Where in the West are SLOVFR and Reg71

[reg71]

Good to know you're still with us, ya had me going there for a while. not like you to be so quiet.

yeah, I'm here. I typed up chapter one, but I haven't put it together with pics yet. I'm gonna see what I can do tomorrow after work if I'm not too beat...

[reg71]

Preface - It's time again. Come to Reg's world and sit back while we take a ride. This ride will consist of multiple parts breaking the days apart to keep it manageable. I'll try to keep my facts fairly factual and my times fairly timely, but let's not forget literary license.

Shall we?

here's the map from day 1


Chapter 1 - How About a Smoke?

It was a good day. Any day that you get to ride is, though. We were not being rushed. The next nine days were to be whatever we wanted. The anticipation of the last month was propelling us towards the trip of a lifetime.
After a few trips uptown to grab this and that we finally jumped on the bikes and got a quick pic to capture the moment. We were eager to get on the road and see what we could see. Personally, I had been looking forward to this journey for more than two years as I gazed at pictures from RVFR of roads that had not been tamed by me. Sure he had laid them down a few times, but it just not the same as me putting my own stamp on them.


here's Brian cruising by on hwy 41


Day one finds us on highway 41 heading north and east. The temp is warm but it's not that noticeable when you are just starting a trip and as excited as Newton being hit with an apple. Tooling right along at a brisk but never dangerous pace due to the enhanced load trial we are performing on our bikes simultaneously takes us probably fifty miles or so before out first small snag. Apparently neither of us (nor the GPS) knew of construction along hwy 41. Not so bad in an air conditioned car, a little tougher dressed in black leather sitting on a bike when the temps are rapidly crossing the 100 degree mark. At some point while waiting, I am fairly certain I saw Lucifer run bay saying, "It's too damned hot and I'm going inside." Anyway, after a while longer sitting on the bikes baking our family jewels, the highway crew moved us on at a brisk fifteen miles per hour. Joy.

Eventually, we made our way to our first of many refueling stops. Up to this point, attitudes remain positive and things are going well. It's a little warm, but that's a given in CA in the summer. After stretching and talking for a bit, we venture onto I-5.
Ahh, I-5. What can I tell you about I-5? Well, for one, it smells. Now granted, I like steak as much as the next carnivore, but let me tell you that Harris Ranch (famous for quality beef) is not the most pleasing place on earth to smell. In fact the aromas coming from that place inspire anything but appetite. I will have to estimate at this point, but I'm gonna say you could smell that place from something like 20-30 light years away. The methane emissions from there alone if captured are said to be sufficient to power three shuttle missions to Mars.


Moving on. We slab it all the way up to Sacramento we encounter the first of many cases where the GPS decides that logic makes no sense so we can just take some random route that takes us eventually to the same place we were going anyway. We stopped in to visit my sister-in-law who lives (I kid you not) a few minutes from the highway. The GPS (a Garmin btw) decides that a scenic trip through the, shall we say, less affluent part of town would give us a tad of variety to start the trip. Eventually, we made our way to our destination where we visited for a bit and then headed out. Before leaving, Stacy (my sister-in-law) was kind enough to give us the directions for a shortcut to get back on I-5 past some construction that had a section of it closed down. Unbeknownst to her, the city police dept had decided that we really didn't need to go that way and redirected us back into downtown Sacramento where we proceeded to circle like vultures on roadkill until we eventually stumbled our way back to I-5 and continued on our trek.


More fuel stops and more and more slab. The communicators help to kill the boredom. Not much worth seeing here. For those of you who have not ridden the area between Sac and Red Bluff, don't. It's God awful boring. It may be the worst stretch of slab with the exception of the entire state of Kansas (sorry to anyone uh fortunate enough to live in Kansas).


Up to this point, we have seen the occasional areas of charred brush but nothing too major. Many of you have seen the headlines of our recent trials by fire I am sure. Well, once extinguished, it doesn't look like much, but when we made our way to northern california, the smoke became evident. Even though the sun was still fairly high in the sky, we were able to gaze directly at it through the filter of haze provided by the numerous fires attempting to consume northern CA.


We continue on. Supper time finds us in Weed, CA. After fueling up the bikes, we find a local joint to grab a quick bite and try and move on to our goal of Crater Lake. To those of you following our saga, much of this will not be new. Brian has already given you a heads up. While sitting down and just about to start cutting into our prime rib special, another restaurant patron walks in uttering those words that you all dread, "I think some lady just backed into someone's motorcycle out front." I pretended not to hear and quickly sliced off a piece of beef. After all, it couldn't be me. I parked more than 4 ft behind the car nearest me. You'd have to be blind not to see my fire enigine red 98 VFR sitting there, right? Well, now might be the time for Stevie Wonder to reapply for a driver's license because apparently CA is friendly to the handicapped when it comes to driving. Visual capability not necessary. Come one, come all. Yes, that's right. She did it. She backed into my bike. Now, accidents can happen. I understand that, but did she have to keep backing until my bike went over on the left (over the kickstand) and fell into Brian's bike? We are standing there and I'm going over the steps in my head. Okay, we have her insurance. Do we need the cops? We are trying to make it somewhere tonight. Is this good enough. Damn, I'm hungry.
Anyway, finish eating and move on down the road. We make our way out of CA and into OR. My first time ever in OR by the way. Yeah. By this time, my ass is numb, my wrist is numb, my back hurts, and my mind is numb. I don't realize we are in Oregon until later the rest stop when Brian says, "Didn't you see the 'Welcome to Oregon sign?'"

here's Brian taking a gander at a map at the rest stop(a rare occasion for GPS boy. I had to show him how to hold it and explain why it didn't talk)

"Nope" says I while I ponder the possibility of camping right here at the rest area. Did I mention I was tired? Anyway after a couple soft drinks and some debate about the feasibility of camping at any given place, we headed back out to the road. Ugh. After the GPS taking us on another tour of another unknown town before us finally noticing a sign to drag us into the KOA campground in Klamath Falls we roll in to take a look at the campground. To those of you who know me, this will come as no surprise, but here it is. I am a cheap bastard. This is day one of nine. Twenty-eight dollars for a mediocre (at best) campground in the middle-of-nowhere Falls sounds a bit excessive to me. My suggestion is to keep on keeping on. By this time we are in some weird zone where normal pain thresholds no longer exist so Brian easily agrees. We continue on thinking of heading to some campground near Fort Klamath. (For those not paying attention OR state law requires that anything south of crater lake near 97 or 197 include Klamath in the name, you can look it up). Somewhere in the Twilight Zone Brian notices a city park called Hegelstein Park and we think, "Why not." We roll in and prepare the campsite in about 10 minutes in pitch dark. Now, while the site appears quite scenic, the ambience leaves a little to be desired when the train goes by. Not to mention the continuous hum of the diesel engines cruising by to deliver whatever needs to be time delivered to northern OR atfter 11 pm. (read drugs) (<--- just a theory of course wink wink).
Brian hooks me up with a set of ear plugs, and that coupled with the hours of slab time suffice to send me to a state of oblivion unattainable by most mere mortals. I sleep like a babe wrapped in his favorite blanket.



Stay tuned for Chapter Two or 'Hey You're Taking The Display Eggs!'

[SLOVFR]

Good Job Reg, you are catching right up to were I left off.... Ill add pics and my commentary as we go on.... By the way I must commend Reg as a riding and camping partner. I think we were working well together and he was patient with my slow pace to get going at any given notice ;)

[derstuka]

Great stuff Reg....keep it coming.

[R.W.]

Epic ride guys! I wish everybody who rides a VFR could experience a well planed out road trip, the memories and comradery last forever, often when I reflect on my year in review, the motorcycle road trip is among my best memories

[reg71]

Chapter 2 - "Hey, you are taking my display eggs!"

map of our route day 2



Ahh, the peaceful slumber that one can only achieve after a grueling day on the bike
gawking at countless trees, scenic vistas, passers-by and what have you. No sugar plums dancing in my head.

"I'll probably wake up sometime around sun-up as usual." I say the night before. But alas this was not to be. No this night I sleep like a newborn babe swaddled in blankets upon its mothers chest.

That is until I hear, "Crack of dawn, my ass." Ah, let me tell you it was a glorious
awakening whereupon I decided I might have to make the rest of the journey alone because it might be too difficult for Brian to ride with his helmet placed where his head usually is. (sidenote: if you are having difficulty with figuring that last bit out, please post a public message so you can be ridiculed) (just kidding. don't be a pansy)
Those of you following our saga remember we camped out near Klamath Falls and waking up to roaring semi-trucks and somewhere in the neighborhood of 1.25 trillion bugs per square inch. In fact, I no longer wonder why there aren't many bugs where I live in CA cause I now know they have migrated up to OR and live there near Klamath Falls patiently waiting to display the Kamikaze like courage on Hwy 197 (or is it 97...like it even matters).


This is my first trip to Oregon and I mean to enjoy it. I have been told not to miss
Crater Lake. It is a must see. Nothing like it anywhere. That's destination one. But
first, coffee. Those of you who are coffee drinkers will understand. If you are not, then
kiss my ass cause I haven't had my coffee yet and I don't have time to explain.
Ok, camp is struck for the first of several times on this trip. About an hour after my
most gentle "Crack of my ass" awakening, I'm sitting on my bike wondering if molasses courses through the veins of my most torpid companion. Apparently, I'm not the only one who needs coffee. I digress. We get back on the road and lazily glide along the road in the general direction of Crater Lake with the hope that some form of dining establishment will present itself along the way. Our requirements are not high. A sign with EAT painted on it in red will suffice as long as the door is open and the coffee is hot. Apparently the booming tourist industry that flocks to Crater Lake flocks from a different direction than we chose (or the way chosen by several proprieters of the now defunct restaurants along our path for that matter).

this would have been fine:



We wind our way up a scenic road through some towns that often look one step from
desertion. Husks of buildings, cars forgotten and the like. The one absent
thing...people. Not many people. Almost eerie. I chalk it up to being early, but it's
really not that early. Anyway, we keep moving. Stop once for a quick look into a canyon and wave to the hippie love van at the little campground in the forest we recently entered and then keep moving. We make our way to the standard "Tourists are idiots and will buy this crap" store/restaurant that sits just before the Crater Lake pay kiosk and practically fall from our bikes and trip over each other trying to get inside to the first "OPEN" sign we have seen this morning. It has been over an hour and no coffee and no idea of when we'll have breakfast. I have already resorted to the hearty granola bars I threw in the bag at the last minute which hold me over for all of one minute per bar. I need grease! I'm from the south dammit!



All right! It's a breakfast buffet. We are quickly led to a booth and Brian promptly
informs said host that tips will be commensurate to the promptness of coffee refills.
Yeah, I think he actually said that word, but I'm quite sure he couldn't spell it. Lucky
for us, our waiter was a foreign exchange student apparently studying English. Oh joy! In actuality he was very nice and his English was better than most of my siblings. (That's not much a complement if you have met my siblings on my mother's side). Anyway, we ran to the buffet that was indicated by our sever and promptly began making plates. Now, being the pragmatic person that I am, I see four plates with eggs of different styles covered in plastic wrap under the heat lamp next to bacon, sausage, etc. I pick the one that looks most agreeable to me, tear off the plastic and begin adding other breakfast essentials to my plate. Brian, being the proverbial lemming in this particular escipade follows suit and we begin working our way down the line.
"Eh, hem. Excuse me... Sir."
"Excuse me, " we hear again. (The sir part through us off as we were looking for someone more important than us.) "Excuse me, but you are taking my display eggs."
Perhaps I should rekey that. "You are taking my display eggs."
Well, apparently in Oregon there is a big problem with people not know how to order egss so the think tank near Crater Lake came up with a brilliant solution, display eggs. That's right folks. You heard it here first. You don't have to say, "hmm, an omelette, what does that look like?" if you are dining at Crater Lake. No siree Bob. You just take a gander at the display eggs, then promptly call for the cookand point appropriately. Vocalization not even necessary although a grunt is never remiss. Now, I know what you are thinking (actually I don't but then again I don't know what I'm thinking half the time. I am a guy after all) why not stop me before I take the display eggs? Good question. My theory is that the cooks like to wait behind the kitchen door and take bets on who'll be the first person to take the display eggs and which ones they take. I don't know who bet on me, but I can tell you who lost. It was the larger than average slightly androgynous individual who mentioned something about taking the display eggs being "tacky". Me being the kind of guy I am, I try to keep the display eggs and eat them since the cook is gonna toss them anyway cause I ruined the plastic. Thank goodness Brian moves a little slower and those display eggs were snatched from his clutches before they could likewise be doomed to the ignominius end that my unfortunate eggs met.

Anyway, the rest of breakfast goes fairly smooth with the exception of pouring our own
coffee as our coffee cups obviously were taken from a child's prize tea set and our waiter didn't get the tip comment from Brian. We chat a bit with Hans or Ruprect or whatever from wherever,then settle the tab, and then work our way through the junk store...uh, I mean gift shop. No must-haves for me. Regardless, we make it to Crater Lake Kiosk and Brian pays his fee while I snap a quick pic for posterity (ok, really for you guys to see the cute girl at the booth, but for posterity, too).

<insert pic of cure girl here when brian gives me link to picture from his camera>

Than after he heads out and I collect the miscellaneous items he's dropping along the road along the way we make it to Crater Lake.What can I tell you about Crater Lake? Well, it is a big blue lake. That about sums it up. It is very beautiful. The water is very blue. Apparently that's what makes it famous. It's 5x6 miles so not huge. Avg depth of around 1100 ft so pretty darn deep.

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/8/8b/Crater_Lake_Pan_Giampaolo_20040717
_72_78.jpg/800px-Crater_Lake_Pan_Giampaolo_20040717_72_78.jpg

It is definitely something to see. It is one of those things I enjoyed seeing because now I have actually seen it with my own eyes. There is something to that for me. For me, many things do not fully exist until I have actually been there and experienced them personally.



Back to our illustrious travels. We head out from Crater Lake with the final destination
of Brian's brother place in The Dalles, OR. The Dalles I have never heard of, but I looked at the map and it didn't seem too far given how far we had travelled the day before. The weather was nice and we were not really in any pain at this point. Our communicators were on the frits so I could no longer hear Brian but he was still lucky enough to hear me occasionally at this point, I believe.
We work our way back over to 97 and proceed north all the way to Bend where we take a break and try to find a working communications solution. Brian picks up some Midland radios for a decent price at a place called Joe's that apparently is a pretty big sport goods chain I have never even heard of. It was a neat place to look around and kill some time, though. I got a couple bungees to help the tent stay in place. WE do a quick parking lot test and the radios are a little scratchy but seem ok. Once on the road we realize these radios are unacceptable but both of us suffer from that afflication common to men whereby turning around is akin to driving a red hot poker into one's own groin. Therefore we determined the most logical course of action was to keep on going.

North, north and north we proceed. Eventually 97 splits off and we follow the more
northerly 197 which will eventually take us to The Dalles. (Don't ask me about the name, I know it's weird. Try wikipedia.) 197 may be one of the most boring stretches of highway in the world. Okay, it's not really that bad, but it was the most boring on day 2. The noteable exception being the part where we worked our way down into a valley near Deschutes then crossed the river and back up the other side. That was a bright spot in a day about to get much dimmer.

After crossing the river and climbing out of the valley, the road gets long straight and
boring. Very little to see. The kind of roads where you just think about what comes after and don't think about how bad they suck if you can help it. Of course, we are talking about just coming from Crater Lake so it is a difficult comparison for most scenic places to stack up to. Brian tucks in and stretches his 4g out a bit. I'm starting to wonder a little about fuel. I checked on the last sign, though and I should make it to The Dalles ok. I hang back for a while just taking it easy but then start thinking we are getting pretty close to town and I have no idea where his brother lives so I should probably close the gap a bit. I reel him in a little and see the first oncoming traffic we have seen in a little while. A group of 2 or 3 cars led by a maroon ford contour. I glance quickly and start to accelerate but something strikes me funny about the contour. Lights near the rear view. "What the hell?" I think to myself.... The lights come on.

Now, ladies and gentleman. Here is moral dilemma time. I glance down and I am proceeding faster than the suggested 55 mph. He is going the opposite direction. Brian is still well ahead of me. First instinct, run like hell. He doesn't know me from Adam. Unless he has one hell of a Contour, he's history. Radios are pretty fast, though. I ride up to Brian, pat my helmet and point back. He's already caught back up to us. Hmm, I think maybe he is slightly exceeding a safe rate of speed for a Contour. Well, we pull over and the rest, as they say, is history. Suffice it to say that courtesy and a friendly demeanor will get you nowhere with Wasco County's finest near Dufur, OR (pop 583, no 584, no 583...you get the picture).


12 miles. That's how far from The Dalles. 12 miles. Well, day one my bike gets backed into. Day two, we get our awards.

Finally at Brian's brother Scott's place



What's waiting in the wings for Day 3? Stay tuned to find out...

Next up Chapter 3 or I-5 The Washington Parking Lot

[SLOVFR]

Pics of part 2:



Our Hot Park Ranger :)



Oregon Police Car - I guess this is what they look like Reg ?!?






And no wonder my gloves were blowing off. I now see them on the rear bag just laying there. I thought the Lake was a block away so I didnt bother to put them on and forgot about them. Reg picked them up as they blew off down the road....Thanks Reg! your the best ;)

[SLOVFR]

Reg forgot to mention that we wanted our monies worth so we took a scone each for the road. We didnt know that they, the cooks, would have the last laugh as the bottoms were burnt and not edible ......

[R.W.]

After reading day 2, being able to hear Reg's Missouri accent on "Getting up at the crack of dawn" & "The breakfast ordeal" makes it even funnier.

[RVFR]

This is great stuff, should be wrote up in a magazine.

[drewl]

Book. Write a book. Reg's Road Rages-Epic tales from the saddle of a VFR.
Heck, I'd buy one.

[RVFR]

I agree whole heartily

[SLOVFR]

Ok get off the can or I am going to have to start round three ......

[RVFR]

Yea, where's round 3 at? been waiting for some more good reading and photos, you haven't even got into the juicy stuff yet. so whats ya waiting for? ;)

[reg71]

Ok get off the can or I am going to have to start round three ......

Yea, where's round 3 at? been waiting for some more good reading and photos, you haven't even got into the juicy stuff yet. so whats ya waiting for? ;)

Been waiting to get through the BBQ Roundup. I haven't even glanced at my notes from Day 3 yet but I'll to to soon... maybe tonight if I get done with chores around here...

[drewl]

Where's drewl? I was lots of other places, but back in Susanville now.

[reg71]

Chapter 3



Yawn…stretch…Time to find some coffee. Ah, coffee, nectar of the gods. Strange the way something as simple as hot water run through some crushed up beans can seem to affect one positively in the morning.



Brian’s brother was up early, as was I. Brian, contrary to the day before was not awake and moaning, snorting, and initiating his daily ritual of bodily functions as of yet. I had a few minutes to enjoy my coffee and read a few posts on VFRWorld. Interesting trip, this. Some of you are following along, I read. Good. It is what I had hoped.

After an hour or so, the old man starts to move around a bit. All right, so I helped out a little by gently stating, “Wake the hell up, lazy ass.” Anyway, after knowing him for more than a year, I know that if I have any intention of leaving to ride in the next 3 hours, to get him going now. It’s still in the a.m. and if you get him going early he moves much better throughout the day. (more like warm molasses as compared to cold molasses running uphill.)

The night before we had made a joint executive decision to beg off on the trip up through northern Washington with RW and some other riders as the miles were wearing on us a bit and trying to make a quick blast up to Olympia in the early a.m. was sounding less and less like something we ought to do. That gave us the leeway to plan a casual ride like a couple tourists west across Oregon to take in a few sights along the Columbia River gorge.

Columbia River Gorge Visitors Association

Today looks to be a nice relaxing day of riding, seeing sights, and meeting new people. Little did we know how much time we’d get to relax once we got to Washington.



After munching on some breakfast at a local Denny’s we saddled up and headed west on I-84. It was a partly cloudy day and looked a bit ominous especially north and west of where we were. Not a good omen for those riders that were heading out in Washington at the same time we were in Oregon. (see thread) The riding was typical for an interstate although again I must iterate that I find Oregon speed limits ridiculous and downright nonsensical. This is a common theme for me while I am in Oregon. I’m beginning to believe that my grandma was the pilot subject for traffic studies in Oregon, and it was on a day when she had snorted benadryl and drank some warm milk, but I digress…

The road was certainly adequate and moved us westward in a steady if not brisk fashion. As most of you know, though, interstate riding in general does nothing to quiet the inner turmoil that keeps the traveler traveling. This little stretch of highway is very pleasing to the eye if not the reflexes, though, and we enjoy watching the scenery until we find a place to pull off and ‘do the tourist thing’.



We take a stop at Bonneville Dam. The day is still cloudy but still no tears from the gods for us two. We snap a few pics but only pause for a few minutes here. Given more time, it would have been an interesting place to take the tour and see the big fish and such. I think Brian even shot a little video of the strange river crossing on Dam Road (hehe he said dam road) riding along railroad tracks and gazing up at a part of the dam towering above us. At times I was forced to remember to put my eyes on the road in front of me rather than perusing all the sights.



Shortly past the dam, we find our way to the historic Columbia river highway after only only minor incident where we thought our bikes should be allowed on the bike path and the cyclists in the pretty little spandex panties looked at us like we were about to step on baby ducks thought not. This road was the kind of thing you take these trips for. Were it not for the scads of tourists (like us), it would have been wonderful. As it was it was still very enjoyable and we took many pics like this shot from horsetail falls.



We skipped by many of the falls due to tourist clogging but I find that cruising by and glancing at sights from the saddle oft times is just as impressionable on me as stopping and listening to the incessant droning oohs and aahs from other gawkers like myself. Here is a shot from Crown Point up above the gorge where we put in a call to VFRshorty to give her an ETA on us making it to her area. We were also getting directions to a cycle shop to see about some communicators (another theme common to this trip). Don’t even get me started on Radio Shack!





After that, we made our way down to NE Corbett Hill Rd and then back to I-84 and on to Portland. I regret not snapping any pics while in Portland. I always enjoy riding my bike into a new city. Something about riding in with the tall buildings staring down at me always inspires a bit of awe for me. Again, the speed limits make as much sense as oiling your new tires to make them look shiny.

We work our way to the motorcycle dealership recommended by shorty and get further instructions to how to get to her place to meet up for a ride. Here is a pic on the way to her house where I stopped to brush my teeth again because I had eaten some beef jerky that my traveling companion, MacGuyver, had in the Pandora’s Box he kept atop his VFR for the journey. I still think there is a coffee maker option for that thing and he is gonna find and install it if he can just make his goal of going to every Radio Shack in North America (FYI he probably only has about 40 left to see). Brian is up ahead wondering, ‘Now why the hell did he stop?’



Anyway, we make our way to Scappoose (at least I think that was the name) and call shorty for an address for the GPS while Brian shops at, you guessed it, Radio Shack (39 to go). We work our way over there with only a little off-roading involved (gotta love GPS). It is always a thrill to actually meet someone face-to-face that you have exchanged witty banter with over our little virtual reality we have here.

She led us to johhnyb’s place where we met him and family and some pretty bulldogs and got a look at his pretty Buell. That bike looked like a ticket to jail for me. It was bright orange and looked like it spent time on one wheel or the other as often as both at the same time. It sounded good, too. Not as musical as a VFR to my ears, but mean and nasty sounding like it would slap your mama given the chance.

They rode two-up and kept us road-weary travelers working hard just to stay close enough not to get lost. The roads they took were nice, did not appear too heavily trafficked, and were quite fun. Given more time it would have been fun to ride with them more as I am quite sure they have a lot to offer but as Frost said,

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.


They pointed us to a turn to take us across the bridge into Washington. We headed over taking us into Washington, my first time in over ten years visiting there, and the first time ever to the western part of the state. We make our way on over to I-5 where Brian and I split for a few minutes because he is following the GPS and I am following the map but he comes back to the way I turned and tells me we could have saved a few minutes by going the way he was going. (My faith in the GPS so far is still only average). At this point, it’s getting on in the afternoon so we plan on just slabbing our way up RW’s place to relax and eat supper and drink a brew. It’s around 150 miles or so and we are figuring on a decent average speed given that we will just ride the interstate most of the way. Little did we know about the long parking lot that extends from 25 miles give or take south of Olympia and extending on to infinity. Apparently, they call the an interstate, but Washingtonians know better and around 4 in the afternoon, they start parking their cars here to store them for the summer whilst they chat with each other on their cell phones and congratulate each other on having air conditioning whilst the crazy guys on bikes bleed sweat onto the road in the 80+ heat. After much deliberating about the legality of lane splitting in WA we decide to come up with what we felt was a suitable compromise. We would quickly change lanes between cars if they were not side by side allowing us to move at a brisk 5 mph. Well, when I say we, I mean me and after glancing back and realizing that said compromise doesn’t work so well traveling in a group, I pause behind a cage to regroup. While sitting there and pondering the lethal limit of sweating in my black leather, I note something of particular interest in my current predicament. There are bikes riding up behind me but on the shoulder. Well, Brian has found his way into said group and me being the natural follower that I am, I jump in. We ride the shoulder for a couple miles before finally finding another gap in the traffic and heading back into the fray. After a few more minutes dribbling sweat like an Arizona gardener in August we make our way to a gas station on the side to call RW and discuss the legality vs. the fines for various traffic activities in WA. Oh, if I had only remembered that Jay (RVFR) lived in Olympia and we were probably only a few minutes from his home (which more than likely contained a cold beverage that I would have enjoyed). But alas, such is life. I did not remember and did not call. Woe is me! (insert other woeful Old English type phrases here at your leisure pertinency not required if it sounds good.) We made our way back onto the parking lot and eventually (upon further reflection I expect that the ambient temp of Hades at this particular time was significantly less than 32 degrees Fahrenheit) we made our way to RW’s casa of mystery and mayhem.


Apparently there is a little known practice in WA of house numbering wherein the houses are numbered like this 1, 2, 3, 4, 11, 12, etc. Now this is fine if you are looking for those numbers. But, if you are looking for say 6 and house # 4 sits next to #11with no house between and it’s getting later in the eve, this numbering system can be a bit frustrating. Eventually, we stumble upon a sliver of pavement that might go somewhere and follow it wherein the numbering system gets really weird. We stay on it against better judgment and noticed a VFR parked in a garage across a little stretch of gravel. Hallelujah! We have made it. Let the drinking commence!

RW, knowing me from another trip we had made together last year, see thread, is of course prepared with beer in the fridge and I work my way to the kitchen and use my ever trusty nose to sniff out the barley pops. I waste no time in uncorking and polishing off a brew, then say “Hi”. He has most of his food prep done and starts in cooking whilst regaling us with his tales of torrential downpours on the ride we had decided to skip with him and the Canadians earlier that day. After a few minutes we stop him and say, “What is this rain of which you speak? We live in California and are not familiar with such terms.”



Meanwhile Mr. Julia Childs is whipping up his spec-EE-ALITY, a deep fried shrimp and oyster SAMMICH. (throw some extra lard on mine please, and have a cardiologist on standby). The fist sandwich gets done and I pass it over to Brian who has started to gnaw on his finger by this point, while I politely ask if I can get my sandwich with mayo and tomato if possible. Holy cow! You would think insulted his mother’s honor. (which by all accounts is impeccable in the brothel business (just kidding RW, don’t get your panties bunched)) Needless to say, once he calmed down, the tears stopped flowing and I acquiesced to extra mayo and tomato he was able to remove the pacifier and go back to his story. All joshing aside, the sandwich was very good the way he made it and I enjoyed it thoroughly. I was just in the habit of skipping mayo as a general practice and meant no insult to Helmann’s or anyone else making their livelihood from condiments in general. Excuse the faux pas.


We spend a bit of time boring each other with various stories and discussing possible outs on our various speeding awards for the past couple days. Totaled we are representing a donation of near 500 bucks to the various county and state agencies between the 3 of us in the past 2 days. After much deliberation and discussion about the festivities planned for tomorrow, I slither upstairs, into the bed, and dream of revving engines and railing curves around mountains tomorrow.

Thus concludes chapter 3 of our saga. Stay tuned for Chapter 4...

I’d like to take this opportunity to say Hi and Happy Birthday to one of my smaller readers out there. This is my niece, Tori.

She and her mother sit back at home in Missouri and read of my adventures. This chapter was written on your birthday, Tori! I hope it’s a good one, love, Uncle Brother.

[VFRShorty]

Yeah, chapter 3! You know (knock on wood) I consistently drive 5 - 15 miles over the speed limit (within reason always, depending on where, weather, etc) and have never gotten a ticket. Once you learn the way to drive in Oregon, its a much better place.

Also, we have pit bulls (two are lab pit mixes).

[RVFR]

Hot Damn another great chapter, LOL only wonders whats to come?

[drewl]

Ha ha, great mental picture of your grand mother snorting benadryl.

Wait, did you say "uncle brother"?

[SLOVFR]

My Dad use to work on alot of these dams as and operator and Locke controller when I lived their in the 80's. Some of our DAM pictures and video:









Reg asked what this was and was going to tell Him it was a prop off a B21 bomber that crashed here during WWII, but I thought I would take it easy on the boy.....This is one of the Tubine blades that the water turns to turn the generators inside the Dam, to make electricity, so when you hit your light switch at home the light turns on....





Here is our site form the waterfall shots. Lots of tourist out, damn them people. So we snap our shots on the walking path and head out like a couple of hooligan poser bikers we are, minus Stuka..









Crown Point look out. Nice rest stop and chatted with a local gentleman, telling us when we are coming back to take the Washington side back.









Well we did find the motorcycle store, despite a woman’s direction of the long way around, and I contemplated on buying new communication units that would have been about $600.00 and not really what we wanted. They did have some closeout Motorola units there, Bluetooth, but figured old technology and probably would not work good. We really got accustomed to being able to chat on the radios and add to the trip so we were both bummed our units were not working as planned. The hunt continued :)


Portland Area:





When we arrived at Scappoose I found....you guessed it, the Radio Shack and went in to check on radios - nothing! Damn. We get an address from Shorty and plug it into the GPS, no mention of gravel road from her, and head off. That is another thing that is bugging me is my GPS seems to not navigate PNW very well. I told Reg that it will get us within 1/2 mile of our needed location then we start the circle search pattern till we find it. Starting our search we were able to find the girl herself waiting for us...

Well with all the harassment, we take form Shorty it’s no wonder we were giving her the fingers :). Here the girl herself in all her GLORY ;)



And some before and after ride photos with Jb and Shorty:




Crossing over into Washington:.



Wondering if I can get one of these for the VFR! I could get a coffee maker in there no problem!




And just to add THANKS RW! Im not sure if I was just hungry, but those sandwiches you made were the BEST I have every had....just thinking about it makes me want one right now! Also thanks for letting us crash your pad. Although Im still not use to my puni 27" TV after watching yours, thanks, I guess....

[R.W.]

Meanwhile Mr. Julia Childs is whipping up his spec-EE-ALITY, a deep fried shrimp and oyster SAMMICH. (throw some extra lard on mine please, and have a cardiologist on standby). The fist sandwich gets done and I pass it over to Brian who has started to gnaw on his finger by this point, while I politely ask if I can get my sandwich with mayo and tomato if possible. Holy cow! You would think insulted his mother’s honor. (which by all accounts is impeccable in the brothel business (just kidding RW, don’t get your panties bunched)) Needless to say, once he calmed down, the tears stopped flowing and I acquiesced to extra mayo and tomato he was able to remove the pacifier and go back to his story. All joshing aside, the sandwich was very good the way he made it and I enjoyed it thoroughly. I was just in the habit of skipping mayo as a general practice and meant no insult to Helmann’s or anyone else making their livelihood from condiments in general. Excuse the faux pas.


.

You'll eat my mayonnaise and like it bitch

[RVFR]

Great Videos there Brian, been over that bridge a few times ;) some of the best roads in the area are in NW Oregon. Now Waiting for chapter 4, this ought to be good.

[reg71]

Ha ha, great mental picture of your grand mother snorting benadryl.

Wait, did you say "uncle brother"?

My sister always called me "brother" because my dad had the same name so her mother would say "go get brother". Anyway, to her that was my name so she still calls me that. She asked when her daughter was born if she could tell her I was "uncle Brother". I said "No prob." The niece still hasn't quite figured it out. Sometimes she thinks I am her brother but she's only 4 and that's just the age where you start working out all those relative terms I think.

[SLOVFR]

Regi, times a wasting .....

[reg71]

Regi, times a wasting .....

yeah I have glanced at my notes a few times. just trying to formulate it into something... been pretty busy around here, too...

[reg71]

Ah, the time is here... I have been working on this one for a couple days. There were a lot more pics than I remembered. I'll put a lot in the chapter but there are others left out I'm sure...

Come one, come all. Time to enter into Reggie's World. Grab your brew and sit down, this ride may take a while...

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Chapter 4 - Journey


The sun breaks. RW is beating on the door saying, “It’s time to go boys before his feet touch the carpet.” I stumble down the stairs and into the kitchen mewling for coffee. Thankfully RW already has it going and hands Brian and myself cups albeit I’m pretty sure they were stolen from a child’s tea set. RW for those who don’t know is not a coffee drinker and as such has no idea of the capacity for coffee ingestion of the average coffee drinker. My being a nurse and adhering to my strict regimen of only drinking coffee and beer for my current Homer Simpson fitness plan has my drinking capacity nearing 20 cups a day give or take. Brian is probably somewhere right there, at least on this trip. Recall the café at Crater Lake where he usurped the urn from the foreign kid who was rolling napkins while were fiending for java.

gearing up at RWs


We skip breakfast as RVFR is patiently waiting for us at his house. By patiently I mean calling every 5th minute to see if we are rolling yet as he is ready to hit the mountains. He’s been waiting for this trip as long as I have and I can hear the eagerness in his voice as he gently welcomes us, “Hurry the hell up!”

following RW from Port Orchard over to Olympia



We head out from Port Orchard after gearing up a bit to shield us from the harsh Washington elements. It’s a bit foggy but RW reassures us that it’s shaping up to be a beautiful day. Apparently this fog is comparable to our marine layer down here that burns off daily to make for mighty fine weather.

On the way to Jay's


We head out to RVFRs place back in Olympia with only a slight detour by Brian for which I send the lady highway trooper back to search while we wait on the side of the highway for him. RW has forgotten the cardinal rule of leading riders, ride like you are in a group, not solo. (Don’t worry RW, I get in trouble for this rule constantly .) Anyway, Brian somehow finds us again and we continue on to Jay (RVFR)’s place. Hulk Jr is there decked out in his leather and ready to roll. We all brought do rags in honor of Jay so we could get a do rag pic. You tell the excitement is building for him as it is for us. We are starting to wake up and get excited for the day to come. This is the destination that started this journey for me two years ago.

bikes lined up at Jay's


It is difficult to gauge how a person met online will strike you when you actually meet. You have a general idea of how you think they are, but sometimes a ‘virtual’ personality seems different that an ‘actual’ personality. My idea of Jay’s personality was spot on. RW I had met a year earlier and on that journey it was immediately like we had known each other for a while. The feeling was the same with Jay. We visited for a few minutes while Jay helped me get my bar end reattached. After a few pics (which have been posted earlier), we headed out to meet another couple of guys just starting on their journeys who are going to share the road with us for a bit today.

we did a lot of this




Jay and RW will have to fill in on what roads we took to get started but we eventually make it to a little stop with fuel and a subway. By this time, I am ready to eat the southbound end of a northbound mule so I order up a sandwich and eat sitting there on a bench in the parking lot while Jay keeps Kodak in business. (or he would if we hadn’t already gone digital anyway. Hunger assuaged I’m ready to hit the road. The other guys we had picked up headed on out as they had a ways to go and knew that we were doing the tourist thing a bit today.

Picture of Jay doing the other thing he loves


After discussing which direction to go RW and RVFR take off and Brian and I follow. WE don’t know exactly where we went, but we do know we finally got to ride in some wonderful roads in WA. Up to this point, we had been mostly on the main highways and we were ready to scream obscenities into our helmets if we didn’t get to cut loose soon. Well, cut loose we did. We ran some sections of road crookeder than a politician and all the while having scenery that tried to pry your eyes off the path. And a few places that were likely to jar the teeth right out of your head if you didn’t keep your mouth shut. It was nice to finally get to cruise on some of the roads that Jay and Rick have been baiting us with for the last couple years. They are a couple of stand-up guys and fun to hang out with.

parked somewhere near a dam (I don't remember the name)


We stopped at a dam first and there are several pics already posted so I probably won’t put up any more. The views were pretty astonishing and the traffic was light once we got out of town. Before that, though, there was a lot of this.



They showed us Mt. St. Helens from the blasted side and from the good side. We ran some awesome roads and I even got my knee down for a bit on a nice sweeping left hander. Given a day or so to familiarize myself with the road, I could have quite a time up there. It’s too bad they are closed off for a good portion of the year due to this white stuff that they send us pictures of. I think they call it sow or snow or some such. It looks like the stuff we keep up at the ski resorts for when we get tired of riding and want to go snowboarding.



After blasting down a couple really great roads and letting the two aspiring DeMilles work on their videography, we stopped on a downhill section in a line as per suggestion of the Hulkster. After about 10 minutes of coaching, he got us all lined up for this shot:


While we were waiting for the shots from multiple angles, I started feeling the forest. Something about the quiet and those trees standing sentinel over our bikes while we scurried along underneath no more noticed by our sentinels than ants are by us. Upon remounting, I didn’t restart my bike. Instead I coasted down the hill hands free and listened to the song of the wind rushing through my helmet while I held my arms out and gazed into the sky. I know it sounds like a weird thing to do, but it felt right.



Reg on a ledge


Setting up for video


Creek where RW and I stopped for him to set up vid gear


Brian and RW joining Jay and myself at a scenic overlook


We had a blast and got lots of pics and saw even more that we were unable to photo. Our quartet bellowed a sixteen cylinder chorus to our mountainous spectators while we danced our own kind of ballet. At times we moved as if all our bikes were connected. It was like poetry on wheels.

We ended up taking a stop in a town called Cougar, I think, for fuel. Both the petro and the stomach needed a little something. We all got some form of caffeine in us to reawaken the savage beasts inside before the trip to our respective destinations. Brian and I had many miles left to go as we were heading along the Columbia River Gorge on the other side (the WA side) and then all the way to Stonehenge. We split off from the guys and headed back out on some of the super nice roads we had been riding.





By this time it was getting on into the afternoon and we just were relaxing and taking in the scenery rather than slicing the road up and scaring the passers by. We headed back on such and such road then south to catch Hwy 14 East along the Columbia River.

Here we are at the end of the road leaving the mountains getting ready to hug the river on hwy 14. Note the terrain change in the pictures from this morning to this evening. All the pictures are taken the same day in WA and some only minutes apart. I found it pretty interesting.



Tunnels


Hwy 14e


Reg on Hwy 14e


It was a very nice ride where we had rock on the left and tunnels right through said rock in several places and a beautiful river along our right. The windsurfers were out in full force trying to tame the winds on the river while dodging the tugboats. All the while you can see Mt. Hood in the background standing guard over northern Oregon. We’ll go visit him closer up later in this journey.





After quite some time we make it to an overlook where a very nice pedestrian stops and tells us some of the history of a little town called Wishram that is nestled in a little crook in the rocks below the overlook. She tells us there is a bar and grill and that the burgers aren’t bad. We decide to give it a shot after we visit Stonehenge. We bid her good day and keep moving as we are nearing the end of the day and many miles are under us with still a few to go.

On overlook near Wishram




Stonehenge in Washington was created as a veteran’s memorial according to the literature and is built to scale of the original. It is apparently made of concrete that has been textured to look like stone. It is pretty neat but we don’t hang out there long. I am quite sure that the original is much more awe-inspiring in this case, but the knockoff is at least easier to see at this point in our journey. If you asked me, “Should I go see it?” Well, that depends, if you are close then by all means, do. If you are planning a trip just to go see it, I’d say you’d be disappointed is my guess. It is interesting to see from the perspective as a monument to veterans, though.

Stonehenge





Now, back to Wishram. Not a moment too soon as we are getting a bit hungry. We make the left turn that will wind us down into the valley where the town rests while Brian keeps his eyes peeled for the ancient native writing on the rock walls as we cruise by. I notice it. It’s very interesting with strange symbols like and indecipherable messages like “Bobby loves Missy” in bright colors and with the previous target of Bobby’s affection X’d out and probably looking forlorn in some forgotten corner of the “quaint” little Wishram. Now I realize that people being people we define things differently. As such, I generally give people plenty of leeway. Well, there wasn’t enough leeway in my definition to make this town into quaint unless by quaint you mean it as in the movie “Deliverance”. We work our way down into the town where it gets darker presumably because the tall cliffs block the sun but more likely because the Gods no longer smile favorably on this forgotten pit of despair. There is an “authentic” old train that is the town’s other star attraction (besides the glyphs which we are still contemplating). Upon finding it caged up like Hannibal we decide that pictures of the bikes in front of barbed wire and chain link with our word that, indeed, there is a train behind all that would fall a little flat compared to the other snaps we have from today. Upon reflection, I think the road to Wishram should be spiral to mirror the downward spiral that your soul takes upon the journey into the town that time willingly forgot, abandoned, and unfortunately didn’t put a padlock on.



Anyway, we park our bike in front of the “bar and grill”. Apparently we are going to stick with loose definitions while in Wishram because it’s more of a cinderblock building built into a hole (literally) where all 10 residents congregate in the hopes that they get a chance to stare at people crazy enough to drift into town. Immediately upon shutting our bikes down, the Wishram official greeters (with a collective total of about 6 teeth among the 3 of them) came to welcome us. Those of you familiar with the speed talker that did the micro-machines commercials in the 80s can imagine the way these three were talking. “Nice bikes, how fast? Where ya from? What kinda bike is that? I rode a bike once. It went 180. Where you from? I like red. Who are you? What you doin here?” Now I’m not gonna say they had been partaking of any illegal type substances, but judging from their teeth, they didn’t just finish chugging 3 red bull energy drinks apiece before coming to welcome us. This was the first stop where Brian and I detached all our gear and carried it in with us whilst Heckyl, Jeckyl, and Jeckyl continued to magpie outside in the street. We entered the ‘bar’ whereupon dueling banjos began to play and spitoons rang out in stereo. “Oh hell, I thought.” These look like the type of people who think the theory of relativity refers to dating your cousin.


The bartender/waitress/cook comes over to us and informs us of our dining options while the other patrons cordially glare at us without so much as one word of hello. Eventually their respective conversations resume and we are able to slink away to a table which affords us a short distance to the door and a glance outside to near where the bikes are. We put our requests in and reflect on the days happenings. It has been a fun-filled day and if we survive this particular detour we will have quite the story to talk about. I believe Brian even mentioned to me, “I can’t wait to see what you write about this place.” If not, then consider it literary license (which, loosely defined since I am in the loosely defined mood right now, means I can make shit up if I feel like it makes the story better.)

We talk about the riding we had with RW and RVFR and wonder if they have made it home yet. The food comes and we eat. It’s ok, but hardly worth recommending to anyone unless you are looking for mediocre food at a mediocre price in a town you’ll most likely not want to visit. (If that’s you, that by golly you must stop and see beautiful Wishram, WA). We wolf it down and sprint for the bikes in an attempt to avoid the welcoming committee and make it back to The Dalles before dark. We bid our fond farewells to the town of lost souls at 80 mph with nary a glance back and hightail it towards The Dalles. I am able to get a decent pic of the sunset in WA just before crossing back over to OR where we will spend the next couple days.

Bridge back to OR


Farewell to WA


After getting over to OR, we decide to try and get a night pic with the dam all lit up behind the bikes. It works somewhat but most times a camera just can’t quite capture what the eyes can. Brian and I convene a meeting with our trip planning committee, namely him and me, and make an executive decision that tomorrow will be a day of leisure around The Dalles recuperating a bit before packing back up and heading west to find hwy 1and journey onward.

[RVFR]

That was a great day, yea man, know what you mean when it comes to meeting folks from on-line LOL ya never know for sure, but like you I had a good feeling. This ride is definitely one I'll never forget.
Now for the turn around to your place next year.

[reg71]

Regi, times a wasting .....

I got my part typed up for day 4. Now it's your turn... I may get to work on day 6 soon. I have been pretty busy around here, though...

[drewl]

This story's getting so old that RW doesn't even live there anymore.

But I do enjoy a good yarn.