idaho
I stopped once more for gas and phoned home.
I told Linda I had decided to hole up and get some much needed rest and
start out again early in the morning. It
was just about 10:30 and I had ridden for seven hours.
I also figured to have a clearer handle on prospective
routes and weather along those routes.
The low pressure system and cold front that had plagued Oregon and Washington
was now farther east with snow and high winds forecast for the Rockies and points east.
I did not relish that prospect on I-80 so had planned an alternate route
south through Salt Lake City to US-6 to pick up I-70 toward Colorado where I
hoped the mountain weather, farther south, would be less severe.
The Ride East -
Thursday and Friday, April 29, 2004
I woke early after too short a rest, really later than I
wanted as it would be daylight real soon, and once again took off east on
I-84. I did not gas up but rather ran
until I was nearly empty on the gas from Burns.
That gave me the opportunity for an early gas stop where I could get
something that would suffice for breakfast.
Burley was the town, a Starbucks mocha frappacino and Reese's peanut
butter cups were the breakfast.
By now it was broad daylight and my worst fears were
realized. Even here in the lowlands of Idaho there was snow
evident on the ground. As I neared Ogden, Utah
for the turn east to catch I-80 the mountains were showing clear signs of fresh
snow. The air was cold too as blown snow
was still stuck to road signs making many difficult to read. The pavement remained dry and clear.
In Ogden I stopped at a
Flying J truck stop and queried half a dozen drivers about road conditions on
I-80 in Wyoming. Of the three that spoke English none had
crossed that way. What to do, what to
do? I decided to continue on I-84 to the
junction with I-80. If by then it was
too nasty I would catch I-80 west back to Salt Lake
and head for US-6 and I-70.
As it was the road continued to remain dry and clear. I made the transition to I-80 and started the
long climb into the Wasatch and Rockies. Did I mention it was cold and the wind was
blowing hard? As I continued eastward
the flurries began and the pavement got wet and wetter. In Evanston,
the first notable Wyoming
city with gas, I stopped to take on a full fuel load and pull out my Gerbing
gloves. My jacket was already on over a
thermal shirt and t-shirt. I also had on
a neck gaiter to keep the cold wind from seeping in around my helmet, neck, and
jacket. The clerk in the convenience
store mentioned a hill thirty miles out that was giving the truckers some
problems but otherwise the highway remained open.
By this time the snow was pounding sideways, not in flakes but
fine round granules that stung when landing on exposed skin driven hard by the
wind. The days before had been warm and
no snow was sticking to the road surface, yet.
I left Evanston
committed, either I would make it or I would not, and if not I would have to
ride it out in a motel.
Back on the interstate and thirty miles down the road, sure
enough, there was a hill covered in dirty brown slush but truckers were no
longer having problems. I stuck to the
ruts and had no trouble either. The
biggest problem for me was the wind and the trucks themselves. The spray they produced covered
everything. It wasn't long before the
front of the FJR was covered in rippled, dirty, brown, ice a quarter of an inch
thick and growing. The same was true of
my helmet and gear. I had to wipe my
face shield to clear the ice build-up but it was growing around the edges and
my field of vision grew narrower as the ice continued to clear only in the
center. At one point my toes started to
get cold and I looked down to see a large, icy brown toe cap on each boot. A quick dip to the pavement knocked that off
nicely but my shield continued to be a problem as did the wind. Bridges and over passes were also problematic
as the slush had frozen to icy ridges dangerous to cross except the crosswinds
kept blowing me there.
This was I-80 all the way to Laramie.
Outside Laramie you climb once again
before heading downhill to Cheyenne. At the top low hanging clouds produced foggy
conditions that had me looking for ice on the road way as the fog froze and
added to the dirty brown icy layers. Cheyenne could not come
too soon. Fortunately, as elevation
dropped the fog remained at a higher altitude and in Cheyenne the worst was over, or so I
thought. As the air temperatures climbed
above freezing the trucks that had been spraying me now started to drop their
icy bombs collected as fender and under carriage icebergs. Dodging those big, bad boys became my number
one goal and I did not see the last of them until I was well into Nebraska. In Nebraska I
finally began to relax and loosen the tension in my neck and shoulders that had
been building riding through Wyoming.
Nebraska. I -hate- Nebraska.
It has to be the second longest and second most boring interstate ride
next to Texas. I have ridden it both ways at least once each
year on I-80 since taking up LD riding.
I hate Nebraska.
This time Nebraska
was nice. Compared to Wyoming it was a virtual vacation. There were no ripping, hailing
thunderstorms. There was not the usual
driving cross-wind. I did not ride
across the state at an angle less than vertical. I made good time and was feeling good. I made Lincoln
just after dark and headed to Omaha and soon
crossed into Iowa.
In Iowa, some forty miles
past Council Bluffs,
I made a late night gas stop and phoned home.
I let Linda know I was going to continue and took a short break munching
on trail mix and drinking from my jug.
Back on the road I continued all night and made Davenport
where my route turned south on I-74 toward Galesburg
and Peoria and then east toward Indianapolis. Together my FJR and I crossed the mighty Mississippi as it became
misty and drizzled. As it became wetter
I stopped at rest area to don my rain gear.
Until now it had not been necessary.
At Galesburg
I stopped for gas again and noticed that the backrest attached to my seat was
getting loose. I fiddled with it and it
came off in my hands. In the trunk it
went. The FJR felt weird to ride without
the backrest but I soon became accustomed and no longer noticed it
missing. By Peoria it was starting to get light and the
rain was letting up but the cloud cover was not promising so I left the rain
gear on.
In Indianapolis
I left I-74 to pick up I-70 and stopped for gas east of the city on I-70 just
after it had begun to rain again.
Leaving the station and jumping back on the interstate the rain had
increased and was now coming down hard.
I have to say that the Avon ST45 and 46 tires mounted on the FJR are the
best I have ever experienced in the rain.
Never a feeling of hydro-planing or any other loss of control; they
handle wet pavement extremely well. It
was so wet and raining so hard that passing semis was a trick. I had to line up in the passing lane so I
could see up ahead and make sure the way was clear and then blast through the
truck spray as quickly as I could to clear the front. On the way past I could see nothing except
water.
It rained like this clear into Columbus and on south as I made the turn onto
US-33. Traffic on 33 was incredibly
heavy until past Lancaster
when it cleared out some. The rain
however, continued. In Nelsonville I
picked up Ohio
78 and followed it until the turn for Burr Oak where I quickly found the maggot
camp. I pulled in just after two o'clock
in the afternoon on Friday.
Burr Oak - Friday,
April 30, 2004
Only a few maggots were in evidence and not one I
recognized. It didn't matter. Soaked to the skin through my rain -and-
riding gear I was in no mood for camping even though my tent and bag were
packed. Stopping at a cabin with humans
close by I asked about floor or porch space in the dry. A couple folks in cabin 15 said, "How
about a bed?" Sold! That is how I met Uncle Ben and Bernie from Plains City, Ohio. A couple of the nicest people you could meet
anywhere.
After some minutes of introductions and BS I began to unpack
and transfer gear to the front porch staging area before actually moving
in. My wet gear was first off and
eventually hung on a line in the back screened porch to dry. Dinner plans were discussed with some going
to the lodge. Ben fired up the grill and
Bernie produced some hamburger and soon sounds and smells of cooking meat
filled the moist air. I was hungry
having not had a "real" meal all day.
Before long I was scarfing a burger, brat, and potato salad. Inside Bernie had laid out veggies and dip
which filled my second plate. There was
not enough to feed everyone but more than enough for a large percentage of the
group.
A few beers later and much sniffing/BS-ing it was time to
hit the bed to rest up for tomorrow's tour of the local countryside.
Burr Oak -
Saturday, May 1, 2004
Saturday morning showed up quickly. Voices in the circle outside woke me sometime
around 7:00am. My turn in the bathroom
came and a shower sure felt good. I was
glad I had limited my intake on Friday night so my brain was functioning
without pain this morning. Lo and behold
it was also dry and sunny.
At one of the other cabins it looked like riding plans were
being mapped out. Wyn was serving up
breakfast in another cabin. Not much of
a breakfast person on this day I skipped it.
Groups began to form and Phil asked if I had an Ohio map.
I did but did not highlight any particular route and at Phil's
suggestion decided to ride with him. I
figured who but perhaps Russell and KB knew the local roads as well.
After a false start or two a large group left the park with
Katherine in the lead with Phil and I and others buried in the pack. We rode this way for a spell and then Phil,
Joey, and I split off as we picked up the pace a bit. The larger group seemed to swell and coalesce
but included, at times, Katherine, Dave Morrow, Mike Walt, Lori Lovejoy, Jack
Hunt, Curt Coulter, and Marcus riding Katharine’s TDM.
We stopped at direction changes and again at the Stockport mill where we toured inside to look at turbines
and power generating equipment. I took
several photos that I would later lose.
Across the bridge was an opportunity for gas that some took. Don't even ask me where we were as I was just
following and not really paying attention to the map. We did end up on Ohio Rt. 7 somewhere north
of New Matamoras and cut back on Ohio Rt. 800 toward our lunch time stop in
Woodsfield.
In Woodsfield we met back up with Katherine’s group at the
local Subway where we chowed down.
Hunger had set in hard and I ordered a foot long sub which nicely
included all of the food groups. After
lunch a couple of VFR groups rode by for a couple of photo ops. I snapped a picture of one group and my Olympus camera seemed to lock up. It would not respond to any buttons and the
last picture I took remained framed in the view finder. After several minutes of this I pulled the
batteries and “rebooted” although I could not find a Windows logo anywhere.
After powering up again the camera gave me two options,
format the memory card or power off. Now
up to this point I had taken over a hundred megabytes of pictures. I was not about to format this memory
chip. I took it out and swapped for a
128 megabyte card I had as a spare hoping to recover pictures from the original
card at some later point. (Sadly this
was not to be and I lost all pictures up until lunch.)
After lunch we saddled up and headed out for more twisty fun
eventually winding our way to the Big Muskie dragline bucket and another photo
op. I also discovered here that it was
my large can of Plexus in my tank bag that had been doing all the horn
honking. A quick trade of my used big
can to Phil for a smaller can and I was no longer honking my horn with my
tankbag on sharp left turns. We spent
time checking out the small park and the surrounding, former open pit strip
mine, reclaimed countryside.
By now it was becoming late Saturday afternoon and once on
the road again we made for the barn in haste.
Phil and I quickly separated from the rest of the group and enjoyed an
even more spirited pace back to Burr Oak.
The last pavement bits really got my grin working as we pulled in at the
park and up to the cabins. I immediately
thanked Phil for acting as tour guide before shucking my gear for the more
relaxed atmosphere of a maggot social gathering.
The next several hours were spent with typical carousing and
story telling. Before long dinner plans
were discussed and a decision to grocery shop and cook up a big spaghetti feed
was made. As the groceries appeared the cry
went out for cooking pots for sauce and pasta and the preparations began. At the same time Ray was offering rides on
his Suzuki and Chuck a ride on his R1. I
asked Phil if he was interested in test riding the FJR, dumb question, and off
he went. Upon his return his grin was
only slightly larger than my own.
Soon dinner was served in the common area at the end of the
road. Picnic tables were heisted and
placed end to end to hold food and libations.
There was spaghetti with meat and meatless sauce, salad, and garlic bread
as well as drinks of all sorts. Thanks
to all that had a hand in the preparation, no one went away hungry. Russell had shown up with his bottle of
solvent masquerading as alcohol after having visiting and polluting the VFR
folks. Several maggots tried the evil
swill much to their own chagrin.
The weatherman had been threatening rain most of the day and
around midnight it finally broke loose a little bit. Most having some distance
to ride in the morning were turning in for the night. I stayed up way to late talking to Ben and
his friend Mike Kelly before finally dropping of around 2:00 am.
Burr Oak - Sunday,
May 2, 2004
Sunday dawned colder and grayer, just plain rainy and
wet. Several small groups were gone by
the time my feet hit the floor but I was still up by 7:00 am. Most folks were making ready to hit the road
and after my turn in the shower I was also.
Check out time was 10:00 am and Ben, Bernie, and Mike were scheduling
their departure for that hour. I was
also going to hit the road at the same time.
Originally I had planned on using Sunday to ride east to Pittsburgh and photograph
the old homesteads and neighborhoods but the situation at home demanded that I
high-tail it west. With the FJR fully
loaded and with my gear and rain gear all in place I hit the road at 10:06 am.
The Ride West – Sunday
May 2, 2004
I headed out retracing my earlier route to Burr Oak, 78 to
Nelsonville and US-33 northwest to Columbus. In Columbus, the
rain still falling steadily, I jumped onto I-270 for the run around Columbus to I-70 west. I gassed up and filled both tanks shortly
before connecting with I-70 so I was good to go quite a few miles. Traffic appeared to be lighter than Friday
and by the time I was west of Springfield and Dayton the rain was
tapering off and the highway was beginning to dry in spots.
Indianapolis
came and went and after transitioning to I-74 west the interstate remained
relatively free of heavy traffic.
Ominous clouds hung low on the route ahead and I did get soaked to later
dry while riding under several thunderstorm cells. Later in the afternoon, just after the most
recent gully washer, I stopped in Bloomington
to gas up, phone home, and get a bite at a nearby KFC. I told Linda on the phone that I would most
likely ride until sometime after dark, find a room, and leave again early in
the morning. The chicken went a long way
to upping my comfort level and I rode off feeling like I could ride a fair
distance before stopping again.
I was making good time and soon Peoria,
Galesburg, the Mississippi,
and Davenport
were behind me as I pointed west on I-80.
Iowa City was also left behind and Des Moines was next up
and another gas stop somewhat west of the city.
By now it was dark and I began looking for a likely room. Super 8 was the choice and I stopped for the
night in a little town, probably Adair, but I don’t remember the name. According to the desk clerk it was to be
clear and warm in the morning but cold and freezing overnight so I decided to
unload what I needed and cover the bike for the night. I set the alarm for 4:30 in the morning, a
quick shower, a glance at the weather channel, and I was out like a light.
The Ride West – Monday
May 3, 2004
The desk clerk was right!
Oversleeping a bit and peeking out the window at daylight I could see
the frost settled on the plants and bushes around the motel. It was cold!
Already later than I had intended I loaded up quickly and hit the
road. Right away it became apparent that
I should have put on my electric gloves in addition to my jacket. Hopefully the sun would rise and heat things
up quickly as I did not want to stop. I
had gassed up the night before just before stopping so I had plenty of gas to
make it well into Nebraska. Council Bluffs
and Omaha were up fairly quickly and early
morning traffic into Omaha
was heavy but flowing steadily. Lincoln traffic was light
and while passing the city a group of fast moving cars went by onto which I
became the caboose. Contrary to the
eastern ride, as the temperatures climbed, the ever present Nebraska wind became a force to reckon
with. Many miles were laid down as I
wore the tires somewhat away from the center of the tread.
One Nebraska gas stop later
and I was crossing into Wyoming
where I stopped at Scotts Bluff for more gas and lunch. My plan for Monday was to get through Wyoming before dark and
this gas stop would get me most of the way.
By now the temperatures had climbed and were quire pleasant. Off came the electric jacket and neck gaiter
as I started off again. Wyoming was windy but
the roads were dry and clear. The most
annoying thing was the amount of road construction, miles and miles of it, with
reduced speeds and two-way traffic.
As the afternoon waned fatigue became a factor and I passed
by Rock Springs to pull up in Green
River for more gas and a break.
At this point my Streetpilot puts my ETA at home at some time before
6:00 am and I started to think about riding all night even though I was feeling
it a bit. I did not phone home on this
stop telling Linda previously that I would not call until the next stop. Leaving Green River I headed out toward Evanston and the last bit of Wyoming
before beginning the descent into Utah
and the junction with I-84.
In Utah, around the Devil’s Slide, a couple of fast moving
sport bikes fly by and me and the loaded FJR tag on the back until they exited
north of Ogden. I had enough fuel to
make Snowville just south of the Idaho
border. I stopped again for gas, food,
and a quick call home. I have a habit of
stopping in the daylight, just at dusk, to leave again after dark. This stop was no different. I took the opportunity to clean bugs off my
headlights and driving lights as well as rear signals and running lights. I-84 in south eastern Idaho is fairly desolate with many “ranch
only” exits with no services or nearby towns.
There is also very little traffic but deer populations are high and I
kept the speed down and used extra lighting when possible while I scanned for
critters. Once past Burley I-84 becomes
a drone as I just sat and twisted hoping the miles would roll away quickly.
Usually I get off I-84 in Ontario, OR
and ride south to pick up US-20. This
night I am tired and through with the interstate so elect to jump off I-84 in
Caldwell and pick up US-20 there. My
intention is to gas up in Idaho using self-service
before crossing into Oregon
the land of no self-service. With an
urgent need to use the rest room I spy a convenience station with pumps on but
store closed, I stop anyway. My usual
practice is to fill the cell and move the nozzle to the main tank while
clicking down the slow stop on the handle while I replace the cap on the
cell. Normally I then grab the handle to
finish filling the main tank. Tonight I
go for a towel and with my back turned a gasoline geyser erupts from my main
tank. WTF! The handle has not shut off! A river of gas is now dousing my FJR and
running and puddling on the pavement below.
Grabbing the handle to shut it down I am thankful the store is not open
and that it is not broad daylight.
Washing the tank in soapy water I replace the tankbag and push the bike
some 50 feet away from the pump to drip dry.
My urgent need has vanished. I
mount up and start the bike and vanish myself into the night.
Outside of Vale my urgent need returns and I pull off the
side of the road to relieve it. Traffic
on US-20 is almost non-existent and the night air is clear and cold and growing
colder. In the daylight this section,
between Vale and Juntura, is great fun as the road twists and turns following
the Malheur River.
Before long I am into Juntura and through headed for Burns. By the time I reach Burns I am fairly
burnt. I stop for gas even though I don’t
need any just to unwind and refresh. I
am very surprised to find an all night station and store in Burns and am glad
as the stop does me some good. On the
way out of town the local constabulary shoots me with radar until I am
completely out of range.
It is now early Tuesday morning and I really begin to
fade. Riley Junction seems to take
forever even though it’s only about 20 miles from Burns. My speed drops although this is the central Oregon desert called the
Oregon Outback by the state and the roads are long and straight, the only
concern being the forest rats. Soon even
my own lane is not big enough and I find a wide spot and pull off for some
rest. I sit in the saddle and lay my
head across my arms on the tankbag.
Lights out. 45 minutes later a
passing car wakes me and I head west once more.
It’s amazing how refreshing a short nap can be. I am steady in my lane and traveling at a
more reasonable speed as I begin eating the miles to home. The temperature has really dropped and in
Brothers I stop to fish out my electric gloves.
Next stop home.
The miles to Bend pass and I
head for Sisters and the Santiam
Pass and the Santiam
Junction where I leave US-20 for OR-22.
As I clear the pass the full moon is replaced by masses of clouds which
don’t open up until I am back to the flat lands west of Mill City. Stayton is only a few miles away and I don’t
bother with rain gear. Its a few minutes
after 6:00 am on Tuesday when I pull into the garage.
Total ride time is a bit under 48 hours for the ride west. Total mileage is real close to 5500 for the
trip. My FJR is sporting 44,184 miles as
it sits in the garage and is now 19 months and 2 weeks in my possession.
Post Ride - Friday,
May 7, 2004
Thanks to everyone who had a hand in making SME 8.9 such a
great success. This was the largest
gathering of sabmaggots I have ever attended and it
was great to meet folks I’ve only read or read about. It was also really excellent to see folks I
have not seen in several years, since SME 6.0 in fact. If there is any way I can make this ride next
year I certainly will. Any who deign to
ride to or visit the west coast or Oregon
have a place to stay and a tour guide, just look me up.
dougc
