Thursday, October 11, 2012
WOW! What a ride!
Coming out of the Big Horn Mountains into Idaho and back into the heartland of American farm country is a wonderful transition. Beautiful acreage, fields of grain and horses.
WOW What a Ride!
Coming out of the Bighorn Mountains and down into the plains of Idaho farm country is a wonderful transition from natural resources to cultivated America. You drive along through flat farmland and swing around the corner, and you are overlooking the Snake River Canyon:
You drive a little further south, and you run into perhaps the perfect biker town--American Falls, Idaho.
AF has a NAPA auto parts store, a general store, a good motel, a hardware store and....tada....the Ranch Convenience Store and Gas Station. You can't miss it, as it's the only gas station in town. But here it is, just in case you need a picture:
Impressive no?, Well, I guess not. But INSIDE!!!! Fresh, right out of the oven, homemade cinnamon rolls, blueberry twists, and raspberry twists; ice cream (home made), hot dogs, a full deli and --on movie nights--an old fashioned popcorn machine. I love this place!
Moving on towards Nevada and thence homeward we --oops--run into a long highway construction delay, and the Indian dies. Dead. As a doornail. Shove it off the road and wish someone would steal it so you collect the insurance irretrievably dead.
Greg has rebuilt this bike a number of times, and proceeds to do so again...he rides 30 miles to get new parts suspected of being at fault. Other old parts are brought out of secreted corners of saddlebags and the distributor is rebuilt. Four hours later we have a rebuilt engine that still won't start. Enter Sean!
Actually, Sean entered a couple hours ago. He is a trucker from Calgary Canada on his way empty into Las Vegas with his long bed/flat bed trailer. He saw Greg digging into a ziploc bag as he roared past, and said to himself: "there's a fellow biker looking for parts." Sean
You drive a little further south, and you run into perhaps the perfect biker town--American Falls, Idaho.
AF has a NAPA auto parts store, a general store, a good motel, a hardware store and....tada....the Ranch Convenience Store and Gas Station. You can't miss it, as it's the only gas station in town. But here it is, just in case you need a picture:
Moving on towards Nevada and thence homeward we --oops--run into a long highway construction delay, and the Indian dies. Dead. As a doornail. Shove it off the road and wish someone would steal it so you collect the insurance irretrievably dead.
Greg has rebuilt this bike a number of times, and proceeds to do so again...he rides 30 miles to get new parts suspected of being at fault. Other old parts are brought out of secreted corners of saddlebags and the distributor is rebuilt. Four hours later we have a rebuilt engine that still won't start. Enter Sean!
Actually, Sean entered a couple hours ago. He is a trucker from Calgary Canada on his way empty into Las Vegas with his long bed/flat bed trailer. He saw Greg digging into a ziploc bag as he roared past, and said to himself: "there's a fellow biker looking for parts." Sean
Home from a Great Adventure
I've been remiss in posting, mostly for the lack of internet access, somewhat because of being too tired too late, and somewhat because of the simple rush of events.
When last heard from, your loyal correspondent and fellow traveler were in Yellowstone NP and oh-so-much has happened since!
From Yellowstone we headed west-southwest into Idaho, with our next overnight destination to be Elko Nevada. Didn't make it.
We stopped briefly to view the Snake River Canyon in Twin Falls ID. A remarkable sight despite the installation of a golf course in the bottom of the canyon.
[I have been having issues with accessing this....I will catch up someday...sorry for the inconvenience.]
When last heard from, your loyal correspondent and fellow traveler were in Yellowstone NP and oh-so-much has happened since!
From Yellowstone we headed west-southwest into Idaho, with our next overnight destination to be Elko Nevada. Didn't make it.
We stopped briefly to view the Snake River Canyon in Twin Falls ID. A remarkable sight despite the installation of a golf course in the bottom of the canyon.
[I have been having issues with accessing this....I will catch up someday...sorry for the inconvenience.]
Sunday, September 9, 2012
We traveled through Yellowstone today and I was not prepared for how the fire of a few years ago had devastated the landscape. It is pretty grim. I want to go back to the big Horn Mountains. I want to fish the Madison on the west side of the park. I want to roam around northern Idaho, western Wyoming and southern Montana. But I don't think I need to see Old Faithful again. Its still as cool as ever--- well, hot actually--- but it lacks the personality that will bring me back to the rivers and mountains of the high plains. The Madison at the west entrance is a spectacular trout steam!
We did get charged (sort of ) by a Buffalo. It is not easy to turn a standing Harley around and run the other way on a standard width road, but I did. I was too busy to get a photo of it, but afterward the old guy sauntered off the road and took a dust bath:
I have to say these are awe inspiring creatures when they get some speed on down an asphalt road that you're at the other end of. [OK, you put the preposition in the right place!] I was more or less caught in standing traffic looking at this guy who had wandered onto the road ahead of me, when a bicyclist came up the road and spooked him into running down towards us. Its one thing to contemplate meeting one of these first hand from inside an RV, probably rented anyway, and quite another to contemplate it from the saddle of a motorcycle. So I u-turned and hightailed it faster than you could say "thank got for electric starters and fuel injected engines."
The day was uneventful, but a bit tiring from handling the MC at low speeds all day. We'll head on down the road tomorrow, more or less making a beeline for home on wednesday. So this may be my last post until I get home and have an opportunity to contemplate how this trip went. Right now, I know I want to revisit some places, preferably both in the winter and once again in the fall, but this time with a fly rod in hand and a nice campground to go back to in the evening. Also, preferably, with companionable folk to tell fishing lies to around a campfire.
We did get charged (sort of ) by a Buffalo. It is not easy to turn a standing Harley around and run the other way on a standard width road, but I did. I was too busy to get a photo of it, but afterward the old guy sauntered off the road and took a dust bath:
I have to say these are awe inspiring creatures when they get some speed on down an asphalt road that you're at the other end of. [OK, you put the preposition in the right place!] I was more or less caught in standing traffic looking at this guy who had wandered onto the road ahead of me, when a bicyclist came up the road and spooked him into running down towards us. Its one thing to contemplate meeting one of these first hand from inside an RV, probably rented anyway, and quite another to contemplate it from the saddle of a motorcycle. So I u-turned and hightailed it faster than you could say "thank got for electric starters and fuel injected engines."
The day was uneventful, but a bit tiring from handling the MC at low speeds all day. We'll head on down the road tomorrow, more or less making a beeline for home on wednesday. So this may be my last post until I get home and have an opportunity to contemplate how this trip went. Right now, I know I want to revisit some places, preferably both in the winter and once again in the fall, but this time with a fly rod in hand and a nice campground to go back to in the evening. Also, preferably, with companionable folk to tell fishing lies to around a campfire.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Made it into Codcy WY at about 8:30 this p.m.
What was to have been a leisurely 375 mile ride today proved long and frustrating, as a shorted out coil on the Indian sidelined us for 2 1/2 hours. But after many frustrated attempts to kick start, push start and use pure willpower on it, the problem was ultimately diagnosed, and a new coil located at an auto parts store 15 minutes down the road. The bike started first try.
We then proceeded to travel through the Big Horn mountains and into Cody. It was a hard ride, as the setting sun was in our faces the whole way...but what a stupendously gorgeous place. I'm coming back to ride it again. I may move here. Late in the afternoon, with the sun having dropped below the mountains, we had a huge pronghorn antelope buck galloping along side the road, seemingly racing us to the next stop. Gassed up in Greybull WY and caught a hatch coming off the Bighorn River. Cleaned off face shields. Flat land and open sky as far as the eye can see, surrounded by mountains that never seem to get any closer no matter how long or fast you ride.
This is such a great country. Too bad its so poorly managed. Its 10:30, and I'm beat. Tomorrow is Yellowstone. Will report fully.
What was to have been a leisurely 375 mile ride today proved long and frustrating, as a shorted out coil on the Indian sidelined us for 2 1/2 hours. But after many frustrated attempts to kick start, push start and use pure willpower on it, the problem was ultimately diagnosed, and a new coil located at an auto parts store 15 minutes down the road. The bike started first try.
We then proceeded to travel through the Big Horn mountains and into Cody. It was a hard ride, as the setting sun was in our faces the whole way...but what a stupendously gorgeous place. I'm coming back to ride it again. I may move here. Late in the afternoon, with the sun having dropped below the mountains, we had a huge pronghorn antelope buck galloping along side the road, seemingly racing us to the next stop. Gassed up in Greybull WY and caught a hatch coming off the Bighorn River. Cleaned off face shields. Flat land and open sky as far as the eye can see, surrounded by mountains that never seem to get any closer no matter how long or fast you ride.
This is such a great country. Too bad its so poorly managed. Its 10:30, and I'm beat. Tomorrow is Yellowstone. Will report fully.
Friday, September 7, 2012
Lowest Common Denominator
Is it just my imagination, or do we Americans reduce everything to the fastest nickel and the cheapest thrill?
Deadwood is an historic town that was front and center in the action surrounding the settlement of the west and the displacement of the Native Americans. It is a town rich in the lore of the West. It was here that Wild Bill Hickok was shot in the back in a bar named the No. 10 saloon while holding two pair, aces and eights, now known as the dead mans hand. He lies up on the hill overlooking Deadwood next to the grave of Calamity Jane, and just across the 'road' from the grave of the notorious Madam Dora DuFran and her parrot Fred. (Weirdly, Hickok was born on the same day I was (different year) and his grave is on 'David Street" in the cemetery.) Deadwood is also in an area filled with the beauty of the Black Hills (which it is in, and not the Badlands), and the fine architecture of the late 19th century. It should be a tremendous tourist destination. But they have absolutely ruined it by bringing in gaming.
The lobby of the Bullock Hotel, where I have been these past four days, is typical. Upon entering you find 15 foot ceilings with elaborate decoration, paneled walls, walnut staircases, deep pile carpets and all the trappings of a luxurious hotel of the period. But what immediately assaults you is the row upon row of gaming machines that fill every room and blast the senses with neon flashing lights, bells and rock and roll music. It is like walking into a cheap casino/gas station in Reno. And the Bullock is simply the worst travesty...the entire town is that way. I found not a single store restaurant or hotel in town that wasn't primarily a casino. I think I would come back to the Black Hills someday for the riding, but not to Deadwood. It is Virginia City without the charm.
Today we found the real highlight of the trip though (aside from the scenery) at the Crazy Horse Memorial. I had not realized that it was begun before I was born, and that it is predicted to be finished --at its current rate of progress-- several hundred years hence. The reason for this being the financing problem. Commissioned by the elders of the Oglala Sioux nation, the sculpture was the lifelong work of a polish immigrant sculptor, and is now carried on by his wife and seven of his children. (Don't ask me to spell his name...I don't think my keyboard has enough consonants.) It will be their lifetime work as well. But it receives --by intention--no government funds and depends totally on entrance fees and donations. Here it is in its current state, with a white line overlay of its future shape:
It is truly an amazing project, and is accompanied by grandiose but wonderful plans for a university center and cultural museum. An impressive facility and collection of Native Americana is already present and viewable.
Tomorrow we leave the Black Hills behind us and turn back westward. Our target destination for tomorrow is Cody Wyoming and thence on, the following day, to Yellowstone Park. More to come...
Deadwood is an historic town that was front and center in the action surrounding the settlement of the west and the displacement of the Native Americans. It is a town rich in the lore of the West. It was here that Wild Bill Hickok was shot in the back in a bar named the No. 10 saloon while holding two pair, aces and eights, now known as the dead mans hand. He lies up on the hill overlooking Deadwood next to the grave of Calamity Jane, and just across the 'road' from the grave of the notorious Madam Dora DuFran and her parrot Fred. (Weirdly, Hickok was born on the same day I was (different year) and his grave is on 'David Street" in the cemetery.) Deadwood is also in an area filled with the beauty of the Black Hills (which it is in, and not the Badlands), and the fine architecture of the late 19th century. It should be a tremendous tourist destination. But they have absolutely ruined it by bringing in gaming.
The lobby of the Bullock Hotel, where I have been these past four days, is typical. Upon entering you find 15 foot ceilings with elaborate decoration, paneled walls, walnut staircases, deep pile carpets and all the trappings of a luxurious hotel of the period. But what immediately assaults you is the row upon row of gaming machines that fill every room and blast the senses with neon flashing lights, bells and rock and roll music. It is like walking into a cheap casino/gas station in Reno. And the Bullock is simply the worst travesty...the entire town is that way. I found not a single store restaurant or hotel in town that wasn't primarily a casino. I think I would come back to the Black Hills someday for the riding, but not to Deadwood. It is Virginia City without the charm.
Today we found the real highlight of the trip though (aside from the scenery) at the Crazy Horse Memorial. I had not realized that it was begun before I was born, and that it is predicted to be finished --at its current rate of progress-- several hundred years hence. The reason for this being the financing problem. Commissioned by the elders of the Oglala Sioux nation, the sculpture was the lifelong work of a polish immigrant sculptor, and is now carried on by his wife and seven of his children. (Don't ask me to spell his name...I don't think my keyboard has enough consonants.) It will be their lifetime work as well. But it receives --by intention--no government funds and depends totally on entrance fees and donations. Here it is in its current state, with a white line overlay of its future shape:
and here is the scaled down sculpture from which the artist/stone workers are working:
Tomorrow we leave the Black Hills behind us and turn back westward. Our target destination for tomorrow is Cody Wyoming and thence on, the following day, to Yellowstone Park. More to come...
Couldn't post last night because the wi-fi here at the hotel was down. Got my palm read by the desk clerk though while I was reporting the outtage. She had to keep looking at her palm reading manual though, so it kind of spoiled the experience.
Had a long riding day yesterday. It was productive, though, as it produced 4 U.S. Presidents (Mount Rushmore), a dozen pronged antelope, two herds of buffalo and a bunch of wild asses on the road. Some donkeys too.
I am not sure what attracts people to buffalo, as they are essentially cattle with long hair. In my personal experience, long hair never measurably added to my appeal to others, but it works for the buffalo, as people will consistently stop in the middle of the road to stare at them. The donkeys were very cute, as were the presidents.
I'm one of those folks, rare I guess, who just don't get Mount Rushmore. These happen to be four presidents whom I admire greatly and who most definitely stand out in the roster of US presidents. But I think Mount Rushmore would have been perfectly pleasant scenery without the defacement involved. Admittedly, the sculpture was an impressive accomplishment, both artistically and logistically, but I question the tradeoffs involved. Also, you gotta admit its sort of a weird grouping of presidents. Despite the obligatory stops to see tourist attractions, we are having fun. It is something of a disparate group we have, between Big Dave from Jersey
and George from Ohio
we are a pretty good cross section of the MC world. Mostly male riders, but most of the ladies present ride their own bikes, like Flossie from Missoura:
So far, we have pretty much avoided talking politics, one of our basic rules, so we get along just fine.
In any event, this gathering draws to a close today with a ride to the Crazy Horse memorial and other scenic places. Will report as ever a.s.a.p., your faithful correspondent....
Had a long riding day yesterday. It was productive, though, as it produced 4 U.S. Presidents (Mount Rushmore), a dozen pronged antelope, two herds of buffalo and a bunch of wild asses on the road. Some donkeys too.
I am not sure what attracts people to buffalo, as they are essentially cattle with long hair. In my personal experience, long hair never measurably added to my appeal to others, but it works for the buffalo, as people will consistently stop in the middle of the road to stare at them. The donkeys were very cute, as were the presidents.
I'm one of those folks, rare I guess, who just don't get Mount Rushmore. These happen to be four presidents whom I admire greatly and who most definitely stand out in the roster of US presidents. But I think Mount Rushmore would have been perfectly pleasant scenery without the defacement involved. Admittedly, the sculpture was an impressive accomplishment, both artistically and logistically, but I question the tradeoffs involved. Also, you gotta admit its sort of a weird grouping of presidents. Despite the obligatory stops to see tourist attractions, we are having fun. It is something of a disparate group we have, between Big Dave from Jersey
and George from Ohio
In any event, this gathering draws to a close today with a ride to the Crazy Horse memorial and other scenic places. Will report as ever a.s.a.p., your faithful correspondent....
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
I Now Understand the "Why" of Sturgis
I have been remiss in posting. My apologies. But I now begin to understand why half a million bikers gather here each year to ride the Black Hills and Badlands of South Dakota. This is one of the most spectacular riding areas anywhere. It's a combination of the terrain, the views, the roads and the road conditions. These factors all combine to make for a spectacular mc ride. Add to it the fact that --so far-- we have been blessed with idyllic weather, and it has been a good time. Kickstands are up by 9:00 a.m. (which means usually that you (well I at least) have been up and getting gas, washing the bike at the local car wash etc for some time. a typical day's ride has been 200 to 250 miles, and we are back by 5:30 or 6:00 andoff to grab something to eat and hit the sack.
Day 1 was the grand tour of the Badlands, and it was the hottest day we've had, hitting well into the high 90's/low 100's. Here we are (at least some of us; others went a galavantin off elsewhere) :
and here is the scenery:
Day 2 (today) we rode out to the Devils Tower, where climbers were actively scampering up the side of the tower and prairie dogs were scampering all over their 'coterie' or family turf. Here they are:
...and here's a scared baby running to Mom for a hug.
more tomorrow.
Day 1 was the grand tour of the Badlands, and it was the hottest day we've had, hitting well into the high 90's/low 100's. Here we are (at least some of us; others went a galavantin off elsewhere) :
Day 2 (today) we rode out to the Devils Tower, where climbers were actively scampering up the side of the tower and prairie dogs were scampering all over their 'coterie' or family turf. Here they are:
...and here's a scared baby running to Mom for a hug.
more tomorrow.
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Wyoming is sure horse country, and horseperson (cowperson?) country!
This is a little town we stopped in for gas, but all are very much the same. Wyoming has a few larger cities, but is mostly a state of small towns. These two friendly guys (grandpa and grandson) were just out for a ride on the town main street, and stopped to admire the bikes. Grandpa doesn't ride motorcycles anymore 'cause he kept falling off. I told him that's the way it was with me and horses.
The trip from Jackson Hole over to Casper WY was smooth sailing once we got the Indian started in the a.m. It was about 6500 feet and about 41 degrees this morning, and the Indian didn't like either of those facts. But Greg got his morning aerobic workout (for those who aren't aware of the fact, a 1947 Indian has to be kick started every time...no electric ignition!) Jackson was also totally fogged in, and we never got to see the Gran Tetons even as we rode out.
The woman behind the desk at our Best Western tonight is a fourth generation Wyomingite and used to drive a cab in Deadwood. Gotta be some great stories there, but the front desk is too busy for me to take up her time. I just wish i could remember all my western history, but I guess I'l get a chance to brush up on it in Deadwood. Most people don't associate the Dakotas with the great Indian conflicts of the 19th century, but the stretch along the northern Wyoming/southern Montana borders and into South Dakota and Nebraska was the heart of much of the Indian conflict, the principal tribes being the Sioux family of tribes. Little Bighorn, where Custer bought the farm, is a bit west of Deadwood, out in southern Montana, but Wounded Knee is right here in South Dakota, just an arrow shot from the Nebraska border. Much of the history of the European settlers moving into Indian lands took place right around this area. I am really looking forward to riding through these grassland prairies only a few generations removed from the drama that unfolded on them as part of the settlement of the American West.
The trip from Jackson Hole over to Casper WY was smooth sailing once we got the Indian started in the a.m. It was about 6500 feet and about 41 degrees this morning, and the Indian didn't like either of those facts. But Greg got his morning aerobic workout (for those who aren't aware of the fact, a 1947 Indian has to be kick started every time...no electric ignition!) Jackson was also totally fogged in, and we never got to see the Gran Tetons even as we rode out.
The woman behind the desk at our Best Western tonight is a fourth generation Wyomingite and used to drive a cab in Deadwood. Gotta be some great stories there, but the front desk is too busy for me to take up her time. I just wish i could remember all my western history, but I guess I'l get a chance to brush up on it in Deadwood. Most people don't associate the Dakotas with the great Indian conflicts of the 19th century, but the stretch along the northern Wyoming/southern Montana borders and into South Dakota and Nebraska was the heart of much of the Indian conflict, the principal tribes being the Sioux family of tribes. Little Bighorn, where Custer bought the farm, is a bit west of Deadwood, out in southern Montana, but Wounded Knee is right here in South Dakota, just an arrow shot from the Nebraska border. Much of the history of the European settlers moving into Indian lands took place right around this area. I am really looking forward to riding through these grassland prairies only a few generations removed from the drama that unfolded on them as part of the settlement of the American West.
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Jim Bridger and the MOuntain Men were Right!
Jackson Hole is a gorgeous refuge from the harsh mountains and deserts around it. Here is the Snake River as it runs along the highway into Jackson Hole. Luckily, the river runs along side much of the highway journey in. You can see the top of the windshield there in the middle.
I have other cool photos for today, but will have to add them later. The internet upload here at Motel 6 in Jackson is terribly slow.
Lucky we had a reservation. Town is very crowded, and eight bikers were turned away as we rode in, as the motel is full up. It rained tonight while at dinner. The wonderful raincover I got for Christmas, which has been on the bike every night so far, was in the saddlebag. So my sheepskin seat cover is draped over the AC now trying to dry.
Am pretty tired tonight. We started at 7 this a.m. with an oil top off for the Indian's primary chain case, got on the road about 8:30 and got into Jackson about 6:30 ....longish day. Tomorrow is a short ride day though, so I should be able to update the blog thoroughly tomorrow. Night.
Lucky we had a reservation. Town is very crowded, and eight bikers were turned away as we rode in, as the motel is full up. It rained tonight while at dinner. The wonderful raincover I got for Christmas, which has been on the bike every night so far, was in the saddlebag. So my sheepskin seat cover is draped over the AC now trying to dry.
Am pretty tired tonight. We started at 7 this a.m. with an oil top off for the Indian's primary chain case, got on the road about 8:30 and got into Jackson about 6:30 ....longish day. Tomorrow is a short ride day though, so I should be able to update the blog thoroughly tomorrow. Night.
Friday, August 31, 2012
Thunder and Lightening!
OK, this is going to be a short one:
We awakened this a.m to find that Farley did not lose any of its luster in the pale morning light. Hit the road a rarin' to go, and then almost immediately pulled over to let a lightening storm go by. Rain is a bit uncomfortable for Greg, as he has no windshield, and no wipers on his helmet, but rain we can tolerate; Lightening is another thing. And this black storm was forking right and left. So we pulled over for a few minutes, got back on the road, and promptly caught up with the storm. This time we moved on until we found a rest stop up the road a mile or so, where several other riders from SLCity were pulled over for the same reason. Turns out I had met them two days earlier when they were riding through Fort Bragg, and I stopped to chat. (Bikers are an inherently friendly bunch!) This time we visited for about a half an hour and then hit the road again. They were faster than we, and soon pulled out of sight, but we caught up with them (and the storm) half an hour later at a gas stop where they had decided to eat an early lunch and give the storm more time to move out. We, made of hardier stock, decided to keep going, and didn't pull over for lunch for at least another ten minutes. By lunch's end, which took about an hour, the storm had in fact moved on through, and the rest of the day was uneventful But we lost at least a couple of hours due to the storm, and got into Boise late--about 7:30 MST. Tired and fed, I'm off to bed. Hopefully, there will be more exciting reports tomorrow, as we head off to Jackson Hole!
We awakened this a.m to find that Farley did not lose any of its luster in the pale morning light. Hit the road a rarin' to go, and then almost immediately pulled over to let a lightening storm go by. Rain is a bit uncomfortable for Greg, as he has no windshield, and no wipers on his helmet, but rain we can tolerate; Lightening is another thing. And this black storm was forking right and left. So we pulled over for a few minutes, got back on the road, and promptly caught up with the storm. This time we moved on until we found a rest stop up the road a mile or so, where several other riders from SLCity were pulled over for the same reason. Turns out I had met them two days earlier when they were riding through Fort Bragg, and I stopped to chat. (Bikers are an inherently friendly bunch!) This time we visited for about a half an hour and then hit the road again. They were faster than we, and soon pulled out of sight, but we caught up with them (and the storm) half an hour later at a gas stop where they had decided to eat an early lunch and give the storm more time to move out. We, made of hardier stock, decided to keep going, and didn't pull over for lunch for at least another ten minutes. By lunch's end, which took about an hour, the storm had in fact moved on through, and the rest of the day was uneventful But we lost at least a couple of hours due to the storm, and got into Boise late--about 7:30 MST. Tired and fed, I'm off to bed. Hopefully, there will be more exciting reports tomorrow, as we head off to Jackson Hole!
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Breaking News!
I guess it is not good journalism to say there is not much to report. I should say: "Breaking News!! Nevada is Hot! And Dry! And about as desolate as anywhere can be.
What on god's green earth caused people to stop here and say: "Hmmm, this looks like a fine place to settle down!"? We are in Fernley Nevada, pop. unknown, but large enough to host a Wal-Mart. It is right across the street from the motel, and kitty-corner to the mandatory casino. Fernley (wasn't there a talk show spoof about "Fernley Tonight!"?) is 352 miles from Caspar as the motorcycle rolls. It is also substantially uphill. Fernley exists, as near as can be told from visual observation and a brief flirtation with Ashley at the front desk, to support mining endeavors (looks like they're mining rocks) and major distribution centers. If you order something online and they promise to deliver in three days, who knows? It might just come from Fernley NV!
This is NOT apparently what happened to the new GPS I ordered. My old trusty GPS is not working. I don't know what is wrong with it. So I ordered one just like it that was supposed to be delivered last week, and is in fact arriving (supposedly) this weekend, when--may I add- - I will likely be wandering all over this forsaken desert as lost as I usually get without a working gps. I have the old one with me, should it suddenly decide to spring to life. But I ain't bettin' on it. That's probably the only thing Fernleyites don't bet on either. As you can see from this photo of central Fernely, what they should be doing is betting their money on the next practicable way out of town:
In all honesty, I could have gone to greater effort than opening my motel door and snapping a picture, but I think I got Fernley's good side here. I certainly have captured its spirit.
Tomorrow we're off to Boise Idaho, a place I have never been and where I hope to connect with my son-in-law's parents (what relationship is that?) Then we jump into the heart of the trip, and head off for Jackson Hole, Casper WY and Deadwood, SD. Keep those cards and letters coming. I am, as always, your humble correspondent, writing tonight from the wilds of Nevada.
What on god's green earth caused people to stop here and say: "Hmmm, this looks like a fine place to settle down!"? We are in Fernley Nevada, pop. unknown, but large enough to host a Wal-Mart. It is right across the street from the motel, and kitty-corner to the mandatory casino. Fernley (wasn't there a talk show spoof about "Fernley Tonight!"?) is 352 miles from Caspar as the motorcycle rolls. It is also substantially uphill. Fernley exists, as near as can be told from visual observation and a brief flirtation with Ashley at the front desk, to support mining endeavors (looks like they're mining rocks) and major distribution centers. If you order something online and they promise to deliver in three days, who knows? It might just come from Fernley NV!
This is NOT apparently what happened to the new GPS I ordered. My old trusty GPS is not working. I don't know what is wrong with it. So I ordered one just like it that was supposed to be delivered last week, and is in fact arriving (supposedly) this weekend, when--may I add- - I will likely be wandering all over this forsaken desert as lost as I usually get without a working gps. I have the old one with me, should it suddenly decide to spring to life. But I ain't bettin' on it. That's probably the only thing Fernleyites don't bet on either. As you can see from this photo of central Fernely, what they should be doing is betting their money on the next practicable way out of town:
Tomorrow we're off to Boise Idaho, a place I have never been and where I hope to connect with my son-in-law's parents (what relationship is that?) Then we jump into the heart of the trip, and head off for Jackson Hole, Casper WY and Deadwood, SD. Keep those cards and letters coming. I am, as always, your humble correspondent, writing tonight from the wilds of Nevada.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Bike's even waxed! Now I gotta get the energy to rub it off!
Got a bit of a reprieve from kitchen duties today as 1) the electrician had taken over the space to finish the job and 2) a California Sea Lion needed rescuing. Unfortunately, neither one made it. But at least it got me out. Tested out the new oil and it seems to be staying inside the bike. Got the wax out and put it on. Now have to take it off. Seems like we're almost ready to go. Greg says the Indian is almost ready for a test start, but I notice he's also dusted off the BMW just in case.
Here is our planned route. I don't usually stick to any planned route, although I like to have a general idea of where and when I'm moseying along. We might stick close to this one though, as it has been planned not only to get us there, but to pass through places that are worth seeing in their own right. If anyone knows of any 'must see's' along this route, give us a holler. Here's the route:
Gotta go rub some wax and make sure all systems are a 'go'. Bye.
Here is our planned route. I don't usually stick to any planned route, although I like to have a general idea of where and when I'm moseying along. We might stick close to this one though, as it has been planned not only to get us there, but to pass through places that are worth seeing in their own right. If anyone knows of any 'must see's' along this route, give us a holler. Here's the route:
Gotta go rub some wax and make sure all systems are a 'go'. Bye.
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Now feeling the need to get ready....
I was motivated today to begin the process of getting ready when I got an email from Greg announcing that between now and our planned departure on Thursday (that's one, two three --count 'em -- days from now) he was planning on pulling the engine on his Indian and installing new heads and head bolts. So I went ahead and packed. I had to do something. Tomorrow the oil gets changed and riding equipment gets checked over. Sometime between now and Thursday I've also got to install a new headset in my helmet. It is Greg's, and he wants to experiment with bike-to-bike communication on the trip. Hope he likes my singing. With showers few and far between, and no-one on board to talk to, singing as I ride along has become part of the routine. I don't think he is yet aware of this.
Also between now and Thursday, if my original schedule is to be maintained, I am supposed to build and install new kitchen cabinets. Right now half the kitchen is still down to exposed studs, and the other half has been re-sheathed in plywood and awaits new cabinets. The electrician is supposed to show up tomorrow to finish re-electrifying us, and I have to re-plumb in the temporary sink so Elizabeth has running water (indoors) during my trip.
Somehow, I don't think the cabinets are going to get done before Deadwood. Oh, for the life of the open road! Just me, the elements, good manly companions, and just this wee little bit of guilt gnawing at me that my wife will be living in the middle of domestic chaos during my two weeks of fantasy camp. But she's a good sport, and I am confident that all will turn out well.....
I trust you are feeling the same? More tomorrow.
Also between now and Thursday, if my original schedule is to be maintained, I am supposed to build and install new kitchen cabinets. Right now half the kitchen is still down to exposed studs, and the other half has been re-sheathed in plywood and awaits new cabinets. The electrician is supposed to show up tomorrow to finish re-electrifying us, and I have to re-plumb in the temporary sink so Elizabeth has running water (indoors) during my trip.
Somehow, I don't think the cabinets are going to get done before Deadwood. Oh, for the life of the open road! Just me, the elements, good manly companions, and just this wee little bit of guilt gnawing at me that my wife will be living in the middle of domestic chaos during my two weeks of fantasy camp. But she's a good sport, and I am confident that all will turn out well.....
I trust you are feeling the same? More tomorrow.
Friday, August 24, 2012
The 2012 High Plains Gypsy Tour-- Deadwood SD, Lookout!
Hard to believe its been almost a year since my NOLa trip of October 2011. But the bike's on the stand and new oil's in the can, and I'm about ready to get ready to go. I'm excited about my new trip, but its sorta hard to tell. I'm not getting blase about my touring adventures, but maybe I am feeling a bit more seasoned. Only a week to go before blast off, and neither the bike nor sock supply has been washed. I haven't even packed!
But, truth will out, all the planning for this one was completed months ago, including motel reservations at eleven way-points coming and going: no camping this trip. In a departure from my usual solo ventures, I will be traveling with an older gentleman this time, and I believe he feels the old joints and other wear-parts can no longer handle the rigors of a true Gypsy Tour---camping along the way. Deferring respectfully to the needs of an aging companion, I acquiesced: 'age before beauty' as they say. I will return next year to the land of the Kumbaya Singers.
Having managed to give you a rough introduction to my traveling companion, let me introduce you to the probable real cause of the need for a soft bed at night: This is Greg and his 1947 Indian Chief, which he plans to ride all of the 3,000 + miles we will cover this trip.
Here is a closer shot of the good looking half of this rare duo. Except for certain machining that was required, this bike was restored by Greg working pretty much alone, except for those occasions when it proved necessary for me to wander over with a cup of java to supervise.
And, finally, this is Greg himself -- a picture perfect bike model! Note: these two bikes that will be traveling together span 60+ years of American motorcycling history.
The Trip As I was called upon on several occasions to put my coffee down and help Greg lift the engine into place, I therefore take some pride of ownership into our road adventure. But what I am really looking forward to is watching this bike being ridden 3,000+ miles from the comfort of my 2011 Road Glide. I even got a new seat this year--a beautiful Mustang Two Up Touring seat--to make the viewing all that more comfy. (Pics of new seat will have to come....its dark outside right now.)
The roads I will be following and observing my good friend on are those which lead to Deadwood South Dakota. Home of the Black Hills National Forest and the Badlands National Park, South Dakota is an area of the country heretofore glimpsed by me only in my dreams, and is the site of this seasons's Road King Riders and Gliders High Plains Gypsy Tour. And Deadwood--most importantly to a serious history buff and an incurable romantic--is famous for, inter alia, being where Wild Bill Hickok was shot while sitting at a poker table holding "aces and eights", now known eponymously as the "Dead Man's Hand". (I understand the dispute which led to this shooting was not, as one might imagine, over cards: as our French friends say -- cherchez la femme!)
Greg and I take off next Thursday, August 30, and head off across Northern California to the Northeast and Western Nevada. From there we will leave the Interstate slab and head up to Boisie ID, cut over across Yellowstone National Park and environs, and arrive in Deadwood on Labor Day. There we will meet up with approximately 35 fellow Road King/Glide riders from the Road King Forum who are meeting there for a week of riding and convivial biker talk. Well, I say convivial in the hope that we can refrain from political discussions. (Probably a vain hope in an election year, wouldn't you say?) As one of the few token liberals to be admitted to this august (if largely ill informed and misguided) group, I look forward to this with some trepidation. Greg will also take advantage of the chance to attend a nearby Antique Motorcycles convention of some sort. Although I confess to being a thing of beauty when paired with my motorcycle, I suspect that the 1947 Indian Chief will be the constant center of attention on this trip. Ah well, fame, riches and beauty are all fleeting: at least I will have the comfort of a lambskin seat cover and shock absorbers! More to come as preparations progress! See y'all in Deadwood!
But, truth will out, all the planning for this one was completed months ago, including motel reservations at eleven way-points coming and going: no camping this trip. In a departure from my usual solo ventures, I will be traveling with an older gentleman this time, and I believe he feels the old joints and other wear-parts can no longer handle the rigors of a true Gypsy Tour---camping along the way. Deferring respectfully to the needs of an aging companion, I acquiesced: 'age before beauty' as they say. I will return next year to the land of the Kumbaya Singers.
Having managed to give you a rough introduction to my traveling companion, let me introduce you to the probable real cause of the need for a soft bed at night: This is Greg and his 1947 Indian Chief, which he plans to ride all of the 3,000 + miles we will cover this trip.
Here is a closer shot of the good looking half of this rare duo. Except for certain machining that was required, this bike was restored by Greg working pretty much alone, except for those occasions when it proved necessary for me to wander over with a cup of java to supervise.
And, finally, this is Greg himself -- a picture perfect bike model! Note: these two bikes that will be traveling together span 60+ years of American motorcycling history.
The Trip As I was called upon on several occasions to put my coffee down and help Greg lift the engine into place, I therefore take some pride of ownership into our road adventure. But what I am really looking forward to is watching this bike being ridden 3,000+ miles from the comfort of my 2011 Road Glide. I even got a new seat this year--a beautiful Mustang Two Up Touring seat--to make the viewing all that more comfy. (Pics of new seat will have to come....its dark outside right now.)
The roads I will be following and observing my good friend on are those which lead to Deadwood South Dakota. Home of the Black Hills National Forest and the Badlands National Park, South Dakota is an area of the country heretofore glimpsed by me only in my dreams, and is the site of this seasons's Road King Riders and Gliders High Plains Gypsy Tour. And Deadwood--most importantly to a serious history buff and an incurable romantic--is famous for, inter alia, being where Wild Bill Hickok was shot while sitting at a poker table holding "aces and eights", now known eponymously as the "Dead Man's Hand". (I understand the dispute which led to this shooting was not, as one might imagine, over cards: as our French friends say -- cherchez la femme!)
Greg and I take off next Thursday, August 30, and head off across Northern California to the Northeast and Western Nevada. From there we will leave the Interstate slab and head up to Boisie ID, cut over across Yellowstone National Park and environs, and arrive in Deadwood on Labor Day. There we will meet up with approximately 35 fellow Road King/Glide riders from the Road King Forum who are meeting there for a week of riding and convivial biker talk. Well, I say convivial in the hope that we can refrain from political discussions. (Probably a vain hope in an election year, wouldn't you say?) As one of the few token liberals to be admitted to this august (if largely ill informed and misguided) group, I look forward to this with some trepidation. Greg will also take advantage of the chance to attend a nearby Antique Motorcycles convention of some sort. Although I confess to being a thing of beauty when paired with my motorcycle, I suspect that the 1947 Indian Chief will be the constant center of attention on this trip. Ah well, fame, riches and beauty are all fleeting: at least I will have the comfort of a lambskin seat cover and shock absorbers! More to come as preparations progress! See y'all in Deadwood!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)