A Relaxing Day on the Bodensee

Sunday June 25, 2011

Today, Sunday, is an odd continuation of my departure day. Those of you who have flown to Europe are familiar with the curious realization that though you've not yet finished the day you were in, when you land in Europe, you're already starting the next one! I did my best to prepare for this by sleeping after dinner was served on the plane, and was successful in getting about 5 hours of uninterrupted rest. That and the general excitement of seeing old friends and a new environment kept me awake and refreshed well into Sunday.

My arrival in Zurich was without incident and, as promised, Ron was waiting for me after I cleared Swiss customs, which was uneventful. Unteruhldingen, the German village where Ron and family live, lies on the north shore of Lake Constance, known to Germans as Bodensee. Though there are routes around the lake, Ron decided we should take the ferry across, and we spent 30 minutes or so on the ride enjoying the beautiful weather - apparently it and I arrived simultaneously.

We had planned this to be a "low key" day in anticipation of my being jet-lagged, so Ron shared some of the local culture and flavor with me. Ron, Christi, and I walked along the lakefront as he expertly played tour guide - answering my questions, translating the maddening German language ("V" is pronounced "F", "W" is pronunced "V", and there's a large, pregnant-looking "B" that is actually "ss") And all of this is before ANY of the accent marks, modifiers, and such. The Germans have a curious habit of creating new words by splicing two or more existing words together into a 30-plus letter conglomeration obviously intended to confound North American minds and tongues. Mission accomplished.

Kudos to the Germans for being trailblazers in "green" living. They recycle EVERYTHING, partly evidenced by the separate bins for different types of trash in public places. This is nothing but a great idea, and makes me want to rethink my lack of recycling effort.



We're off to visit famous castles on Monday.

Journey to the Old World

Saturday June 25, 2011

Well, today's the day. After months of planning, emails, phone calls, logistical problems, stress, and - well, you get the picture - I'm sitting at Little Rock airport waiting to board the first of three legs in my first journey to continental Europe. The purpose? Two weeks of touring through Germany, Austria, Switzerland, Italy, and France.

The protagonists for this trip include ME of course, and my lifelong friend and riding partner Ron Rogers. If you have read any of the previous entries in this literary masterpiece, you'll recognize us from our last 2-wheeled get-together back in the summer of 2006. Ron has been living with his family and working in southern Germany for several years now, and has spent the entirety of the time pestering me to visit and enticing me with volumes of photos of stellar motorcycling roads. It took a very few moments to convince me to come, and months to make it happen. Regrettably, my son Connor opted to stay stateside and though I'll really miss his being here, he had his reasons to opt out I guess.

Flying wasn't a great joy BEFORE 9/11, but it is a real chore these days. Of course, as time has gone by we've adapted to removing our shoes and getting through a vacation with only 3 ounces of deodorant and shampoo. (the latter not so bad for me!). Just because we can do it doesn't make it enjoyable. The only thing to advocate for air travel is getting there quickly.

So I sit, jealously guarding my phone-charging spot here at Washington Dulles while I wait for the coveted "100%" indicator, and pondering the aftermath of the Wolfgang Puck airport pizza I tossed down quickly at Chicago - O'Hare. Next stop - Zurich, Switzerland.

In Praise of "Less is More"

Maybe I'm just getting old, maybe things really do come full circle. I'm talking about motorcycles here - and my recent rediscovery of smaller, lighter, simpler machines.

If you know me, you already know I'm a confirmed motorcycle nut - consumed, obsessed, and whatever other description fits a guy who dedicates at least 10 times more of his sparse grey matter to thinking about motorcycles than pondering "sushi vs pasta" dinner decisions, or how to save on my taxes. I've ridden just about everything over the last 36 years and have covered in excess of a half million miles on two wheels. I wake up thinking about motorcycles, think about motorcycles all day, and go to sleep thinking about motorcycles. Getting the picture?

I have owned (and still own) some genuinely exotic and interesting machinery - bikes with 1, 2, 3, 4, and 6 cylinders - even one with NO cylinders!
(a 1975 Suzuki RE-5 with a rotary engine - see left) I've owned air cooled, oil cooled, and water cooled bikes, two stroke and four stroke bikes. I have toured, commuted, road raced, and ridden cross-country; maintained, restored, and used motorcycles as living room art. Along the way, I've met the pavement a few times (no, it is NOT inevitable), at the hands of oily pavement, cattle, deer, other racers, and early in my riding career, lack of skill or training. Getting the picture?

I've always been a gearhead and had a fondness for rolling stock of many forms. My first motorcycle was a 1971 Norton 750 Commando in As-God-Intended black and gold.
The first time I saw one I was captivated and mesmerized - and not long after, knowing NOTHING about riding, I bought one. I rode it constantly and it took me all over the western US before I was wooed away by an exotic Italian machine that was the fastest bike in the world at that time. I still own a Norton Commando to this day - they are undeniably special.

As is often the case, each motorcycle was replaced with one that was bigger, better, faster, rarer, prettier, more exotic, more suitable for whatever moto-priority I had at the time. Along the way, bikes became more complex, heavier, more feature-laden, and inevitably - more expensive.

A few years ago, on the 100th anniversary of Harley-Davidson, I bought a Harley "Deuce" in the silver/black anniversary paint scheme. It was a bit of a whim at the time, and my motorcycling friends
thought I had genuinely lost my mind - my anti-Harley sentiments were well known. Though I had a faster, lighter, unquestionably more refined Japanese semi-sport bike at the time, and I really liked it, somehow it seemed that when I just wanted to go for a leisurely ride, or to the store, or run an errand, the Harley got the nod most of the time. After some thought, I decided that the Harley was just less work to ride, and I didn't feel like I had to set a new lap record every time I threw a leg over it. A job layoff in 2004 necessitated its departure, but I never forgot the sensation of that Harley's low-key riding experience.


The resurrected Triumph motorcycle company out of England reprised the twin cylinder air cooled Bonneville (which originally debuted in 1959) about ten years ago. I immediate liked it, but somehow wasn't motivated to actually buy one. Then, in 2009, Triumph released a different version called the "SE". After a test ride at a dealership, I decided that the riding experience was in some ways like the Harley - and if the right deal came along, I wanted one. Lo and behold, just recently the right deal DID come along, and now a Bonneville SE resides in my garage.


Instantly, I've fallen back in love with simple, lightweight motorcycles. Virtually every time I ride the Bonnie, I'm transported back to 1976 and my Norton Commando. So many of the sensations are spot on the same - all the good ones anyway, with none of the foibles inherent in old school British iron. Handlebars that don't require a fetal crouch ... a slim gas tank and narrow waist ... reasonable seat height ... exhaust sounds that sound RIGHT, even if they are a bit stifled with stock exhaust.

No windshield, no fairing. No luggage. No heated grips or seat. No radiator, no shaft drive. No computerized electronic gauges, no clock, no temperature gauge. No ABS, no traction control. No rising rate single shock rear suspension. No GPS, no stereo. I love it.

The exotic Italian sport bike and the Italian sport tourer still get ridden, but this thing's a winner. 'Scuse me, I gotta go ride ....

My guitar intimidates me ...

My guitar intimidates me. Not any particular guitar, but just in general.

I took up the instrument in “the summer of ‘69” when my Dad bought me “my first real six string”. I remember it clearly – several trips to K-Mart in Benton Harbor, Michigan, where we lived at the time – and some intense lobbying finally got me a gaudy Teisco guitar with 4 pickups and a small amplifier. I dabbled with it for a couple of years but didn’t make any progress until we moved back to California and I started formal lessons.

I ended up embracing the guitar and music in a way which defined and inspired and consumed me for … well, until now I guess. I have played music – guitar and bass anyway – ever since, and have spent a very large amount of that time actively playing in bands. I developed an inexplicable bond with my favorite instruments, and was absolutely gutted when all but one of my guitars and basses – most of which I had owned for most of my life – were stolen in 2005. The financial loss was recovered, but the emotional toll still hurts. Like I said, inexplicable. Equally hard to explain is the feeling of having music bottled up inside and needing a way to get out … I imagine others with an artistic bent will understand.

A couple of years ago I gave up a really good band I had played with for about 7 years because it conflicted with what was required to pursue a higher degree – a step in a mid-life career change. At that time, I stopped playing and with only a couple of exceptions, haven’t touched an instrument since. Every time I think about picking one back up, something stops me …..

Today, that’s going to change. There’s a 12 string acoustic sitting over there in the corner taunting me, daring me to pick her up ….

Once more into the breech ...

I have not posted on this blog in over three years. It was originally conceived as an online diary of a motorcycle trip I took with a dear old friend. I really enjoyed the experience of writing it, and occasionally thought about continuing it, but never took the time until now.

I've been inspired by a couple of friends' efforts and decided the process of writing might help ease some of the stress I find myself dealing with of late.

When I last wrote, I had just returned from an extensive motorcycle trip from Arkansas to California and back. I must sadly report that I have not managed anything of the sort since then ... I did ride up to Kansas City with my friend John in May of 2009, but nothing on the scale of my 2006 trip. I really should take the time - it is so cathartic, so therapeutic .... motorcycle touring is absolutely the most fun you can have with your clothes on. I have stayed almost manically focused on my goals in school - knowing full well that if I do not, I will never achieve the rather lofty goal I set for myself back in the summer of 2004. At that time, I had just been laid off and was in serious need of a new direction. After many weeks of research and thought, I decided that I was going to return to college and become an RN, with an ultimate goal of becoming a CRNA - a nurse anesthetist.

I formulated a three-tiered plan, which I shared with my now ex-wife (who incidentally, is an RN). The reply? "I don't think you can do it."

Meet Matt Lewis, RN. Pleased to make your acquaintance. In December, we can change that to Matt Lewis, RN, BSN. Phase 2 will be complete and I'll start preparing for the last stage.

It has been a long, tough road. Most of my friends are making retirement plans and enjoying being at the peak of their careers. I, (by my own choice, mind you) have started over in a field with a long steep learning curve, and the perfectionist that I am struggles mightily with being a beginner all over again. A mistake on my part could kill someone.

Want some expertise? Ask me anything about music or motorcycles. I KNOW that stuff. I work with some brilliant doctors and nurses, most of whom are extraordinarily gifted ..... and I am SO frustrated that I can't cram enough knowledge in my head fast enough to be really good at this - yet. When I look at how far I have come since I started, I know I will get there .... I just want it NOW.

Now back to the books.

Day 21 - How to Ride Sideways in 1 Easy Lesson

Day 21
Almost an Ironbutt
Taos, NM to Hot Springs, Arkansas
987 miles

As has been my usual for the last few days, I got away from Taos later than I wanted to, about 9 am. I passed on the free hot breakfast offered by the hotel because I knew it would be a tough day - thunderstorms forecast for my entire route.

The ride along US Hwy 64 from Taos to Angel Fire was serene, and the area beautiful. I want to resume my attempts at snow skiing soon, and this region offers some of the best in the area I am told.

In the panhandle of Texas I could see rough weather ahead, so I donned my rain gear for the first of six times total. When it was not actually raining, the waterproof gear did not allow enough airflow to keep me from sweltering in the Texas heat, so off it came when the storm area has passed.

Somewhere in all that scenic beauty (that's sarcasm, folks) I ran across a Harley dresser on the side of the road and stopped to investigate. It's rider, "Gator Larry", en route from Alaska to Florida, had run out of gas and seemed to be at a loss for how to proceed. We checked the navigation system on my Honda - it showed gas 10 miles away. My bike is fuel injected, and it is not an easy task to get fuel out of the line like on a carbureted bike with a gravity-fed fuel system. Neither of us had anything to siphon with, so that option was not available. He didn't have a cell phone either, so we used mine to call for roadside assistance. Once we were sure they were on their way, I bid him farewell, and with an eye towards a VERY black sky ahead, I moved on wishing that I had an informative pamphlet on the wonders of cell phones to pass along.

The second-scariest moment of the trip came shortly thereafter. I had slowed down a bit and rain and wind hit me suddenly and hard from my right, pushing me across my lane. In a moment, rain and intense wind lashed in, making it very difficult to stay in my lane. I moved to the right side of the right lane to give myself a little buffer, and started looking for shelter. Just then, a huge blast of wind started pushing me to the left. I had the bike leaned WAY over just to stay going straight ahead, and all the surface area of the fairing and luggage was giving the wind quite a bit of area to push against! The wind pushed harder and harder, and I steered to right as hard as I could, but I was still being pushed to the left and towards the edge of the road. The asphalt was one huge puddle and the volume of water coming down was unbelievable. I could not stop for fear of being run over by 18 wheelers, and I had to maintain enough speed to allow me to steer.

With about 10 inches to spare, the wind eased enough for a moment for me to get back to the right side of the road. Within a moment, an overpass came into view and I ducked underneath it. I said a silent "thank you" prayer and waited for the storm to pass. True to form, within 10 minutes it was history, and I continued down I-40 towards home.

At 3:30 am, I pulled into my driveway, 13 miles short of 1000 miles in a day. I didn't care that I hadn't done an official "Ironbutt" distance. I was tired, wind-battered, and sleepy, but I was HOME.

Day 20 - Four States in One Step

Day 20
Near Four Corners
Salina, UT to Taos, New Mexico
580 miles

I'm a little road weary at this point and I'm having trouble getting "up and at 'em" as my Dad would say. I would probably make better progress if I could hit the road before 9 am, but I'm tired and that's about the best I can manage.

The Weather Channel tells me there are likely to be thunderstorms along my route in the afternoon. I've been extremely lucky so far and have not dealt with any moisture to speak of - the fog encountered going from Tehachapi to Santa Cruz got me wetter and colder than most rainstorms!

I have always wanted to visit the Four Corners - the spot where the borders of Arizona, New Mexico, Utah, and Colorado all converge. I don't know WHY I wanted to go there, other than to see how it feels to have my feet and arms in four different states. The spot itself is completely unremarkable - a monument surrounded by Navajo Nation souvenir sellers and native food vendors. I made my contribution to their economy, then headed east.

At the recommendation of my friend Jeff Tarlton, I chose US Hwy 64 to cross New Mexico. He had ridden it some years earlier and was so enthusiastic about it I changed my original plan to include it. I experienced the greatest extremes of the trip so far today, seeing a high temperature of 110 degrees and a low of 45 degrees. That low came together with the highest altitude I had seen of the entire trip - about 10,500 feet in the mountains near Taos.

I arrived in Taos in a chilly drizzle right about dark, found a Best Western, and arrived in the restaurant just before closing. As an unexpected bonus, I got a ground floor room and was able to put the bike under the eaves to keep it out of the light rain. The area is beautiful, and I made a mental note that I must return when I can explore it a little more completely.

Day 19 - The Loneliest Road in America

Day 19
The Loneliest Road In America
Fallon, Nevada to Salina, Utah
494 miles

As I mentioned before, US Highway 50, which traverses Nevada from east to west, is called "The Loneliest Road in America". There is certainly good reason - through most of the route, there are no houses, no buildings, no cars, no gas stations, often no power lines or even other roads - NOTHING. There were plenty of beautiful vistas, comfortable temps due to the altitude of 5000 feet and above, and the satellite radio didn't seem affected by the desolation at all. All in all, it was a pleasant ride and upon my arrival to Salina, UT, I stayed in a Super 8 with the friendliest and most accomodating desk clerk I've ever met. It's nice when they understand your "bike paranoia" and work to get you a ground floor room where the bike can be close by!

Day 18 - Head East & Come Full Circle

Day 18
Coming Full Circle
Santa Cruz, CA to Fallon, NV
344 miles

I awoke to the scent of ocean air and made preparations to hit the road, still not quite sure which way I was going to use for my return route. By the time I pointed the front wheel out the driveway, I had decided to head for cooler mountain temperatures and Lake Tahoe once again, and then strike out across the “Loneliest Road in America”, US Hwy 50 across Nevada. I got my last dose of extreme heat, with the temp gauge reading 115 degrees briefly in Livermore, CA, before settling in at a steady 111 by the time I rode through Stockton. I motored up and over Carson Pass, also known as California Hwy 88, through some of the most gorgeous and spellbinding scenery yet. Anyone reading this who has not experienced it – mark it down as a “must see”. Many thanks to the generous CHP officer who gave me a break (and not a ticket) when I fudged my way past a 5th wheel rig that had not completely pulled into a turnout. More good fortune, and I've already had plenty on this trip.

I briefly considered staying in Tahoe – it would be my last visit there for a while after all – but I decided to press on a little farther east and spend the night in the town of my birth, Fallon, Nevada. While in Fallon, I found and took photos of the old high school, where my father was principal during the late 50's. It safe to say that Fallon looks completely different than it did when I was born.

Day 17 - With Old Friends

Day 17
With Old Friends
Santa Cruz, CA

My friend Jim Hodge, his girlfriend Rafaela, and Charles the miniature schnauzer were kind enough to take me in, feed me, give me a place to sleep, wash my clothes, and recharge in preparation for the long journey home to Arkansas. Jim has taken a run down, nondescript little house and transformed it into a cozy and inviting home for two. The fact that it is right next door to where he grew up is just icing on the cake.

Jim is a professional cook and eating at his house is always a treat. (the other way of sampling his cuisine is not as appealing – he cooks at the county jail!) Any offer extended to assist him in the kitchen is quickly but politely rebuffed – I mean, does Pavarotti need help to sing “Ave Maria”? I think not.

Jim and I were joined by another old friend, Ken Botelho (jah Kenny!) for an excursion into Monterey Bay aboard Jim’s sailboat. It was a glorious day on the bay, the kind of day that makes one forget that living in Santa Cruz has a few downsides (housing costs, traffic, bizarre local politics, etc). For a few hours we enjoyed the company and conversation and managed to forget that we had jobs and school to return to in the very near future.

Later that night, Jim barbequed some marinated skirt steaks from Shopper’s Corner, the coolest grocery store on the planet, and Ken contributed his “Killer” garlic bread to top everything off.

Day 14 - Day 16 ---- LAGUNA !!!!

Day 14 to Day 16
United States Motorcycle Grand Prix
Laguna Seca Raceway
Monterey, CA

Ron and I have been attending the motorcycle races at Laguna Seca since 1978. Since I moved to Arkansas, my attendance has been spotty, and I miss more races than I make. I died a thousand deaths as I sat at home last year watching the Laguna GP live on Speed Channel, Ron was kind enough to call me and remind me how great things were and that I was "really missing it". I knew that I had to find a way to get to Laguna this year. If you are a dyed-in-the-wool motorcycle nut, there is no other place to be. This is our Mecca, our Holy Land and thousands make the annual pilgrimage. Are you getting the impression that this is an important event?

In a nutshell - it occurred in the midst of a huge heatwave in California. Temperatures at the track, which can normally range from cold and foggy to quite warm, easily topped the 100 degree mark on both Saturday and Sunday. The heat caused all kinds of problems for the riders and spectators alike - many were hospitalized with heat-related problems. Nicky Hayden, a factory Honda rider from Owensboro, Kentucky, won the MotoGP race convincingly for the second year in a row. There were many other support races, including national-level Superbike races, which would normally stand on their own as a "headline" act. The inclusion of AMA Superbikes in the USGP weekend makes this even more a "must see" event.

Ron and I have traditionally ridden from Santa Cruz the 40 miles or so over to Laguna every morning, and since we were staying with his mother in Scotts Valley, CA, just north of Santa Cruz, (thanks, Mom!) we made the traditional journey three times this year. Sunday after the race, Ron headed home to Tehachapi and family, and I went back to Santa Cruz to spend a couple of days with another lifelong buddy, Jim Hodge (the man who makes Turbo Suzukis cower in fear!)

A few photos to get the flavor of the event .....

Day 13 - Reunions

Day 13
Kelseyville, CA to Scotts Valley, CA
332 miles

I may never have slept so soundly as on my friends Robert and Donna Marie Stahl's living room cot. Robert is Ron's younger brother. Robert took his first tour with us in 1984 with a total of 5000 miles of riding experience under his belt. Today he is an accomplished and skilled rider with nearly 200,000 miles of experience (most of it on his astoundingly clean 1983 Suzuki GS750 - more on that in a moment) and the unique claim of never having been "down" on a street bike. To do that, one must be well trained, vigilant, skilled, and lucky. Robert is all of the above.

We had intended to get up and leave early, but Robert was getting off work at noon, so we waited for him and visited a little in the afternoon. I gave him an impromptu bass guitar lesson, and we sat around, napped, and listed to music until it was obvious we needed to get going if we were going to get to Scotts Valley that day.

California is still in the midst of a heat wave and Kelseyville was not exempt, so we headed for the cool of the coast. Robert rode with us to the coast near Mendocino, where we had dinner at Elk, CA in front of a gorgeous sunset over the Pacific. I always have difficulty when I visit areas where the ocean is not to the west - after living on the left coast for so many years, it just throws me off to have the sun RISE over the ocean.

Robert's immaculate 1983 GS750E has over 130,000 miles on the original, untouched engine - a testament to both the quality of modern machinery and the value of fastidious maintenance. I am not a "group" rider at all - I have very few people I'm really at ease riding with, so it was a rare treat indeed to roll down the road with two good friends and great riders - it did not escape me how fleeting this opportunity would be, and I enjoyed every second.

Robert had to work the next day, and we needed to make time to get back to Scotts Valley, so we all headed back inland. Ron and I had an uneventful ride down 101, including a fog-shrouded Golden Gate bridge, to arrive about 1 am.

Day 12 - Lost Time on the Lost Coast

Day 12
Arcata, CA to Kelseyville, CA
271 miles

We rose to a cool clear morning, somewhat of an oddity in these parts during the summer. After a little map=gazing we decided to ride down the "Lost Coast", a relatively unpopulated area of the Northern California coast not accessible by any major highway.

After a wonderful breakfast in the bucolic berg of Ferndale, we returned to the bikes to discover that Ron's BMW would not start. I had a not-so-private chuckle over this, as my own mechanical problem had been the source of good-natured needling from Ron just a few days earlier. We put our heads together and quickly determined that we had a fuel delivery problem. The fuel pump on a R1150RT is inside the fuel tank, so surgery was begun. I wish I had remembered that my friends, Mark and Debbie Topping, were "motorcycle people", lived close by and would have been happy to help out.

We found and fixed the problem within two hours - amazing considering the limited supply of tools we had and the less-than-optimum working conditions. Once repaired, we made our way through the unspoiled beauty of the "Lost Coast". The road was in very poor condition in some places. We were told later that a section of the coastal road gave way under the weight of several motorcycles just a couples of weeks earlier, resulting in rider injuries serious enough to require MedEvac flights to get them to the hospital. The road would be great for a big dual sport machine, something with long travel suspension, but it was taxing and uncomfortable on my stiffly suspended VFR. We completed our loop with a run through the redwoods in Humbolt Redwoods State Park. The size and majesty of those trees never fails to leave me awed.

The time lost in making roadside repairs required an alteration in schedule, and we rode Hwy 101 south to Ron's brother's house in Kelseyville. A wonderful dinner was waiting for us on the grill, and I for one was ready to stop rolling for a while.

Day 11 - Changes in attitudes, changes in latitudes

Day 11
Quincy, CA to Arcata, CA
417 miles

We got an early start this morning and headed north on CA 89 out of Quincy. We stopped for some "Then and Now" photos along the way and at McArthur-Burney Falls State Park, where we originally intended to camp for the night. We changed our minds because of the over 100 degree heat forecast for the area.

We decided to reroute ourselves and get over to the coast a day early. the difference in temperature can be dramatic - 60s and 70s on the coast, and over 100 just a few miles inland. For our purposes, lower is better this time of year!

Day 10 - The Long and Winding Road - Now and Then Photos

Day 10
Hogdon Meadow, Yosemite to Quincy, CA
351 miles

Dawn broke in a very brisk and beautiful Yosemite fashion, and I broke out the stove and coffee pot to get it started. Ron was still a bit tired from his pre-vacation vacation, so he slept in a little later.

It's hard to describe how waking up in the Sierra Nevada mountains, and Yosemite in particular, makes you feel if you haven't done it yourself, but it is invigorating and renewing and something I would recommend everyone experience at least once. Special note though - if you want to camp inside the park, better get your campsite reservation many months in advance. I secured these reservations for July in the the preceding March and didn't have a great selection.

We got moving before things got too hot, and headed out on the route we originally took back in 1981 - namely, up CA 49 to Angels Camp (104 degrees when we arrived) and then up CA 4 into the high country past Lake Alpine and Mosquito Lake, and down the other side into Markleeville and South Shore Lake Tahoe. From there we moved farther up CA 89 and settled in Quincy before running out of steam and daylight, in that order. We were both pretty worn out from the heat and traffic. We had virtually no traffic in 1981, but then again, there are over 13 million more people in California today than there were in 1981. A million here, a million there and sooner or later it starts to add up!

Finally for today, a few "Then and Now" photos.


Bridge over the Stanislaus River and the New Malones reservoir from CA Hwy 49 - circa 1981 (left) and 2006
















Ron awakens in Yosemite on the morning of Day 2 of the tour circa 1981 (left) and 2006

Day 9 - Into Yosemite

Day 9
Scotts Valley, CA to Hogdon Meadow, Yosemite

We got a later start than we wanted, but knew we had lots of time. As we headed north out of Scotts Valley, we were both astounded at the level of traffic. When Ron moved to Scotts Valley, it had one stop sign. I remember it slightly more advanced - stop lights and a shopping center.

We followed CA Hwy 9 through the San Lorenzo Valley, Brookdale and Boulder Creek, still struggling with heavy traffic. As we neared CA Hwy 35, Skyline Blvd, we finally got a break and traffic thinned out. We spent many a Sunday in years past riding up Skyline to Alice's Restaurant, a local hangout for motorcyclists on Sunday. We stopped for lunch and quickly realized that the secret is out, and everyone knows about Alice's now.

After lunch and some obligatory parking lot trolling, we headed east over the San Francisco Bay and through the baking hot central valley. I saw 105 in Manteca. As we moved up into the higher altitudes, I was rewarded again with the incredible aroma of evergreens and lower temperatures. We camped in Hogdon Valley, a camp at the northern entrance.

After setting up camp, we rode down into Yosemite Valley for some fine pizza at Currey's. On the way back to camp, we pulled over to gaze at the incredible carpet of stars on display in the blackness above the valley floor. I don't know if I have ever seen that many stars, and I know for sure I haven't in a very long time, if I ever did.

Yosemite is a magical place, and I never tire of going back.

Day 8 - Break down, go ahead and give it to me ....

Day 8
Tehachapi, CA to Scotts Valley, CA
348 miles


Internet access has been hard to find, but it's Sunday July 16th - Day 9. Ron & I are in Scotts Valley, CA at his mother's house. In an hour or so, we'll start the actual rerunning of the 81 tour.

We had an interesting trip from his house in Tehachapi, CA yesterday. My Honda decided to start running on three cylinders about 20 miles after we left his house. I rode it that way about 150 miles through some twisty bits until we reached the coast - I knew if I had to disassemble the thing, I wanted to do it in 70 degree temps, not the 100 plus we saw inland. We found an Albertson's in San Luis Obispo, CA with a suitable parking lot. After removing the bodywork, I discovered a loose wire that seemed to be the problem, put it back together, and we rode up to the Santa Cruz area in 55 degree temps, finishing off with a typical Monterey Bay area fog. Brrrr.

Alice's Resautrant (a popular Bay Area motorcycle destination @ the intersection of CA 35 & CA 84) today for lunch, then on to Yosemite.

Day 6 - Head for the coast!

Day 6
Bermuda Dunes, CA to Morro Bay, CA
351 miles

Camping tonight is a welcome change in temperature from the last week. It’s about 60 degrees outside as opposed to the 115 I rode in leaving the desert today. I’ve taken my time for the last two days, visiting with my lifelong friend, Kevin Young, and his family. We found the best sushi deal I’ve ever had Wednesday at Joe’s Sushi in La Quinta, CA - $17.99 for all you can eat! Kevin and I scarfed down what would have cost $100 or more anywhere else and made a mental note that we must return sometime soon. Easier for him than me, I’m afraid!

I had endured all the heat I could stand, so this afternoon I made a bee line to the coast, knowing from having lived there for a big chunk of my life that the temperatures would be cool and pleasant. I was not disappointed – as I drew ever closer, the temp gauge on the VFR continued to fall, settling on a very pleasant 77 degrees when I met the coast at Ventura, CA.

No mechanical or any other issues to report. I had no real destination for tonight and was lucky enough to find a county campground for a reasonable price, and got the tent ready just as night fell. Tehachapi, and Ron’s house tomorrow. There is no ‘net access in this campground though, and I am going nuts that I won’t be able to watch practice for the German GP live. It will keep, as my wise old aunt always said.

Day 4 - close calls and a day of extremes

Day 4
Polvadera, NM - Bermuda Dunes, CA
648 miles

The dawn broke in the New Mexico desert clear and cool, and the lack of humidity was wonderful - I have never gotten completely used to the sultry summer air in Arkansas. I bade my relatives goodbye and headed west on US 60, and quickly the road took me to over 7000 feet. I glanced down at the air temperature gauge on the the VFR - 65 degrees.

After a wonderful breakfast at the Magdalena Cafe in town of the same name, I found myself in a broad, flat high mountain valley - populated only with huge radio antennas - other wise known as the Very Large Array, or VLA for short. See http://www.vla.nrao.edu/ I recognized it from the movie "Contact" with Jodie Foster.

Eventually we crossed over 8200 feet and the ride was pleasant and cool. I knew that later that day I would be fondly remembering those crisp temperatures. Moving west, I found myself in the Salt River Canyon on US 60 West in Arizona, and this road contained the first curves of the trip so far. Unfortunately, it also contained the slippery tar snakes used to repair roads in some areas (dubbed the "La Brea Tar Strips" by Ron's brother Robert when we encountered them up in Alberta back in the 80s). I hadn't experienced any issue with them and was enthusiastically bending the bike into a nice left-hander when the front tucked and slid, leaving an ugly black stripe mid-corner. I don't know how I saved it, but I stayed in the throttle and managed to keep it upright when by all rights I should have been on my head. That was the closest I have come to crashing for a long time. I tip-toed the rest of the way down the canyon and into the town of Globe, where the VFR's air temp gauge showed 111 degrees. It rose to a high reading of 115 while passing through the Tempe and Phoenix metro areas, where I was treated to some stop and go traffic to top things off. There were very few motorcycles on the road in those areas.

I can't say enough about the Joe Rocket Sahara cooling vest - once soaked in water and placed under my mesh jacket, it made the "blast furnace" effect of the wind much more tolerable. The last 200 miles of the I-10 freeway, temps in the 113-115 range, and sun lowering in the west were very taxing. Near the AZ-CA border I came upon a roll-over accident with troopers on-scene, but no medical personell. I stopped to see if the persons were badly injured, not sure if I could help or not. To my relief and just at that moment, an ambulance arrived, and I went on my way.

The pool at my friend Kevin's home in the Bermuda Dunes community was a very welcome sight after an extremely eventful day, which had me riding through a 50 degree range of temperatures.