Launch Date: May 23, 2010
On or about May 23, Peter and Sebastian intend to launch what may well be an epic journey: To Alaska and back. On motorcycles. That are over 25 years old. Using bodies whose combined age is 85.
Our trip will take us to 37 states–including the last three that I have never visited– and will cover nearly 13,000 miles. In the lower 48, we will be as far west as Oregon and Washington, as far south as Mississippi, Alabama and Georgia, and will hit just about every state in between. We will miss only Florida, California, Colorado and the Southwest, and parts of New England.
We’ll be posting our progress, pictures, videos and your comments as we go.
So, stay tuned and wish us luck.
(By the way, It appears that the newest post will appear immediately after this brief intro.)
Peter and Sebastian
Photo Updates.
We’re beginning to flesh out some of the posts with photos and also are filling in the Gallery page. So we’re not done yet.
The South and the End.
Our trip through the South was very quick and we made only a few strategically selected stops. Throughout, the heat and humidity were oppressive. If we closed our helmet visors, we would sweat bullets underneath, if we opened them, it was like driving through a blast furnace. We did not want to linger, and preferred indoor attractions.
St. Louis
Here is a Good Tip we learned for anyone planning a long distance MC trip. Since tires from dealerships are very expensive, you want to try to plan ahead for tire changes. So, in your tool kit pack a tire tread depth gauge, and monitor the rate of tire wear you are getting on the trip for the first few thousand miles. Use that rate of wear to figure out where you will need tires sent. While in Wyoming, I had determined that I would need new tires before the end of the trip, and so I ordered ahead and had the new tires shipped to a Honda dealer in St. Louis. By pre-arrangement with the dealer, they agreed to receive the tires for me and install them once I arrived. The arrangement worked perfectly although I did have a scare when the dealer could not locate the tires that UPS said had been delivered. We located them after a brief search in the adjoining auto dealership. My prediction had been pretty good and I only had to throw away a few hundred miles of good tread.
After installing the new tires in 100 degree heat, we repaired to a hotel for some AC. After the afternoon heat broke we headed into town for some sightseeing and visited the Gateway Arch–an amazing structure.
Gateway Arch
We were not too claustrophobic to take the tram to the observation floor at the top.
Arch Top
The whole thing was an engineering marvel.
Westward
Eastward
That is a very full Mississippi River down there, only two or three inches from washing over the banks.
Memphis
Our only two missions in Memphis were to visit Graceland and eat ribs. We didn’t really know what to expect at Graceland and were surprised at the feel of it. Although gaudily appointed, it was not in the least ostentatious, and had a warm, lived-in look and feel.
Graceland
Living Room
The King
Jungle Room
Elvis had a LOT of gold records.
A portion of the trophies.
From what we heard and saw in filmed interviews, EP seemed like a really nice boy! We saw no EP impersonators, but the stream of people flowing past the tombstones at the family gravesite right next to the house looked very serious in their devotion.
Fans
Our choice for ribs was the Rendezvous in downtown. We had little difficulty navigating to the alley, but did have to help a local policeman find it for us (he was just a little disoriented in his direction giving and cheerfully accepted gentle corrections from a tourist). The basement joint is in an alley, service is straightforward and quick and worth whatever detour you have to take to get there.
Rendezvous BBQ
Bustling.
Sooo good!
Well wasn’t that a barbecue!
We crossed the river to Arkansas, gassed up and headed for Leeds, Alabama.
Barber Motorsports Park
Our original itinerary had called for us to skim across the tops of Mississippi, Alabama and Georgia on our way to a piece of road on the border of Tennessee and North Carolina–called the Dragon–legendary to motorcyclists. But we had been advised by several people not to focus so much on the Dragon, but we should not miss the Barber Motorsports Park a bit south of our route just outside of Birmingham, Alabama. We’re glad we took that advice.
The Barber museum is a must-see for any motorcycle enthusiast. On five huge floors are displayed hundreds of motorcycles (plus just a few racing cars) from the earliest days to the most modern and custom racing bikes made. We can’t say they have one of every bike ever made–notably absent was a sample of our CBF bikes–but the beauty, variety and ingenuity incorporated in the bikes on display is remarkable. From the glass rear window of the museum you get a good view of the motorcycle race track just outside. This was a maintenance weekend, so the track was quiet. Here are a few samples:
...Old...
...Gorgeous...
...Engineering marvels...
...Strange...
...even stranger...
...Custom racers...
Blue exhaust
...different front brake rotor...
Suitcase scooter folded up.
Suitcase Scooter Unfolded
Track outside
So many...
The Dragon
In between Tennessee and North Carolina, right along the edge of the Great Smoky Mountains Park there is an infamous stretch of road 11 miles long that incorporates 318 turns. The Dragon used to be a wild free-for-all for motorcyclists of all abilities eager to try their skills on a very demanding piece of road. Accidents occurring at a rate of two to three per weekend, a significant portion of them fatal led the local constabulary to increase their presence. There is one video of the Dragon showing not fewer than twelve police cars on that 11-mile stretch. So we had received conflicting advice. Some had said, skip the Dragon altogether–the police combined with the newly set speed limits made it not the thrill it once was. Instead we should try the Cherohala Skyway, a road offering much the same ride, but much less travelled. We couldn’t decide, so we did both.
The Cherohala Skyway was milder in terms of road challenge, but was very scenic. We caught it early enough in the morning to have an eerie covering of fog. It connected to the Dragon, so we turned off it and headed for the Deals Gap Motorcycle Ranch at the bottom of the Dragon.
Deals Gap Motorcycle Resort
Deals Gap Ranch
After checking into the scene at the ranch, we girded our loins and headed up the Dragon. Two turns in, we witnessed a bike coming the other way miss a turn and pile into a ditch. Four other riders ahead of us stopped to help. In a half-second glance we concluded a) he was not hurt, b) he had plenty of help, and c) frankly, it was not our problem. We continued racing up the road in fine form until… we caught up to a line of cars doping along at 15 mph behind a truck hauling a pontoon boat. We had no choice but to poke along behind. The speed limit on this road is 30 mph with some turns marked for 20. A good sport rider will do the entire stretch at not slower than 30, and averaging closer to 60. We judged that, loaded as we were, we would have been comfortable at not slower than 20 on the sharpest turns, and could have averaged 40. We were almost lapped by a guy on a bicycle heading up the road. It was a total yawn. We completed the run and turned around and headed back the other way. At the turnaround we saw 4 police cars engaged in police business, but we had not seen any out on the road on the way up. So this time we made good speed until we caught up to a pack of Harley riders doping along at the speed limit. Had there been only a couple, we might have taken the chance to pass illegally, but there were 6 of them, and there was really no point in trying. We stopped at one point to let them get ahead, but caught up to them very quickly. While behind them, we were passed by another biker who skillfully passed first one then another of us until Phhht! he was gone. We judged that he never got below 50!
When we reached the ranch again, we decided that there was just too much traffic to ensure an unobstructed third run, so we checked out the Tree of Shame
Tree of Shame
...more parts in the tree...
...even more...
where wrecked bike parts testify to the Dragon’s wrath, shopped at the T-shirt shop, and then gassed up and headed out.
But we survived the Dragon, and have T-shirts, stickers, a hat and a mug to prove it!
- Dragon Slayers!
The Blue Ridge Parkway.
We had planned to return doing the entire stretch of the Blue Ridge Parkway as our route home. And we made a good start, getting about 40 miles up. We stopped to watch a cloud fill up a valley below us and then turned around to see the same cloud spilling over the ridge where we stood.
Approaching cloud
A few more miles up the road and we were enveloped in wet cloud and couldn’t see more than 30 feet ahead. It was a good thing the lines on the road were brightly painted or we’d be up there still. We slowly made our way along until we saw a turnoff leading down the mountain, and when we got out from under the cloud we saw that we’d only made about 20 miles progress, and had over 450 miles to go. We quickly saw that we would not have time to do the whole thing, and we started hankering for home.
So, we decided to leave the Blue Ridge Parkway for another trip, and plotted course for a quick way home and took interstate highways the rest of the way. We stopped outside of DC for Sebastian to keep a dinner date with friends of his from the Internet, and the next day scooted on home.
And so here we are back where we started on May 21. In another post we’ll assemble some of our statistics for the trip and continue to reflect.
–Peter.
A Quick Update
Another quick note to let you know of our progress and what we owe you. After Jackson, WY, we visited Yellowstone, Devil’s Tower, several interesting places in the Black Hills of South Dakota, the SAC Air Force museum near Omaha, a working farm in Iowa including several stops of historic note, a visit and tour of the farmhouse where I was raised in Kansas City, and a scheduled maintenance stop in St. Louis.
We are now bound for Memphis tonight, and expect to be at least touching down in Kentucky, Arkansas, Mississippi, Alabama and Georgia over the next few days. After that, we’ll head up the length of the Blue Ridge Parkway and make a stop in Wilmington, DE before the final push back home.
I think I’ll take a vacation after this!
Family History
The third stop we made was Adair, Iowa. Back several generations on my mother’s side a Great-great-great-grandmother (I may have one extra great in there) wrote a letter to her granddaughter telling about her life on the prairie. In that letter she recounts one event of interest that happened to her while travellling by train from her home in Fremont, Nebraska to visit relatives in Chicago: the train was robbed. Grandmother Ruscoe gave a clear description of the unique circumstances of the incident (train derailed, engineer killed) including its location (about 60 miles east of Council Bluffs), and the date (late July, 1873). She even reported on conversations passengers had with the robbers. Brother-in-law Willis did the research to find that the details of this description coincide in almost every respect with official reports of the first robbery of a moving train in the western US and it was committed by one Jesse James! The scene is commemorated with a plaque just outside of Adair.
JJ's First
Before visiting the scene, we stopped into the Adair News and talked to the publisher. I won’t say he was terribly excited to hear the tale, but maybe he was just holding back not wanting to appear gullible. I promised to send him full documentation which he said would be published in the next annual Special Jesse James Edition of the Adair News. He did thank us for stopping in.
From Adair, we moved on to Kansas City where I was born. Back in the early 50’s my parents bought an old farmhouse on the outskirts of Kansas City and began an extensive remodelling. During remodelling, they uncovered within the walls a log cabin tha obviously pre-dated the rest of the building. They worked around the cabin structure, not changing it terribly much, but also not taking any particular pains to further expose the log structure. They were interested in having a more or less up-to-date home with room for a new family and entertaining. In later years, the house was reserarched and its roots traced back to a Shawnee indian chief of some local significance. It was enough to get the house registerd as a Kansas Historic Place.
I spent the first six years in that house and my sisters Debby and Jan were also born there, and we all have memories of it. We also have a wealth of home movies and family photos of those times. My mission was to see if I could find the house.
The only problem was that none of us could remember the street address, and there was disagreement about even what town it was in. My sister provided me with the filing made with the Kansas Historical Society. The description was accurate but I was certain that its address was incorrect and was pretty sure it was in the wrong town. But it was all we had to go on, so that’s where we went. Sure enough, that was the house. The neighborhood was utterly unrecognizeable, but the house itself was unmistakable.
KC House
Outside the old homestead
We knocked on the door, found the owner home and I had just begun to introduce myself when he said, “Hey, are you Ed Smick’s son?” And so I was. So we spent the next several hours there talking with Ike and his wife Nancy, and touring the house and grounds. The upstairs was almost exactly as I’d remembered it. Ike bought the house in the late 80’s and decided he wanted to confirm for himself the reports that there was a log cabin buried in there, so he removed part of one bedroom wall to expose the cabin logs and decided to leave it exposed as if to frame history.
It's in there!
Ike was the one who put together the registration for historic registry.
Some changes had been made to the downstairs and to the grounds, but the basic layout is much the same. The major changes were the addition of a front porch to return it to the way it was before my parent’s remodel, and the removal of a large semi-detached building that Ike kept referring to as a kitchen, but which I always knew as my father’s workshop. The cellar was still the same musty smelling fieldstone-walled old place where our home movies show that we had birthday parties. (This was back in the fifties when my parents and all their friends in the airline business were making babies and having cocktail parties at every excuse, and I think they just packed all the kids in the basement–cobwebs and all! ) In the cellar also I observed one of my father’s hallmarks: he tended to be an early adopter of unusual technology. In this instance he wired the house using a very oddball low-voltage wiring system which used relays in the basement to turn on lights in various parts of the house. Well, all that’s still there, and Ike curses my father every time something goes wrong with the wiring (Ike had for these many years been cursing the previous owner, but I straightened him out on the true source of his difficulties. And he’s now stuck with it because the house is registered and he can’t change it. How’s that for being hoist on one’s own petard!)(Actually, I’m sure Ike can make whatever changes he wants to the inside.)
After the tour, we all went out for some terrific KC barbecue at Arthur Bryants, before Seb and I hit the road again to make progress toward St. Louis, our next stop.
- Ike LaJoie
–Peter
SAC and Corn!
After our departure from Murdo we made our way across the plains of Nebraska it was the second of the truely hot days we’ve experienced on our trip, the sun beat down, heating the air to a sweltering 94 without a cloud in the sky, the humidty (which we later learned was due to the corn!) shot up to about 70%. Most people think of corn as pretty boring, and uninspiring to look at. I beg to differ… The rolling hills combined with the near perfect rows of corn that extend off into the distance offer the eye a mezmerizing dance, both patterned and yet randomized as the stalks swayed in the wind, the mathematical perfection delivered by the computers of these modern piece of farm equipment is truely a testament to the advances we’ve made since the very beginings of agriculture. After a long day of riding we made it to Omaha and made several circles around the SAC Museum looking for a hotel that had food, turns out we had to go an extra 10 miles to find one. The SAC (Strategic Air Command) Museum wasn’t exactly what I was expecting. The entrance of the museum was misleading because outside they had the ICBMs designed to deliver nuclear payloads to russian and any other nuclear power that might threaten us. We expected the museum to be about the history of SAC, and the missle defense system… it turned out to be an Air History museum, much like the one at Wright Patterson, only smaller. The one advantage this one did have was a retired Air-Force pilot giving a guided tour and telling storries about his friends and favorite planes. Of course at WPAFB we had Uncle Willis to tell us stories. So we didn’t spend too much extra time there, we did get to take a close look of a cut away piston engine, that was pretty sweet.
We decided it was time to press on so we took off for Iowa. Another hot day in Iowa lead us to Louise’s (the Prairie Pirate we introduced a few posts back) house in Redfield. Although we got a little lost on the way, we arrived no worse for wear. 
When we were settled in Louise’s cousin Ed gave us a tour of his farm… which started with the “Machine Shed” (this building was big enough to be a warehouse) which housed a multitude of farm equipment which was so awsome, it was so much fun to crawl around and inside these gigantic machines (grand total invested musta been over $1,000,000). Ed and a partner together farm nearly 3500 acres of corn and soybeans. He showed us his bean fields, and his corn fields, and the impact Northern Natural gas was having on the farming in the area. Now this is cool… There are these rock formations several hundred feet under the area that consist of very porous rock, saturated by water. Someone figured out that they could pump Natural Gas down into these formations and it would displace the water, filling the rocks with natural gas, the water was then added back in, which would trap the gas in the rocks, making for a perfect (and incredibly immense) storage area for gas piped in from other parts of the country, which is also easily acessed! This company rents the underground storage rights from the farmers, paying them an monthly rent (that per acre reportedly is better than the land makes from farming) Any damage the company does gets paid back to the farmer, taking into account the fact that the chemicals they use may spread, and that the farming equipment cannot easily maneuver around these outposts. Believe it or not the compensation is fair, even above fair! We realized very quickly that we were long overdue the time we said we’d be back for dinner, so we finished up and headed for home… we had a great pork dinner, with all the corn we could fit into our stomachs, fresh picked that day.
The next day was full of adventure, we had many very important things to do right in the nearby area and we made sure we took the time to do it.
The first stop was Dexfield Park.In this spot was a very famous gun battle between Bonnie, Clyde, Buck and Blanche Barrow vs the police and posse. This is the spot where Buck was fatally wounded. Along the side of the road were a couple of granite plaques with a description of the events that took place–you wouldn’t know to stop at it unless you already knew it was there. Here we said good bye to Louise and continued on.
Dexfield Park Marker
The second stop practically deserves its own post!
Well as you can see from the picture we were a little skeptical. At dinner the previous night we were told of this rock. It was easy enough to find,
Signage worked.
even though when we asked a clerk at a local store where the rock was, she said with a perfect deadpan: “Which rock?”
When we got there, it wasnt much bigger than what could be held in your hand,
Shucks!
but then we messed with the scale some more and we found that it was actually a lot bigger than we expected.
Rock
The story is this: The farmer that found this rock thought it was a regular field rock which is only about as big as a sofa, he kept digging around it, and it was getting bigger and bigger, soon enough they had unearthed this massive rock, which they estimated at 15 feet tall, 60 foot circumference weighing in at 500,000 lbs (allegedly). It took the combined effort of many of the local farmers to move this rock, using anchor chain with each link weighing 30lbs.
Rock Chain
It took something like 3 caterpillars, 5 Tractors and more, to get it to its final resting place outside their house.
There is even what appears to be a converted outhouse building as a “visitor center”
Rock Visitor Center
where you can see the event take shape through pictures and videos. and an honor system gift shop. Truly fantastic!
I’ll have to continue this day on another day! im tired.
-Seb
Black Hills
From Greybull we had our choice of two routes across the Big Horn Mountains. We opted for the one that I had done with Sky some years ago. I couldn’t really remember it, but I remembered that it was a good way to go. I suppose that’s a good way for this sort of memory to work. It guides you somewhere, but lets you rediscover. Not unlike the plastic castles in the fish tank, though. The road up Shell Canyon was twisty and steep and we rode it pretty hard considering that I had no rear brakes, and we were both loaded with gear. On the way up the temperature dropped about 20-25 degrees. We passed a rancher’s hand-written sign about a sheep crossing ahead. We’d been passing all sorts of wildlife warning signs throughout the trip and seeing nothing. So why should this be different? We rounded a curve and had to slam on the brakes and then proceed to wade through hundreds and hundreds of sheep all over both sides of and completely across the road for some miles. They were very funny playing with us darting back and forth across the road.
Across the ridge, the road descended down an equally steep course with more sweeping switchbacks than before until we reached the plains below leading towards the Black Hills of South Dakota. I think that of all the terrain we’ve travelled, nothing has compared to what you see in eastern Wyoming and the Black Hills.
Wyoming
Wyoming
It’s a beautiful combination of gentle and dramatic landforms, forests of dark green conifirs and open space, populated and unpopulated. Devil’s Tower was our destination for the night
Devil's Tower
and we arrived in late afternoon and stayed at a KOA campground right at the base of the monument.
DT Campground
LB and Friends
We did our laundry, ate dinner at the campground cafe and under the starry sky watched a movie on the outdoor deck. Yes, it was Close Encounters (of the Third Kind). What a hoot! We kept looking over our shoulders to see if something might be rising from behind the tower right over there.
In the morning we entered the park and walked around the base of the monument. Climbers were already busy at work trying to reach the flat top which, in indian lore, elevated the Seven Sister princesses being chased by bears up to the heavens to become the constellation Pleides. The bears left their marks on the sides of the mountain as it rose up skyward. WE think there is a secret DOWN elevator at the top that only climbers are allowed to know about, because we never saw anyone coming down.
Seb at DT
Morning climbing
The plain around the base is inhabited by hundreds of little prairie dogs.
One of hundreds
After leaving Devil’s Tower we entered the Black Hills and planned a route to take in the Crazy Horse Memorial, the Needles highway, and Mount Rushmore and leave us in position for the Badlands area.
Crazy Horse was a complete surprise to us. When I was in the area in the late 70’s I had only barely heard of it. I seem to recall it as merely a plan in someone’s head, and I figured it must have been completed by now. It is in fact a stupendous undertaking: carving a mountain into a 560 foot high sculpture of Crazy Horse mounted on his steed. The ceremonial first blasting was in 1948, and so far only the face of Crazy Horse is complete. The horse is blocked out, but has no form yet.
- Crazy Horse Memorial
- Crazy Horse is watching you.
The projection is for completion in approximately 140 years! The project is being conducted by the family of the sculptor Korczak Ziolkowski (born in Boston) whose dream the memorial is. Work is financed entirely by the family, visitor fees, and contributions. There are no federal or state funds accepted. In addition to the carving on the mountain, a spectacular Visitor’s Center has been completed. Ultimately the site will include museums and university-level study facilities. Mind boggling this was!
The Needles highway had been billed to us as a road closed to automobile traffic and dedicated to motorcyclists. Alas, not true. It was quite a ride, running up into a section of the hills studded with thousands of tall pointed formations,
Needles
one lane tunnels–some barely wide enough to pass a pickup truck, and tight switchback curves which were quite challenging at 10 mph. The tunnels were quite fun. The sensible protocol for passage seemed to be that a line of cars would stop and accumulate at one end of the tunnel until the tunnel was clear, and then the line would proceed through as oncoming traffic stopped to wait its next turn. While we were there, we never saw more than 10-15 cars stopped to wait their turn and the informal system worked well. At the entrance to one of the tunnels we pulled off to the side in a small parking area and watched the antics of several drivers who didn’t have the sense and patience to get with the program. With a car at the head of the line stopped (because only she could see cars already in the tunnel) the next guy in line tried to go around her and enter the tunnel only to have to back out and get back in line. The joker behind him was getting very frustrated with the delay and was sufficiently brainless that he couldn’t figure out why the guy in front of him had to back out. He thought he’d try his luck and with tires a-screeching jumped out of line and tore into the tunnel only to be turned back by a much larger SUV coming out. By this time he had to back out fuming and swearing in view of a sizeable crowd that had gathered to watch. It was quite a spectacle.
As we approached Mt. Rushmore, the view from the road was all we needed. It was crowded, getting late and we were getting hungry. Then too, after Crazy Horse it seemed rather paltry. We ate dinner down the road a bit still in view of the site.
The originals
We pulled out of the Black Hills and headed east, and, after making the obligatory stop at Wall Drug,
Wall Drug
entered the north end of the Badlands National Park. The Badlands is a very strange place. It is a large basin of volcanic ash that has been carved into canyons by winds and water over the course of 500,000 years.
Badlands
Badlands
The formations that have resulted are not particularly large (maybe 500 feet tall), but they are proportioned and shaped very much like the huge canyon carvings like the Grand Canyon in Arizona. Looking out over the Badlands, the cliffs and peaks that you might expect to be several miles away, are really only a few hundred yards away. We hit it just before and after sunset,
Badlands Sunset
(with a bonus almost-full moon rising)
Moonrise at Badlands
and the colors and shadows added to the effect.
After the Badlands it began to get dark as we continued east across the plains to Murdo, South Dakota about an hour east of the Badlands. Here we encountered a strange motel phenomenon. In this small town of perhaps 50 businesses, half of which were motels, they all seemed to be full. The first one shook her head sadly when we told her we had no reservation, and she clucked and sent us to one that she thought had room. We took her suggestion and drove to the other end of town to find a motel whose large lobby was decorated to the nines in overstuffed antique furniture, gaudy wallpaper, dried flowers, mirrors, antique dolls, and heavy drapery. It looked like it might have been a high-class brothel from the 1870s! The only room the concierge had was an outlandishly decorated (he showed us the pictures) two-bedroom suite each with two king-sized beds. He realized it was overkill for us (even though we’d paid more for a room on this trip), and apologized that none of the other rooms he had were available (he showed us their pictures also). Then he helped call around town looking for other rooms. He explained that this suite was available only by dint of a last-minute cancellation. We asked him what accounted for the high occupancy and his eyes opened wide and he said “I don’t know, it’s just always like this.” Out in the middle of nowhere at no particularly festive time of year (except that it’s summer). He helped us find a room at a motel in the middle of town.
On the way back through town, it appears that I forgot to come to a full stop at the town’s one crossroad stop sign and the local sheriff was none too pleased. Especially so since I didn’t know he was a chasin’ me and just went on my way to tha motel, hitched my steed up to tha hitchin’ post and moseyed on in to see the motel man. I heard a call: “Hey, come back here!” and turned to see the red-faced sheriff and his red-lit car lighting up the night sky (it clashed badly with the pink neon trimming the entire front and sides of the motel). I was able to disarm his anger within a few minutes by being as sweet and innocent and apologetic as I could be. We talked about the trip, and at the end he said: “Now what we have here is just a warning. You don’t havta pay a fine or go to court or anything like that, it’s just sort of a note that we talked about this.” And off he went. When the motel proprietor came out he was sympathetic and asked what happened. When I told him, his jaw dropped and he said “Gosh he hasn’t given out just a warning in over twenty years!”
“Now,” he continued, “the room is really small and it only has two small beds. And the bathroom is very small. But it’s clean, and I hope it will be OK.” It was late, we were tired, the room was fine, we slept.
–Peter
Yellowstone II
In the morning the weather had improved a little. There was a low, thick overcast and fog, but at least no rain. I could not determine why my brakes had failed. There was no leakage, plenty of fluid, good brake pads, but still no pedal pressure, and no braking. I made a few adjustments and was able to get just a tiny bit of stopping power at the very bottom of the brake pedal. Since there was nothing I could really do about it, and since I had good front brakes, I decided to move forward carefully. So we packed up and headed out of Jackson for the Grand Tetons and Yellowstone.
As we passed by the Tetons, we were running under an overcast and fog and couldn’t see the mountains. We didn’t want to waste the drive, and it looked like the cloud cover could possibly burn off. Since we hadn’t had breakfast yet, we pulled into the Jackson Airport to get something to eat and give the weather a chance to clear.
Before
Nah!
After
To our delight, it worked. The mountains came out, the skies cleared, and weather was no longer an issue.
We passed the 13,000 mile mark right here.
At 13,000.
Lots of traffic, lots of people, lots of buffalo, lots of steam, and lots of sulphurous gases pretty well cover Yellowstone. It was certainly better than the first time we went through. The highlight was a single buffalo trying to catch up with the rest of the herd that had crossed the road earlier. This guy was crossing a causeway near a lake and we found him strolling peacefully up the road in the oncoming lane. He had traffic backed up behind him as far as we could see, and was also backing up our lane because nobody knew when he might want to cross. Next to our motorcycles he was huge and not a creature to challenge. So we just waited and eventually he crossed our lane and moved away from the road. Fortunately we did not meet up with the bear that recently did in a camper. Here are a few photo highlights.
We arrived and it was already ready already.
The Grand Prismatic Spring
Excelsior Geyser Crater
The Sulphur Cauldron
Sulphur Cauldron 2
Leaving Yellowstone in early evening put us out the east entrance out a gorgeous canyon road toward Cody, Wyoming where we stopped and enjoyed a terrific steak dinner at Cassie’s Supper Club and Dance Hall. After dinner we decided we still had energy for more riding, and since I couldn’t find my planned destination on the map we just headed east and got as far as Greybull, WY.
This let us have another experience desert night driving. My father once told me about driving across the desert on his motorcycle using just the light of the full moon. We tried it, but just didn’t quite have enough light. I now seem to recall Dad saying something about following behind a big truck and using his lights. Doh!
Peter out.
Deserts
Our Crater Lake day ended in Winnemucca, Nevada. We got a late start the next morning after taking care of a few maintenance chores. I finally installed the loaner shock absorbers that I picked up from Mike in Seattle and shipped my bouncy springy shocks home. The ride was immediately improved. Meanwhile Seb replaced some O-rings responsible for two annoying oil leaks since we left Seattle. It was almost 1:00 when we braced ourselves for a dash across the Nevada desert in 103 degree heat. I sure wish we could have averaged the tempreatures we’ve encountered on this trip! We stopped for rest more often on this leg of the trip and found it beneficial to douse ourselves with water at every rest area, and let the wind dry us off and cool us at the same time. It worked quite well and made the crossing bearable. There was a surprising amount of green in the landscape. I had not expected that. I was also expecting it to be mostly flat.
Nevada Desert
Crossing the Nevada Desert
We came over a rise just at the border and the Great Salt Lake Desert (including the Bonneville Salt Flats and speedway) opened before us. The desert was utterly flat and briliantly white with not a hint of vegetation for miles.
Great Salt Lake Desert
It was also very hot even though it was early evening. The desert crossing was about 50 miles and took about an hour. As we approached Salt Lake City we passed commercial salt harvesting operations and the Great Salt Lake.
Our hosts for the night were Ted and his wife Ginny.
Ginny and Ted
Ted is a CBF member who had contacted me way early on on the planning of this trip and expressed interest in meeting me in Montana on our way up to Alaska and riding with us all the way up and back. The schedules didn’t work out, but we were at least able to work out a short trip together. Ted and Ginny welcomed us warmly when we arrived. We had a wonderful chicken dinners as we talked about our trip so far, and about our plans for upcoming parts of the trip. At Ted’s suggestion, we decided to make a few changes to our route in the Southern US, assuming we get that far. Ted asked us if we needed to do any work on the bikes before day’s end and it occurred to me that this was the first day in a long time when we arrived at a destination with nothing wrong. I felt confident and took the temerity to voice that thought out loud.
We talked about Ted’s motorcycles. Ted has motorcycles. By the garageful. And all in pretty close to showroom condition. We were unable to see two more that he has in their home in Kentucky, but aren’t these pretty?
Ted's Toybox
More toys
Ted was to escort us out into the canyonlands around Salt Lake City in the morning and Ginny cooked us a really nice breakfast casserole to get us on the road. Although Ginny rides, she opted to stay home and continue working on her latest mystery novel. So she said goodbye and sent us off. Thanks Ginny for all your hospitality.
After gassing up Ted took us on some of the hairiest roads we’d driven so far. The twists and turns the roads took became so fast and tight that the road engineers gave up marking them all and posted a sign saying simply “Frequent 20 mph turns”. Ted rode those roads hard and fast–it was most exhilarating! I couldn’t keep up! Ted said it was because I was carrying almost a whole other person on the back of my bike, but I know a better rider when I meet one.
East Canyon
Peter and Ted
We pulled into a watering hole after reaching a junction and met up with Mike
Mike
, a friend of Ted’s who would join us for the next couple of hours of riding. Just as we were saddling up, Sebastian’s clutch cable broke, so we had to delay for a bit to replace it. Seb had a spare with him, but we had to completely unload all his luggage, and then remove the luggage rack, seat and tank to do the job. We rode north for hte next few hours and stopped for lunch along the shores of a beautiful lake just at the border of Utah and Idaho. Just after lunch, Ted and Mike turned off to return home, while Seb and I continued north to Jackson to prepare for a trip through the Tetons and our second assult on Yellowstone. As we approached Jackson rain began to fall and we began to worry that our recent weather luck had turned sour. But the forecast was for generally good weather, so we decided not to worry.
We had no reservations for either a room or a campsite and began to scramble looking for some place to stay along with thousands of other people doing the same thing. I discovered about this time that I had no rear brakes. I wanted the comfort and stability of a parking lot to diagnose the problem so we redoubled our efforts to make it to a hotel and not a campground. We finally found a room and parked in the rain for the night.
Mine is an INNY
Our trip to Crater Lake was one that was not originally planned on the prescribed route, but what a mistake it would have been to miss it. We are espcially greatful to Cary for being sunch an excellent tourguide, taking us on some of the best roads oregon had to offer, and for riding so hard along them! We were working very hard to keep up with him, which is all the more fun. I enjoy the chase hehe. The ride from the campground in Glide, OR was cool and crisp, bright sunshine glistened off the dew clinging to the pine trees as we snaked our way down the river road towards diamond lake, our first stop and breakfast for the day. For some reason the resturaunt we ate at would not serve me Corn Beef Hash as a side, eventhough they have it available as a main dish… it was perplexing and a little disappointing but I overcame and had pancakes instead. After being filled with breakfast we gassed up and headed out to the main attraction. The park was very nice (and cheap! 5 dollars for each of us), the road zigged and zagged 30 or 40 times as we climbed the outer shell of the mointan before we got to the top rim, which added so much to the anticipation of seeing the lake itself. After we were parked and the gear stowed we made our way to the rim and were immediately rendered speechless.
Thats it for now!
-Seb
Oregon is 50.
With our arrival in Oregon, my goal of visiting all 50 states is now complete. Hooray!
On Sunday, James cooked us a home-style breakfast (with eggs from his own chickens) and then escorted us down the coast road and in and out of seacoast villages. The weather was as expected: cool and misty with a thin overcast, but not raining. It was still slow going but we had many great views of the Pacific. On the way, Sebastian’s rear brake line sprung a leak—odd because we had replaced it earlier in the week in Seattle. We decided that Seb could live without a rear brake for a few days until we could get to a Honda dealer after the weekend. James needed to leave us in Lincoln City so we thanked him for his hospitality and off he went.
Lincoln City with James
A few miles farther down the coast, we turned inland toward our next meet-up in Eugene.
We were there later than we had intended, but we did much better than the night before and arrived in Eugene about 3. Cary happened to have a brake line that he could spare, so we installed it, bled the brakes and were as good as new. Our plan had been to ride with Cary down to Crater Lake. It was clear that we wouldn’t make it all the way, but we did start out and by 8:00 reached a campground within striking distance of the park.
Susan Creek Campground
A Long, Long Day
We left Seattle on Saturday morning bound for Tillamook, OR. We planned an ambitious route and wanted to include a meeting north of Seattle with Mike, one of our CBF site members. Mike was working Saturday so he was unable to ride with us, but he was able to take time off from work for an extended get-acquainted visit before we boarded the ferry to Whidbey Island north of Seattle.
Mike et al in Mukilteo
Motorcycles get highly preferential treatment on the Washington State Ferry system. You get to cut into the line ahead of all the other vehicles waiting to purchase tickets, you don’t need a reservation, and you are the first to load and first to unload. It’s a breeze! Across the island we boarded another ferry connecting to Port Townsend on the Olympic Peninsula.
FIFO on the Ferry
At Port Townsend we had a most chocolatey, malty milkshake at a fully authentic 50’s soda fountain. The blenders, jukebox and everything else was original equipment, not reproduction, and the place was hoppin’. Then, over the top of the Peninsula we went, and then down the coast road.
Forks
Pacific
We had been told that Tillamook would be a haul going the way we planned, but we had no idea how slow the coast road would be. Given our late start, and the ferry schedule (not even motorcycles can hurry the ferry crossings), we arrived at our host’s house in Tillamook at 12:30 Sunday morning. All day long we had been keeping James, another CBF site member whom we had never met, apprised of our progress, mostly reporting delay after delay. But James was as gracious and flexible as could be. When we finally pulled in, he was there to greet us and was a delightful host. Beer, BBQ, and apple pie made for a great midnight snack—and the only solid food we’d had all day. Thank you James!
James and His Ride
Reflection and Clarification Pt.2
At this point we’ve diagnosed the engine with a quick measurement from a compression tester… it told us what we feared 0 compression in one cylinder and 30psi in a second (supposed to be at least 90-150) we were left with the 3 options: 1.) Tear into my engine, send away for parts 2.) Find a new engine 3.) find another bike with a working engine and take it. I posted for help on our forum and one member, miles from edmonds answered my plea with news like a clarion call from the trumpets of a far off kingdom: he has a working engine, and he wants to give it to me. (I called him up right away to find out what he wanted for it, and he just wanted to donate it to the cause!) It was truely a great moment for us… it really restores faith in the human spirit. We retrieved the engine and proceeded to remove the special mounting system Miles had installed to adapt it to a 750 frame. We were a little overzealous though and in pounding one of these mounts out, we cracked the boss it was sitting in and thus ruining the bottom section of the engine.. eeek. We dismantled the engine a little father enough to get the bottom case off so we could tote it around with us. One of our trips out to find brake parts took us to a combination autoparts store/ machine shop. He took one look at it and told us two very good things: 1.) Our plan to use the bottom case from the old motor was impossible, and 2.) he could fix it for 50 bucks! so we got it welded and it took the better part of the day. The rest of the week was spent in the garage while the sun shone and the weather was absolutely impeccable. We disassembled my bike preparing to swap the motors and drove all around town collecting parts and tools. After many hours of work the original engine was out, we popped open the head to find that 2 valves in 2 seperate engines had been chipped about a quarter inch fingernail clipping look chunk taken out of them. That explains all the problems I was having! The new engine went in pretty smoothly, we got all the rest of the gagets hooked up and cleaned out the carbs and installed them. Fired right up!
All was looking good… we finished the forks seals and got evertying on and i took it out that night for my maiden voyage. It sounded and felt great, i zipped down the street and turned around, and pulled up to the traffic light about 1/4 mile from my aunts house when the engine made a horrrid noise, like it was crushing ice deep inside the engine. I listened again and it did it a second time so I immediately shut the engine off and pulled it off the road, and called in the cavalry. When my dad arrived he started the bike and immediately heard the noise, and killed the engine. With no real idea what could be making that noise our minds simultaneously hovering around the worst case… a bolt somewhere in the transmission or crank. Traffic was far too heavy to deal with it there so we pushed into a parkling lot and went home for dinner. We brought the car back and used a big long piece of rope to tow home. The next day we proceeded to tear everything off again to remove the engine, the new plan was to fix my old engine… we put in a rush order with my brother spencer for the parts we needed and they arrived the next day, we were just about to pull the engine out when I pulled the Stator cover off and found the rotor just practically fell off in my hands… shit! We knew almost right away that we’d found the culprit, why we couldnt hear it during the testing in the drive way (it wasnt loose yet, and i hadnt leaned the bike) and why it only started after the ride. Another few hours and we had the bike back together, and all was well.
In the midst at all we took a trip to Everret to see the Boeing Factory.. this was freakin awsome. The building has the largest volume in the world, it has 6 doors on it each roughly the size of an american Football field. inside there was at least 20 planes all in various stages of completion. the 747 was the main focus of the tour, one whole bay was dedicated to fabricating the different sections of the plane and one other bay was dedicated to assembling them all together. They had the 787, their newest composite plane, which is 20 tons lighter than an alluminum plane of comparable size. It has engines on it that can suck up all the air in a large hangar in about 4 seconds! Crazy, my discriptions will do it no justice, and we werent allowed to take pictures.
This trip allowed me to meet another one of my fellow guild members from my online MMORPG World of Warcraft… the first was in Chicago, and Adrian is the guild leader of my guild, and he is in seattle. We went out to dinner, saw the new Predators movie and went out shot some pool. I learned at the bar, about Pull tabs which I found particularly facinating.
Pull tabs come in these gigantic plastic bins, these bins are full of tickets that have a hidden values, its kinda like paper slot machines. anyways you buy a ticket from a specific bin pull it a part, and either you win one of about 30 prizes randing from 1 to 750 dollars, or you loose. The bins show the number of winning tickets at each value, they also tell you how many total tickets start in the bin. Most of them the player had less than 1% chance to win (6000-12,200,000 tickets) I watched a guy drop at least 400 dollars on one box and not really won anything. The funniest part, you can reserve boxes. Once you’ve sunk a buncha money into a box and you dont want some guy just droppin 20 bucks and winning the grand prize, you can negotiate some price for the bar to set the box aside so no one else can play it but you. They’ll hold it for ya for 30 days. Adrian and I played 20 bucks of one game that seemed to have the best odds… 30 prizes and 3000 tickets. We got maybe 5 dollars and then didnt win anything from that money.. oh well at least i can say i tried!
With the bikes under control, finally it was time to start lookin out towards the road, and we headed off towards Forks Washington, where Twilight Saga was filmed. I was threatened under pain of bodily harm if i came home without a picture from forks, so we went. The drive was nice, but slow and our arrival into tillamook was a late one (12:30 am)
The saga continues
-Seb
On the road again.
Prairie Pirate Pete
This is just a quick note to let you know we’re back in action. We have a very iffy internet connection tonight, so we’ll fill in the details next chance we get.
We emerged from Seattle newly inducted as honorary members of the Prairie Pirates–that world famous bicycle team that has plied the prairies of Iowa in several runnings of the annual Ragbrai event. The Prairie Pirates include two of my sisters, Debby and Jan, and we hope to be visiting with other team members in Yellowstone and when we reach Iowa. We are honored to be associated with such an elite team.
In the last couple of days, we have met three CBF members, traversed Oregon, and arrived in Winnemucca, Nevada. Tomorrow, we’ll head for Salt Lake City, and then to Jackson, Wyoming and we should be more or less back on our original route.
More details coming soon.
Reflection and Clarification pt 1. AKA “The Whole Truth”
Well I know this post is long overdue. And you all have been waiting with the stoicism of the most devout clergyfolk, so I “suppose” I’ll indulge.
*Disclaimer* The new laptop we’ve aquired from my aunt does not have Office installed on it yet as a result I have to type in note pad… not an all around bad thing but it does lack spell check.
You’ve been notified.
Although my Father has continued passed Seattle already I feel it will be necessary to digress to adress the scope of the story that will unfold.
It began as roughness in the engine after we filled our tanks at the Rancharia Gas station enroute to Watson Lake. The symptoms there were that the bike wouldnt run above 60mph, and would bog when the accelerator was used. Being in the middle of no where we didnt give it much thought, there really wasnt anything we could do about it anyways. on our way down from Watson Lake we stopped at the Bell2 Lodge, A heliSking outpost set up like a swiss challet. Here we were greeted by incredibly comfortable beds, especially the pillows and comforters.. along with a wood burning stove to heat the room. We had a wonderful evening and I took a good chunk out of the new fantasy book I bought in fairbanks
after a nice hot shower.
Our Journey from Bell2 Lodge took us a little off route; We missed the turn. It took us 40 to a dead end in Stewart, B.C. The road there was actually quite nice so it was a extra bonus to be able to do it twice. While we were there we decided to try and diagnose a little bit about what was going on with my engine I pulled the air filter out and it was saturated with oil, which had a dramatic negative effect on performace, so i put the filter back in and we headed off towards vanderhoof. Once in Smithers we decided to take the bikes to get some cleaning done, I did not want to remove my sparkplugs in stewart because there was too much rock and dirt in the plug wells, and I did not want to risk that stuff falling into the engine. With new plugs in – the old plugs all of which had a build up of some unknown substance that very nearly bridged the electrode to its ground, and almost connected the centerpost to the ceramic wall- and the filter out, everything got better for some short tests down the main street we figured we were good to go. All was well until we got to Vanderhoof, I discovered that the bike would no longer idle. ugh. This required me to keep the bike at 5000 rpm the whole time no matter what speed im going. when we would stop I’d make this awful ruckus just to keep the engine running. At this point we knew something much bigger was going on, but we were still pretty far up in BC so there STILL wasnt much we could do about it, so we pressed on. Our next stop took us to Lillooet, a small mining town that had been cut into the side of a cliff along the frasier river, which by the looks of the valley it had carved for itself… had been flowing a very very long time. The road wound through the valley, hugging the sheer walls on oneside, looking out over the river on the other, which was only about 1000 feet below us! Truely spectacular! The night ended with some delicious greek food: beef Souvlaki for me and another dish my dad had but the name escapes me at this time. “I love you, Man” was on TV… pretty good!
From lilooet we climbed the canyon walls once again on our way to whistler, all the while hoping to meet up with several members from our CBF site that would be commin up the other way from vancouver. This route was especially difficult for me because of the engine troubles.. climbing such steep hills wasnt easy.
**On a side note the way down was quite alot of fun… I took particular enjoyment in the fact that they had these run away truck turnouts every 5 miles or so. Ironically, the road was SO steep and SO twisty, there is no possible way a run away truck could get to these areas without first… crashing headlong down the mountain. Maybe I don’t give the truckers enough credit, all I know is that alot of them were too sharp for our bikes even at 20 mph. We made it to Vancouver without rondevouz, which was unfortunate because it woulda been really fun to be chased down by those guys! (apparently they chased down two other people they thought were us, hope they didnt give em too much of a scare!) Our original plan had us staying the night in Victoria on Vancouver Island but we really wanted a rest and with things the way they were… we decided to press on to Seattle instead. There was 50 min or so of border traffic, fortunately the waiting area was downhill and I was able to peddle my way through the line, I could not deal with the paperwork and keep the bike running at the same time however and had a terrible time getting started again after stopping.. this made the border guards really nervous for some reason. They kept lookin at their watches even though I told them it’d only take a few mins to cool down before I could restart it. We arrived in Seattle and I remembered the roads to Aunt Debby’s house… which I was very much amused by; I’d spent a couple of months there 4 years ago and everything was familiar. We made it to Debby, puttering to a stop.
Looking back on what I’ve written so far its already too long for one post, and I am Pictureless.. so ill continue tommorrow!
Night =)
-Seb
It’s Alive!
We think we finally have Seb’s bike back in action. Today to the car wash and then to organize the rest of the trip. We’ll probably be leaving Seattle tomorrow or Saturday.
What now?
We’re still in Seattle, and not sure what’s going to happen next.
Removing Seb’s old engine took about a day, and during the preparation of the new engine for installation we observed that the engine case had a small crack in it near one of its mounting points. Motorcycle engines are commonly constructed with two case halves put together like a clamshell with most of the internal engine parts contained within the case. We thought we might be able to swap the part that was cracked from Seb’s old engine, and so began to disassemble the new engine. After we removed the cracked case half, we decided that if it could be repaired, it would be better since there might be problem trying to mate case halves from different engines.
We found a local machine shop that could weld aluminum and the repair took a day. When we got thr part back we reassembled the engine and installed it in the frame. As soon as we could get it connected we gave it a test start and it ran right away. So we continued with the installation also completed other repairs until we had the bike ready for a test ride.
Seb was gone for about ten minutes when I got a call on my cell phone. Seb was calling from about a mile away saying that the engine was making a terrible noise, and he shut it off. I went down to meet him and heard the noise. It sounded like it was trying to digest a bolt a sickening crunc.hing snapping noise. It was evening rush houir and there was a lot of local traffic so we we decided to leave the bike in a parking lot and come back for it later.
After dinner, we returned with a tow rope and pulled the bike back into the garage at Debby’s. So now, Seb’s bike will be called “I go where I’m towed.”
Today we’ll see if we can determine the cause of the noise, and figure out our options. We are very frustrated, but will get through it. We may repair Seb’s old engine after all.
But we’re enjoying beautiful weather and are very glad to be able to be with my sister.
I’ll post what we find later today.
-Peter
Attained West Coast Maintenance Base
We apologize for the interruption in broadcasting, but we have been beset with difficulties beyond our control. Internet access has been very spotty. We’ll provide fil-lin posts as to the past week when time permits. In the meantime, we have reached Seattle and are camping out at Sister Debby’s. Sebastian’s bike has been dubbed “The bike that won’t run,” whereas I am riding “The bike that won’t start.”
We limped into Seattle on Sunday (in the rain) with Seb’s bike barely running on 2 cylinders (of 4). He was backfiring like crazy and I could even see it in his exhaust pipe. Perfectly appropriate for July 4th! On Monday, we did some investigation from which we concluded that Seb’s engine needed some serious internal work before we could go on. Our choices seemed to be: 1) remove and tear down the engine, and wait for parts to arrive or 2) find a whole new engine, or 3) find a junky looking running bike and transfer its motor to Seb’s bike. On Monday night, Seb made a post over on our CB1100 website and within a few hours found someone in Seattle who had a spare, running 900 engine, and he donated it to the cause! We picked it up this afternoon and will begin installation tomorrow. As soon as we know where we stand, we’ll be able to update our schedule and let folks know when we’ll be where.
More on that in the days to come.
-Seb and Peter
Back to the lake: The Daring Rescue
This post has gotten way out of order, it should come before Clarification pt1. I dunno how to move them around in order so maybe my dad can take care of it tomororw
-Seb
The morning leaving White Horse promised to be more of what we had rolled into that previous night. It was a light rain and the cloud cover was just a bit thinner, so there was a glimmer of hope. Our first task for the morning was to have my tires changed out, saving the new tires for after Seattle, and finishing what was left on the tread of the old ones on the way from Whitehorse to Seattle. The Honda dealer was great, they let me use their parking lot to do my repairs, they even let me use their overhang to keep dry. The service guy even changed the tires as I took them off. With that task finished we split up, I went off to find a shipping place to ship the new tires, and Dad went off to pack up our room so we would be ready to go. The first place I went stopped shipping to the US about a month ago but he directed me to a Mailboxes Etc. which had courier service. I dropped off the tires with her and she said it would take an hour for her to price it out and to pack em up for shipping. I told her I didn’t have that kind of time and I left my bank card info with her and she said she’d leave me a message with the cost. Unfortunately for me, I would not be in cell range for 2 days and wouldn’t be able to get the quote until then. But Whitehorse is only 1200 miles from Seattle, so it cant be that much… more on that later. Our destination for the night was somewhere around Watson Lake, for a number of reasons. The first was the sign that I manufactured at Dave Douglas’ (Alaska Griz) House for the Signpost Forest. The second was to rescue the lost ladybug #1. About 50 miles away from the lake we finally outraced the clouds and actually got some sun… it was fantastic. After stopping to refill the tanks we set off to the last leg of our journey for the day. My bike immediately started having some issues so that I could not go above 60 mph (heavy foreshadowing) ; if I tried it would bog down heavily and go even slower, this was unsettling but there were several possibilities as to the cause already rolling around in my head. We made it to Watson lake, found an excellent spot for our sign and made a video as to its location.
But more importantly we devised a rescue technique for lady bug #1! and it worked fantastically, it is now back under our protection.. It involved a spring that we found at a gas station in PA which we had intended to use for fixing my muffler but didn’t, and AXE No Mess Hair Wax “messy look.” Now I’m not one to advertise for other companies really, but this Stuff has helped us with TWO ladybug related challenges and keeps my hair nice and moldable for when I take off my helmet, kudos to you AXE.
We decided that we would stay at a motel in Upper Liard. There was a single motel there by the river, that didn’t look open the first time we went by it, but after going to Nugget City (super tourist trap) and finding out that a room (she called it a “sleeping room”) with no bathroom would run 100 bucks, and to get amenities like that, we would have to double that, we decided to go back to Upper Liard. It was a really good thing we did, not only was the room much more affordable, and better equipped, but the proprieter was a character not to be missed. Aranka was born into Communist Czechoslovakia and emigrated here some number of years ago and now with her husband, owns the Liard Resort.
When Dad inquired about a room, she apologetically described the room as very small, and said it had no internet, but had a bathroom and cost $80. She insisted that we go look before committing. The room was perfect, and when we took it, she raised her eyes upward and gave thanks as if she hadn’t had a paying customer in years. She offered to cook us dinner, but we only needed a beer, so we sat and talked with her.
It is the usual place for the barkeep to be the listener, and the customer the talker, but we reversed the roles this night, and over the course of a couple of very slow beers we learned a lot about the Yukon Territorial government and its liquor laws. Aranka was not shy about her contempt for them. Dad tried a few times to get her to acknowledge that some of her views were not especially charitable to the less fortunate, but she scoffed at the idea of welfare. And yet most of her bar customers are local native tribespeople who are on welfare and she seemed to go out of her way to alienate them with the design of reducing her ability to sell to them. We saw this happen with two sets of locals who came in while we were there. Maybe it was just the fact that the folks were already quite drunk and Aranka was simply trying to protect them from themselves.
We were about to say good night when a man burst in through the door and proclaimed that he’d had an accident. His face was white but we could see no injuries. Apparently he had rolled his four-wheeler off the riverbank and into the river and was unhurt, but somewhat disoriented. Aranka said, “No, that’s our fire chief and he’s just drunk.” We made sure everything was alright before headin to the room, it was a very nice stay and I slept well that night.
-Seb
Chicken
There are two roads out of Alaska. One would take us back the way we had come in, and we remembered the rutted, potholed road from hell. The second road leads to Dawson City high up in the Yukon. It is called the Top of The World Highway.
Since we had a late start out of Fairbanks, we didn’t reach Tok, Alaska until about 7:00 p.m. By that time, a pretty good rain had started and obscured all the scenery we might have seen. At dinner we debated which road to take back to Canada. I was determined not to take the Rutted Road. But the problem with the Top of the World Highway was that there were about 40 miles of it that were unpaved. We opted for that despite our recent experience on the Dalton Highway—we would just have to take it slow and hope against hope for a dry day tomorrow. But the first 60 miles was paved and after dinner we headed out onto it in the pouring rain.
We knew that the border crossing would be closed for the night, and so our destination was a place called Chicken. The paved portion of the road to Chicken had the potential for providing some really nice views, which we might have enjoyed had they not been entirely in the clouds, fog and rain. Just before Chicken the Pavement Ends sign announced the arrival of the mud.
Chicken is a modern day working gold mining camp and has a small town center consisting of 2 gas stations, a saloon, a post office and a café. It may also sport a museum, but we were too wet and tired to look for it. As we gassed up we learned a lot about the town. The proprietor told us that in the winter there aren’t many people in town, but it expands in the summer to a population of 20. We asked about the road out and he said simply, “It gets worse.” “In what respect”, I asked. He replied, “You saw the last two miles? Well, there’s forty more of them to go.” “How long after the rain stops does the road get hard?” “Oh, about two days”, he said. “When was the last time it stopped raining for two days?” “A couple of months ago”, he said. We decided to stop talking about the road.
He invited us to pitch a tent anywhere in the camp we could find, and pointed to a large lot across the creek from where we stood. Most of the landscape is built on tailings from years of gold mining in the surrounding hills, and is littered with abandoned machines, equipment and discarded tools. We found a grassy spot between an old dredging bucket and some oil drums of unknown contents, and pitched our tent in the rain.
In the morning, we crossed the creek back to Chicken camp central
Chicken Camp Central
to purchase some souvenir glass chickens and talked with Rick the gas pump jockey.
Miner Rick
Rick explained that when he is not pumping gas and fixing broken things for the camp, he is a miner who’s come up from Idaho to spend the summer working a few claims. All of the land in the area has been claimed, but Rick explains that individual prospectors make arrangements with the claimholders to work parts of the land for a share of the take. By and large, the mining is done just the way it has been done since the days of the Klondike Gold Rush, with sluice boxes, lots of flowing water, and panning. He lives in a camper trailer that he brought up with him from Idaho.
Miner Rick's Trailer
Here are some of the other highlights of Chicken:
Chicken Fire Department and Auto Repair
Chicken Sidewalk (no WiFi) Cafe
We said goodbye to Rick and Chicken and headed up the muddy road to the border.
More mud!
It was actually not nearly as bad as we had expected. Overnight the rain had stopped, and it gave the road a chance to harden significantly. We were able to get up to 35-40 mph except in the really soft spots.
The road wound steadily upwards through forested hills and off and on rain and fog. As it reached the top, the road began to follow a ridgeline above treeline. The cloud layer started to break as we reached the border, and minutes after getting into Canada, the pavement returned, and the sun came out. It occurred to us that Alaska had hidden virtually all of her treasures from us behind rain and clouds and left us to take on faith how beautiful it is. We enjoyed our time there, had some adventures and met and talked with many wonderful people, but were disappointed at having missed so much of what we had come to see.
The Top of The World Highway continued winding along the top of a mountain ridge with views down each side.
On Top of The World
The weather steadily improved as we got farther east. The road ended abruptly at the western side of the Yukon River where a short line of cars waited for a ferry to take them across to Dawson City on the opposite bank where the road continued.
The ferry rules required us to shut off our engines and I was a bit concerned about restarting. (By this time, I had resorted to push starting the bike because I had exhausted my supply of starter gears. I was able to sweet-talk the Canadian Customs official into letting me leave the motor running because the border crossing faced distinctly uphill. I’m not sure she completely accepted my expanation.) But the deck of the ferry was pointing downhill, so I complied with the rules. Of course, once the ferry departed, it leveled out and only then did it occur to me that it would be facing uphill at the unloading. I tried to give myself a running start on the ferry deck, but the deck was slippery, my rainboots were like racing slicks and I could get no traction. It must have looked quite ridiculous! I duck-walked the bike off the ferry ramp and waited in embarrasment until Seb could dismount and come give me a push up the stony river bank to get restarted.
Over lunch, we stripped off our rain gear and relaxed in the sunshine at an outdoor cafe and not so surreptitiously hung our wet clothes out to dry on the benches of the table. The cafe was located at the spot of the first settled place in the town at the start of the Klondike Gold Rush.
After we had warmed,
Along the Yukon
we headed back on the road southeast to Whitehorse. It was a long way and it gave the weather a chance to change again. By the time we got into our motel in Whitehorse, it was raining hard and, as we later realized, it was dark! The day’s earlier coating of dried mud reconstituted itself. The concierge was very good spirited and didn’t make a stink as we traipesed our filthy luggage and dripping wet bodies through the lobby and into the elevator leaving puddles behind us. The forecast for the next day was for more of the same.
Return from the Haul Road
There is a visitor center at Coldfoot that can certify our having crossed the Arctic Circle, but they don’t open until noon. Rather than waste the time, we opted to drive a bit farther North, so we continued on up the road for about 40 miles into the foothills of the Brooks Range which contains another Continental Divide separating the Pacific from the Artic Oceans. We turned around just as it started to rain. There is a spot a little farther up the road which we did not reach called the Farthest North Spruce. Here is our milepost: which represents the mid-point of our trip:
This is the Farthest North Ladybug!
The Arctic Interagency Visitor Center was very well done—a modern high class facility with interpretive exhibits, a library, even a gift store. It seemed out of place next to the more primitive buildings and facilities of the camp. We got our certificates and had a hearty lunch at the camp before beginning the trek back to Fairbanks.
In the rain, the formerly passable gravel sections became slick, rutted, treacherous mud paths. It seems that the road is constructed by mixing large quantities of calcium chloride into the gravel. When the road is dry, this chemical allows the dirt to retain moisture so that road dust is not so bad. But in the rain, the compound converts the top inch or so into a concoction the locals fondly refer to as snot. And to be sure, it is slick! And it gets into every nook and cranny on our bikes it can find.
Dirty, Dirty!
Dirty.
We were only marginally comfortable at 15 mph, so it took absolutely forever to get off that road. I realized that every minute of our time on this road was spent on pins and needles. We’re glad we did it though.
Back in Fairbanks, we, the bikes, and all our gear hit the showers. Everything was unpacked, the outer stuff sacks and luggage were thrown into the tub, and hung up in the motel room to dry. The room was wall-to-wall gear.
In the morning, the bikes went to a do-it-yourself car wash and came out only relatively clean. After the cleaning, most of the functionality of my brakes returned. The forks and shocks were pretty much exhausted of all oil, so the leakage onto the brakes was stemmed. We picked up Sebastian’s old tires that were on hold at the Harley dealer, packed them onto the bikes and headed back in the general direction of home.
The Dalton Highway
Unless we decide to go farther tomorrow, we have arrived at the most northerly point of our trip—Coldfoot, Alaska, about 50 miles north of the Arctic Circle on the Dalton Highway. Although we missed the Summer Solstice here, we are far enough North that the sun will not set for another 15 days! The LadyBug did alright! Here ya go Marty, it’s really true!
Midnight, 1:00, etc.
From the moment we got to Alaska, starting with the border crossing guard, we heard stories about how rugged this road was. As we neared Fairbanks we began talking to everyone we met up with who could tell us about conditions on the Dalton Highway. We were warned not to take old bikes—especially not these; we were warned not to go without extra tires. Some said we’d be fine as long as we took it easy. Some just raised their eyebrows. As it turns out, conditions are so varied that almost anything anyone said was either true or false depending on which stretch of road they’d remembered and at what time of year.
Sebastian’s episode with the wheel bearings, and the fact that he made it into Fairbanks in one piece seemed more and more like a warning from someone who cares for us to act with more prudence.
We decided that taking spare tires made no real sense since we lacked the tools required to change a tire on the road. (I’ve tried that in the comforts of my workshop and it’s no picnic.) Besides, mine were nearly new. But we did concede that Seb’s were iffy, so he bought new ones. The old tires still have some highway mileage left on them and the shop in Fairbanks said they’d hold onto the old tires so that we can change them back once we get back to Fairbanks. Then we’ll ship the new tires to Seattle and put them on when we get there.
The chain on my bike, although new at the outset of the trip had begun to click rather badly, and lubrication wasn’t correcting it. I’d been planning to replace it in Seattle, but in the name of prudence, I decided to do it now. So we left this morning having done all we thought reasonable.
The Dalton Highway begins about 75 miles north of Fairbanks and connects to Prudhoe Bay. It is a two lane road used largely by heavy tractor-trailers hauling equipment up to the oilfields. Public access to Prudhoe Bay has been closed. The road ends now at Deadhorse–just short of the oilfields and tour buses can take you through to the Arctic Ocean if you feel the need to get wet. We decided that all we really had to do was spend a complete night in the sun, and Coldfoot would do it.
The first 25 miles was rough gravel, poorly packed with fist-sized rocks strewn about. We had to slow to 25 to 30 mph to feel at all comfortable. But our destination was only 175 miles up, and it was only noon, so a slow pace was fine. The road was only wide enough that you could see three wheel paths—meaning that the middle one was shared by both lanes. We were passed a number of times by cars, pickups and other motorcycles, but fortunately did not meet up with any oncoming heavy trucks. This was living up to the most dire warnings we’d heard.
But then the road smoothed considerably becoming much better packed and a little more claylike. We were able to make much better progress. The land surrounding the road was lightly forested with smallish spruce trees. Since the road parallels the Alaska Pipeline, we were able to see glimpses of it through the woods quite often.
Nearing the Yukon River we stopped for gas at one of the two gas stops along the 450 mile stretch of the Dalton Highway. The Yukon River Camp is a combination fuel stop, campground, motel, café. The fuel comes from a single pump fed by a huge above-ground tank.
Yukon River Camp
Yukon River fuel depot
We were about 5th in line when we pulled in. We ate lunch at the camp kitchen. The nightly room rate of $200 suggested that we’d be tenting tonight.
The next segment of road was paved, but just barely: deep potholes, frost heaves and deep ruts running along the pavement were difficult to handle at speed, so we slowed down. By now, we had reached tundra. At this time of the year, the tundra looks very much like some parts of the Arizona desert.
On the Arctic tundra
Rock formations, low scrubby plant life rising from gravelly looking soil, all looked similar and really quite beautiful—not nearly as bleak or dull as I had expected.
Tundra plants
Tundra plants
I could easily see animal life flourishing here—in the summer. Don’t have a clue how they manage in the winter though. Apart from hearing a few birds, we actually saw no animals out there.
A sign and a turnout marked where the Arctic Circle intersects the highway and so there, we made it across.
At the Arctic Circle
LB at the AC
The road was in much better condition, but quickly returned to potholes, and one of them swallowed us almost whole. Sebastian was right behind me, and we hit it square on at about 50. My bike immediately quit running for reasons that still puzzle me, and we sputtered to a stop. I chipped another starter gear trying to get it restarted, but was much more concerned about why it had quit so suddenly. But after a head scratch or two, I push started it and it fired back up and has been running fine since.
A few miles down the road I decided I had to stop to remove the broken gear and harvest its broken teeth to keep them out of the engine. And then I saw that one of my rear shocks absorbers had come apart and was spitting its normally confined oil all over my brakes. I checked the other one, and it had come apart as well, although it had not yet begun leaking its oil. One of my front shock absorbers was leaking oil from an earlier encounter with a pothole in Canada, and it had gotten worse from this strike and was now dripping oil onto my right front brakes. We also are seeing signs of oil leaking out of Sebastian’s front forks as well.
We could not go on this way, so I unloaded all my gear and took the shocks off one at a time and stuffed the innards back in and hammered them back together.
Shocking!
The right side one is not providing any shock absorption, but we caught the left-side one just before it began leaking, so it is doing something.
We continued on another 50 miles over potholed, frost heaved pavement until we reached Coldfoot. Like the Yukon River Camp, the Coldfoot settlement is very small consisting of a central café/bar/fuel station. Across a wide dirt parking lot full of tractor trailers is the Slate Creek Inn, a motel that looks like a series of adjoined house trailers. The camp offers temporary housing for highway and pipeline workers as well as the traveler—again at $200 a night. We relaxed with a beer before heading off to a campground just up the road.
Tomorrow we’ll retrace our steps back to Fairbanks. This time we’ll know what to expect and we can drive really fast all the way home. Once back in Fairbanks, we’ll assess the damage and make repairs we may need.
-Peter
Fire and Repairs
Our ride out from Denali took us north towards Fairbanks which would be our turning point for home. We’ve decided that we could not pass up the opportunity to go to the Arctic Circle, being that we are only currently about 300 miles away. Skies were crystal clear and it looked to be a fantastic ride, albeit short (Fairbanks is not very far away). Along the way we past through Nenana, which is the official commemoration point of the Alaska railway. Here they had a museum documenting the golden spike, and many other treasures from the time. One of the more odd and interesting one was the details about the Nenana Ice Classic which had been taking place every since 1917. The event is a raffle which depends on your ability to correctly guess the date, and time that the Nenana River will break up for the first time in the spring. Here in the museum they had EVERY GUESS ever register in these huge books. We got as far back as 1972.
Back on the road again we noticed a strange cloud of what appeared to be smoke in the distance, we stopped at a rest stop on top of the mountains to take a look, sure enough the forest was on fire in several places (we heard about it on the news later). We hit 8,000 miles shortly after leaving Nenana.
After a short while I came around a turn and heard a loud crunch, and my rear wheel cut loose, it felt like my tire was flat. So I pulled over immediately to inspect the damage. There was nothing immediately apparent. We checked the chain and the front sprocket, ecerything was ok, I took it for a little test, wobbly wheel was still there. We did notice a lot of extra play that hadn’t been there before… we had decided earlier week that the wheel bearings were starting to go, but they would make it to Seattle, boy were we wrong. We limped to town another 5 miles and pulled into a motel that was right next to the Outpost, the Fairbanks Honda/BMW/Harley dealer. After taking off the rear wheel, we inspected the damage for the first time: 
Yuck.
The Outpost had the wheel bearings but not the Sprocket carrier bearing, we went to the only advertised bearing place and he said he could have em in by noon the next day. With the plan made, we dropped off the parts with the shop and had the old bearings pressed out, and the new bearings that were available pressed in. As the next day rolled around, the shipment didn’t come in so we were layed up another day. We decided to get new tires for my bike while we were here so we can be garunteed that we’ve done everything we could to make sure we survive the road to coldfoot… which is paved with rocks and even shaper rocks.. and is only just wide enough for 2 semi’s to pass with inches to spare. While at the shop we met a nice lady named Leslie –she was actually from Vermont originally – Who was able to give us some great info on traveling in that direction as well as a connection to a nice B+B when we get there.
Armed with a new cache of information we were emboldened. The third day floats in and we go to pick up our bearings that have arrived. We were disappointed to find that although the guy in the shop had ordered the right part, the bearings sent were not the right size, Damn it. He said we could have em by Monday which was no go we could not spend 2 more days here in Fairbanks. We went poking around across the street at a truck transmission supply store, we happened to find some dust seals there that would go with the bearings we were lookin for. Although he was not able to provide us with the bearing itself… he pointed us in the direction of a electric motor and belt company across the street from him…. This guy had what we needed, it was a freakin` miracle. Now with all the parts in place and the tires mounted, we are awaiting the morning light so we can travel again.
That’s all for now
-Seb
Tallest Mountain!
June 21st – June 22nd
Although our stay with the Douglas’ was pretty damn near utopian, we were feeling the call of the road again and we decided, with the weather forecast looking pretty solid, to hit the trails again. We took care of a number of things before we left, tidying up the garage and preparing a special sign which will be revealed in the coming week(s). Our first stop would be a mere 250ish miles away: Denali (formerly Mt. McKinley). We rolled into the park, about 8pm intending to camp in the onsite. We drove about 8 miles in, to take a look at the savage river camp ground, which had 33 camping sites (142 at the lower riley creek) the way up was beautiful, the sun was at about what it would be around noon back home, and the mountains were ablaze with color.
Unfortunately the campsite turned out to be only for RVs, and the To actually get a site, you had to register back at riley creek (not something that was evident from park signage, I might add). We arrived at the visitor center to find that ALL sites were full, and there would be any available for sometime. We talked to two of the most obstinate people I’ve ever met in customer service, who refused to give us information easily, each question was answered with one line… as if to say that we should really already know the answers to them. I mean, we’d obviously been there forever… having explained we just rolled in from Massachusetts and all, right? Needless to say we took off for a campsite a little bit down the road, after having reserved a spot on the shuttle bus tours to Wonder Lake! Ooooh. The guy at the desk told us that the tours fill up, and are filling up everyday and that we need to reserve a spot or else we wont get to do what we wanted.
Now at the campsite, we encountered yet another nincompoop who informed us that although the campsite was only 15 bucks a night (hooray cheep!) the credit card system would take as long as half an hour, and that cash would be preferable. While we tried to decide how many nights we would spend there, we asked her if she knew what the weather was goin to be like in the coming days. She Said that she didn’t know, and the girl behind her, who seemed like she was new, said that she could probably check online for us, but the one actively helping said
“No, that’s alright… that would be going *above and beyond the call of duty*”
It took all I could muster to keep myself from slapping my palm to my face. Regardless, we got to our site to find that it was missing a fire pit, the spot next door was open, it had a fire pit but no picnic table. Using our combined strength, will and mindpower… we were able to solve the problem, I assure you it took everything we had. The campsite was more closely related to a truck stop than an actual campsite, the RV traffic was nonstop till about midnight, the rafting company that was adjacent was a nonstop party till about 2am. In their defense, we were there on June 21st, which as everyone knows is the solstice. In Alaska, the Summer Solstice is a big deal and is cause for much celebration.
Our adventure into Denali Nat’l Park the following morning was an early one, arriving a good 20 mins early for our 9:15 reservation. As we boarded the bus we tried to pick good seats as the trip was going to be 11 hours round trip, holy crap. By the time we left there were a total of 17 people on the bus with a maximum capacity of 56 I think. Our bus Shuttle Driver was named Cindy and she was very nice and incredibly well educated about the park and truly had a passion for her work.
The bus chugged along towards our destination we were informed that the park is 6 million acres—a little smaller than the size of Massachusetts. That news gave us great hope to see the many animals of the area. There was a lot of fantastic scenery, which the pictures I will post does no justice, truly magnificent. The wildlife, however…was very well hidden this day. We saw some sheep, some caribou that were so far away that you could barely make out their forms. And a couple bears that suffered the same proximity issues. It really was not at all what we were expecting. As we reached the midpoint of the day the rain started commin’ down in a light drizzle, it progressed slowly into a heavy rain, then to hail. It subsided quickly but the damage was done, the clouds completely obscured our final chance to McKinley, oh well (I read later that only 30 percent of the people who come to see the mountain actually get to, so we were in the majority at least, that’s always comforting. The ride home was pretty quiet and we were pretty much done with bus rides by the end. We made our way back to the bikes and headed for the little down of Healy for some much deserved pizza, beer and ice cream. That night we slept like we slept like
metaphorical logs… literally. Apparently spending 11 hours on a bus is exhausting.
Next!
-Seb
Homer
The weather forecast is not good, but we decided that we have little choice but to hope for the best for a side trip to Homer. It will be a 400-plus mile day so we’re off by 8:15.
The first leg runs along the coastline around the base of a large inlet called Turnagain Arm. The tide is out and we can see for the first time the effect of the 30-foot tide in the Anchorage area, the basin outside the city nearly empties revealing mudflats which go a long way out, leaving channels of varying depth.
Low tide
The inlet is named from explorer Cook’s time when navigation of the inlet required turn after turn to find a navigable channel.
Aside from a brief spit around the bottom of the inlet (known locally as the armpit of Alaska where the weather is good only 30 days of the year), the weather held off but veiled most of the mountains in clouds.
LB in Kenai
We passed the large and very blue Kenai Lake and stopped to watch salmon fishermen lining both sides of the Kenai River. There was a fisherman positioned every 20 feet or so for several miles of river.
About halfway to the end of the road at Homer, a cold, steady rain started and then turned into fog. At Anchor Point, Dave led us to the most westerly spot US roads can carry you. On the way into the Anchor Point Park, we seem to have exceeded the speed limit, and a pair of park rangers flagged us down just as we were parking. We were so cold and wet that our fingers could barely fish our licenses from the wallets. The ranger took pity on us, and even though he’d recorded us at twice the posted speed (all of 25 mph), he let us off with warnings.
LB Westmost
Bedraggled
Had the weather been clear, we would have been able to see 5 active volcanoes across the Cook Inlet. But we could only imagine. The stop let us recover enough body heat to carry us the last 14 miles to Homer where hot chocolate and lunch let us gear up for the return. The return was entirely in the rain and we charged home making stops only for fuel and to get Dave a pair of waterproof gloves. We arrived home at about 9:00 as cold and wet as any of us had ever been. Dave gave me his gloves remarking that he’ll never need them as he will never go riding in conditions like that again!
Anchorage
Yesterday’s extra push gave us a leg up for our arrival in Anchorage. As we were packing our gear, the fellow from the campground came around collecting the fee envelopes and spotted our bikes and came over for a nice chat. He admired our gumption and when he saw my bike his eyes lit up and he said “Hey, I had that very same bike when I was a kid!” We sensed he might be in the market for a bike and could tell he would love to find an 1100F somewhere, so we told him about the CB website. So, be on the lookout for a new Alaskan on the pages guys.
The trip today started out in the rain once again, but the cloud cover thinned somewhat by 10. We stopped for breakfast at the Eureka Lodge at the top of a mountain pass and had a great breakfast.
Near Sutton
We asked the waitress what town we were in and she told us there really wasn’t a town since the lodge was all there was. If you’re ever passing between Sutton and Glenallen, you’ll find it. On a map it may appear as Skelton. Stop in and have a Denver Omelet.
The road to this point had been a broad 2-lane highway with wide shoulders and wide turns, but from here most of the rest of the way to Anchorage it was more fun for riding with no shoulders, lots of twists and turns through mountainous and forested terrain.
We arrived at our destination in Anchorage a little after noon. We are staying with the Douglas family (David, Pam, Bill, Gabe, three dogs and three cats) whose home is perched on a hillside above the city. We had never met David (aka AlaskaGriz), but he is one of our CB1100F.net website members and when he learned of our trip he and his family opened their home to us. Prior to our arrival we had ordered some parts shipments and were able to use Dave’s address as a depot. When we pulled into the driveway, Dave was still at work, but we were greeted by his son Gabe. They knew we’d been through some mud, and had set up a wash/workstation for us with solvents, detergents, waxes–everything we could need. We’ve been housed, fed, and treated like family since our arrival. Seb and I will be eternally grateful!
This afternoon we spent cleaning and wrenching to fix or diagnose a short list of accumulated problems. The parts shipments that I had ordered arrived that afternoon, and when Dave arrived home he took me out to a local dealer who mounted my new front tire. I fixed my broken mirror and camera mount, determined that my new drive chain is defective or damaged and will get replaced in Seattle, and fixed an oil leak. Seb needed only to clean and lubricate his chain.
We did discover that Canada has apparently perfected a permanent bonding agent which they carefully blend in with their construction mud, and it won’t come off. We also decided that getting them any cleaner would threaten the cosmetic perfection of Dave’s own bike which is legendary to members of the CB website.
One repair that did not work out was to the USB port of my little laptop. The part I ordered does not work as advertised and so I am still unable to transfer pictures from my camera to the laptop. I used Dave’s machines to transfer what has accumulated to date, but once we head out, we’ll remain unable to post pictures. I’ll see what I can do when we reach Seattle.
Dave barbequed some fresh caught King Salmon for dinner. Mmm Mmm good!
To the Second of the Last Three
Today started in the rain, and stayed rainy all morning as we continued northwesterly. We arrived at what we presumed was a large lake, but it was called Destruction Bay and it had a distinctly tidal character to it. At a service stop I was able to look at a large map to realize that this was, in fact, an inlet from the ocean cutting about 50 miles inland. We saw grizzly bear ambling down a bank to the shore, but we were so cold and wet, we just let him go about his business and didn’t stop for his picture.
The afternoon leg gave us better weather, but took us over some of the roughest road we’ve encountered. Frost heaves had turned a long stretch of the road into a roller coaster. Seb described the feeling aptly as what you’d expect riding a speed boat at high speed through a choppy sea. But the real hazard was pavement that had deep ruts (6-12 inches dep) in the tarmac running along the length of the road. They generally didn’t break through the surface to become potholes, but they were hard to see, and tended to pull the bikes off course suddenly. The last 50 miles of the highway in the Yukon all the way up to the border were like this.
Construction was underway for the last several miles of the highway and we and our bikes got covered with clay-like mud, that will probably never come off.
But we finally made it. We crossed the border into Alaska near Tok at about 4:00, and picked up another hour of daylight (as if we needed that!) as the time changed. At the border crossing, my bike had one of its signature failures—chipping a couple of teeth off of one of its starter gears, but my trusty supply provided a replacement, and the border guard allowed me to fix it there in the customs parking lot. After refueling bikes and bodies in Tok, we decided we were game for some more travel to get us further toward our temporary home base in Anchorage.
We found a campground about 140 miles farther along, and camped for the night. The campground was all but deserted of other campers, and unattended. Although we’d been concerned about bears, the Bear Safe chart posted near the water tank said that if we ran a clean campsite (we had no food, and bore no food odors—as far as we could tell) then we were only one step up the risk ladder than walking in a shopping mall. We took encouragement from that, pitched our tent, built a fire and swatted mosquitoes until bedtime.
The last chunk of the Yukon and this first part of Alaska had us carving a wide circle around the St Elias mountain range which includes Mt Logan, the highest peak in Canada and second highest in North America after Mt. McKinley. I’m not sure were ever able to see Mt. Logan, but the mountain range it’s in—even from a distance was impressive.
The Yukon
The Yukon.
At Watson Lake where today’s travel started, we saw a unique item: The Signpost Forest, a “forest” of upwards of a thousand 15’ tall 4 X 4 posts anchored in the ground and covered front and back with signs. Street signs, city signs, homemade signs, signs made of wood, metal, plastic, bedpans, saucepans, license plates. One sad note: while the ladybug was posing amidst all this, she escaped my fingers and fell down between the floorboards of the forest entryway. With no way to retrieve her, we were forced to leave her there. But when we return on our way back to post our sign, I’ll come equipped to try to get her back.
Our ride took us across most of the width of the Yukon. The landscape was an odd combination of mountains, desert and plains. At points it was very much like the Adirondacks with forested mountains rarely rising above treeline, and the road wandering past pretty lakes. This part was quite nice. At other points, however, it was like a deserted gravel pit, with rocks, gravel, and scrubby plants strewn all over. The overall affect was quite distinctly not pretty, I have to say.
The temperature was in the upper 50’s but we still felt more comfortable in long underwear, sweatshirts, jackets, rainjackets, and neck warmers. These were especially appreciated after an afternoon headwind picked up.
We have stopped now in Haines Junction and are relaxing in the bar of the first hotel offering fair value we’ve hit on our whole trip. There’s a nice breeze flowing through the sunny doorway. It’s now 6:00 and the barkeep tells us that sunset won’t be for another 6 hours. She hands us a printout of the forecast confirming sunset at 23:44 and sunrise at 4:37. I also see that there’s rain ahead for tomorrow.
The road today was much less well maintained, mostly suffering from frost heaves and patched potholes. Fuel was not a problem. Although some of the stations I plotted during planning were long since abandoned, others that had been too small to appear on maps have surfaced at key spots. Our reserve remained untouched. We have become almost cocky about it, and are seriously considering trekking from Fairbanks to Prudhoe Bay–a stretch of 500 miles with nothing burnable I can find–so we can touch the Artic Ocean and spend a night with no sunset at all. Sebastian figures that we can dump most of our luggage in Fairbanks, load up with gallons of fuel and make it no sweat.
-Peter
Across Northern Canada
6/13
The ride from Ft. St. John to Ft. Nelson was as had been described to us: long, straight and not much happening. The Alaska-Canada Highway is not in as good condition as most of the other roads we’ve been traveling. Filled potholes and other patches make the pavement uneven. The 2-lane road travels through a 300 yard-wide swath cut through forested rolling hills. The trees are a mix of conifers birch, and aspen. Occasionally we get a glimpse of mountains in the distance, but the trees largely constrict the view. So we look for animals.
At a gas stop we met a pair of solo motorcyclists. One, on a BMW sport-tourer was on a whirlwind trip from Chicago to Alaska. But although Chicago was his home, he had just completed a trip to Florida and Maine, and returned home to re-supply before setting out for Alaska. The bike was a new toy for him, so we understood. At the same stop we also met a rider from Bulgaria who now lives in Kitchener, Ontario. He was riding a Kawasaki dirt bike that was so fully loaded and overhung with gear that you had to look closely to see a bike underneath. We rode with him for a while, but his pace was slower than we needed to maintain. I was just debating about how to part in a friendly way, when he must have realized he was holding us up and waved us to go on ahead.
6/14
The road out of Ft. Nelson began much the same yesterday’s, but within an hour we began to see mountains off to the west, and we began climbing gradually to meet them. The Northern Rockies started out looking like the Adirondacks, with rounded, wooded mountaintops with only an occasional rocky outcropping, Along this part we saw many isolated bison and one or two small herds grazing by the roadside. Higher up, the mountains broke above treeline and became sharp, rocky peaks. It was also quite cold even though it remained sunny. At this altitude, lakes and streams were the same brilliant turquoise we had seen in Jasper—I assume this indicates a relative lack of organic matter in the water. Although beautiful, it was quite bleak. We encountered only the occasional trio of bighorn sheep foraging along the curbside for not much.
In the afternoon, the skies clouded up and began to threaten rain, but it never amounted to much. We had to stop for construction. Canadian road repair procedures differ quite a bit from the states. Rather than make detours, they tend to entirely rip up long segments of highway at one time (3 to 10-mile stretches), restrict travel to one lane, and hold traffic at each end for long times. We have had delays of 15-20 minutes at some spots. Maybe the difference is between rural versus congested areas instead of anything else. In any case it gave us time to suit up for the imminent rain that never came.
Fuel is holding up OK. So far, everything the preliminary research showed has materialized although some of the places are clearly open only at the whim of the owner. Unfortunately, not every fuel stop has premium gas, and we find that not only do the engines suffer pinging from the lower octane, they also deliver much lower fuel mileage. Yesterday, we managed to get 145 miles on a tank before switching to reserve. Today, on a tank of low octane gas we only got 125. We intentionally passed by a gas station that seemed to have only regular since we were within range of our destination for the night, but we didn’t quite make it. So we made use of our extra fuel cargo for the first time to take us home for the night.
Today we’ll start off with some maintenance and then hit the road across the Yukon.
-Peter.
On Religous Fanatacism… and Breakfast
I’ve come to the conclusion that the suicide bombers that use themselves as weapons to inflict harm to their enemies are mistaken if they think that they will be greeted by virgins in heaven.
Actually… I think the realization I am trying to relay is that they are mistaken that they are going to heaven… I have Discovered where they truly go when they die: British Columbia. They are, in point of fact, ressurected as butterflies and sent here, doomed to repeat thier acts, with far less successful results. I say this because I have witnessed the destruction of many of these butterflies as they try their best to accost me while in motion. I must give them credit for their fervor, and their numbers are vast… but the mass ratio is just far too great. We are safe from their threat until they master the explosives again (2012). Honestly, the only effect they are having might be forcing me to do… more laundry (just kidding, I don’t do laundry!)
We left this morning from Ft. Saint John having had a marvelous breakfast scramble at a local Cafe`. It wasnt so much the ingredients that made it special (although they were all locally grown, and very delcious) but more the way they were prepared. The createor was a man by the name of Devin. Devin is the (owner?) of Cosmic Grounds Cafe` and he was looking for a way to bring a breakfast crowd into his coffee shop to expand his buiness. The shop itself isnt small, but the service area is and there was certainly no room for more kitchen to facilitate this service. So he came up with the ingenius idea of using his cappuccino machine’s milk frother to cook the eggs and meats for his scrambles. The results are fantastic, the eggs come out light and fluffy, perfectly cooked and it’s really fast too! The whole process took about 10 mins which included chopping all the veggies and the ham, it was truely impressive. We had arrived in the shop as they were opening so he joined us for breakfast and we told him of our trip. I have to say, we only spent about 20 in the shop and in that time he was working on 5 scramble orders… so the idea seems to have worked, my helmet is off to Devin, Good luck man!
We’ve arrived in Ft Nelson, 3 days now to Alaska and the excitement is palpable. As we get farther and farther from regular civilization the value of a rented room increases… it seems to defy physical law, i’ll have to go back and check the calculations.
Many of the places here in town have “Northern Lights” in their name so we might get to see some auroras. Of course, the sun won’t be setting until 11:30 tonight, so we might have to wait a while.
-Seb
Prince George
This morning was the first day since leaving Idaho that dawned crystal clear, though a bit chilly. As we passed our 5,000 mile mark, the road continued to follow a long valley with Rockies rising on either side, We caught sight of a huge buck elk grazing in the sunshine, but he took off before we could stop for his photo.
It is much more enjoyable touring in nice weather, and we did not miss for an instant getting more practice recognizing spray patterns from passing vehicles form on the helmet visor.
When we exited the last mountain pass, the terrain broadened into a wide valley floor with fertile farmland, marshes and swamps. Deer, bears, and wolves made occasional appearances, but as yet no moose. As we got to lower altitudes and farther out into the plain toward Prince George the temperature warmed to a comfortable 65-70 degrees and this helped us make good time to our evening destination. We arrived early and attended to a number of errands including laundry and finding me some replacement rainboots, as the elements had shredded my original pair.
Seb reminded me also that I should be concerned about the rapidly disappearing tread on my rear tire. We’d been noting this for some time, but on a quick look, it seemed like it might make it to Anchorage where I could replace it at my leisure. The tire was new at the outset of the trip, and I refused to accept that it needed replacement after only 5000 miles. But Seb stuck to his guns and reminded me of how hard a time we had finding his tires, and since Prince George was by far the largest city we would visit before Anchorage, I was convinced to have a look. The second dealer in town had something close, but not exact; we tried two more with no luck and at one of them, Seb pointed to my tire and showed me a spot where the tread had wore clear through to the underlying belts. Now desperate, we returned to the previous dealer and bought the close fit. It’s a decent tire, but I paid about twice what it would have cost under more planned circumstances. I’m glad Seb was with me; had I been on my own, I might not have seen the extent of the problem and my stubbornness would have driven me into a most uncomfortable mistake.
I have now answered the questions about comfort over the long haul. I am having no back issues at all—I attribute that to a lightweight back brace that I wear every day. At one point I was concerned that saddle sores might become a show stopper, but two bike modifications and two techniques, have helped eliminate this concern: a gel seat pad and an extra set of footpegs respectively add extra cushioning and a third alternate position for my feet. Both of these modifications came from a Harley Davidson dealer in Bozeman, MT and they have now proven to do the job. The techniques are: using appropriately placed doses of baby powder, and holding our daily mileage as close to a 300-mile maximum as possible. This will slow us down somewhat—I had originally planned to average 350 miles.
Tomorrow begins a 5-day stretch into more remote places where fuel may become an issue. Originally we were expecting to get mileage somewhere around 45 mpg and we had decided to each carry one extra gallon. This would give us a comfortable range of about 200 miles. The longest stretch without fuel I had seen on our route was 180 miles.
In fact, however, we have been getting closer to 35 mpg owing perhaps to the extra weight we carry and to the altitude for which our bikes are not tuned. We have shifted some cargo around, and are now carrying two extra gallons apiece.
I remember on an earlier trip seeing a couple of other bikers traveling in Canada poring over a map almost in tears when the route they had planned so carefully at home evaporated: they discovered only on arrival that one of the roads they’d planned to take turned out to be a railroad line. I’m hoping that all of the fuel stops I have found with GPS and Google searches will prove to be there and be open for business.
Jasper
Unfortunately for you all, the USB port on our laptop has ceased to function. As a result we are unable to post the pictures that so eloquently illustrate our adventures. I do not have the mental capacity however, to exchange said pictures for their inherent 1000 word value, for at that point this would no longer be a blog but a novel.
Having only ever seen the American Rocky Mts. for the first time last week (not counting the time I went over them in a plane) they were pretty spectacular. They are blown away completely by the majesty and the magnitude of the Canadian Rockies, however. We spent the better part of Thursday in the rain coming up from Cranbrook making our way through Radium Hot Springs and entering the Nat’l park from there.
The trip was pretty miserable, the temperature couldn’t have been above 50 not to mention the torrents of rain and the wind-chill factor (although the rain did eventually subside by 1pm, le’ sigh). We were immediately stopped by a traffic jam that had arisen from a momma black bear and her two cubs on the side of the road, the cubs were busy climbing a tree then launching themselves out of it, tumbling over each other down the hill in a flurry of fur that looked like it belonged on (North) America’s Funniest Home Videos. Unfortunately we were unable to stop for pictures because of the rain, and the traffic. The road was very technical, sweeping back and forth with lots of elevation changes and a fair bit of traffic. That was soon behind us; our first stop was along one of the many rivers that flowed out of the mountains, it was quite a sight the water was moving very quickly, and the brightest turquoise I’d ever seen water, including the beaches of Clearwater, Florida. The weather being what it was, the mountains were all shrouded in clouds, each of them its own Olympus, most undoubtedly inhabited by some god or another. As we snaked our way through the mountains we finally made it to Lake Louise 80 miles from where we entered the park; our first stop for gas and warmth. We spent a good half hour here, the cashier even bought me a hot chocolate, for which I was very grateful. I am remiss in remembering her name, which I regret.
Our departure from Lake Louise heralded much better weather, much to our excitement. Although the temperatures remained cold, it finally stopped raining, and we even were able to find some spots of sun, though the bulk of the orb’s energies always seemed… elusive, always shining just off in the distance like some magical pink dragon. Now that the clouds had settled on a higher ceiling the true beauty of the mountains was able to show forth. We saw many peaks, jagged and snow capped some of them even still hanging on to the glaciers that are so quickly melting in this day and age. The melt was apparent in the numerous waterfalls that accented many of the taller faces, and in the rivers that flowed so swiftly carrying that water away from the mountains. I think the major difference between our experiences with the American vs Canadian Rockies is that the park road seemed to keep you in the mountains, skyrocketing from peak to peak whereas in Yellowstone you were mostly in the valleys. We were able to get an up-close view of a black bear, slowly grazing in a meadow beside the road. We caught up to a Big Horn Sheep doing the same further down the road.
Finally, with the sun threatening to dip behind the mountains, we arrived in Jasper, a very beautiful ski town which, in hindsight was probably the most expensive place we could have possibly picked to stop, but it was worth it, the mountains surrounded us on all sides, some far off in the distance others very much in the foreground each one perfect. At dinner we discovered another brew that was previously unknown to us: Rickard’s Dark. The waitress seemed to think it was a company affiliated with Molson, which I was actually surprised to hear given the quality of the taste… not something you expect from a large brewery. Either way, alongside Big Sky Brewing Company’s “Moose Drool” (which in retrospect I think I’ve had before, I seem to remember my mother raving about it… hehe) it is definitely a favorite.
That’s all for now!
-Seb.
Back to montana
The morning sun crept through the heavy curtains of our room at the Mountain View Lodge. As we made our way to the parking lot, a fresh layer of frost adorned our bikes and the mountains were obscured by fog. Although the air was chilly, the sun was strong and the sky was clear of the clouds we had been running from the previous day, it promised to be a good day for sure.
After far too much breakfast, we packed up what little we had unpacked and headed off. I was grateful for my decision to buy a long underwear shirt the previous day, it allowed me to forego my rain jacket and sweatshirt, which add uncomfortable bulk and put a lot of stress on my shoulders and neck.
The road continued to follow the Salmon River, at times as we sped through the curves we were a mere 5 feet from the tumultuous rapids, these roads left very little room for error. We came upon a hotsprings along the side of the road, the water comming out of it was estimated between 160 to 180 deg F and it smelled strongly of sulfer.
After an hour we came to the pass that would take us through the mountains the road was switch backed to such a degree that we couldn’t go faster than 25mph. At the peak we were able to see the very beginnings of the Salmon River, it started as a just a tiny stream maybe 2 feet wide and a couple of inches deep.
On the other side of the pass it seemed that time sped forward and before we knew it we were in Missoula. We made a few stops at various Honda Dealers to try and find an outer rain jacket for my dad. He found that his specially designed jacket with the Rain liner on the inside, left the entire rest of the jacket wet, which pulled heat away from his body much too rapidly. We found a jacket that does the job and we are off to nearest motel. We set off for canada tomorrow.
That’s all for now!
-Seb
Idaho
(I am remiss in not posting an item pertaining to our visit with an old friend in Minnesota. It was a draft that never got posted. Please go back to May 31 for this. Sorry about that.)
Our efforts to locate a tire for Sebastian led us further south in Idaho. Our first attempt was at a Honda dealer in Rexburg. But the closest he could come was a tire that was too wide. Seb would have to get rid of his center-stand to make it work. We called another dealer further south who seemed to have a possible, but he was closing in a few minutes and he was half an hour down the road. We decided to limp down there anyway. By now Seb’s tire would hold air for about half an hour. So we filled it up and headed off arriving at the Honda dealer just as the owner was closing up and heading out. But hearing our predicament, he took us back in and we discovered that the tire they thought they’d had for us was a front. The only tire he had that would even fit the rim looked like it would belong better on a jeep! But he promised that he would be able to work something out to get us on the road as soon as possible Monday (everyone was closed on Sunday).
So we took a forced layover and stored up some energy until this morning. Back at the Honda dealer the parts guy, Wes, spent nearly an hour on the phone calling everyone he knew who might have a tire including the Michelin rep who was visiting a local racetrack. Tire makers provide tires for racers as a promotional strategy and typically pull them off the bikes after one or two race runs. They stockpile these pull-offs and give them away to special friends in the business. But, alas, the only tire he had for Seb’s bike was in a locked trailer in Salt Lake City.
We located a tire that would work, in Pocatello, but that was another 50 miles south, and it was raining, so that didn’t look like a good option. Finally, we located a tire of the proper size and style right in town when a late-opening dealer finally answered his phone. He saw an opportunity to make a buck and gouged Seb for $60 above what the catalog listed. But this was cheaper than another night in a motel, and we were getting desperate to get out on the road in the pouring rain. We bought the tire, the dealer mounted it and we were on our way.
By Seb’s calculations, he’s spent 10% of the trip so far driving on flat tires!
We headed west across the Idaho desert in a cold moderate rain, but saw no threat of tornados. Ha ha ha! For the first hour or so we were passing through many installations of the Idaho National Laboratories. I’m pretty sure the main research that goes on there is how to dispose of the US accumulation of waste from the nuclear power industry.
This was a pretty miserable ride. The road was in good shape but it was a two-lane main trucking route, and huge trucks carrying hay and straw coming the other way at 70 miles an hour created a tremendous blast of wind and covered man and machine with little bits of straw.
Out in the middle of nowhere, we saw signs for EBR-1 (Experimental Breeder Reactor-1)
EBR-1
EBR-1 was quite interesting. It was very well maintained, well labeled and virtually intact. We opted for a self-guided tour, but there was a guided tour if we’d cared to wait. One neat bit of trivia: When a reactor is shut down in an emergency, it is called SCRAMming. The derivation of the term is charming: the staff at the first nuclear reactor in Chicago included a physicist who stood at the ready with an ax near a cadmium rod that was suspended by a rope over a hole in the reactor. In an emergency, the rope was axed, the rod dropped, excess neutrons were absorbed and the reaction halted. The physicist was known as the Safety Control Rod Ax Man or SCRAM!
After EBR-1 the weather improved significantly. We saw blue sky off to the north, the direction we’d be heading after a few more westerly miles. We stopped for lunch in Arco, ground that I’d traveled nearly 35 years before on a previous MC trip with my friend Sky. I was crestfallen when not one of the 1020 population remembered me.
LB in Arco
After turning north, and heading for Sun Valley, we emerged into full sunlight for the first time in about 5 days. The scenery and road up to our present perch in the middle of the Sawtooth range was spectacular and great sport riding.
Sawtooth Mtn Range
Sawtooth Range
Sun Valley, ID
Galena Summit
Stanley, ID
I wish I’d known the roads better and that we weren’t already logged into the ISP computers as having been warned for speed.
Tomorrow we head north to Missoula, MT and the next day we should be in Canada. The weather forecast is finally good!
Adversity
Yellowstone Park was originally planned for the return trip as we made our way through Wyoming, but we found that with our accelerated jaunt through the US that… we were not allowing the weather enough time to adjust itself to the “good riding” setting on the dial. So we decided to slow down, and take a few days for some leisure riding. Thus a loop down into Yellowstone was required.
Into Yellowstone
The weather report was for a grey, partly raining type day so we left the hotel with our trusty rain gear and nothing else and headed off to the park which was about 90 miles away. We got there plenty dry with only a few sprinkles, and paid our entrance fee. The first road up to the main stop from the north end was about 5 miles and it was super twisty, although it had a speed limit of 25, it was actually quite fun. We stopped at the main visitor center to get a quick lesson on bears, and how to handle them.
Now armed with knowledge, we set out on our first leg. Immediately, there were Elk lining the road snacking on the plentiful vegetation and watching the tourists go by. We made several stops taking a look at all the natural formations and wildlife.
Snow.
And
Undine Falls
After a stop at a fairly busy geological formation, which was just on the side of the road, towering a good 1000ft above, I started to have battery issues… the bike wouldn’t start. We spent a few minutes trying to figure out what could be causing it and decided that it was just the constant stopping and starting, coupled with the low speeds and handgrip heaters. So we push started and I shut off my headlight, and kept the rpms high as we made it to the next stop.
Now, the next stop was a good 15 miles away and in that distance we probably went up about 3000ft in elevation to cross one of the Rocky Mountains! (woo hoo, I can hear you guys saying) but it was far, far from woohoo. At this point with the battery low, the rain started coming down in torrents, it was blinding. Not only that, there was still SNOW everywhere on top of this mountain and the temperature dropped significantly (started mid 50s and by the top it was probably in the low 40s, high 30s. here we were put putting along this dangerously wet, cold, cliff-oriented road (the valley down below was… quite far away) and I begin to notice my handling going to shit… oh boy. Finally we make it to the summit’s gas station to find that yup, sure enough! Flat tire… rear this time. The gas station had air, but no way to plug the holes (there were 2 pieces of metal sticking out from my tire). We inflated the tire and set out for the next closest town, some 50 miles away just outside the park.
On our long journey down the mountain we came across a bison that was just meandering across the road, he stopped to make sure we would stop, and then he kept on moseying and we sped off.
Bison
We saw what is known as the “beryl springs” a bright blue hot springs that had near-boiling water gushing and bubbling out of it.
We made it to town, and went to a Napa Auto Parts store to get a tire plug kit, these folks were very nice they even let us pull the bike into their garage in the back (it was raining buckets at this point)
We removed the metal pieces, and plugged the tire. Here they are; ladybug for scale.
LB in Yellowstone
We decided that they were needle bearings from a U joint that had fallen apart somewhere on the road, I was just fortunate to pick up 2.
The tire holds air fine so we set off for the hotel, 90 miles to Bozeman. It again continues to rain, and by now my feet are soaked and freezing cold, the miles tick by so slowly and by the time we got to the hotel I couldn’t unclench my hands from the shape of the handlebars, to the hot tub! I got all of my stuff off and got my suit on and went to the tub and sat for a half hour to bring my body temperature back to normal. Went to the Chinese buffet across the street for dinner and settled down in front of the TV, thoroughly exhausted. About an hour later the sun poked its head out just before setting and we were rewarded with this:
Horizon to horizon, double in spots
Well that’s all from MT! The lesson learned is: don’t come to Yellowstone till July, haha… Damn.
-Seb
Into the Great Wide Open
Today’s Journey was fairly low key in the sense that there were no major repairs to do like the day previous, for that we were thankful. Our journey took us to Bozeman, MT down interstate 94 as suggested by Wade in the previous post. He was right about the spectacular view, we were truly in awe of the countryside; the rolling hills seemed to stretch on for eternity and the sky seemed to go beyond what normally represented the horizon, like we were in a snow globe or something.
Our First stop was Miles City for gas. There at the gas station we met a Swiss man named Benedict Freitag. Ben gave us the scoop on traveling in the area. Try to wrap your head around that one… travel advice from a foreigner. He rides 70’s era Ducati motorcycles so he understood our undertaking pretty well. We are going to take his advice, thank Ben!
There were two instances where we faced an enormous wall of rain that completely obscured the horizon with precipitation;
we donned our suits OF rain protection (+3) and headed off to do battle with the mighty behemoth only to find that the road conveniently circumvented the storm, crisis averted. However its brother was far better poised to quite literally rain on our parade. After our little scuff with the rain we were finally in sight of the Mighty Rockies! The mountain pass we took into town was quite stunning, with snowcapped mountains on each side, constantly climbing, and then finally diving down the backside into the city. Having only seen them from the windows of an airplane, we were quite concerned with the amount of snow still remaining on them. And while I’m on the subject, I’ve found that the temperatures are in the high 50s low 60s here in Montana are quite chilly at 70mph and I wear my rain gear simply to block the wind, this bodes ill for our excursion into Canada, hehe.
I conclusively determined our maximum range today at 133mi, having run out of gas just 20 miles from Bozeman. Fortunately I had the spare gallon in my bags to make it to the next town to fill up. We’ve found that our fuel efficiency has suffered at these higher speeds and our max range is about 70 miles short of what we were expecting. While we make good time, it’s just not enough. The conclusion is to tone it down, finding roads where we can go slower (speed limit on the interstate was 75, and we were doing 70-80) and to start carrying more gas. With the colder conditions I have a lot more room in my bags as wearing a lot of the stuff I was carrying before, so that’s a plus. We also got these cargo nets to hold our signs but they end up giving us a lot more storage room. Carrying 2 gallons each should give us + 55 miles which should be about 180 miles total, which may be enough!
Gonna go sit in the Hottub now!
-Seb
To the First of the Last Three
Anyone who says North Dakota is bleak, boring and to be just gotten through has either never been here or needs their sensibilities adjusted. To be sure, we covered it all in a day, but we found the prairie to be really quite beautiful. The soil is a rich, chocolate brown, there is lots of water in pools, ponds and marshes (possibly aided by the 6.75 inches of rain that fell in the area over a couple of hours on Saturday–conveniently before we passed through), there are rolling hills AND it holds a unique geographical feature and a little known geological secret.
ND Prairie
All morning we were skirting a large solid band of rain just to the south of us. With each slight jog to the north our road finally emerged into the sunlight. We stayed in our rain gear all day just for warmth because temperatures were in the fifties.
About 20 miles east of Minot, Sebastian began complaining that his bike was not handling well and it was noticeably worse when we stopped for lunch. We discovered that his front tire was flat. There was a slit in the sidewall that our patch kit could not handle. But Minot was large enough to support a Honda dealer who had a tire of the correct size in stock. They let us bring the bike into the shop, and use our own tools to remove the wheel so they could mount the new tire. Ninety minutes later we were on the road again.
I’ve found that to be generally true of flat tires on motorcycles. Unless you are riding extremely hard, you don’t usually know you have a flat until you slow to a stop. It’s not nearly as dangerous as you might think. At least that’s been my experience with the half dozen flats I’ve had over 40 years of riding.
In Rugby, we found the Geographical Center of North America. There is a monument marking the spot. Just what the meaning and significance of this is I leave as a topic for you all. Discuss among yourselves. Let us know what you come up with.
Centerpoint
In western North Dakota, there is oil. Apparently lots of it. Every room in every motel within about 25 miles of the ND/MT border has been rented by oil workers. It seems to have been this way for the past six years or so. We stopped for gas in the area and our bikes caught the eye of one of these workers who pulled in to chat. He gave us all sorts of travel tips for the area and clued us in to the dearth of motel rooms. He listened to us describe our itinerary through northern Montana and very gently suggested that another route would be much more interesting for us. We were still debating when he departed, but after we finished, we decided to take his advice. He was a really nice guy and we were sorry not to have gotten his picture and name. About 15 miles down the road, we saw a guy standing outside his truck waving his arms for us to stop. It was our impromptu tour guide! He said “Well, did you decide to take the other route? Cause if you did, then here is a neat side road that will get you there faster and is even more scenic and great a great ride.”
Wade Moe: Oilman, Travel Consultant
More Maintenance
Pulling out of a gas station in Fargo, ND yesterday we heard an unsual sound from Seb’s bike and on investigation found that one of his four exhaust pipes had broken away from the others leaving this:
Gaposis
Custom Cycle, right across the street from our motel was most accommodating. Although Curt was gainfully occupied doing other work, he let Seb use his welder. So now, 45 minutes later, it looks like this:
That ain't goin anywhere!
It may not be pretty, but it should hold until he can find a replacement exhaust system and maybe have it shipped to our west coast maintenance base in Seattle.
Curt refused to let us contribute to his shop and instead sent us on our way with wishes for a safe trip! More niceness!
Thank you Curt!
Cagers
On the drive from Madison to Minneapolis, we did a short stretch on the interstate. At one place construction reduced the highway to one lane each way with cones dividing the lanes. Some idiot immediately in front of Sebastian decided to pull A U-turn without warning, without signalling. Braking hard all the way, Seb narrowly missed a pile-up. Had my laser cannon been operational, that minivan would have been sliced in half. He was just lucky.
In Wisconsin, drivers on the highway don’t seem to like to speed. That’s OK, but they also don’t pull into the right lane when not passing. That makes “weaving in traffic” almost a necessity for sport riders.
Our route today was a mix of interstate roads and local highways. From Madison we headed for La Crosse on the Interstate and when we crossed the Mississippi, we took Highway 61 (of Bob Dylan fame) up the west side of the river. This is a spectacular highway with high forested bluffs on the left and a flat plain along the river with room for a bit of farming.
Are we there yet?
We stopped at one of the many dam and locks for a rest and watched them operate a 600 X 100 lock for the sake of a single small motorboat. The lockmaster said they’ll do it for a single kayak, and they might do it 200-300 times a day.
We arrived in Minneapolis about 6:00 at had a little bit of difficulty finding our motel because the Mall of America was between us and several of the city streets actually go into and through the mall and don’t necessarily emerge directly opposite where they went in.
-Peter
Madison, WI
We left Fermilab at about noon and the next stop was to visit my cousin Glenn in Madison. Once again, the scale of things out here–especially when looking at maps–made it seem like it took forever to get where we were going. We located Glenn’s house at about 4:00 and relaxed a bit before dinner catching up on family news that had accumulated over the almost 20 years since we’d last seen one another. Glenn and his wife Clare took us to dinner at their favorite Italian restaurant (Lombardino’s in case you’re ever there). The food was excellent, the decor unique with beautiful tile work inside and out.
Sebastian had left his ID back at the house and we learned about a second weird law. In Wisconsin, a minor accompanied by a parent may be served alcohol by the establishment as long as the child is clearly over the age of 10. We were not asked to establish parentage. Glenn and I explored the differences between Cognac, Grand Marnier, and one of my Dad’s favorites C&C (Cognac and Cointreau). I prefered the less sweet C&C. We got a somewhat late start the next morning after breakfast at a local spot (I want to say it was called Mikes, but I can’t remember. Maybe Glenn will correct me.)
-Peter
An Old Friend
In Minneapolis lives a dear friend from high school days, Steve Clarke and his wife Shirlee. This was the first time I’d seen Steve on his home territory and the first time I’d met Shirlee. Steve is a renowned musician (sax, clarinet, flute) and since we arrived in the city too late to meet him at home, we relaxed a bit in the motel and then biked the 40 miles to the riverfront rock bar where he was playing that night. The crowd was an interesting mix of bikers who occupied most of the front “paddock” and boaters who commanded the back deck. Steve and the band he was playing with rocked the middle ground inside. The band was loud and very powerful but the sound was clean and every part could be heard distinctly. Of course, we preferred those songs that featured Steve’s contributions and showmanship.
On the way into the bar Sebastian spotted a bike just like his own and we suspected that it might have belonged to one of our correspondents on the motorcycle website. We staked it out and kept an eye on it for several hours before its owner showed up. We were right, and made a chance contact and had a nice chat with Joel (aka WisconsinF).
On the following day Steve and Shirlee escorted us to a jazz brunch at a club where a friend of his was singing. We then had a unique driving tour of the city featuring many of the clubs and restaurants that Steve has played. Thank you, my friend.
Sunday was also laundry day and I took advantage of dryer time to do some corrective maintenance. My bike had developed performance problems coming back from the bar (a nervous-making 2 am ride through some very lonely countryside). That turned out to be an ignition problem which I fixed at the laundromat in shorts and sandals.
-Peter
Party on Garth! Party on Wayne!
First stop in the day was to visit this road sign, a tribute to Wayne’s World… I just could not pass up!
Our Proposed route for the day would take us to the FERMI Accelerator Lab, the now second largest particle accelerator in the world (behind CERN). The visitor center was very nice and we approached the desk to inquire about a tour of the facility. She immediately pulled out this map that belonged on a child’s placemat at a Denny’s and began pointing out things like “the interpretative prairie”, “the bison pen” and the “nature hike”. I must point out that I do not hate nature, but when we come to a particle accelerator, bison and nature hikes are not what we want to see or do. Unfortunately, in depth tours only occurred on Wednesdays and every other Sunday on the lunar month that most closely lined up with the Mayan understanding of the Aztec calendar, needless to say they weren’t gonna show us jack. We were able to glean a surprising amount of information about the facility from greeter at the desk, she could have easily been mistaken for a scientist all though she denied it wholeheartedly, which added to a rising suspicion that I had (which I will inform you of in a moment). Some of the things they’re looking for at the lab are: Higgs particles, neutrino morphology, and dark energy/matter. One of the things that struck a chord was that of the neutrino studies. She mentioned that the neutrinos exist in 3 different “conformations” I guess, I don’t even know if that’s the right description, but anyways the way they analyze them is to send them around the accelerator rings and crash ‘em in to stuff. They also have a detector in Montana to which they send the particles to be analyzed further. Now, I’m sure many of you are thinking: Send the particles? Like in a box? That’s what we were thinking too! But no, the answer is far cooler… the neutrinos are so small, and so fast, that they just pass right through matter altogether, and so they focus a beam of them and just “aim” at Montana, and through the earth they go as if there was nothing there at all, TOTALLY cool.
Now, to the suspicions previously mentioned. Upon hearing of the bison pen at the lab, my mind immediately arrived at the most obvious conclusion: government conspiracy and cover up. I suspect, that they were using the bison as targets for their particle acceleration experiments. Like I mentioned before, they were looking for the Higgs particle, which is called a boson. Now you’ll begin to notice the strong phonetic relationship between bison and boson right away and that will more than likely lead you to the same conclusion I made: a bison is an anti-boson. Suddenly it makes perfect sense to keep a herd of them at the lab, I bet that if you run particles into bison, there is a chance, however small to generate these anti-boson particles (or bison particles), and if we can do that, we can surely find the bosons themselves, Genius.
We made our way though Illinois, to Madison Wisconsin to meet Cousin Glen and his wife Claire. Madison is a Beautiful town, but more on that tomorrow.
-Seb
Into the Windy City
This post got saved as a draft and was originally intended to come out before the FermiLabs Post.
Chicago loomed in the distance as we made our way from one of the crappiest motels I’ve ever seen, not to mention had the luxury of residing in for the night. We planned our route making sure to specifically avoid the Toll Roads and major highways because… as we approached the city, the trucking traffic grew steadily, to the point where they out numbered cars almost 3:1. One thing that our map failed to impress upon us was the size of the city. We reached the city limits from the South. Signs of decay were evident and the neighborhoods definitely needed some TLC. We passed the BP refinery, which I was expecting to be surrounded by protesters but was surprisingly vacant. I noticed, actually that as soon as we got with in 10 miles of the city that the air quality dropped significantly, it probably coincided with the familiar smell of coal burning which I happen to enjoy (both the activity and the smell). As we made our way to Addison, our proposed place of lodging, we found that we had to go a very long *40* miles on city streets to reach this destination, and the traffic was horrible. If had to make one complaint about my bike it would be that the clutch handle is incredibly stiff, and that fact makes traffic a nightmare. But I survived. The mission in Chicago was twofold, first was for me to meet my friend “Tiffers” from World of Warcraft (Orillis to those who play) and Second, was to find the vendor that had promised my father his set of Frog Togs, Located in Addison. The deal with that was that the vendor would hold on to them for us until we got to Chicago, should they come in after we left on our trip (Frog Togs are made in the UK, and are horribly backordered from the manufacturer.) But alas, they had not arrived. My meeting with Tiffers was a huge success though.
On a side note, we encountered a strange law that seemed to be true only in Addison, although we did not investigate too much. It seems that in Addison, one cannot rent a room to two men, with only one bed. A king sized bed is plenty of room for two people to sleep without any fear of even accidental contact, but in Addison, its either 2 beds or two rooms. Being on a tight budget, we had been often opting for the 1 bed because it was decidedly cheaper.
I had a GPS that helped me navigate to her home. The street was dark, and she called me from the Minivan on the corner, it was very strange! But sure enough as I came closer… there she was! After a big hug we took off for the bar, I only had one helmet and her dad was already waiting with the van, so I decided it would be best if I followed them to the destination. We arrived several minutes later (after having passed many bars to get there) at the billiards hall only to find that it was not itself a bar *gasp!*. However, after talking to the proprietor he informed us that it was a BYOB establishment and the convenience store across the street could help us with our alcohol! So away we went, and just barely snuck under the metal security doors in time for one final purchase. Pool was awesome, Tiffers had revealed to me that she had only ever played pool a few times in her life and she would be really bad at it, but in fact she was not, and with a little coaching, was hitting the pockets ok. Tiffers was excellent company (she is convinced that its because our astrological signs are so in sync), and I Sorely regretted letting her get on the bus after the doors closed, but we had already walked 2 miles to get there, and her house was much farther away. Once again alone in a strange city, I turned to my trusted, stalwart, ever-ready friend, GPS, to guide me back to the motel.
TTFN
-Seb
Maintenance Days
The bikes are performing well basically. But lots of little things are failing and we are needing to do more maintenance than we expected. We took a day off in Pittsburgh and visited my sister Marty and her family, and while they were at work and school, I looked into an oil leak. I was unable to correct it by tightening some internal bolts, but I didn’t make it any worse either, and may, in fact, have improved it. I’m hoping it won’t develop into something serious. My handlebar camera mount failed to supply power to the camera, but that turned out to be the cord pulling too hard on the camera. I made more slack for the cord, and so that’s fixed. My custom made LED turn signals developed faults on both sides that reduced their visibility, so I removed the LED boards and installed some regular signal bulb holders into the bike’s signal light cases. They don’t look great, but they’re more visible than 5% functioning LED equivalents. After getting things going back together, my starter button began acting a little flaky and so I since it would be easier to fix there than out on the highway, I took the handlebar switch control apart to fix the starter button. We also properly fixed Sebastian’s exhaust system which had come unanchored from its moorings the day before. After leaving Pittsburgh, Seb began to notice a vibration in his front wheel, and today we took a little time to remove the wheel and run it over to a nearby Honda dealer to have it rebalanced on the theory that one of the balancing weights might have fallen off. The shop let him know that the rim is slightly bent and is probably accounting for the vibration. We may decide to replace the wheel when we get to Seattle. We also fixed a problem with his master fuse which would not let his bike power up or start last night at dinner. The throttle lock on my bike came apart and shed a part out on highway 22 somewhere in Ohio, so I am doing without one until I can replace it.
I know what you’re thinking. The twentieth century version of Holmes’ Wonderful One-Horse Shay. But we are not discouraged. After all, we’ve put on about 1500 miles in a few days. That’s about 1/4 the mileage that I put on in a year, and over the course of those three months I might make a half dozen such repairs. So, it’s just all happening in a collapsed timeframe. That’s all, you see?
The problem I was expecting has not yet materialized. I had been concerned that my back would be getting sore, and that that would be a show stopper. Knock on wood, the back brace I wear is doing a wonderful job. I am ending each day with not the slightest hint of a problem. My bottom end is getting sore, but it recovers overnight. The pain mounts during the day, so I’m pretty glad when we pull up for the night, and each fuel stop is welcome. So far, however, this does not seem to be accumulating. Sebastian’s main complaint is of shoulder pain which also goes away ovewrnight. So, we’re in pretty good shape.
Have not hit any real rain yet, so I have no report on our rain gear. The soles of my hiking boots have all of a sudden begun to separate from the boot. Perhaps I’ll get in to REI Chicago tonight to replace them. Yes, I did. Seb took off on a toot of his own and left me alone, so I treated myself to a nice solo dinner at a little trattoria in Chicago’s North Side.
When I got back to the hotel to post, the Internet in the room wasn’t working, nor was it working in the lobby. I offered to fix it for the night manager, but he countered by inviting me behind the front desk to use his machine. I’m encountering lots of nice people on this trip!
Pittsburgh,PA to Dayton,OH
Today we were joined by my brother-in-law Willis who joined us on his motorocycle as we passed our first 1000 mile mark. Weather was sunny and temperatures very comfortable. We are trying to stick to back roads as much as possible, and that takes us much closer to the sweet smells of new mown hay, and cows. The smaller country roads are much more fun to ride, too.
We got off our route at one point and we knew it within a few miles so we stopped to consult maps and GPS to decide whether we should backtrack or go forward. A very nice lady stopped to ask if we needed help and we explained we were just a little off track. She gave us very detailed directions back to our road. We thanked her and off she went. About five minutes later, while we were still debating what we’d rather do she backtracked to us with great concern that she had given us bad information. “I assumed you were headed East, but if you’re going west then you can continue…” Wasn’t that nice?
Since the start of the trip, both our bikes have been presenting minor, but annoying issues which are easy to fix, but take time. My bike has developed a minor oil leak which, if it does not progress, will be only a nuisance. But it could lead to a more serious problem which might require on the road service. We’ve put a watch on it.
Ohio being the birthplace of aviation, (yes, not North Carolina), we had been planning to visit the Air Force museum at Wright Patterson AFB in Dayton, but on the way we looked up one of the fellows from the CB1100F website. Bill regaled us for hours with stories of his racing days combined with a tour of his many garages and workshops stuffed to the rafters with motorcycles, cars, parts and projects. He documented many of his experiences with one or another broken engine part which he pulled off a shelf much as someone else would pull out a photo album. Bill has LOTS of shelves and stories. After a late lunch, Bill escorted us out of Lancaster, and put us on the road to Dayton.
We arrived at Dayton as the museum closed, so we’ll just hold off until tomorrow before resuming travel.
Longest Travel Day in the Bag
The Saratoga ride was fantastic, it lived up to its reputation as being the location that just can’t do wrong. (Although as mentioned before, a couple of riders went down.) Aside from that little mishap, the ride was clean. We even kept the group of 25+ from getting separated, save one encounter towards the end. Sunday morning was filled with anticipation as it was to be the official “Start” of our trip to Alaska. Everyone was excited but behind their smiles I could sense a quiet jealousy and longing to join us on our trek. There was even talk of meeting up somewhere in the Carolinas on the last leg of the journey home. We said our farewells and hit the road, our first stop would be Oneonta, NY. We were escorted By Phil from our group (wamkap) to Nick’s Diner where he treated us to an outstanding breakfast. I might add to all you fellow motorcycle riders that a breakfast is far more enjoyable, and rewarding once you’ve ridden a hundred miles or so, it makes you feel like ya earned it. From Phil’s house we left with our bellies filled and our minds set on the road ahead. We knew that it was going to be the longest day of our adventure (save the actual “days” being 20 hours in Alaska) But we took off for PA. There had been reports from several residents of PA who were on in Saratoga with us that there was rain commin in and that we would be riding straight into it. However, I must point out that we are, by very definition of our species, smarter than clouds and in being so we were able to… outsmart them. Well I, guess at one point they finally cornered us and we were forced to take cover under our rain suits, but I digress. We decided that the day would be just too long doing route 6 to is completion, and that we needed to get moving at a faster pace, to the “Slab” (motorcycle slang for Highway) we went. Even with our change in course the road seemed ever longer, with each passing hour the travel took its toll. At one point, I hear over my intercom “Sebastian, brhashh hrhah ahh”
“What?” I Replied.
“Stop your motorcycle, the exhaust is coming off!” My father exclaimed.
Sure enough the hanger bolts that held my exhaust attached to the Foot pegs had come loose and the exhaust pipe was sticking out like a pontoon. We limped to the nearest gas station where we were actually able to hammer the tail pipe back to form, and secure it with the one remaining bolt. With renewed vigor we were on the road again, and within a couple of hours, insight of Pittsburgh, PA the location of Day 1’s end: Aunt Marty and Uncle Willis’ house. As we pulled down their driveway we were greeted by the entire family, including their doggy-dog Cleo. Into the garage we pulled our bikes and let them rest, they had served us well these past few days.
Monday morning has been very relaxed, as I Stirred from my bed I could hear my father already wrenching away on his bike; he has a mysterious oil leak that is making an awful mess (which interestingly enough, is not causing a lot of problems with his oil levels… meanwhile my engine is leak free and going through a quart every 200 miles… go figure.) Willis took me out to do a few errands for parts and a haircut. I write to you all having just returned from that, my bike is all ready to go on the next leg of our adventure!
Our plan for Tuesday is to hit up an aviation museum, one that I Hear cannot be missed, in Dayton Ohio.
Well that’s all for now,
Stay tuned for more exciting updates! Maybe some pictures too!
-Seb
T-minus 5 days
(Counting our weekend ride to Saratoga on Friday, that is.) I’m all packed and ready to go. The bike is about as ready as it’s going to get. I did a fully loaded dry run today and handling seems fine. Picture in the gallery.
Alaska and Then Some 