As far as Interstates go, 5 isn’t a bad one either. The traffic was okay, and it runs through
some nice country, too. As I rode
through Medford, Oregon, there was smoke, a lot of it and really thick.
 |
| It sure seems like there are a lot of fires ... everywhere. |
More wild fires. This time it was way bad and I held my shirt
collar up to my nose as I rode through it.
Maybe I should have stopped and wet a headband to put around my nose,
but I didn’t want to stop. Bull
headed. I just plowed on. Eventually I got through it, but never saw
the fires themselves. I was glad the
road was open as I wanted to be ahead of Joe and Verlie. I knew there was a lot of ground to cover
before getting back to Phoenix.
During the day I stopped for gas at a Fred Meyers. It was a long line and I decided to go to the
Chevron across the street. Wouldn’t you
know it. I was on an uphill grade, my
bike was horizontal across it, I tried to turn and got the front end too
cranked around. It started to go
over. While I ordinarily wouldn’t have
had a problem keeping it upright, my left foot was on one of those drain
grates. I looked down and watched as my
foot slowly slid from right to left, and the bike gently landed on its
side. Crap. That’s the first time for this bike to tip
over. I tried to pick it up but my foot
was on the grate so there was no traction.
A nice young gentleman came and helped me get it upright. I do depend upon the kindness of
strangers. I got back on and went to
Chevron. Note to self. Watch out for grates when moving the
bike. They are not your friend. Nor are gravel and grass as I already
know.
Near Mount Shasta I veered from 5 and hit 89. I was to follow this one until I got
somewhere. The somewhere happened to be
Burney Falls for the night at a nice little motel called Green Gables. I’ve seen some of these and had wanted to try
one out. It was a keeper in my motel
listings. What I didn’t realize was that
I should have gone from 89 to Susanville on 44 and gone down 395. I’d find that out the next morning. Whoops.
More time and miles. I was
following numbers rather than names. I
should have listened better.
 |
| Always take the opportunity to stop and photograph the beautiful flowers. |
When I got up Monday morning, August 10, I got back onto
89. It takes you through Lassen Volcanic
National Park. Oh. Maybe I should have gone to Susanville. But I was now in, it was slow going but I
wasn’t going to backtrack. This is
another beautiful park, and I got to use my park pass again, the one I’ve
purchased three times. I knew I couldn’t
spend a lot of time here, but did stop to take photos here and there. The road is a great one for motorcycles, and
I wish I’d had more time. I’ll just have
to come back.
Once out of the park I knew I’d been passed by Joe and
Verlie. As it turns out, they’d passed
me while I was sleeping in Burney as they kept going until 4 a.m. I was sawing a whole lot of California logs
at that point. Today was a long day
mostly caused by going through the park, and I ended up in Beatty, Nevada, at a
Motel 6. Ordinarily this motel chain is
not on my radar as I don’t like them, but it was the first place I came to, and
as it turned out, I found out everything else in town was booked. What?
 |
| Lassen Peak erupted in May 1914, after a 27,000-year hiatus. It cleared everything in its path ... pastures, homes, forests. It was the only active erupting volcano in the United States. |
 |
| This is a view from the other side. The lake was beautiful and like glass that day. |
 |
| Continuing volcanic activity feeds the hot water systems in the park. Sulphur Works, as well as other areas, have become habitats for minute life forms that have adapted to high temperatures and extreme acidity. |
One of my reasons for not liking Motel 6 is that usually the
rooms are sub-par and they charge for Internet.
I was pleasantly surprised as the room had had a makeover and was quite
nice and exceptionally clean. However,
when asking for a WiFi password I was told it would be $5. It used to be $2.99. I said I didn’t need it that bad. EXCEPT, if you’re over 60 or 62, whatever,
it’s free. I was in. I took my free passcode, but I was so tired I
never brought my computer online. Night
night.
Tuesday, August 11, was the final push to Phoenix. I had to get there as my flight home was
booked for Wednesday, the 12th, and I had things that had to be done
before leaving. I needed to wash clothes
that would be left behind, wash my bike and pack.
I do not look forward to riding into Phoenix but it’s a
necessary evil. The heat is usually
triple-digit and can sear the skin off your bones. I already was gearing up to drink lots of
water with Propel and electrolytes in it.
I’d also stop often to refuel my body.
This morning in Beatty, though, it was cool, and I needed a few layers,
including my sweatshirt. I’ve made a
point of mostly not wearing my jacket, although I could have a few times,
including today. Off I rode, headed
toward Las Vegas, before heading east into Arizona and to Kingman, then on down
and into Phoenix. The ride wasn’t bad as
there was some cloud cover mostly. I’d
gotten lucky.
Wickenburg would be my last gas stop before heading down
into the hellhole they call Phoenix.
About 20 miles out I hit wind.
This was no ordinary wind, but a monsoon. The wind came at me from all directions,
pushing me about left, right, and back again.
I was fighting to keep the bike on the road, and it was all I could
do. It scared me, but there was nowhere
to stop. No building, no gas station,
nothing. I had to keep going because if
I tried to stop the bike would be knocked over while I tried to park it. The big trucks offered nothing more than more
wind to fight. I didn’t know how long
this was going to continue, but then it became worse. Rain.
Actually, just a shower, but it was like someone was pouring buckets of
water over me. It splattered so hard the
skin was ripped from my face, and I ducked down behind the windshield. Mercifully, the rain only continued for a few
minutes, just long enough to get my pants wet from the knees down. This did not constitute riding in the
rain. However, the wind did not let up,
and I continued to fight the bike for miles.
Just as I got to the outskirts of Wickenburg, it stopped, as suddenly as
it started. I stopped at a gas station,
glad for the respite and for a moment to gather myself together. At least there had been enough traffic so
that if I had gone off the road someone would have seen it, and hopefully
stopped to help. Strangers again.
At the gas station, a guy from the red pickup truck behind
me came up and started in on his spiel.
His mom in Las Vegas was sick, yada, yada, yada. I said I’m not giving you any money. He said he wasn’t asking for any, but if I
could put a gallon of gas in his truck.
I said that wouldn’t get him very far.
Sure. But I did, filling it up …
2.something gallons. I commented that he
sure didn’t need much. He said he tried
to keep it over half. Yada, yada,
yada. A scam? Probably, but it was my good deed for the
day. His truck cost more than my
motorcycle, I’m sure of that. And if it
was a scam, he can live with it.
On into Phoenix.
Whoa. There’s cloud cover. It lasted until I got to the barn, and
continued as we washed my bike. I must
be living right this trip. All my clothes
got washed, I got packed, we had some dinner and a bit of a visit, and then it
was time to get to bed as my flight was leaving at 7:45 a.m. Who booked an early flight like that? I did.
Only because if I chose something else it would give me a horrendously
long layover and I’d arrive at some ungodly late hour. Better early than late on this trip.
Wednesday morning, August 12, came way too early, but I was
anxious now to get to the airport, get on the flight and get home.
My first flight went smooth and on time to Seattle. Once in Seattle I found out from my dear
Facebook that friend Robin was on a flight coming in, just several gates down
from where I’d depart. We’d most likely
not meet up as my flight was to board and hers wasn’t at the gate. A huge storm had come through depositing rain
and hail, giving us a lightning display and treating us to loud rumbling
thunder. That stopped any flights from
coming or going. Robin told me that from
her flight that was parked on the tarmac.
Our flight agents gave us that information after a bit of time. Our plane wasn’t even at the boarding gate,
so maybe it would work.
Yahoo. They’d called
my row of numbers to board, but I looked to my left and there was Robin. I ran over to give her a hug and to exchange
a few words, then she had to go, and I had to get on board. My flight was about an hour late getting out
due to the storm as they had to give us a different aircraft at another gate
nearby. But all was well, and I had the
entire row to myself. So, I’m working on
this, and my phone is plugged in and charging so I can call Biker Bill once we
land. Home sweet home. I’m nearly there.
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