Road stories - People will want to talk to you.

One of the things that never ceases to amaze me is how much people want to talk to bug cover, sweaty guys on motorbikes.

Some, are easy to understand. The "I used to ride ... " followed by some questions about the trip.

But often it's just people. They see you, especially when you're on your own, and they want to chat with you.

Here, in Rainbow, I got to talk to a guy who was fly fishing with his grand-son. Nice guy, I honestly don't even remember that much about what else we talked about, but just the fact that it was great to talk to him.



And as I wrote this, it occurred to me that I should really try to make a little project out of the people I meet. Like a portrait project. Because today, I have only my memories, which are going to fade over time.

The reason I even mentioned the above interaction, is because 3 years ago (or is it 4 now?) I stopped at the same store and had a nice chat with a guy who rides an SV650 in California. At least, he did then. And there are many other places we've stopped and met people who were great.

Even after some 'quicker' passes, they are typically friendly. This year I passed a couple in a Miata (who were going too damn slow) and they happened to pull into the lookout Jerry and I had stopped at some time later.

Actually it was right after we took this photo



And they came up, smiling, and said "man you flew past us". Turns out, she just got started riding a 250 Honda Rebel but he sticks to driving his Miata. We had a nice chat. It reminded both Jerry and I of the woman who came up to us after we had a somewhat spirited ride up Windy Ride and said "I know what you were doing with your knees on the ground, I watch motorcycle racing on TV". Which I have to admit, was a pretty cool thing to hear.

The truth is, most people are just nicer than you might give them credit for. Especially in small doses ... and as long as you wave 'thanks' to them after you pass them and maybe start with "Hope I didn't scare you back there ... " ;)

Or maybe they are just living vicariously through you for just a few minutes, perhaps wishing it was them out there on the bike.

Road stories - You'll find your rhythm

This post was inspired by a photo I saw on a blog. It talked about being 'in the zone' and how rare that was. As in, once in a lifetime rare.

I'm not sure I agree completely, but it's close. So I wanted to talk about finding your unique rhythm.

Most longer trips start and end very differently. You start out chomping at the bit, pushing hard to get the turns in or perhaps even feeling slightly out of sorts. The bike hasn't been this loaded down in a year, your running higher tire pressures or shock settings, the balance is different, response not the same.



As you can see, that doesn't look like it would move around all that well, does it?

Then, as you get into the trip, you'll adapt. "You don't break the bike in, the bike breaks you in." Pretty sure I got that from Jerry. Sorry buddy, there'll be no royalties :)

Eventually, everything is in it's place, you know where things are and that works for you. Same bike, same amount of stuff, same settings. But now it feels right.



Doesn't really look any different, except for perhaps the laundry bag, does it? But the combination of bike and rider has very much changed.

For me, this period of adjustment takes days. But eventually, you feel right on the bike. Sometimes, you only feel right on the bike and can't wait to get on it in the mornings. I'm not sure I can properly explain this phenomenon. I know I tried in 2008 (Trip report titled "Home is where the bike is").

And then, if you're lucky, things slow down. Not necessarily you and the bike, but things around you. Traffic becomes more entertainment than annoyance. You know what drivers around you are going to do, you find the gaps and don't have to slice through as flow through.

Same thing with the corners. They flow and you are making the bike dance. The best part is that you're not trying. It's effortless.

I can often remember in detail when this happened.

So, I just erased an entire paragraph, because I realized that no matter what I do, I won't be able to describe it. What I wrote sounded like boasting instead of describing what it's like. Maybe it can't be described.

You just have to experience it and it's probably different for you than me.

Road Stories - The world is shrinking

In 2007 I rode as far south as I'd ever gone, to Crater Lake in Oregon. At its most southern point, I split from Mike, who was heading south into California.

On some level, that was the start of a different kind of riding for me. First, I realize just how much I like travelling on the bike. Not just riding to get a rush, doing an hour sprint for coffee or a day ride, but a 'long' ride. Second, I realize that I enjoy being out there on my own.

Now, I did not realize that all at once, but as I traveled home over the next few days, it started a new way of thinking about bike-travel for me.

This year, after 'fleeing' the heat in California I got a chance to return to Crater Lake. It was, once again, beautiful.




But it was also something else. It was familiar.

That place that had seemed far away in 2007 was now a place I knew. And from there on, I was fairly sure I was going to be riding mainly roads that I knew. So it seemed so very much closer to home.

If I chose, I could be home in only a 2 day ride. Nothing to write home about.

Once you start thinking like that, well, maybe it's not that the world is shrinking; maybe your experiences are just expanding your mind.

Crater Lake deserves it's own post tomorrow :)

Road Stories - You ride _alone_?

I talk about riding and holidays. And inevitably, I get asked who I ride with

"So you're going with a group?"

"Nope, just me."

This often gets a double-take. It seems that there is an assumption that there is safety in numbers.

And, certainly, in some instances it's great to have someone else around. I have 2 friends I ride with and we have no problem spending days on the road together. Our riding and traveling styles are compatible and that's not nearly as simple as it sounds.

You have to want to rest when someone else does, stop when the first person gets to the point of not wanting to ride anymore and want to ride at similar speeds. You need to ensure you don't lose each other in traffic, when there is some, that you coordinate gas stops, food stops, bio-breaks.

You get the point. None of those things are really concerns when you are on your own.


I remember in 2007 when I split from Mike at the southern end of Crater Lake. He was heading south to California and I was heading back north. I felt odd riding by myself. No back up. Or so I thought.

Of course, I was wrong.

First of, you are your own backup. That means that you adjust your riding and the amount of risk you're willing to take. Not in terms of speed, but in being away from help if you need any. It also means learning about your bike, how it works, some basic fixes for common things that may go wrong on the roads and some basic spares, like spare tubes in case you have a flat.

Second, you have a cell phone and a BCAA (AAA). That goes a long way.

Finally, major highways, minor highways, secondary roads and even plenty of gravel roads are fairly well traveled. And people are nicer than you think. Not that I want to have to rely on the kindness of strangers, but most of the people I've met along my travels are actually very nice.

So, the 'danger' is mostly in peoples minds.

And the freedom of being the only one you have to consider, of being able to ride hard and push when you want, of resting when you feel like it and staying where you want for how long you want, well on some level that's one of the great joys of being on the open road.

There is one major issue to overcome though. Taking your own photo :)






















But as you can see, even that can be overcome ;)

Road Stories - Destinations

When people ask me where I'm going for my summer road trip, I often tell them 'thatta way' while pointing in the general direction I'm planning to go.

Now, that's not because I don't want to tell them (maybe sometimes it is actually ;) ), but because I often don't know. When you're on a bike, it's better to be flexible, to allow the weather, conditions of the road and environment and your own feelings and gut instincts to guide the way.

In today's environment of GPS' and instant information, the most useful thing I find on road trips is a basic, free, BCAA (or AAA) map. If you stick to the smallest roads you find on the map (that are paved) it's actually amazing what you'll find.

Having said all that, sometimes you have to break your own rules.

I've been wanting to ride to California since I was about 16 or 17 years old. I remember vividly the desire to just head south and to see where I end up. It's taken over 20 years, but I finally rode to Cali.


I wasn't the only one stopping to take a photo, the gentleman and his wife also stopped and frankly, I like the photo he's in better than the one I took after.


It felt good to finally get there. Of course, it didn't work out the way I planned. After travelling a fair distance, I was faced with 40+ Celsius (100+ Fahrenheit). California was in the midst of a significant heatwave.

So I only stayed for a day and a half, preferring to return to Oregon, the desert specifically, where it was cooler (yes, I went to the desert to cool down).

But, I enjoyed the Redwoods highway


And the coast

That's marine cloud you see in the background, temperatures in Crescent City were about 10 C cooler than just 15 km away, where it was over 30 C.



Bjorn's ever-present "will it look better in black & white" game




I wanted to venture down further down Hwy 101, but road construction (and hunger) conspired against me. So I made some stops to take in the scenery south of Crescent City.





I did run into a creepy talking giant and his bull.

(the horns don't quite line up, do they? ;) )



And I had a little picnic consisting of an apple and a granola bar while staring at the ocean.


Really, closer to the highway than I would have liked, but always within eyesight of the trusty KLR



Once I realize I wasn't going to be spending much time here, I went back out after dinner to take a few more photos.



A different take on the lighthouse


The next morning I was back on the road, riding through Oregon back into Northern Cali, through some very dense smoke due to the forest fire at Happy Camp.

I bought an extra litre of water here and I was so glad I did. I got hot.


On the plus side, I did find Big Foot.


Often, having destinations isn't what my trips are about. But sometimes, it does feel like a good thing.

Road Stories - Planning is good

Yes, that's Jerry using a gatoraid bottle and a length of plastic tubing (provided by yours-truly) to siphon some gas from the KLR (a.k.a 'The Tanker').

Now, it would be easy to write about Jerry screwed up and how important it is to plan ahead and have gas and know where to get more blah blah blah.

All that would be total BS.

We knew Jerry would probably run out and that I'd have plenty of gas. I brought the tube all the way from Canada. Totally planned, no problems and Jerry made the gas station we intended on that extra single bottle (which in itself is actually quite amazing.

But when you're riding, you can't plan for everything. Like the cop who pulled us over just before (nice guy btw :) ).
Or the guy who crosses lanes without looking.
Or the dumbass who doesn't know how to drive their rental RV and so takes up the oncoming lane in tight corners.

So, you have to ride at a point where you can get there. And back. And survive the unexpected.



Some days later, on the way back from California, I planed to go north on a small forest service road. It showed as paved on the map and would allow me to pop out in Oakridge, ride north to Rainbow and eventually end up in Bend (after a long day though).

Turns out, the road was not only unpaved, but washed out further ahead. And the gravel felt like marbles and the wash-boarding was horrible. Note that I stopped on a flat part so I could take the photo.

So, I ended up turning around. I figured I'd have enough gas if I turned to make it to the Roseburg if I had to (look up Roseburg and Bend on a map and realize how far appart they are :) ). It was 37 or 38 degrees, I don't think I'd have made Bend in either case. I was out of water when I rolled into the hotel.

Planning is good, but plans are often worthless.

Road stories - Experience

This year I'm not going to sit down and try to do a ride report. I don't have the drive. But, I want to share some of the stories that you return with after a while on the road.

So I'm starting a new type of post, the road story. They'll be little vignettes of travel.

Onto the first one - Experience:

On our first day on the road, Jerry and I rode through Washington State, past Mt. St. Helen and into the very northern parts of Oregon.

The first hotel we hit was sold out, so we rode over to a place that we stayed at previously, either last year, or perhaps the year before? We couldn't remember. It's getting like that. The trips and the stories run into one another.

I don't see it as a bad thing. We've just had enough riding time, that the specific trip is not important. The day, month and year are irrelevant. But the experience is what counts.

All of it made us feel like quite old hands at travel. So as we sat outside the hotel, getting ready to lock up the bikes and a guy comes up to talk to us, we're used to it. After all, we're the big travellers.

Except, we're not.

He'd just finished a 6000 mile ride (that's 10,000 km for those metric folks) and he wanted to chat. A bit of a round trip, with a stop in Deadhorse, Alaska, just for good measure.

So, it turned out he'd done the big ride, and we were on our first day, with bikes looking shiny and new, by comparison.



And it reminded me of a saying from diving:

"Experienced is relative to who you're standing next to."