Motorcycling Across America

August 4, 2005 - Thursday – Day 40

2005-08-13T23:49:00.000-04:00

48 States or Bust – The USA on Two Wheels
Miles Today – 401 - Total Miles – 10,836 – Average –270.9 (travel days)
10:45am- 8:45pm – 10hrs.
ROANOKE, VA to HAVERTOWN, PA (western Philadelphia suburb)
(-staying at Home! VA,WV,MD,DE,PA (48/48!!)
- HOME! -

Breakfast was at one of those ubiquitous Waffle Houses again. And this one was only feet from the motel room door. I ate that waffle slowly, knowing that this was to be the final breakfast of a wonderful trip. Each forkful I sliced and ate deliberately and much of the day I proceeded in the same manner. The cute, freckly young woman waitress with the huge southern accent smiled at us on our way out when we were done. "Y’all have a gud day!"

Karen was going to try a little pillow on her seat this day. But when she sat on it she was just too high. (She had tried using her orange padded-like cold vest the other day as a cushion, but it didn’t work out for her. And I was just as glad since it threw the dynamic of the bike off a bit.) Sometimes throughout the trip, either because she had lost some weight or because she was leaning back more, I couldn’t feel her in back of me. And I had to actually look in the mirror to make sure she was still there!

During the trip we've seen mostly motorcyclists in black, of course. And before today there was exactly just one other guy in one of the hi-viz yellow suits. But today we saw a business guy who was presumably on his way to work as he had his briefcase strapped to the back of his gold Goldwing. And he not only had the yellow full suit but also a bright yellow helmet like mine.

It was a smooth riding day toward and through landscape that was known to both of us – especially at the end. Throughout the day it began to look more and more like home was coming at us. We had a few sprinkles of rain, but nothing significant.

We stopped more frequently than usual on this last day of the ride. Instead of every 100 to 110 miles (or about an hour-and-a-half), we stopped about every 75 or so miles. This, partly because of sore butts and partly to savor the day.

When we hit the traffic around Baltimore Karen said, "Well, back to the congested northeast again!" I noted the difference in the air quality as we moved into the northeast corridor. The smog and/or humidity I guessed.

One sign off the major highway around Baltimore stated boldly that motorcycles should beware the bridge ahead because of open vertical grates and I wasn't relishing that in the near-dark. But, thank goodness a turnoff came before that bridge.

We stopped on I-95 at the Maryland House and had salads at a Bob’s Big Boy restaurant there. We had stopped at around 7ish and lingered over that dinner. But had I known it was going to get dark as soon as it did, we wouldn't have stayed so long. Esther, a lady with really unfortunate teeth (one sharp pointy one in the front middle of the bottom jaw, and fused decayed ones on top), was very friendly and helpful. Extra friendly, in fact. She followed us out the door and gave Karen a little Bob’s Big Boy as a memento of the last part of our journey. Then a little boy came up to her with big eyes, and asked, "What are YOU doing here?" Karen said we were motorcyclists not firemen, but the young lad’s dad explained, "Oh, he thought you should be up on the space shuttle!" (Which was making big news at the time, as it was supposed to land in a day or two.)

Shortly, we had our final gas-up of the trip and on our way on the last leg. By 8:15ish it began getting dark and we were on the last major highway in dimness After that we were on what’s called the Blue Route – a road that dumps us off within five minutes of home.

Regrettably, there was danger there, too. In fact, one of the three or four incidents – which could have gone either way in making this trip really uncomfortable or deadly – occurred within the final fifteen minutes of the ride today.

One of those incidents you’ll recall was back on day 22, the Avenue of the Giants day. That was when we toppled over on the bike. If one of our limbs was just a few inches one way instead of the other, we surely would have suffered a broken something. But the bike crash bars were constructed soundly, and our suits helped, and we tucked in just right. Nothing but embarrassment there.

Another incident has gone unreported. That was also on day 22. At my former student, June’s home, we were unpacking stuff. Our gear was brought into the house. Well, I decided to take out my contact lenses and was leaning over the big back bag doing so. As I took out one of the lenses it slipped from my grasp and tumbled to who knows where. Although I had an old back-up pair and a pair of glasses, it would have been a very uncomfortable trip without my regular lenses. After about ten minutes I found the elusive lens in and amongst some folds of clothing.

There were a couple times during the trip when the adventure might have come to a sudden and painful ending when I stumbled and almost tripped over curbs. You know, those close calls that could go either way but one rights him or herself just in time!

Well, on the way back on this last day in the evening glooming we hit construction in the final five miles of the ride. And it was the kind of construction that has one of the two lanes already newly blacktopped and the other lane not completed yet. So there is a lip between the two lanes going the same way. Now this is no big deal to a car’s four wheels but to a motorcycle it can mean life or death if that lip is hit in just the wrong way – especially around a curve. I was conscious of the road situation, and was very very careful to stay away from that road danger, but once going around a curve and in the midst of a bunch of traffic, the mc veered over to that lip, and there was that few moments hesitation of the bike toppling before I righted it with balance maneuvers. I don’t think Karen even noticed, but I sure did, and was breathing heavily for a while after.

By mid-evening we were pulling into the carport from where we had left 40 days ago, a wealth of new experiences under our belt and wonderful images to replay in our minds for many years to come.

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Over the next week or two I will be sending you a couple Afterwords and also some other info about the trip along your way. It was sure good having everyone with us on the journey. Plans are being made for the next one -- and hoping you'll join us on that one, too.

News Note: Safely Home

2005-08-04T22:13:00.000-04:00

NEWS FLASH: THE INTREPID DUO HAS LANDED AT HOME SAFELY AT 8:40PM TODAY - AFTER TOUCHING ALL 48 LOWER UNITED STATES WITH A DOUBLE CROSS-COUNTRY RIDE TOTALING 10,836 MILES IN 40 DAYS!

(LAST DAY REPORT TOMORROW, FOLLOWED BY VARIOUS OTHER INFORMATION AND AFTER WORDS... )

PS. IT WAS GOOD HAVING YOU ALONG.

August 3, 2005 - Wednesday - Day 39

2005-08-04T10:11:00.000-04:00

48 States or Bust – The USA on Two Wheels
Miles Today: 422 - Total Miles: 10,435 - Average: 267.6 (travel days)
11:30am (after Stone Mt. visit) - 8:00 (8.5hrs.)
ATLANTA, GA to ROANOKE, VA
(-staying at an EconoLodge-) GA (42/48)
- INTO THE HOMESTRETCH! - A COUPLE MORE CLOSE CALLS -

And we’re into the homestretch!

With another 400+ mile day today, we’ve brought ourselves within 400 miles of home. It’s very exciting and sad. I guess it would surely be feeling the textbook example of ambivalence.

After a Waffle House visit for breakfast, we went about five miles to see Stone Mountain. Neither of us had been to the place for about 25 years. This is a quite spectacular mountain. It rises to a height of 1,683 feet above sea level (roughly 650-750 feet above the surrounding area, depending on where it is measured), and has carved in it three gigantic Confederate generals – Jefferson Davis, Robert E. Lee, and Stonewall Jackson.

As with most things over the last 25 years it’s become hugely commercialized now – even has a ‘village’ around it with all kinds of come ons.

I was sorry we spent the $8 "parking fee" to get in and sorry we walked around the place for so long in the heat of the morning. After pictures we finally left around 11am, just not having more time to spend.

It was a very difficult first hundred miles of the morning on the highway what with more trucks than I can recall from any other day. Also, the wind was buffeting like crazy.

The second hundred miles of the day ended at Spartanburg, SC, and was not so truck-filled or windy. There were a lot of little and giant lakes going from South Carolina to North Carolina.

One of the things we see a lot of these days is kudzu. Kudzu is a hardy vine from eastern Asia. It was brought to the United States in 1876 at the Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia, PA. There's so much of this fast-growing vine in the Southeast, you might think it was a native plant. Actually, it took a lot of hard work to help kudzu spread so widely. Now that it covers over seven million acres of the deep South, there are a lot of people working hard to get rid of it! (Check out http://www.cptr.ua.edu/kudzu/ if you want to find out more about this amazing hardy plant which can grow a foot a day.) It covers everything including trees and poles and bushes and signs. Karen noted that it makes some things look like giant green dinosaurs standing by the road. It covers everything including trees and poles and bushes and signs. Karen noted that it makes some things look like giant green dinosaurs standing by the road.

We rolled into a Subway around 2:15pm. Both of us were beat up from the heat of the day and the road. I was pretty tired, and after the meal, leaned over onto my mc jacket and helmet next to me and dozed lightly for about 20 minutes.

For much of the south we passed through today, I got kind of down about what the three main enjoyments of the people here seem to be – at least as defined by the biggest and most numerous ads – cheap liquor, even cheaper tobacco products, and even cheaper and bigger fireworks. I never saw such big fireworks stores – they were as huge as giant department stores. I couldn’t believe it!

I’ve often wondered about those big shards of rubber on the highway, and how dangerously they must molt off the tires they’ve been on. I’ve also always wondered what it would be like to be behind one of those big many-wheeler trucks when those tires come apart. Well, I need wonder no longer, because just north of Charlotte, NC, we were rolling along when a smoke smell began to permeate the air. I looked all around. And there just ahead and barreling along in the right hand lane (next to an even bigger rig in the left hand lane) there was smoke coming from one of the rear tires, and the truck began to wobble. It continued on like the driver didn’t realize the problem and I became extremely alert, slowed down, and watched with great anticipation about what might happen next. It kept on like that for a few moments, and the smoke and the wobbling continued both even greater, and then huge black scabs of tire spewed out onto the roadway. I noticed smaller ones that I avoided and then the bigger ones rolled speedily off to the side, and then the trucker, clearly knowing something was amiss, pulled his huge 18-wheeler (minus one!) off the road entirely.

Another rain shower again today. Just as we hit the foothills of the Appalachians also after Charlotte, NC, before we got on I-81. We had some recently familiar spatters. The sky ahead was very bright, but there was that orange lightning bolt through the light blue! And THEN there came the torrent. I was managing fairly nicely until the tanker truck swooshed by us – then everything turned to a misty white and I had to slow to a crawl. Luckily the thundershower only lasted about 5 minutes – but on that mountain curve with the traffic around us, it was a long 5 minutes!

Was in a shower of another kind, too. As a van passed an occupant tossed out some coffee onto the road. It spattered on the windshield making a nice design. I’m guessing the occupants of the van didn’t realize we were there.

Again, we were pretty butt-sore by the end of the 400 miles. And I had a few extra special shooting stabs through my seat and my shoulder. We weren’t a pretty sight either as we dismounted a few times during the day. But I guess if this whole she-bang were an easy thing to do, everyone would be doing it, eh?

The EconoLodge this evening was right next to a Waffle House and beside a Subway. They took our ten stamps that we’d been collecting all around the country and only charged us the tax for the room!

The Subway had a veggie patty (unlike most all the recent ones we’ve been to), and I walked over and brought it back to the room where we celebrated the last night of the current trip on the road with the sandwich and a Stewart’s root beer!

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NOTE: Hmmm... If I had it to do over again, I would have changed the sentence after my police encounter story yesterday. We both thought it was pretty clear anyway for those who also read the whole paragraph, but I guess not. This is how I would have changed the sentence to read: Well, if you’ve been wondering what I’ve been thinking about for all those sun-baked hours on the road, you have a pretty good indication from the daydream fantasy above what some of it is.

August 2, 2005 - Tuesday - Day 38

2005-08-03T15:14:00.000-04:00

48 States or Bust - The USA on Two Wheels
Miles Today: 440 - Total Miles: 10,013 - Average: 263.5 (travel days)
9:15am-7:15pm(9hrs.) (moving back into Eastern Time)
GULF PORT, MS to ATLANTA, GA
(-staying at an EconoLodge-) MS,FL,AL,GA (42/48)
- TURNING THE 4TH AND LAST CORNER - TOPPING 10,000 MILES!! - A CONVERSATION WITH AN OFFICER! -

(Off on the side of the road, somewhere between Montgomery, AL and Atlanta, GA - perhaps near mile marker 259 – I began the uh, conversation, with...)

"Yes, officer??"
"Do you know what the fine is for going 30 miles per hour over the speed limit in these here parts, son?"

I took off my helmet then. And replied with,
"Respectfully, sir. But if you notice the grey on the sideburns I might be old enough to be your father."

I tried to manage a smile while looking up at his crisply ironed blue shirt, somewhat sweated on the edges in the afternoon heat and humidity. He wasn’t amused.

He repeated his question. Then, without waiting for a reply, said,
"You’re not from these here parts, are you boy?"

"N-n-n-no, sir," I stammered.
"Where exactly ARE you from, boy?"
"Pennsylvania." I said.
"Oh, so, you'se a YANKEE then?"
"Yes, sir."
"Let me see your license, boy," he bellowed, "if you HAVE one for this thing, and an owner’s card."

I fumbled to get the paperwork he had requested.

The cars and trucks were whizzing by on the highway. Occasionally one would slow down and I noticed ma and pa and little MarySue look over at the goings-on and "Tsk-tsk" to themselves about the commie-hippie-punk motorcyclist with the dew-rag just pulled over to the side of the road.

The officer took the said paperwork back to his car for computer reference or something. He shortly came back to the Shadow, Karen, and me, who were baking in the afternoon sun. He was perspiring himself and with clipboard in hand came right up to me…

"You gonna be around these parts long, boy?" he snorted, badge glinting into my eye from the sunshine.
"No, sir, we’re just passing through."
"What’s that fancy sign on the back of your rig sayin’?"
"Oh, that’s just sayin’ that we’re on a trip around the country and touching all 48 contiguous states."
"Contigu-WHAT, boy?? Are you making fun of America???"
"NO, SIR," I shouted over the belching of a passing truck full of hogs. "It’s just that all in one trip we’re trying to go through each of the 48 states."

He put his yellow police pad down as I continued.
"Yes, and this is the 38th day on the road and we only have two more days to go. We just passed 10,000 miles today."

With this his features seemed to have softened, he got on his police phone and made a call to his superiors. Then he turned to me and said, "Well, I’ve talked things over with my boss," and then he reached into his pocket and took out his wallet. THEN he riffled through his wallet and took out $50 and handed it to me saying, "Well, we’re so darn impressed by what you’re doing we’re giving you $50 out of the community fund we have and letting you know you can go as fast as you want through the rest of this hea' great state of Georgia!"

We thanked him mightily and headed off smiling down the highway...

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Well, if you’ve been wondering what I’ve been thinking about for all those sun-baked hours on the road, you have a pretty good indication from the daydream fantasy above what some of it is.

Also, among many other things large and small, I recite the hour or so worth of poems I have memorized in years past. (The inside of my helmet has had some pretty darn good recitals!) While riding on the back and when not taking pictures, Karen is often times thinking about the great scrapbook she wants to put together about the trip.

Once again, after looking out the motel room windows this morning in Gulf Port, MS, we knew our decision to stop last night was the correct one. It was grey clouding all over, but at least it wasn’t raining, and the sky showed promise for brightening up.

We were hungry for more of those Waffle House waffles, but decided to get on down the road a piece before having some. We left a little after 9am, and I was glad Steve wasn’t on-line to scold us about the relatively late leaving.

Just south of Mobile, AL we turned north on what was our fourth and final corner. We skirted in and out of and between showers all day long. Must have been six or seven of them. But the worst was just as we were leaving Montgomery, AL. It was on the interstate through town in a whole crowd of cars when the splashdown began. A few patters at first, and I thought, "Uh-oh!" and then the constant downpour. It was right in the midst of the 70mph traffic and all of a sudden my visibility was down to a few feet. I quickly handed my sunglasses back to Karen and just as quickly popped up on the pegs so I could see over the now-water-blotted windshield. Rodes like that for a while calling on all my strength and experience from such situations – though truthfully none of the past times were amongst so many cars and big trucks. It lasted maybe five minutes, but was pretty scary, especially when I noticed the curve in the roadway and had to maneuver through that.

After most every gas stop, I always forget to put my earplugs back in. (Many cyclists use the things to mute the noise constancy of the passing traffic and the engine roar.) Then I have to pull off to the side, take off my helmet, and put them in. At one time today, I was doing so, and leaned back to Karen and joked, "You know, we’d save an awful lot of time every day if you’d just remember to remind me about putting in my earplugs!" We got a good laugh out of that.

At 10:30am we got our Waffle House stop in.

Rode for a while today behind a pretty stinky trash truck. Ugh! That was not pleasant riding.

I just hate it when I’m hurrying Karen along to get on the bike and then I realize I don’t even have the bike in gear yet!

We worked hard at not missing State Route 21 off of I-85 toward Atmore. It was only about 8 miles down that road that we tapped Florida at exactly noon for our 41st state Karen took a picture of me by the welcome sign and we returned back to the big highway. On the way back we met a man at a gas station from Allentown, PA. This fellow said he had inherited a 1934 Harley trike! It was all rusty now but he was spending a mint on E-bay getting parts to fix it up, and he hoped to ride it one day.

Also in Atmore we came upon a health food store. I had mentioned just yesterday that one of the things I missed most from home was some Soydream (something that tastes like ice cream, but is made of non-dairy soy). This place had a delicious confection of non-dairy chocolate and nuts and vanilla Soydream. It was great, and we each relished and savored the taste of the ice cream-like treat!

At a gas station just 20 miles north of Montgomery, just as I was walking toward the office to pay (one of the rare stations that didn’t have credit card pumps), I saw a man leaning against the front wall there. I noticed that he and I both noticed a rather nice looking lady in hot pink short shorts walk by. I looked up at him as I passed and said, "Nothing like hot pink, eh?" He laughed, and said with a big Morgan Freeman-ish smile, "Just something to look at."

We stopped into gas-up at one point about 60 miles shy of 400 miles pretty darned tired – I pointed to the name of the station, and said, "That’s what we need about now." The gas company was named "JET-PEP"!

By the end of the day, my stomach problem (guessing it was some kind of virus that ran its course) seemed to have died away completely. Happy about that, and I could tell the rest of my body was, too, as total energy and spirits returned.

As we entered Georgia we "lost" another hour because of entering the Eastern Daylight Savings Time. (Now just WHERE do you suppose we lost that hour? I looked all over for it, but couldn’t find it anywhere. In fact, I spent so much time searching for it, I had to set my watch an hour earlier when I was done looking.)

We’re both feeling the adrenaline-effect over the excitement about finishing the trip. That adrenaline is seeping into our muscles and our minds. However, not enough of that adrenaline is seeping into our butts, which seem to be aching more and more earlier and earlier in the day.

When we got done crunchwrapping at Taco Bell we headed off for the EconoLodge near Stone Mountain. Karen wondered if I had seen the policeman sitting on the side of the road with the detector pointing in our direction as we entered Georgia. (I hadn’t!)

We had one of those long laughing fits as we were leaving the Taco Bell. Karen’s face, concentrating hard on being able to get her leg up and over the motorcycle so late in the day, and as tired as we were, was so set in determination and her lips were so clenched to be able to make the effort a successful one, just struck me as really funny. And as I described it to her, she found it comical, too. We sat back on the Shadow and laughed for quite a few moments about it.

15 minutes later we were checking into the 10th motel of that chain. (Our next night at an EconoLodge is free!! And there just happens to be a few in Roanoke, VA, our goal for tomorrow.)

August 1, 2005 - Monday – Day 37

2005-08-02T10:27:00.000-04:00

48 States or Bust – The USA on Two Wheels
Miles Today: 384 - Total Miles: 9573 – Average: 258.7 (travel days)
8:30am-4:30pm (8hrs.)
SARDIS, MS (south of Memphis) to GULF PORT, LA
(-staying at an EconoLodge-) MS,LA (39/48)
- STREAKING THROUGH THE SOUTH -

It was a basic keep-riding and make-time day today. All interstate at 80-90mph and a couple truck passes at 100mph. We wore our orange cool vests for the first time for awhile since it was pretty darn hot.

At a Taco Bell in McComb, MS, I put my head down at the table and just fell asleep. Did that the other day, too, at a lunch stop. My body must really be fighting off the probable virus in my belly (which ranges from just okay to very painful at times). Now, I’m the kind of guy who doesn’t get sick very often so this is something pretty unusual. But I’m also the kind of guy who can just put his mind ‘somewhere else’ to tolerate a painful situation – like, for instance, no Novocain for even the occasional root canal! So this has been more of a discomforting nuisance and something Karen has to put up with, more than an actual illness.

A woman came up to Karen while I was sleeping and Karen got in the usual conversation with her. Marilyn Jackson had said she had seen the motorcycle (and sign) and that she just wanted to come over and "welcome us to Mississippi," and that she "was glad we included Mississippi in our trip."

At a gasoline stop right after lunch I came into the station with a little herky-jerky motion and then came right up to the pump and stopped very short. Well, it just hit Karen kind of funny the way that happened, and she went off on a laughing binge. I got into it, and helped it continue with a few deadpan, "What?" comments. And then a few wry and deadpan jokings, "Are you making fun of my driving?" questions.

Ran into spots of rain between New Orleans and Slidell. They just cooled us off and then we dried out on the other side. But just before Gulf Port there was a bigger storm with no blue that could be seen on the other side. What COULD be seen, however, were long dull orange bolts of lightning splitting the skies. We pulled off and much to our good fortune there was a Waffle House and an EconoLodge (with laundry facilities, to boot!). We stood wondering, in light of only having 3 days left if we should stay, but Karen had our miles figured out, and she said that we’d be able to do it.

From all the trips I’ve taken in the past I know that these last few days are the most important to a journey’s success. I mean now is when home is looked forward to the most, and concentration on the travel at hand can become sloppy. With all the successful days behind, it’s darn easy to become over confident and miss little important details. Also, weariness is at its greatest point now, and problems can develop from being tired. So, as we head into these last few miles of what seems like it will be 11,000 or so, we have to be even more on guard than ever. More perceptive to our surroundings, to sounds and performance of the Shadow, and keenly aware of ourselves and our goal. (But ahhh... ever so looking forward to sitting in our favorite chair again in the cozy tv room at home with a bowl of warm popcorn in our lap watching a favorite show and knowing that we don’t have 420 miles to go when the program is over. mmmmm... )

July 31, 2005 - Sunday – Day 36

2005-08-01T14:08:00.000-04:00

48 States or Bust – The USA on Two Wheels
Miles Today: 290 - Total Miles: 9189 – Average: 255.3 (travel days)
9:30am-4:30pm (7 hrs.)
SIKESTON, MO to SARDIS, MS (south of Memphis)
(-staying a Super 8-) MO,IL,KY,TN,AR,MS (38/48)
- WE TOP 9,000, AND FEELING THE MILES – DIPPING SOUTHWARD – FIVE(!) STATES CHECKED OFF -

In 1985 when I went through Blythedale, which is near here, I had a great experience and met some new friends. Here’s the story from my July 3rd, 1985 journal:

Finally, at day's end, I had trouble getting a place in Blytheville. No luck with a campsite. As I wheeled by a drive-in theater, a man and child were coming out. I rolled over and asked if they knew where I could pitch a tent. It was the theater owner and he said that I could put my tent up in a corner of that drive-in theater!!! I went over to the best place, sat down, and wrote postcards and journal pages. Soon, Shane, on his 4-wheeler dune-buggy-type rig came over, and we chatted. Shane, the theater owner's son, was a very likeable 12-year-old, and he took a big interest in my trip! I wrote postcards for about 45 minutes and then noticed dark clouds rolling over. Shane came back, and at first drops, we took the bike, still fully packed, to the projector room/concession stand. There I met Shane's good-looking blonde mom. We stood around, watched the clouds roll in, and then we witnessed a huge thunder and lightning storm hit with a fury matched only by the brilliance of the flashing bolts. The wind ripped. The skies created huge mosaics of ominous cloud in varying hues of gray and black. They swirled and blew. It was quite a show. Not great for the anticipated crowd for tonight's feature show and I felt badly for Mr. Glasscock, the owner. I also felt badly for myself and my evening tenting prospects. But Mr. Glasscock suggested I stay in the trailer behind the big outdoor movie screen. After securing the bike, that's where I landed. My back really itched from bug bites while I wrote this journal entry at around 10:30PM. Shane and his grand dad came out with a sheet and pillow for me which I appreciated. After some chatting, I curled up in the sheet. The night was punctuated by more storming at around 2AM. I was happy to be in that trailer behind the huge drive-in movie screen and I had a good sleep.

Well, I checked on line for any Glasscock that might be in the area and sure enough I got to chat with a member of the family. Seems Mr. Glasscock passed away and Shane was out of the area. I tried calling Shane’s brother all day but only got an answering machine.

We were out and gassed-up by 9:15am and it was pretty much a through-driving day.

Once we turned off a highway and there was a hospital right there at the intersection. I toyed around a bit with the idea of stopping in and checking out the pain near my belly, but decided to move on.

It was a hazy day today – the first such of the journey, and partly because the surroundings were fairly mundane (mostly all flat farmland as far as one could see), and because it was getting so warm, and because the highways had nothing particular notable about them, it was a bit harder to keep concentration up.

This was the beginning of our sixth week on the road and we passed over the 9,000-mile mark today. And for whatever reason, it’s starting to get a little tougher now. We both admit to being a bit road-weary at the end of the day. And Karen, who does such a good job charting our next day routes in the evening, says it looks like we’ve got 1,600 more to go! (Remember, we’ve planned to be back by this next Thursday and MUST be back by Friday to get ready to shoot a Saturday wedding. So it looks like we’ve got to put in all 400-mile or so days coming up this last week! A lot of people said this would be ‘fun’, but I knew it wouldn’t be easy. We both agreed that it would be a perfect time for a day off, but it just can’t happen now. It was 18 days ago (after 18 days on the road) that we took our only day off. (In Superior, Montana, remember?)

We were looking for an EconoLodge this evening since we only needed two more stickers to get a free night, but ended up at a Super8 south of Memphis. We could have gone into see Graceland, but we were both exhausted and butt-weary, and had little interest anyway.

After unpacking, we both napped, exhausted from the day’s ride. My stomach thing began acting up again a bit more than it had during the day, and I was feeling a bit stiff all over, and I was happy for the air conditioning, too.

Karen did some hand wash in the room while I mcycled the little way to Nonnie & Pops, a little eatery scouring for something that we could eat.

We talked routing back in the room and I caught up on these journal notes while Karen did some reading.

July 30, 2005 - Saturday - Day 35

2005-08-01T13:50:00.000-04:00

48 States or Bust – The USA on Two Wheels
Miles Today: 276 - Total Miles: 8899 - Average:254.3 (travel days)
HANNIBAL, MO to Sikeston, MO
(-staying at the Country Hearth Inn) MO (33/48)
- INTO SAINT LOUIS – AND THE GREAT GATEWAY THERE! -

A lot of the names of these little towns along the way have been familiar to me from my 20-year-ago Gulf-of-Mexico-to-Canada ride. But one of my favorite stories comes from when I met Nikki, Bub, and Little Bub. I had rolled into town on a July 4th and my recollection has been that Nikki and Bub just let me, a total stranger, take care of Little Bub while they went to see the fireworks. (This was not substantiated by my journal notes. However, that’s sure the way I remember it!)

We got on the road mid-morning and headed into the town that has been my favorite since childhood. Who knows why? But anyone who knows me, knows that the city of St. Louis is one that I’ve had a love affair with ever since I was about 8 years old. The city, the sports teams, anything about the place... (Oh, and when I rolled through there in 1980, the series of interesting and amazing circumstances found me at the Cardinal’s ball park, Busch Stadium, watching a night game. On the scoreboard (and I got a great picture of it) they flashed the words, "Joel Perlish, who is Bicycling Across the Country, is Attending Tonight’s Game!!" -- THAT was quite a thrill for me.) So, twice before I triumphantly entered St. Louis. Once from the west on the cross-country trip, and once from the south on my Gulf-of-Mexico-to-Canada-Along-the Whole-Mississippi ride, and NOW from the north!

It was about 100 miles to the big city from Hannibal to St. Louis, and it was a thrill to see the huge stainless steel arch spiking up from the riverfront as it came into view. We navigated the city roads well and found a parking space in the nearby underground parking garage.

A big family, the Tuzaks, had just parked beside us, and I quipped that they were our welcoming committee. We got pictures with the folks, Jim and Michele, and with their three cute kids, Ashley, Samantha, and Zach. From Joliet, IL, the family was in town for the day. Jim said he hadn’t been to the Arch since he was a kid.

Then, with all our gear, we trudged up the steps out of the parking garage and then down the long thoroughfare of tall-tree lined grass area to the base of the 630-foot tall Gateway Arch. It positively gleamed in the sun of this brilliant day!

We found a long line for the security check (which, of course took longer for us because of all our bags and gear). After about a half-hour in that security line around mid-afternoon, we faced a ticket line that snaked around and was an hour long!

At the base of the Arch inside, there is the ticket area, two big theaters, a few gift-type shops and a wonderful museum. We got tickets for the ride to the top, and tickets for the two shows there. One, a National Geographic IMAX presentation about Lewis and Clark, and the other, a film about the building of the Arch. Our ride to the top tickets were for 2:40pm, so we had time to see the two movies before the ride.

The Lewis and Clark IMAX flick was first. It was slick and wonderfully done. The huge big screen popped with gorgeous colors and brought the audience right into the scenes of the two explorers as they crossed the newly purchased virgin territory part of the United States in 1804. It made Karen and I both want to learn more of their exploits. We enjoyed the movie from the last top-most row, munching on some trail mix we had brought in.

After that 45-minute presentation we were even more exhausted than we had been before. We sat near the museum entrance for a bit and munched on an apple and a couple soft pretzels. We ventured a bit into the museum, but shortly it was time for the building-of-the-arch movie. We sat in the darkened theater way beyond the start time, and that was concerning to us since the end of the film bumped into the start of the tram ride. Well, the film never did start – seems a bulb burned out or something.

Others stayed, we got up and left, and explored more of the museum, and then a little before 2:40pm went to the queue for the tram. We were led to a loading area, and then another loading area, and finally down a series of steps. Eventually, a little bubble-shaped car appeared behind a door that opened. It was small and held only five people. The others with us were a very tall motorcycle policeman and his two daughters. When the door closed it was very claustrophobic in there and the car began a series of somewhat nerve-provoking shuffling bumps and grinds. In that way the little cylinder made it’s way to the top of the Arch. Finally, the pod stopped, the door opened, and we made our way up a short series of steep steps to the little hallway at the top. Others were milling around there already, and leaning against the carpeted somewhat-slanted window sills to peer out one of the eight or so windows looking down from America’s tallest man-made monument.

The Arch, in the area of the St. Louis riverfront that is known as the Jefferson National Expansion Memorial was completed in 1965. The visionary designer was a guy named Eero Saarinen, but he died before seeing it completed.

People looked like ants below. I enjoyed the St.Louis city side of view the most. There were views of the Old Courthouse (where the first Dred Scott case was heard), and Busch Stadium, and the beginnings of the new stadium to be completed next year. Looking out the other side one could see the magnificent Mississippi still huge even from so high up, the little play boats on the river, and views westward.

After about half an hour we reversed our ride up. The pod went down much faster, it seemed, and plummeted down in three minutes (as opposed to the four it takes to get up the side of the archway).

We then went back to the theater to see the film we had missed. It was made in the late ‘60’s shortly after the Arch was completed. It was good, but dated. And the theater was a regular one, so after the 4-story tall IMAX show, this screen seemed pretty puny. Our heads bobbed a couple of times during the show.

Then we left the complex taking pictures and video along the way. Two couples, the guys mostly toothless and tattooed, were from Britain, but they lived in the area. One was a truck driver. I asked the one if I could take a photo of one of the babe tattoos he had. He obliged eagerly. I asked him the same question I ask a lot of folks with tattoos, and that is, did he ever regret getting it. (He had at least 20 all over him.) He volunteered that he had designed-over several women’s names, and he listed them for me, at the base of the one of the tattoos. "Gail" was the final name on the list, and that one still was there!

Leaving the foursome with smiles, we made our way back along the sunny field and back to the mc underground. We left the parking area around 4:30pm and headed south.

At one gas up today we had our cheapest gas ever - $2.09. Also, went the most miles without tanking up – 113! Still haven’t had to turn on the reserve for the whole trip. Pumped in 3.17 gallons. I think the tank hold 3.5 gallons.

Beginning last night and working itself through today, I had some kind of stomach cramps. Whether caused by some kind of viral thing, or caused by not eating right, or even a more serious appendix thing, we didn’t know. But by the time we arrived in Sikeston I was pretty much doubled over and more exhausted than ever on the trip. I fell into a deep sleep without even showering, and apologized to Karen for all my moaning.

It was a grand day in St. Louis, and I was feeling a little down when we motored out.

July 29, 2005 - Friday - Day 34

2005-07-30T12:09:00.000-04:00

48 States or Bust – The USA on Two Wheels
Miles Today: 206 - Total Miles: 8623– Average: 253.6 (travel days)
11AM-4PM (5hrs)
ST. JOSEPHS, MO to HANNIBAL, MO
(-staying at an EconoLodge) MO (33/48)
- CROSSING MISSOURI – A RIVERBOAT RIDE ON THE MISSISSIPPI -

If anyone asks you how far it is from one side of the top of Missouri to the other, you can tell them it’s just about exactly 200 miles! And that’s what we covered under sunny skies today. It was mixed road surface so in parts we had to slow down, but basically it was farm fields of corn and some wheat, warm winds in our face, and pockets of trees beside the road. Also, rolling hills for a change instead of pancake flat land. Karen noted that more than half the sky was covered with swirling clouds.

We had begun late because we had to pick up another camera battery and charger at the local Wal-Mart, but it was basically a good ride. And then we had a race to get to the 4pm riverboat ride which was the last of the day out of Hannibal.

Hannibal, Missouri. The name conjures up for me the days of Mark Twain and the slow-paced days of life on the river. I had bicycled through here in 1985 in the midst of my New Orleans to Canada – All Mississippi bicycle ride. (1642 Miles - 31 Days - Jun 24 to Jul 26) It was a great ride and as a far as I know, I’m still the only one to have crossed the country both ways (west to east, and south to north) solo!! Anyway, one of the highlights of that ride was my campsite right by the river. Here are my notes about it from my 1985 journal:

As I wrote this particular journal entry it was a really special and wonderful moment. I was sitting right smack dab on a bank of the Mississippi. It was not more than ten feet in front of me. My tent site wasn't more than 100-yards in back of this picnic table I’m writing upon. A huge barge was just floating by. A long train whistled past to the left about 300-yards away. It was just before dusk and there was a cooling wind to the east blowing my way.

The river looked so serene here. An occasional bottle would float by, but otherwise it looked clean and gentle. I was seated with cameras at the ready and binoculars set. The green of the banks and the green/blue/gray of the ripples combined with the millions of birdcalls to create an idyllic peaceful setting.

The barges moved so slowly and smoothly down the river. They were like hour hands... they hardly seemed to move at all, but then you noticed, after looking away, how time tricked you. And movement was there after all. But like southern drawls, and the ways of many southern folks, the barges were purposeful, & intent, and forever moving forward.

The odd duck horn of the tugs as they nudged their cargo downstream was delightful and it was easy to see how Samuel Clemens - or anyone - could fall in love with the Mississippi. The snake-like barge cargo seemed to stretch for miles in front of the barge pushers. And what a slow inexorable push it was! I got a wave from a riverboat captain and it felt like a real treat! It was about 8PM, and the light was dimming on the riverfront. To the sounds of the river, the train, and the birds, I fell fast asleep in the cozy tent.

As I wrote, we raced to the 4pm riverboat ride. I didn’t think we’d make it really, but arrived JUST in the nick of time to get tickets and board. We got there at 3:55pm! As with most touristy places, one has to go the gift shop area first, but then we boarded for the hour-long trip up and down the river near Hannibal. The PA system had a cheesy soundtrack of history and jokes and tall tales that occasionally punctuated the peacefulness of the ride. One could see many of the younger folks quite bored with the ride. After all, there were no loud fireworks, fast animation, or gored up battle scenes. It was a slow and purposeful trip. Occasionally the loud full horn of the ship would blast and there was a short rendition from the big calliope on the top deck. It was warm and sunny and we both enjoyed the ride – and the comparison between it and the willy-nilly racing of the motorcycle rides that we’ve daily been taking for more than the last month.

Soon it was over and we climbed back on shore, to the Shadow, and having gotten caught up in the mellowness of the river, and the steamboat ride, and the sunny day, we made the decision (even though we were only at 200 miles) to stay in Hannibal for the night. We found a reasonable EconoLodge and scored one of the nicest rooms of the trip – a huge spacious new room to boot.

After a little nap we got on the motorcycle (sans gear other than helmet) and took some back roads into the main part of town. We noticed to our dismay that even on this Friday evening, all the tourist shops and little stores had closed up early – before 8pm even.

We went to the Mark Twain Dinette (the enormous mug proclaiming its name as signpost) and had a delicious reasonably priced meal, that included home made root beer in a somewhat frosted mug.

From a town brochure:

Hannibal is a picturesque town situated on the banks of the Mississippi River approximately 80 miles north of St. Louis off of US Highway 61. Best known as the boyhood home of the American author Samuel Langhorne Clemens (1835-1910), who is better known as Mark Twain, the emphasis on this fact is evident throughout the town. Many attraction and businesses focus on a relationship to Twain or two of his better known novels of life along the Mississippi - Tom Sawyer and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Attractions in this genre include the Mark Twain Boyhood Home And Museum, the Becky Thatcher House, and Grant's Drug Store where Twain once lived.

Hannibal does have a significant history besides its connection to Mark Twain and his imagination. Hannibal was founded in 1819 and chartered as a city in 1845. The first railroad to cross the state of Missouri was the Hannibal & St. Joseph Railroad. The first locomotive manufactured west of the Mississippi, a 34 ton engine called the General Grant, and the first railway mail car for sorting mail en route were made in the town's railroad shops.

After the meal we walked around the corner to see some of the old buildings – Becky Thatcher’s house, Mark Twain’s boyhood home, and the Tom Sawyer fence of fame. We headed back after the walk through the cool air of dusk – we were determined to get a good night’s sleep and an early start tomorrow.

July 28, 2005 - Thursday - Day 33

2005-07-29T13:30:00.000-04:00

48 States or Bust - The USA on Two Wheels
Miles Today: 401 - Total Miles: 8417 – Average: 255.1(travel days)
11:30AM-9:30PM (10hrs)
GREAT BEND, KS to ST.JOSEPHS, MO
(-staying at a Super 8) KS,NB,IA,MO (33/48)
- THREE STATES! - A FRIEND FROM THE PAST - INTO THE HEARTLAND -

One of the Days Inn come-ons is that one can pour the batter and make freshly made waffles in the morning. While Karen was making us a few in the snack area, a woman said to her, "I don’t go hardly nowhere, but I don’t know if I’d want to do it on a motorcycle."

On that bicycle trip of mine a quarter century ago I stayed in Great Bend for a night. Here's how it went after that 84-mile bicycling day from my journal notes:

One cute woman in the laundromat and I got into a conversation and after she learned about my adventures, she asked if she could call her husband. He happened to be a reporter for the Great Bend paper. She went to pick him up. I spent the next hour being photographed and interviewed. Then, when my tip of a place to stay in at Pawnee Rock fell through, reporter Chuck Smith and his wife Lisa invited me to stay at their home. Lisa made bean tostados for supper. Chuck was a big fellow and wears a cowboy hat and a bushy beard. He was constantly puffing on an ever-extinguishing pipe. The couple was in their twenties and Lisa is expecting a child in December. I slept on the floor in my bag which was laid upon Chuck's big buffalo cape. I forgot to ask the Smiths to turn off the fifteen-minute-interval chime of the grandfather's clock. The huge clock was in the same room where I was sleeping. But it didn't matter. From the time my head hit the bag at 11:00, until I was up at 6:00, I didn't hear a thing. In fact, I thought they had turned it off! My sleep was sound and deep.

Well I wondered if maybe Chuck Smith might still be around these parts. I called a person by that name in the phone book and the lady who answered said it was the wrong one. Then I mentioned that he had been a reporter 25 years ago and she said, "Oh yes, I read his stories in the paper!" I quickly got the Great Bend Tribune phone number and before you know it, I was talking with Chuck Smith.

As soon as I said I was the guy who slept on the buffalo robe, he knew exactly who I was from so long ago. We chatted a bit on the phone and I was sad to learn that Lisa had past away, but Chuck had remarried and was doing well. He was now an editor of the paper. He invited Karen and me over to the office.

We were there by 10am or so and Chuck and I gave each other a good hug. After some conversation, he took a picture of Karen and me and the Shadow with intention of doing a story about us. Then he invited us in to his office. When we walked into the Great Bend Tribune newspaper building, Karen, who had worked for a publishing company many years ago, immediately smelled the ink and felt nostalgic.

Chuck was just recently 50 and there were birthday messages in his office. (Like, "Antique Human – THIS is what 50 looks like!")

We met Kevin, a friend of Chuck’s. As we were talking about Chuck STILL being at the paper after all these years, and how surprised I was, Kevin gave a friendly jab to his pal by saying, "Well, you’ve gotta add the element of sloth in there, too."

We got a nice tour of the little newspaper office including the huge press machines in the back. Chuck and I reminisced about my time there and we talked about his kids and a little about Lisa. There were some good posted slogans that I liked around the office – one in particular read, "It’s Fun Doing the Impossible!"

Chuck, admiring the trip we were taking by someone older than himself, said as we left, "What you’re doing gives me hope." We shoved off at around 11:30ish.

We rolled passed some cattle pens. Not the big ones like yesterday. Outside Dodge there were huge stinking pens of cattle. The smell was intense. Here’s what I wrote 25 years ago, and what I still thought today:

On the way out of town, I passed sprawling cow pens. The poor beasts were mooing their lungs out ready for slaughter or ready to be sent to the slaughter houses. I wanted to tell those cows that it wasn't *my* fault, being a vegetarian and all. But I pedaled speedily away. The stench of the air from the unclean pens made me want to get away quickly. And the filth there made me gladder than ever for being a vegetarian!

We swung eastward on Route 56, then 156 north, then I-70 east then 75 north, then 2 east, and I-29 south... Now, that’s a lot of numbers but what they meant was we zipped through Kansas to Nebraska, then into a little nip of Iowa, then south a-ways into Missouri. And that added three more states to our goal of reaching all 48 contiguous states. (At the last gas stop in Kansas, I was going over the route with a trucker guy, and he turned the phrase, "So, you just gotta go up and tap Iowa, an’ then come back!")

Trees. We saw trees today for almost the whole day. That’s the first we saw of trees on our way back from the west. Also, today was the first day of the trip in which there was not a single cloud in the sky for the whole day.

The roads were the worst of the trip on I-29 south out of Iowa and into Missouri. There were big vertical cracks in the highway that just looked hungry enough to gobble a motorcycle tire. I was VERY careful there to be sure. Karen noted that it bumped Ohio off as having the worst roads.

Coming into St. Josephs, I let the mileage get all the way to 112 for the tank of gas. Still didn’t have to put it on reserve.

We had stopped at one of those visitor’s centers and saved a bunch of bucks with a coupon on a Super 8.

On my run in the evening out of the motel, I found Carlos O’Kelly’s Cantina (a mixture Mexican and Irish place I guess) and got us a couple of guacamole tostados to bring back for supper. Karen wasn’t sure if we were getting potatoes or beans.

July 27, 2005 - Wednesday - Day 32

2005-07-28T12:13:00.000-04:00

48 States or Bust - The USA on Two Wheels
Miles Today: 444 - Total Miles: 8016 - Average: 250.5 (travel days)
9:30AM-9PM (12.5hrs) (back into Central Time)
SANTA ROSA, NM to GREAT BEND, KS
(-staying at a Days Inn) NM,TX,OK,KS (30/48)
- TOPPING 8,000 MILES – THREE STATES TODAY! -

In eerie reminiscence of our first day on the road at my cousin Leslie’s place, the phone rang at 2am! It was the room phone this time and woke us up out of a dead sleep. There was no one was on the other end when I picked up the receiver. I called the office, and they said that someone in another room must have called the wrong number! Arghhh...

When I looked out the motel room door from that second floor deck the sky was roiling, full of dark clouds covering the whole of the atmosphere above. They started clearing away around 9ish. We very rarely have the tv on in the motel room, but this morning Karen checked out the weather channel. The map there showed that there was rain behind us and below us and north of us, and in fact it was predicted to be wet everywhere but where we were headed!

It’s interesting how on a trip like this little inanimate objects can have a real pull on one. My little camera, the second of three that we have along, was missing. And we searched high and low, but somehow it got out of my thigh bag and was gone. It can be replaced, of course, but the feeling of missing it after all these days of companionship of sorts, was intense.

In the parking lot this morning as we were packing up, a fellow from San Antonio came over and chatted with Karen. He and his wife were coming back from the Albuquerque area where they had met their son. The son had flown in from Washington State where he was on leave from duties in Iraq. His folks had asked him what he’d like to do, and his reply was that the one thing he’d like to do is some fly fishing in New Mexico. They said that if the kid could get to Albuquerque, they would meet him and do some fishing together. With great sadness in his eyes, the dad said that now the boy was headed back for his last tour in the Middle East and strongly implied that we as a country shouldn’t be there in the first place.

The same San Antonio guy said that the day before he had met a retired school teacher woman who was horseback riding from the Canadian border to New Mexico. She was taking all back roads, of course. She told him the story about how to get out of the rain one day, she had ridden her horse right into a service station bay. (A bit like us back in Vermont, you faithful readers will recall.)

What a fabulous day of riding this was! The day began in complete cloud cover and ended 444 miles later without a cloud in the sky. It was clear, sunny, fresh breezed, gorgeous, and totally cool throughout the day. For much of the time through this mid-western area it felt like a San Francisco cable car hook was underneath and just pulling us along.

For most all of today we traveled up roadway from grain silo to grain silo that I had bicycled upon on that 25-year ago cross-country bicycle journey. Again, nothing much seemed familiar except the museum that will be mentioned a bit later here, but the town names were warmly and well remembered and it was good being here again. Later in the day I would read to Karen from my journal notes of 25 years ago and that flooded back a lot of those quarter century ago memories, and correct other misremembering.

Today as most days, it was all good road to travel upon. A few spine-crunching bumps and holes here and there, but basically fine highway. And I was thinking, as I do on many days, that the good system of roads in this country is surely what helps make it great.

Just as we turned off I-40 and headed northeast on Route 54, the land changed dramatically. It went from the butte and mountain scene to flat agricultural areas. And that’s what we traveled all day with good winds and blue skies. The clouds at first were impressive to me. There were lower little cotton puffs of clouds scudding along swiftly layered under larger clouds above. And we had good winds today, too. Mostly at our back.

Most of the speed limits throughout the day were posted in the four states we were in as 55-70mph. But all the roads were built for faster than that, and it was a rare vehicle that wasn’t cruising at around 75. We sailed through the empty countryside at about 80-85mph most of the day. There seemed more trucks than cars, but not many of them either. Passed plenty of semi’s, and all were friendly, most moving over a little as we passed. The roads were long and mostly straight, the mirages of water at the end of them seemed real and palpable. Coming the other direction, the mammoth trucks would appear to rise, shimmering out of those mirages, headlights like two monster eyes.

I am most appreciative of the drivers who were pulled over by the police ahead of me. By their sacrifice we were able to soar along throughout the day without a delay of having to chat with a patrolman.

In Tucumcari at our first gas stop we had a close one! Karen was pulling the straps around the back bag a little tighter and, not realizing her new-found strength, almost pulled the Shadow over on to herself. And to make matters worse the gas tank top hadn’t been closed yet so gasoline would have spilled over. I caught the bike just in the nick of time.

We came into farming-type areas where there were long stretches of road – maybe 30-50 miles with nothing there other than barbwired-off land, and then little towns sprouted on the roadside. Along the way, occasionally, one would see a little farm house pocked into a small valley.

There was a monstrous fire on the short distant horizon just outside of Dalhart, TX that had smoke plumes billowing up way into the sky – and there was a single white cloud there that was being dirtied, and shortly consumed by that smoke.

There was a $10,000 Reward poster in the gas station in Dalhart and the I thought it was a joke one. The man in the picture looked like the little man with the big moustache who was taking my money. I asked if it was him. He said that no, it was his great uncle and that it was for real. "Black Jack" Ketchum, around his grandfather’s time, was hung nearby, he said, and was in the books at the museum.

A train leaving town, and others during the day, at our urging (by moving our arms in the manner of pulling a cord!), gave us a huge bellowing of it’s horn. It was energizing and brought big smiles to each of our faces.

Tracks traced beside the roadway most all day once we hit Kansas. And in one of those magic moments a train was going in our direction, on our left. We started at the end and, going 80, caught up with the engine and then took the lead. It was like a scene from Superman when he was running alongside and beat the train.

No trains have cabooses any more. Haven’t seen a one yet. Karen said that she heard they were outlawed for some reason a few years ago. I miss them.

Into Hooker around 3pm, I recalled the sign that I saw 25 years ago – "Hooker Pig Sale – Where Champions Come Alive!" But there was no sign of it now. The town got it’s name form the Civil War general who passed through here. At our gas stop here, we got a couple new matching do-rags, and we were 250 miles into what we hoped would be a 500-mile day.

We both had a few small, hard, sharp stones hit our legs out on the roadway today. Even through the Aerostitch thick material they caused bruises on our lower legs. And once, Karen had something fly by and just graze her helmet. She didn’t have her shield down at the time so she felt fortunate the projectile wasn’t over a few inches.

We flew into Kansas and wanted to stop in one of the first towns there, Liberal, for a late lunch. Liberal is the home of my fabled pancake story. Here’s the tale from my journal notes of 25 years ago, April 20th, 1980:

Came to a terrific pancake place on the main drag where I had two orders of buckwheat and wheat germ pancakes. The big platefuls were for only $2.00 each. And the owner couldn't believe it when I wanted more. Finally, with amazed customers looking on, I downed twelve plate-sized pancakes. I imagined that I heard bets being taken on how many I'd eventually finish. The bike tires were a little flatter with my pancake-bloated belly weighing things down a bit. (Note: Bicycled 71 miles that day!)

In Meade, KS, we stopped at the history museum. We met Deb, the lady in charge, and I told her how I was there 25 years ago. She checked on some records from the past which had just been found within the last couple of weeks. Sure enough, there scrawled on the paper, was my name where I had made a Life Membership donation 25 years ago. Karen and I walked around the museum and enjoyed the many well displayed artifacts there. Deb played a piece on a player piano for us which was delightful to hear. Here’s what I had written in my journal when I bicycled through in 1980:

Despite the lateness (it was about 3:15), and the distance to Dodge (which was still considerable), I lingered in Meade. That's the home of the Dalton Gang Escape Museum, and the small, but really superb Meade County Historical Society Museum. Lottie Bisbee of the Historical Society was a warm and wonderful woman who I enjoyed listening to immensely. I decided that when I came home, I would send the Society a donation. The whole town of Meade really impressed me with its cleanliness, quietness, friendliness, and beauty. I really lingered at the park there – it has a beautiful patch of flowers, trees, color, and greenery. It was rich in beckoning and warm in friendliness. I wanted to stay, but had to move on. But still lingered. Pulled in by the indescribable quality of peace.

Around 6:30 or so we pulled into Dodge. I well remembered my time there back in ’80. The town had grown quite a bit, but there was still the Boot Hill area of ‘old Dodge’ in the middle of town. The backdrop of old time stores was now replaced with some real ones, and the old hangin’ tree (which I had posed by so long ago) was gone and it was much more touristy now. I don’t recall having to pay anything, no less the $8 fee they now imposed, to get into the area. The entry was now through a "museum" which was really just a gift shop. We picked through the shop and I was content because of the fee and the lateness of the time of day not to go into the main area. But when the young girls went to ring us up the computer was down, and so, as a courtesy she let us go on to Main Street and see the ensuing gun battle, for no cost.

Neither of us were impressed with the somewhat loosely acted out sophomoric gun battle, and we left before it was over.

We traveled long and hard today. This morning we had an IM session with Steve again and it began the day with good humor, encouragement, and good-natured prodding. The session went a little like this:

Steve: finally getting an early start
Steve:(8:22:49 AM): well if you were still on pacific time anyway
Joel perlish (8:23:07 AM): yes, we hope so, but not as early as we hoped. a call came into the room at 2am by mistake!.... arghhh...
Steve: (8:24:05 AM): so how far did you make it yesterday
Joel perlish (8:24:48 AM): 380! caught by the cold actually.
Steve: (8:25:27 AM): i had you pegged pretty good again.
Steve: (8:30:33 AM): based on your current habits and past performance 422 is the best you could possibly do today. honestly i'd be impressed to see you get to 400.
Steve: (8:31:00 AM): at the mirage the odds are posted as follows:
Steve: (8:31:40 AM):
under 200 miles ------ 20 to 1
201 to 300 miles ------ 10 to 1
301 to 350 miles ------ 4 to 1
351 to 400 miles ------- even money
401 to 450 miles ------- 2 to 1
451 to 500 miles ------- 7 to 1
501 miles or more ------- 15 to 1

We thought about and smiled about that during the day. I was determined to get to 500 today, but as we pulled into Great Bend, with still about 100 to go, and darkness falling fast, I realized we didn’t have the time to get in before dark. Steve had pegged us right for another day.

As we had passed into Great Bend we went by a Days Inn that advertised "Wireless Internet, Waffles in the Morning, and $39.99 Lodging." We sailed by to the other end of town to get gas, but it was then we realized that the wise judgment would be to stay here, so we doubled back.

July 26, 2005 – Tuesday – Day 31

2005-07-27T12:36:00.000-04:00

48 States or Bust – The USA on Two Wheels
Miles Today: 383 - Total Miles: 7572 – Average: 244.2 (travel days)
10:30AM-7PM (8.5hrs)
FARMINGTON, NM to SANTA ROSA, NM
(-staying at a Days Inn) NV (27/48)
- STREAKING EAST! – RIDING WITH THE HELL’S ANGELS -

It seems to me that some of you readers may not know anything about motorcycles. Here’s a primer on how they work. I am surely no expert, so perhaps you should take that into account when reading.

Well, a motorcycle usually has two wheels – but there are also trikes out there.
It’s my understanding that the gasoline put into the engine sets off a sparking bit of energy that makes some cylinders of some kind go up and down, which in turn moves a chain or leather belt that turns the wheels. (Millions of years’ worth of prehistoric animals that died for this – a tip of the hat to you, and thank you!) There are various complicated other ways the above happen, but I think you get the gist of it. Anyway, one used to start a motorcycle by kickstarting it. That created the force to get the whole process going. As far as I can tell, all bikes worth anything have a little button that works as an electric ignition.

Well, after the bike is turned on with a key, that ignition button is pushed and assuming the bike gears are in neutral, the engine should start purring away. (If the bike isn’t in neutral, and the gear shift lever isn’t held in, then the bike will buck out of control.)

Okay, on each of the handlebars there is a lever. The right handlebar lever is the brake for the front wheel. (The brake for the back wheel is operated by a lever near the right foot.) The left handlebar lever is for the clutch. One squeezes this to engage the gears, much like pushing down on the clutch with your foot in a car. Motorcycles usually have five or six gears I think. The toe of the left foot moves the gearing. A little lever there pushed down is first gear. Lifting the lever with your left big toe (usually in a boot) moves the bike into neutral. Then lifting the lever again with your toe moves the bike into second gear. And so on up to the bike’s highest gear (for when you’re moving really fast). When you go slower or faster you push the gears down (or up) in tandem with pulling in that gear-shift lever on the left handlebar.

So after lifting your leg over the bike, you straddle it. Then engage the first gear, slowly release the clutch while turning the end of the right handlebar (the accelerator), lift your feet to the pegs and off you go.

When riding, there are generally two positions. One with feet on the regular pegs (the right one near the brake lever, the left one near the gearshift lever). Or if one has crash bars (bars that curve out from each side of the bike to take the brunt of a fall should the bike tip over), one could put cruiser pegs on these bars and put his or her feet up on these pegs. It’s good to change positions occasionally on a long trip. And sometimes I ride with one foot up and the other down.

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We slept late because we were up late last night. But it wasn’t our fault this time – seems the shower stall of the motel backed-up, the guy never came to fix it, and it was 11pm before they finally gave us a key to the (unoccupied) room next door to use its shower!

It was basically a head-down hard riding day though the southwest. Came up short against darkness and cold though for the planned 500 mile day.

Rode the 130 miles into Gallup and though it was a delightful ride, there was much more wind-buffeting than yesterday. Also, the scenery had continued to level out and there were hardly any dramatic mountain rises or cliffs. All day it was a cool delightful ride – much to our surprise.

Had lunch in Gallup before getting on the big highway, I-40, to cross New Mexico. As we were getting on the bike, a boy of about 9 years old came running excitedly out of the Taco Bell and wanted to know how many states we’ve been in. Karen told him 27 and that we’d be going to Texas next. The boy very proudly said, "THAT’S where I come from!"

Had a note from friend Wayne the other day and he wondered if we had seen many of those dark skid marks on the desert highway and then veering off to the side of the road usually. Actually, yes, we had seen a bunch of them. He said he had read or heard that those skid marks were made by drivers who were on long trips who had fallen asleep while driving and then awoke with the horror of their situation.

Once we got on the other side of Albuquerque, it became very cool as we were on a side of some storm front. And as we rode further it became actually cold. I could see my breath as it slightly fogged up the inside of my helmet. By the end of the riding day, I was actually shuddering. (Had talked with my sister by phone today. She lives near Philadelphia and she said they were having a heat wave of 98 degrees weather with high humidity!) Hard to believe Karen and I had the coolest of the two places here in the Southwest.

Yep, rode with the Arizona Chapter of the Hell’s Angels this afternoon. As we streaked down Interstate 40, I saw them cross on a bridge over the highway. There were about 20 of ‘em maybe. Then, in a little while after they came down onto the interstate, they came right up and rode beside us in the passing lane. Then they passed us. So we rode together for about at least five or six seconds. I’m not sure we exactly blended in with our yellow outfits, but they didn’t seem to mind. They rode right on. Actually, I’m not sure whether they noticed us or not.

We arrived in Santa Rosa, cold and butt-sore, with evening approaching. We stood at the gas station trying to decide whether to go on or not, but then inertia kept us in the town. I checked out a couple places along motel row here and we ended up in a very nicely appointed Days Inn with high hopes of getting a good night’s sleep. As you’ll read tomorrow, it was not to be.

July 25, 2005 - Monday - Day 30

2005-07-26T12:25:00.000-04:00

48 States or Bust – The USA on Two Wheels
Miles Today: 370 - Total Miles: 7189 – Average: 239.6 (travel days)
11:30AM-9PM (9.5hrs)
GRAND CANYON, AZ to FARMINGTON, NM
(-staying at Travelodge) AZ,UT,CO,NM (27/48)
- THE BEST RIDING DAY EVER! – VERMILLION CLIFFS – FOUR CORNERS – JUMPED OVER 7,000 MILES -

Didn’t have a great night’s sleep here in the log cabin on the rim of the Grand Canyon. Just as I would begin to fall to sleep I’d have an itch somewhere that had to be scratched, or an important or silly thought enter into my head that wouldn’t leave. Karen, on the other hand, fell instantly into a deep sleep, not having slept too well the past two nights.

We had a good run/walk to the bike to get the cover over it and then around and about part of the rim admiring the morning views. Then to the wonderful dining room where we enjoyed a sumptuous breakfast and our last views of the Canyon through the wall-sized picture windows. Our waitress was a young woman from State College in Pennsylvania and she told us that our timing was good there – that a couple weeks ago there were fires so bad that it was uncomfortable being outside and the views of the canyon were obscured. The couple at the next table were from Pittsburg and the man said that with eastern, mid-PA, and western-PA, we "had the whole state covered."

It’s nice being away from the steady beat of bad news from around the world. Occasionally that seeps toward us from an CNN report blaring from a lobby tv, or a stray newspaper on a restaurant table. But otherwise, it’s nice not having all that negativity of bombings and hurricanes and the like in one’s daily life.

On the parking lot, we talked with a likeable motorcycling couple, Paul and Paula out of Ontario, Canada. They were also a month on the road but had to miss Bryce because of time problems. Their Harley broke down on them and they lost a day with that fiasco. With regard to Bryce, I was in the odd turn-around position of telling someone else (as folks often tell us), "You should have seen!"

Seems they had made their reservations here at the Grand Canyon two YEARS ago. So we felt especially lucky to get the room we got as a walk-in yesterday.

It took us 50 minutes back to Jacob Lake instead of the hour and a half it took us to get to the rim in the rain last night. As we went around some of those curves on the way back, Karen observed it seemed like the three of us were one machine.

One view from Route 89 was almost overly dramatic. A mountain ridge at the Vermillion Cliffs National Monument was along the whole broad expanse of view and otherwise there was an empty plain with nothing but scrub as far as could be seen in all directions way out to where the ground met the sky at the four horizons. A number of weather systems could be observed out in the distance. Rain tendrils fell down out of darker clouds, then a little further over, bright sunny areas were sparkling.

One thing for sure, it will sure be hard to get used to the puny sizes of clouds, sky, and landforms when we get home.

The clouds decorated the ridges we rode through today with designs large and small. Often the shadows would appear as images zany to clear according to how much imagination we’d be using.

The wide open riding went on for mile after endless mile with nary a car and not much aside from the tall electric power line towers marching like huge behemoths in the near distance. It was the best riding in the world. Certainly the best of the trip. The day was relatively cool. The road level, clean and straight... And endless seeming. And as we’d scamper at 80-90mph from one long horizon to another – and skitter between or through storm systems it dawned on me that THIS was the best place on Earth to motorcycle. There were endless changing views of cliff and color and small gulch and enormous canyon. One’s attention didn’t need to be on the road incessantly, so one could actually observe the fine sights. And fine sights they were – and as each ridge at the horizon would be scaled, the new views were wide-eyed amazing.

At some of those new views, one would have to be made of solid rock not to be impressed, and mightily impressed with the sights. Occasionally, but actually more often than not, as we crested a hill or turned a corner, I would instinctually utter an exclamation of astonishment! Or my eyes would widen in certain disbelief at the scene before me. Or my breath would actually be taken away for a bit! Or my mouth would drop open. Or I’d release the throttle just a bit to get a few extra moments to take in the vista magnificent. Well, you get the idea. In reds of Earth and blue/white of sky, the endless scenes were ever-changing and a delight. Even during the times we rode through rain today it was delightfully cooling with splashes of raindrops.

Not to say there wasn’t nervousness about some of the day’s ride. Despite our urgings for it to go in a different direction, often the road would turn right into a massive black area where lightning could be seen splitting the dark clouds above. First came a spattering of drops and then the downfall. But we never did get a good drenching this day. But there was always the worry of another hailstorm-like torrent or strong winds to contend with.

We got into Page near Lake Powell right before 2pm. What the time is has been a problem today. Some parts of Arizona and the Indian reservations have Daylight Savings and some don’t. So we basically had to keep asking.

Traveled the entire day’s ride with nary a traffic light. It’ll sure be hard to get used to them when we get back east.

At 4pm we stopped to take a picture of the odometer as the Shadow rolled over it’s 10,000th mile. It was in the middle of Indian country surrounded by buttes and mountains and with the Navaho Indian Monument land in view.

It was an incomparable sled ride today. (Many motorcyclists refer to their mc’s as ‘sleds’.) Riding today was so effortless at times it seemed like the surrounding landscape was moving at high speed alongside us and WE were actually the ones standing still.

What with the G.C. this morning, the Vermillion Cliffs this afternoon, and the Four Corners this evening we hit yet another record for images taken today – 675! Karen has not been just sitting idly on the back of the motorcyle, folks!

While buzzing down the highway we came across a bunch of goats with dogs trying unsuccessfully to herd them as they meandered on and off the road. Good thing I was paying attention.

Four Corners was established in 1868 by US Government surveyors and astronomers. Since childhood Karen has had a long and abiding interest in the culture and area of the Four Corners. And in recent years she’s read all the books by Tony Hillerman, an author whose novels are set in the Four Corners locale. Karen said, "Fifteen years and twenty books later, I’ve finally made it here!"

Four Corners is surrounded by Navaho and Ute Indian nations. It’s the only place in the country where four states come together at right angles. Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona, and Utah are the states one can put each limb into at one time. There’s a monument there in the desert that shows the demarcation. We, along with the others there took turns at having our pictures taken making all kinds of funny contortions at the magic spot. Around the monument are sales stalls where various Indian groups sell native jewelry and the such. We sampled the Indian fry bread (much like funnel cake) and bought a little Navaho pottery jar. We left the Four Corners at what we guessed for that area was 7:30pm.

We got caught in the dark at the end. In what seemed long ago in the Grand Canyon Cabin of this morning, Steve Diano, my Las Vegas friend, had IM’d us in the late morning and scolded us with how we should have been out on the road already! And we knew he was right. (Well, sort of knew. After all, the Grand Canyon IS the Grand Canyon – and who in his or her right mind would hurry away from that?) Then he bet we’d get 422 miles or below. And I took that wager. All day long we worked at winning that bet and would say how we’d go on for as long as it took to best 422! But as we rolled into Shiprock (an enormous ship-shaped rock nearby), we realized we would be losing that bet. Here, in the deep dusk of desert we either had to go 93 miles (and a 10:30pm end-time) to Gallup or 30 to Farmington. No place else in between to stay. So we opted for Farmington.

While tooling through the nightfall of the city looking for a motel, it was hard not to be thinking of the grandeur that was the day’s ride.

July 24, 2005 - Sunday - Day 29

2005-07-25T12:30:00.000-04:00

48 States or Bust – The USA on Two Wheels
Miles Today: 143 - Total Miles: 6819 – Average: 235.1 (travel days)
BRYCE CANYON, UT to GRAND CANYON, AZ
(-staying at a cabin overlooking the Grand Canyon North Rim)
UT,AZ (25/48)

Sell your pets, rent out your house, trade in green stamps, find a sitter for the kids, and just get yourself to Bryce Canyon and the Grand Canyon!

After a good breakfast at Harold’s Place Inn, we took off by 10am for the northern rim of the Grand Canyon. After the magnificence of Bryce we were thinking of skipping right to Four Corners, but put off that decision until the last moment at the turn off.

We took Route 89 most of the way today. And right after that landscape opened up to total flat in every direction for as far as one could see. It was very impressive. And the long walking stick-straight road was more than 20 miles in length. At the end of it was a small mountain, and looking back from the mountain, the plain was very striking with that road curling down through it. And NOTHING else there could be seen but scrub and land.

As we crossed that landscape Karen noticed a little stream called Asay Creek which was snaking along and curly-qued for miles and miles.

Just before Kanab, there was a canyon of red rocks. The most spectacular was a double football field sized canyon wall with unbelievable scoring on its surface of straight lines and holes and designs.

It was precisely 100 miles from Bryce to Jacob Lake, which leads to the Canyon. There were huge storm clouds over the canyon area, so we had lunch until they cleared. A very friendly mid-80’s couple was in there. They were from Sedona, AZ which they proclaimed was "the most beautiful place on earth." The man said he was born in Philadelphia. The smiley fellow said that they used to ride mc’s when they were younger. Karen mentioned that most of the folks on motorcycles we see on the road are around our age, and he replied, "That’s young to me!"

Unfortunately, by the time we got gas, more huge black clouds returned. I made a call from the lodge at Jacob Lake and discovered it wasn’t raining on the rim. We asked several locals and tourist types whether the rim would be worth seeing after having experienced Bryce. We got mixed replies, but generally favorable.

We left for the rim at 1pm. And almost immediately we were riding through a cool steady rain through cold winds. We were very cold. Karen was glad to have bought those Aerostitch pants so long ago it seemed. I had to stand on the pegs a few times to see over the water-dotted windshield.

It took an hour and a half to go the 44 miles. It was sunny at the rim with white clouds playing over the big hole in the ground. But the enormous black cloud was still over the area we had ridden through – maybe bigger now. I checked out availability at the Grand Canyon Lodge and found there was exactly ONE cabin left. And I decided to take it! Most times it’s weeks or months in advance to get such a place, but we lucked into a cancellation.

As Karen was putting the cover on the Shadow she chatted with a guy at his van waiting for the rest of his family. He was admiring the bike and as Karen was telling him about our journey he said a couple times that was something he always wanted to do – take a long trip on a motorcycle. Karen advised, "Do it soon, before it’s too late!"

It was a cabin that had a view of part of the canyon walls. It was simple but spacious, and also had a homey gas fireplace.

The rim of this northern part of the Grand Canyon is 8,255 feet, which is a thousand feet higher than on the southern edge. The average depth of the canyon is one mile. From South Rim to North Rim is 10 miles as the crow flies and 200 miles by car! There are far fewer visitors in the winter than summer on the North Rim because the average snowfall is ten feet a year.

The Angel Trail out to Bright Angel Point which overlooks the Canyon on the northern rim goes out about a quarter mile. The path is only about 3 or 4 feet wide. And on either side are unparalleled views of the Canyon stretching out to infinity. The path is smooth of surface but raises and lowers in elevation at points by a hundred feet or so – it’s not an easy trek out the end point. One could spend literally a year photographing the rocks alongside the path, the views spreading out from the path, the plants and trees all around it. Some of the rocks raise high beside the path and brave (or stupid or talented) scramble high up and cavort or pose there for pictures. Two such girls did so high above the path (and Canyon) on a mostly narrow boulder, and we all gasped.

In a related note, Karen spied in a pamphlet that over 250 folks a year are rescued from the depths of the Canyon.

The Grand Canyon’s top five layers are clearly visible on the walls of the Canyon. They represent 50 million years of ancient environments – swamps, seas, and deserts. Some rock layers are sheer vertical layers, while others form slopes because some of the rocks crumble more easily than others. Geologists guess, though, that it has taken less than five or six million years to carve the canyon.

The views really were amazing. And they made me really crave my good photo equipment – and a tripod. It made me laugh and surely seemed ironic and perhaps even oxymoronic seeing someone take pictures there of all that grand majesty with a cheap disposable camera. One guy I saw took some shots with his pda. There was a Frenchman there with a higher-end camera on a tripod. I got a good shot of him far out on a ledge with the canyon walls as dramatic backdrop – and gave him my email address to send him the shot.

Way out at the end of Bright Angel Trail I scanned below with my binoculars and amongst the trees saw a big waterfall – tiny through the lens, of course.

On the path, people of most every description were walking to and fro, coming or going. Sometimes going the same way, sometimes passing us walking in the other direction. It was a friendly conglomeration of folks and I got right into the spirit of that friendliness. A few times as people would pass, I’d put on a mock grin, and put my hand out, and say, "That will be $5 to pass, sir." It got a good laugh every time. And I’d go up to someone and innocently say, "Do you know if they deliver pizza out here?"

Hard to compete with a 35 year old memory of that southern Grand Canyon rim that I had, but the views here were as spectacular. And a lot different. Not as deserty as the West Rim that Karen knew.

We missed seating for the dining room which overlooks the Canyon walls, but had good eating in the deli... veggie-tofu over rice, and two good portabella mushroom sandwiches.

We spent some time in the gift shop, and then back at the cabin we settled in with the usual chores of unpacking – and trying to go to sleep early.

Tomorrow morning – a short run along one of the biggest holes on earth, and a huge mileage day!

(BTW, just as a reminder, readers are welcome to write in and ask things about which you may be wondering. We like hearing from you and knowing you're with us. Hope you're enjoying the trip. -- Joel

Any online readers can also feel free to leave their comments by clicking the appropriate "Comments" link under each online journal entry.)

July 23, 2005 - Saturday - Day 28

2005-07-24T14:11:00.000-04:00

48 States or Bust - The USA on Two Wheels
Miles Today: 313 - Total Miles: 6,676 - Average: 238.4(travel days)
8AM-9PM (10hrs - moved back into Mountain time zone)
LAS VEGAS, NV to BRYCE CANYON, UT
(-staying at Harold’s Place Inn) NV,AZ,UT (25/48)

Everything before this was preamble. All that we’ve seen from before were poor, pale shadows to what we witnessed today. The Virgin River Gorge, Zion National Park, and Bryce Canyon National Park. Each alone would make much that has gone before tiny in comparison!

At Steve’s urging and with his inspiration, we actually did get on the road a little before 8am! It was good getting into the morning earlier and miles on the road before the heat of the day.

Around 10am in the little town of Mesquite, NV we breakfasted on pancakes. A couple motorcyclists were eating there. We met up again with Bruce Lee and Wilson at a gas place in Hurricane a while later. They were just tooling up on their Harleys to the Bryce area for the weekend. It was a dazzling day to ride. Especially toward the end of the day, the heat was somewhat lessened by thunderstorms in the area.

Just before St. George, UT was the Virgin River Gorge. It reminded us of some of the other scenic byway gorges we’ve traveled through, but it had few trees, mostly scrub and rock. Oh, and much much taller mountains. I had to watch the road, of course, but I recall riding through the gorge on my bicycle with craning neck and bulging eyeballs at the scenes through that corridor of mountain miles.

We entered the 25 miles or so of Zion National Park at 1 o’clock. The road would lead us to route 89 which would take us to Bryce. In Zion were splendid views of mountains distant and near that rose to such heights as to be staggering to the thought. And then the road took us up with turns of narrow hairpin variety and finally near the top was a slender tunnel. A mile-long, it was through and along the side of the mountain. It was very dark in there, although it did occasionally have open ‘windows’ on the one side which let a splashing of light in. Only one lane of traffic was allowed through at a time and we were first in line. When it was our turn to go I proceeded slowly to be sure through the darkness. The light shafts that came from the truck-sized windows in the rock were welcome, but also caused pupils to close, so that when past the blast of light, it was actually harder to see in the darkness that followed.

Zion National Park is made of swirling, tortured, fractured rocks up to the clouds – dotted with the trees that would, along with other erosion forces, bring down the leviathan mountains in say, a couple million years.

We stopped occasionally to take pictures, but many of the turn-offs were gravelly and I was hesitant to stop on them because of the intense angle of the roadway and the worry about keeping the bike upright. Karen was snapping photos like crazy all the way from the back of the bike and at one point she said how her neck was getting stiff from looking up so much.

At all the stops we would attract attention because of our sign and at the final one we had good conversation with a lady originally from New Jersey, but who now lived in Arizona. As with most she wished us good luck on the ride.

It was about 80 miles or so getting to Bryce Canyon. After some sprinkles from the occasional dark clouds scudding around, we got to the Bryce area around 4pm. We decided to check out a motel about 15 miles from the canyon. We had to come back this way anyway, so we figured we’d freshen up, leave our stuff in the room, go tour the 18 out-and-back miles of the national park, and then return to the motel before dark. First I called a few other motels in the area. One was booked up and the other only had three rooms left. On the basis of this and the very reasonable price, we decided to take a spot in Harold’s Place Inn. We had a choice of little cabins or a more conventional building. The more conventional one offered wireless internet so we took that one. (But it ended up not working anyway!)

After we had gotten into the room I was actually a little light-headed for some reason – probably not having eaten for awhile or some blood sugar thing. But I drank some water, had the remainder of some long-ago opened corn nuts, and then we made our way toward the park.

On the way to Bryce is Red Canyon. A wonderful geologic area all in itself. The rocks resemble the result from when one was a kid playing at the beach with wet sand. Then taking that wet sand and drizzling mounds of it to make castles and columns. Only here the hue of the material was red and the substance was very solid rock. This fairyland design of magic pillars went on for maybe a mile or so of highway and a couple of times the road tunneled right through it.

After a bit more highway, we came to the Ruby’s Inn complex of buildings and attractions. The Ruby family had been at the right place at the right time in the late 1800’s and began an inn at the entrance of what would soon be a national park. Descendents of the original family still run the place. And they run it well.

At Ruby’s café we had a good dinner and then after a little sojourn in the nearby gift shop, we headed into the park. (By the way, most of the national parks cost $20 to enter these days, and so I was glad to have purchased a park pass before leaving.)

There were a number of vista points along the 18-mile roadway. The traveling was easy, no major switchbacks or hills to climb. We were already on the top of the immense canyon. At the breaks in the trees the vista points were nicely paved. We stopped at almost each one to take in the amazing sights.

Nothing like the combination of water, wind, air, and time to create such beauty! Because of the way the river canyon was formed and eroded huge mountain-sized structures were left after nature had its way with things. "Hoodoos", or seemingly slender odd-looking stove-pipe-like columns graced the landscape out to the horizon in parts. Slices of harder mountain rock still stood after the less strong surrounding rock had eroded away and the result was often jaw-dropping beauty of grand design. Frequently, that design looked to me like vistas of alien apartment buildings that ranged for twenty miles or more in every direction and of most every hue and shade of color.

All the turn out points presented dream-like views of this evening tapestry in rock with now lengthening shadows. One enormous rock area had been worn away from the middle and formed what appeared to be a gargantuan natural bridge, but which was really a fantastic arch spreading wide for all to see.

The day set a record for the most photographs taken (approaching 500!) and also for the most times scrambling off and on the bike. Karen especially got tired of that.

Riding back through Bryce this evening to the entrance on that broad smooth blacktop through the forest was like slicing through the freshest sweetest air in the world!

I was a little nervous about that leg of the ride because it was beginning to edge on middle dusk in the midst of that tree-lined roadway, and also because the gas tank mileage was approaching 100.

We stopped at the ranger visitor center for bit and then back at Ruby’s for gas and more gift shop time. I tinkered with the idea of buying an expensive Utah blanket, but instead opted for only some food stuff and a pair of sunglasses.

It was a cool to cold ride back through the expanse of desert and eventually through Red Canyon and to the motel. But it was a clear evening, and the 70mph fresh night winds hitting my face on that straight deserted drive evoked heightened perceptions of wonder and life itself. It was a grand feeling.

(Tomorrow: going to the edge of one of the biggest holes on earth!)

July 22, 2005 - Friday – Day 27

2005-07-23T13:37:00.000-04:00

48 States or Bust – The USA on Two Wheels
Miles Today: 66 - Total Miles: 6363 – Average: 235.6 (travel days)
11:00am-Noon (1hr)
PRIMM, NV to LAS VEGAS, NV (23/48)
(-staying at Steve Diano’s home – a former second grader of mine
- CONVINCING ARGUMENTS FROM THE CHESSMASTER -

As we were loading up we chatted with Debbie, Dave, Rose, and Ralph. They were two California couples who were out for a weekend’s jaunt to Bryce and Zion on two Goldwings. They had left yesterday evening at 8pm and arrived here at the Buffalo Bill Resort last night at 1am!! I was astounded at that and asked how they could get here so late. The one friendly guy said, pointing to his buddy using buddy-like mannerisms and tone, "Because HE rides like a girl! And because we ran into construction along the way." I said I thought that was pretty funny (unless one is into the politically correct stuff), but that I know several girl motorcycle riders who could ride rings around most men. Then asked whether they had encountered any bad weather last night when they came in so late. They hadn’t.

When we got in last night, of course, the roads here were dark, and everything was a mystery. So it was quite something and exciting to see the outside of the place in the daylight – all manner of glitz and excess – from a monorail and a rollercoaster that loopedy-looped all around the place to caves and monstrous flashing signs. As I took my morning run somewhat around the perimeter, the place resembled a huge gaudy artichoke having sprouted itself in the desert’s middle of nowhere. All in all, though, and perhaps despite that, I thought it would be a nice place to take a restful vacation – if one didn’t gamble their money away. They had a first run movie theater, all kinds of other things going on, the rooms were cheap, and the atmosphere friendly. Primms Valley Resort.

After leaving at exactly 11am it took under an hour to get to Las Vegas. It was bright and sunny and I watched the road carefully to see how it would have been had we continued our way last night. The road was in pretty good shape, but occasionally over it were shards and shreds and strips of tires that had come off of the big trucks. I was happy to have made the decision last night I did.

Vegas is where Steve Diano, a fellow I’ve known for more than 30 years now lives. As a second grader, Steve would often come over to the chess club I sponsored at the elementary school where I taught. He was a whiz at chess and was soon beating me regularly. In our tournament with the senior high school, he beat his opponent! He was as bright-eyed and smiley a second grader as I’ve met. We have kept in touch throughout the years and he had invited us to stay with him when he was back east for a wedding.

After we arrived, Steve, with a great convincing and gracious manner invited us to stay for the day despite our puny mileage and after studying the map it seemed feasible. Beside the time we could spend together, he argued, there was the opportunity to do laundry, take a nap, catch up on some other things like checking home phone messages, have access to wireless internet, and also possibly get the rear turn signal on the bike fixed.

We made several calls to that end and found an accommodating place that would take us in. Then with great kindness Steve, with Karen in the car, led me to Motorcycle City, where service guy Dave, and mechanic Jason said they’d fix the bike right up. It was a big busy and friendly motorcycle place. Steve, Karen, and I went to a local deli for lunch while the turn signal was being repaired. We got back about 2 hours later and everything was set to go. I was most appreciative of the folks there for taking the mc right in.

I then followed the car back to the house. It was only about 6 miles or so. Along the way we had a good view of the Vegas skyline. I was most impressed by a Space Needle type building that had restaurant AND a roller coaster on TOP of it.

Steve’s place was spacious and we spread right out in the downstairs guest room. After a nap we got wash done and had a little supper, and then got to see Steve’s command center, which has banks of smaller monitors, and one bigger one he was currently working on. He showed us about how he plays on-line poker and how popular it is! Many thousands seemed to be involved in the playing. Karen enjoyed looking at Steve’s friend Ginger’s scrapbooking room.

We hoped to get our earliest start of the trip tomorrow morning (Karen can hear everyone laughing at that one!) and so headed toward bed around 10:30.

July 21, 2005 - Thursday - Day 26

2005-07-23T13:22:00.000-04:00

48 States or Bust – The USA on Two Wheels
Miles Today: 364 - Total Miles: 6,297 – Average: 242.7 (travel days)
11:30am-9PM (9.5hrs)
PASO ROBLES, CA to PRIMM, NV (23/48)
(-staying at BUFFALO BILLS RESORT & CASINO
- CROSSING THE MOHAVE DESERT – CAUGHT IN THE DARK SHORT OF GOAL! -

Unluckily, the right rear directional signal was out. Luckily a motorcycle place was virtually right next door to the motel. Luckily the folks there said they could look right at the problem. Unluckily, it wasn’t just a bulb, but rather the signal wire looked like it had dropped down from inside the back fender and rubbed itself apart on the tire. Ryan, the nice young fellow who took time to look at the problem taped the rest of the wires up to avoid any further problem.

Much of the days lately have been numbers. Route numbers. Today looked like this: 46 west to 99 south to 58 west to 15 north.

We lunched at 1:30pm at Quizmos in unpronounceable Tehachapi, CA. We were about half way for the day. The nice manager lady let us take as much ice and water from the soda machine as we wanted to wet down our vests. She warned us of "scattered thunderstorms" in the desert.

Before hitting the desert, we rode past some vineyards and some almond orchards, and some fields of roses. Of the latter, Karen said the fragrance was heavy like putting one’s nose into a bouquet of roses.

I’ve spoken on earlier days of the heat licking at us ferociously. And also of days when waves of heat have washed over us. But today, especially as we crossed the Mohave Desert, it was oceans of hot air flooding across us, bathing us in constant deep sometimes searing warmth. Our orange cooling vests helped somewhat, but against the onslaught of the high temperatures it was difficult to do anything except keep hydrating steadily and barreling ahead. Occasionally the metal part of the handlebars would be too hot to touch as the temps ranged significantly above 100.

Today we rode at mainly 80 and 90mph through what turned into mostly all scrub deserty areas punctuated occasionally by a small town or two. Otherwise, just lonely emptiness. And the horizons were generally ringed with very high mountains.

One town had modern windmills all along the ridges of the high mountains generating gobs of electricity from the steady winds.

We rode through a mountain range. Steadily rising to over 4,000 feet elevation. At 4:30pm we pulled off and battened down the hatches, ready to continue into the desert. We now saw storm clouds, lightning flashes, and dim skies on the mainly flat panorama ahead. Shortly there appeared distant mountains, and darkened skies over them that emitted bolts of light sometimes two or three at a time or pitchfork-pronged.

We pulled off at Baker for a little supper. When back on the road the darkness had increased, the lightning strikes over the mountains into which we were heading had multiplied, and the road surface had worsened (and the potholes couldn’t be avoided because NOW they couldn’t be seen!). By the time we got the 25 miles to Primm, Nevada (our 23rd state), all the above had intensified. It was only 8:30pm, but about black as night. I was quickly coming to the conclusion that it was not safe to ride in this, but there was nothing but darkness along the roadside. As we saw the Primm oasis of lights in the distance, the final blow to going further occurred – and that was the wind gusts that had strengthened. A couple bursts blew the bike over a few feet on the roadway. We were only 40 miles to Steve’s and I had the sinking, depressing feeling in the realization that we’d have to stop sooner somehow. I suppose we could have gone on and kicked it in, but the odds just weren’t there – and I suppose that’s what Vegas is all about, eh? Knowing when to hold ‘em and knowing when to fold ‘em.

So even though we were amazingly close, I pulled into the Primm exit and there was found a dreamland of bright lights, casinos, and all the razzmatazz glitz and pseudo-glamour that goes with the gambling scene. (And to think! This was only the little sister of the excess that lay up the road!) It was quite the contrast to the desert sameness of the road grind.

I called Steve, a former second grade student and told him of the tantalizing so-close predicament – we were only 40 miles away!!! He sounded disappointed, which intensified my disappointment. He volunteered to drive out and lead us in. In the end we agreed to meet for breakfast tomorrow.

We got a room for what seemed to us to be an amazing price – only $39.99! Cheapest of the trip. Guess they wanted people’s gambling money and so made the rates attractive. With the help of the obligatory valet staff, Karen bundled our stuff upstairs into the big resort casino while I rode off a little ways to the motorcycle parking area.

The room was a good one and we quickly spread out and went over maps thinking about friends Bryce, Zion, and GC that we hoped to see the next day.

July 20, 2005 - Wednesday – Day 25

2005-07-21T19:56:00.000-04:00

48 States or Bust – The USA on Two Wheels
Miles Today: 84 - Total Miles: 5,933 – Average: 237.3 (travel days)
LUCIA, CA to LOS ROBLES, CA
(-staying at a Motel 6-)
- FOG! - HEARST CASTLE – THE THIRD CORNER TURNED -

On this 25th day of our journey around the country we awoke at 6:30am in the Lucia cabin. The cabin was completely socked in with fog. Couldn’t even see the quarter-mile away store or the road. And even the Pacific Ocean right down the cliff was blanketed in fog. Karen went back to sleep and I finished typing up the recent days’ events. I lifted the thin blinds slat at 8:30ish to check on the fog. The scene was a bit different – the fog was thicker!!! Same for 9:15!

We finally made our way up to the store/restaurant area by 9:50am, and found a superb breakfast awaiting us. Delicious breakfast foods arrayed on tables set in a splendid dining room with fire roaring – and a big picture window displaying an ever-de-fogging view of the Pacific.

By 11:30am we had the bike packed up and we headed up into the mountainous fog. It wasn’t too bad by then. Low overhanging stuff that occasionally touched the road, but for much of the way it totally shrouded out the ocean far down on the right. I don’t know if that was a good thing or not. It surely made it feel like boxed-in riding, but it saved us from the tortures of making those narrow curves while actually seeing into the deep down awing depths below.

We passed the campground where I spent my 33rd birthday, celebrating back in ’80 with two cheese sandwiches right on the Pacific shoreline.

There were some of the roughest of roads we’ve encountered – usually due to landslides and the unfinished road work on the highway. And the turning in and out of the canyons was tighter than before – once I swayed over the middle line while turning – and I was sure glad that the guy coming around the mountain hadn’t begun his trip 30 seconds sooner!

The worst and most nervous times for me were when the road was rough ON those tight turns way up over the ocean – and there wasn’t a guardrail. I tried to keep my thoughts on the navigating duties at present instead of all the 'what COULD happens'!

At one o’clock, we passed a beach full of elephant seals along the way. Karen said they looked like big slugs. And that they did. Most were just lying there seeming like they were sunning themselves on the beach. Odd looking creatures to be sure. We got a couple pictures from the road since I didn’t want to risk pull into the gravel vista point.

A bit further down the road came my only opportunity – as it turned out – to touch the ocean. It was a deserted motel and there was access to the beach. Although that access was roped off we lifted the rope, headed across some dune like areas, and I jumped down to the waves and actually touched a few of them as they lapped up to the shoreline. Karen got the picture from high up on the crusty hard-packed dune.

It was rocky along that bit of shore. Near some of the bigger rocks about a quarter-mile away a couple had gotten out of their red car and were frolicking in amongst the huge boulders thinking they were unseen from the world.

Along the coastline the air has been so fresh - from the ocean on the right and the millions of trees on the left. I’ve always thought it was the freshest air in the world – certainly the cleanest and sweetest smelling of my life. And here right on the beach – it was fabulous.

Shortly, we scrambled back up to the mc and headed down the road a short way to a little house on the hill.

Those who know about Hearst Castle, and who have been there know that no descriptives in the world can fully describe the place – or even come close. And those who don’t know about Hearst Castle can have no idea about its wonders or it’s amazing story. (I would suggest a google on the place.) I can only say that if one wanted to make a get-away home, without a shred of limitation as to money or imagination or material, then this might be that home! Imagine living above the clouds in a dream castle that had everything you might possibly want or desire.

We parked in the lot, took most of our gear and a couple bags, and headed to the main entrance. Kellen Riley, with the Park Service at the Ranger Station, helped us immeasurably with his kindness of letting us put our heavy riding coats and a few carry bags in a locked side room. (The lockers at the Park were all being used or were broken.) I handed him one of the pens I carry that has our internet information on it and his face brightened up saying, "Hey, we really NEED pens." So I handed him another one.

After getting one’s tickets, it’s a fifteen minute bus ride just up to the mansion itself. The mountain grounds used to hold a zoo of over sixty types of animals. Some of the descendants of those animals are still roaming around the place. There we met our affable tour guide, Bree. She was wonderful with the group, segued great into the next topics, was very informative, and had a good sense of humor.

The castle itself remained as I remembered it from my 25-year-ago visit, but there was a huge new entry way, and a wonderful theater. The I-Max type movie we saw after the tour was a bit smarmy and self-serving but full of interesting details none-the-less, and the quality of film making was quality personified. It was my third time taking a tour through the place and it was even more fascinating and downright amazing than each other time.

William Randolf Hearst was quite the icon. He was over 6 feet tall. It’s said he had the body of a bull mastiff with the voice of a Chihuahua and that may be the reason he didn’t win the Democratic nomination in the year he ran. He died at 88. He inherited most of his money at age 56, before he hit it big in yellow journalism. His dad was a miner who had a good sense with the earth, and dug into it, gambled that what most people thought was worthless was actually silver – and it was!

William assembled works of art from antiquity (a statue over 3,000 years old) and from his time. The place, which lies on 188 acres of prime coastal land, cost over ten million in those days dollars. He didn’t like to mingle with high society types.

The bus driver on the way down the mountain had a good sense of humor. We sat in the first two seats in the front of the bus. We got to asking him about the trips he took up and down the mountain and if there were ever any accidents and so on. He joked, "Well I took my seizure medicine an hour ago and I’m feeling fine now." This as we hurtled over steep grades and around ultra sharp turns. From where we sat on the bus it seemed like the big bus was going over the roadsides, or about to. And the drops were as dramatic as they were deep.

We learned from the driver that Bree was the youngest to fly coast to coast in an airplane at 13! And that Hearst Castle frequently takes guides who have been well known in other things – among the 100 or so guides there were some former Miss Americas, a rock star, and scientists of note.

Another reminder of being in a particular generation came when the 30ish couple in line at the Hearst Castle café turned and asked me who Patty Hearst was and wasn’t she involved in something in the sixties?

We spent about three hours at the Hearst Castle complex. Then left for a wonderful ride down the coast a bit before turning the third corner of the trip – and headed east for the first time in awhile.

We found a reasonable Motel 6 in Los Robles. After supper, we had some serious mapping and routing discussions. Because of our lost time we were disappointed to have to decide that we wouldn’t be able to swing down into southern Arizona but would be heading right toward Las Vegas and national parks north of Vegas. (I was especially disappointed not be able to meet on-line friend Clark Isaacs who has written us on the road more than anyone else, and who had invited us to stay in his log house on top of a mountain surrounded by 42 acres!)

We had internet service for the first time in a couple days and I dispatched our recent notes, and we were asleep relatively early. Needed the rest for what must be a big mileage day tomorrow.

July 19, 2005 - Tuesday – Day 24

2005-07-21T01:44:00.000-04:00

48 States or Bust – The USA on Two Wheels
Miles TodayL 173 - Total Miles: 5,675 – Average: 246.7(travel days)
San Francisco, CA to Lucia, CA
(-staying at Lucia Cabins (in a cabin overlooking the Pacific)
- ALONG THE COASTLINE -

We awoke around 7ish and then shortly were treated to the happy sounds of a 2-year-old having breakfast and interacting with his mom. We came down and breakfast was waiting. June had to get Sam off to camp, but we spent some more time talking and also making a call to a local Honda dealer who said that I could bring the bike over right away for the needed oil change. By 9:30am I was on the road to the place a few miles away. It was a bit of a nervous ride without Karen on the back to direct where to go, but after a few wrong turns I got there a bit late, but in plenty of time. I met Carl, who seemed to be the guy in charge of service. He was a very friendly guy who said at the small shop they liked to take care of travelers such as myself. (One time when he was traveling many years go, someone kept a mc shop open for him until 9:30pm.) The motorcycle was taken into the shop and the older fellow there took care of the oil change, checked the air pressure, and performed some other maintenance checks. Everything was fine.

Carl said he moved here for the weather. He avowed that it had only snowed twice since he’d gotten here in ’58!

While the bike was being attended to, I sat in a little cramped office at a desk working on the journal notes and enjoying the writing of them.

I got back to June’s with no problem and Karen and I shortly packed up, bid farewell, were on our way south, and out to the coast again. It was mostly big road highway riding. Even when we had got to Route 1, which mostly hugs all of the coast, and which I had traveled on a bicycle a number of times, things did not seem familiar. Much of the little two-laner had been replaced with the expressway in this part of California. I looked in vain for familiar sights, but there were none.

We got off the big road and breezed into Castroville ("The Artichoke Capital of the World"). At least that big sign was still there over the old highway. But everything else had changed – except there was still the giant house-sized artichoke in front of the Giant Artichoke Restaurant (advertising fried artichokes as their specialty!). I posed in front of the giant artichoke as I had done 25 years ago in my bicycling outfit – then a brash 33 year old in his 8th day of a three month bicycle ride that would eventually take him 4000+ miles and all the way to the Atlantic Ocean. Then we went searching for Pastor Raymond Leon. I had met him on my cross-country trip, but despite looking around town, and even asking in a church, no one knew of him. (I realized later that this was a false memory and that the pastor was in a different town entirely.)

We, not entirely on purpose, went through miles and miles of broad fields where the laborers were at work harvesting lettuce, strawberries, and the such. Huge complex and strange-looking machines helped with the task. Eventually we came back to the main highway.

Seventeen-Mile Drive at Pebble Beach was a wonderful drive for me a quarter century ago. A young kid bicyclist joined me around the loop and I got a great photo of the Lone Cypress there. Now, instead of being off the two-laner, one gets to Seventeen-Mile Drive from an off-ramp of the expressway! And we couldn’t even get on it because now motorcycles are not allowed. (The guard said some motorcyclist started a fire awhile back and one killed someone, so no motorcyclists can take the beautiful ride.) Oh, and it costs $8.50 for a car to travel the route! I can’t recall if cars were charged back then, but so long ago I got to ride it for free.

I was quite struck by the changes. I said to Karen, "Sorry I can’t share that with you, dear. Seems I can’t share anything of that 25-year-ago ride with you." I sobbed in my helmet about that, how most everything that I wanted to share was either moved, removed, covered, long-gone, overgrown, or forgotten. It was covered over with cement parking lots or turned into shopping centers. Even the two-lane road had been paved over with big super highway. It was a very moving time for me. The tears streamed down my cheeks inside the helmet as I remembered that adventure of 25 years ago, now with no way to see all those same places and scenes again.

For some things, though, that was about to change.

About 15 miles in front of Big Sur we came to the first of the magnificent ocean views as the road wound out right to the edge of the continent and over the ocean.

Had to gas up in the Big Sur area – and it was $3.44/gallon!!

It was not easy riding for me. At one point Karen was going to take a picture from the back of the slow moving bike, but when she got the camera up, and saw the new overlook scene of 1000’s of feet down to the waves, she just gasped and closed her eyes. After she told me this story about the closing of her eyes a bit later, I remarked that I did not have such a luxury!

Around 6:30pm after 40 miles or so of those mountains with tight twisties and roads that overlooked the ocean right precisely beside it, we came upon the store and the cabins at Lucia. The cabins boasted about the best view of the ocean on the coast so far. They overlooked high over the waves and a thin shoreline that curved around a huge mountainous cove – where at the moment a slim overlying cloud of lingering beauty bejeweled itself over the broad inlet.

We had grossly misjudged how long this leg of the trip would take. We had come 174 miles and it was still 45 miles to Hearst Castle area! We were both exhausted and very hungry. And here we were in the middle of the coast with nothing on either side except this very expensive place to stay. And, in fact, there were only two cabins left, and by the time we decided to stay, we had the final one of the 20 or so.

To reach the cabins so perched high above the water one had to go down a steep drive that would have put the San Francisco streets to shame it was so precipitous! I decided that it was too dangerous to mcycle down and that we would have to shuttle our gear from the roadway to the cabin. This being done, I decided that even the top of the drive would not be safe for the bike, so I asked the lady in the store if we could put the bike in the small parking lot there for the night, and she agreed. I asked about internet service and she told me there was no phone in the room and no tv. We didn’t care about the latter since we never watched a tv in a motel room – other than about 15 minutes worth to hear about the hurricane news. But I was disappointed about the former since I already had a day’s worth of notes to get out to mainly eager readers. But the young woman behind the counter did assure me that recently they had begun leaving the electricity on after 9pm!

We took all our stuff and put it into the room. I noted there was no cell phone service way out here on rugged shoreline. Then I changed into running gear, took the bike to that parking lot by the store, and went for a run.

As I was putting the cover on the mc up at the store area, Rich and Will came tooling in on their touring bicycles. The young 20-somethings were on their way home to San Diego after leaving from way up the west coast. I told them how I envied their ride. It was already in the cool of evening and they were still looking for a campsite. I told them of the many times I was in that situation. I got a photo of them and told them I hoped they would contact me so I could find out how they made out that night.

There was a restaurant near the store. But after spending so much for the cabin, I sure couldn’t bring myself to spending $30 for an entrée. We shared the rest of what June had packed us for lunch – for dinner. The paper bags had cute little decals on them, and on Karen’s Colby sandwich, was cutely written on the plastic, "Karen, say Cheese!"

We assembled the dinner of peanut butter & jelly crackers, June’s remaining sandwich, carrots, a little box of raisins, some fig newtons, and walked to the edge of the cliff overlooking the inlet. There were two chairs there and we sat, gobbled up the dinner, and watched the fantastic scene in front of us playing out as it had for more than a million years... the clouds, the mist, the waves, the ocean out to the horizon, and the dusk of evening approaching.

I went back to my notes of the trip of 25 years ago. And I spent a bit of time reading them to Karen in the cabin. I "re-met" Pastor Leon (an imposing man with cobweb tattoos all up and down both forearms, and a quarter-sized cross tattooed on his forehead!) and relived our time and the big storm that brought us together. And I recalled the 80 miles a day through these mountains that I muscled through on a bicycle.

In that cozy cabin I began thinking how lately each day of this trip now seems like a million years long that goes by in a split second.

////////////////////////////////////////////////

July 20, 2005 - Wednesday – Day 25
48 States or Bust – The USA on Two Wheels
Miles Today - ? -
LUCIA, CA to ?

On this 25th day of our journey around the country we awoke at 6:30am in the Lucia cabin. The cabin was completely socked in with fog. Couldn’t even see the quarter-mile away store or the road. Even the Pacific Ocean right down the way was blanketed in fog. Karen went back to sleep and I finished typing up the recent days’ events. I lifted the thin blinds slat at 8:30ish to check on the fog. The scene was a bit different – the fog was thicker!!! Checked again at 9:30. The fog was thicker....

(TO BE CONTINUED)

July 18, 2005 - Monday – Day 23

2005-07-21T01:31:00.000-04:00

48 States or Bust – The USA on Two Wheels
Miles Today: 173 - Total Miles: 5,675 – Average: 246.7(travel days)
10:30am-8:30pm (with serious sightseeing)
Willets, CA to San Francisco, CA
(-staying at June & Neil’s -- June, a former 2nd grader of mine -)
- THE GOLDEN GATE – CLANG CLANG -

It was about time for another Shadow oil change and on my morning run I went by a place that could have done it, but the mechanic was off on Mondays, so it didn’t work out.

It was a delightfully cool day as it turned out and we enjoyed it especially so, since we were expecting an inferno. Traveled through all kinds of grape growing country today.

It seems to take us longer to get places in an amount of time when we have to go 45-55mph instead of 90! I guess there’s some kind of scientific theorem or mathematical equation to prove that’s really a fact and not just my imagination...

Along the way we passed a dog with his head over the railing of the 60-mph truck that was passing us. His tongue was out and he gave us a tongue’s up instead of a thumbs up! Right after that I saw a bumper sticker that read: "My Road to Success is Under Construction."

Our next stop was an on-line friend in Santa Rosa.

Mary, who goes by the screen name "Shortredheadlady" is exactly that. As we pulled in front of her home she acknowledged that she was as her screen name described. As Karen got off the bike, I said to Mary, "Well, as you can see, I like short redheaded ladies!"

Mary had a great friendly smile and some seriously cute freckles that danced all around her grinning face. We are in the same health discussion group on-line and were hoping to meet on the trip. Thank goodness she emailed when she did yesterday or we would have passed right by. She took us into her home, a rancher, which had an immediate aura to me of friendliness and warmth. And we three chatted a lot. We got to see her daughter’s room. Her one daughter in her early 20’s, had painted the room for an art class project – it was blue all around it, with a spreading yellow sun on the ceiling and stars and other designs around. It was very effective and easy to see why she got an "A" for the project. On the door was a colorful scene from Alice in Wonderland.

Mary’s daughter was also vegetarian and Mary had thoughtfully prepared a lunch for us that was one of my very favorites. There is a brand of fake bacon which she prepared and with fresh lettuce and tomatoes we savored BLT’s! I had two!

Karen and Mary seemed to enjoy chatting and I was feeling drowsy from the riding and the delicious eats. I stammered out my excuses, and laid on the couch, and very shortly, with the sound of friendly conversation in the background, a fullness in my belly, and a heavy lethargy drifting over me, fell into a sound nap for about 45-minutes. I awoke totally relaxed and more refreshed than I had felt for days! It was clearly a needed rest and I was appreciative of Mary’s understanding about my time away.

There was a big cage in the back room for the family dog, Roxie, a young black lab, who was now outside. In the cage was a little black dog which didn’t move. Mary said affectionately that was the black lab’s baby. I kept looking at the black blob from the distance, trying to see some kind of movement in it. I was alarmed that it wasn’t moving at all, but shortly recognized that it was just a little stuffed animal about which the baby reference was made. I deadpanned up to Mary, "I am awfully sorry to be telling you this, but I think Roxie’s baby is dead!" Mary looked dismayed for a split-second then got the misunderstanding/joke and explained with a smile about the stuffed animal that Roxie had adopted.

It was like a little dream stopping at Mary’s house... my nap, the delicious sandwiches, good conversation, and a nice smile to say good-bye.

After some pictures outside we left our new friend and to the tune of "San Francisco Here We Come", we headed south toward that big city by the bay.

It was about an hour to San Fran as Mary had said it would be. The highway riding was good. Once, an impatient guy passed on our right zipping by as I had my turn signal on to move into that lane. I hate surprises like that. Just a good thing I didn’t move into that lane faster than I did!

I felt a lot of emotion as we approached the Golden Gate Bridge. Twice before I had crossed it on a bicycle on sun-drenched days – but those approaches had always been long, somewhat hazardous, and meandering. It was always difficult to find a route onto the span that allowed bicycles. It took me awhile to get it into my head that wouldn’t be a problem this time.

We weren’t as lucky with the weather, however. It was extremely foggy, but still, as we rounded the bend, and the first view of the bridge popped up over a mountain crest, it was hard to control the lump in my throat at the emotional sight. Karen took some video as we crossed.

After we pulled into town proper over the bridge, we had to ask directions a number of times to get to the cable car area. Once, a athletic pretty blond woman with flair in a convertible accompanied by her little dog tried to help us. She also gave us passes to her massage place, and we were sorry we didn’t have time to take advantage of them. We eventually made our way to the cable car area and found a parking garage nearby. The fellow running the place, who said he was "Ace", kindly let us park in a little space near the entrance and then let us keep our helmets and some other gear in his car while we were away seeing the sights. We told him it would be only an hour, but it ended up much longer.

We scrambled over to the slow moving long line that queued around to the cable car ticket area. It then ran down a sidewalk where local artists and vendors plied their wares. The sky was blue but a chilly breeze continued to blow.

We chatted and made friends with people in line and I took some photos of them and promised to send the photos if they emailed me. Got a cute picture of a dad and his baby. We spent the most time chatting with a couple, George and Barbara, from Charleston. The affable fellow told us all about his trailer and how they were pulling a car and some of the problems they had with it. His wife had dyed her hair for the trip – it had been a bright silver, now it was brown. She said that some people didn’t recognize her and that she was sure going to be in for some ooo’s and ahhh’s when she got back to her relatives. We thought it looked very good.

I left the line a bit to go over to a camera store across the way. I got a wide angle attachment for our digital camera. Might have been a mistake because I noticed later that when zoomed the lens gave a little ring of out of focus around the edges. It worked great for extreme close-ups and wide angle though.

There was a street player next to the line who strummed an electric guitar. The blues he played and sang was very good. He came over and chatted with us all a bit and was personable though his face had some kind of distorted mottled imprinting and he was hard to look at for very long.

I originally was also going to get us something to eat because by now we were very hungry, but I totally forgot to go into the store next to the camera place.

After an hour or so we finally came up to within about 15 of the ticket area. The car about to leave was loaded and ready, but the friendly conductor guy took a look at Karen in the line and asked her if she wanted to get on, and she said I’d have to come with her. And he took us both in front of everyone else. Then, apparently mistaking us for firefighters because of our bright yellow suits, didn’t charge us for the ride.

The cable car ride was sure worth it. The "clang clangs" were fun to hear for the hour we were on the car. The views were awesome down to the sea, a mile or more up the steep inclines, and of the passing folks. The conductor who let us on had a great gift of gab as he called out to people on the street, or jokingly bantered with tourists in the car.

It was chilly riding hanging onto the outside steps on the first half of our ride and also as we sat on the outside on the way back. We enjoyed the music provided by street musicians along the way, especially a drummer on the sidewalk outside a department store. He was drumming on buckets and containers of varying sizes.

When we got back to the wharf area, it was very cold, damp, overcast, and somewhat drizzly with just little cloud-droplets of heavy mist. We got right to the parking garage. We had been in contact with June by phone throughout the day and called again now to tell her we were on our way. It was about 6:45pm.

We put on all our layers in the parking garage and we needed them because it was cold out there. Ace helped us retrieve our stuff from his car, showed us where a bathroom was (thankfully!), and eventually, after we had packed up again, processed us through the exit after we paid our $12! We then wound through the streets of San Francisco.

The streets of this place are famed for being steep. I found myself at angles, too, had trouble maneuvering through. Occasionally, I had to just move around by walking the bike – not beside it, but straddling it and sort of stepping. I thought it must look like I was duck-waddling through San Francisco. At one point though we were on a very steep hill going up and we were stopped at a traffic light. I had to gear up on a monstrous hill!! Now, THAT was a challenge to my motorcycling skills. At one point we looked down a street which had an amazingly sharp angle. We couldn’t imagine a dropped bike there – it would skitter a mile to the bottom!

After getting some misdirection, redirection, and then correct directions, we eventually made our way through the city to Route 101 south.

After we left San Fran proper and headed down the freeway to June’s, the cloud-drenched views were amazing. It was like cities in the distance afire with clouds. We arrived about an hour after leaving town and pulled up to the beautiful modern home and into the driveway. It was emotional for me seeing June coming out the front door to meet us and it was sure good seeing her again.

On the other side of the continent, 11 years ago, on my 1994 (Five Hundred Florida Miles trip of Jacksonville to Tampa) I stayed with June in Jacksonville. She was in one of my first second grade classes back at Coopertown School in Pennsylvania. (For readers who may not know, I taught early elementary school for 20 years between 1969 and 1989.) Since then she has moved to various places around the country plying her writing and editing skills, and now, with her husband, Neil and young son, she resides in Foster City, just south of San Francisco.

June was in one of my award winning pictures – her huge, huge second grader eyes superimposed in a cloudy sky and it’s always been one of my favorite photographs. That photo is on the living room wall at home and is often commented on by prospective clients who come to the house to see albums.

We got to meet Neil and precocious Sam, their 2 year-old. Sam was as bright-eyed and eager to learn as any kid I’ve met. One could see a simmering intelligence growing behind those huge eyes.

We got to spend some time talking about our trip ahead and catching up about our lives. June had made a delicious healthful dinner for us which we eagerly gobbled up. There was a wonderfully comfortable air mattress up in the second floor loft office and after trucking our stuff up, settling in, showering off the day’s grime, we settled in for a sound sleep.

July 17, 2005 - Sunday - Day 22

2005-07-18T18:05:00.000-04:00

48 States or Bust - The USA on Two Wheels
Miles Today: 229 - Total Miles: 5,502 - Average: 250.0
10:30am-xxxpm – 6:30hours – 8 hours
Crescent City, CA to Willets, CA (CA - 22/48)
(-staying at a Best Value Holiday Inn-)
- ELK! - A DROP! - DOWN THE AVENUE OF THE GIANTS! -

It was a great night’s sleep and by 8:30am I was running over to the local True Value to get an extension cord with outlets. Talk about how technologically inclined some traveling has become! There are so many chargers (computer, 2 phones, a pda, 3 digital cameras, a video camera, flashlights, & tape recorders) that need to have their batteries at least occasionally charged! Most motel rooms don’t have enough outlets!

Morning time is gathering things together and double checking nothing is forgotten. It’s also getting ice from the ice machine to put in the camelback so we have cold water for most of the day. And then, there’s the packing everything on the bike.

It was very warm near the motel, but not more than 15 minutes and a bit toward the coast, the temperature dropped about 20 degrees. We gassed up and the price was high, but by the end of the day we were happy to see $2.70 or so!!

We rode through woods and dales, high and low as the coastal mountains took us. The air moved from hot, hot licking of breaths that seemed from hell on our faces to cold, cold, almost frigid air that had us shuddering.

Highway 101 was through the mountains. The roads were twisty and sometimes tight-turned. Not my favorite type of riding as I don’t feel too confident with all the tight bends on the big bike. It was all green – with glorious trees marching beside the road endlessly and sometimes out to deep ravines or up tall mountain walls.

Just after noon we saw a whole bunch of elk on the side of the road. We stopped and Karen got off to take a few close up photographs. The big antlered buck stopped eating for a bit, gazed in Karen’s direction as if posing (but more likely enamored by her yellow outfit) and then continued blissfully eating despite the crowd of folks watching. I had been wondering if we’d see any of those animals since there was sign after sign warning about them. Then, a little further down the highway on the left was a herd of twenty or so in the big Eel River. There were a bunch of cars parked along the side of the roadway and a gaggle of folks up on the river bank enjoying the view of the big beasts rump-deep in the cooling water. We pulled over and Karen got off the bike to get some shots.

I waited on the bike and then angled it out so we’d be able to leave easier when she was ready. We were on gravel and there was a three-inch lip to get back on the highway. I had angled the front wheel to that lip. Karen came back and got on. I checked the traffic both ways – and watched for the car that was to my immediate left, parked and waiting for me to pull out. I did begin to pull out ever so slowly, but the back tire caught the road lip at the wrong angle and... it was only a matter of milliseconds that we were falling onto the gravel and the 650-pound bike was falling on top of us. That’s called, among other things in motorcycle cycle parlance, "dropping the bike!" It seemed so slow motion – like we were caught in the wake of a huge slow Pacific Ocean wave – and just went with the flow onto sandy beach. Of course, it was gravel and macadam, not soft sand. But what with the crash bars and gear on the bike, and the Aerostitch suits, we were able to scramble up with nothing but our egos extremely damaged, and a good case of embarrassed red faces. The fellow in the car to our left immediately got out to see if we were okay and I enlisted his help in uprighting the bike (which, because of the angle of the ground Karen and I could have never done by ourselves). Another man came over to help, too. It was uprighted, we thanked those around us, and when the traffic cleared we took off.

As we got on the road slowly Karen mentioned, "So that is why we wear these big heavy suits!" And I just smiled in agreement.

Going slower as we’ve been doing the last few days has certainly helped with the gas mileage! Getting 45-50mpg lately in these mountainous areas.

Karen and I celebrated the year anniversary of knowing each other with a wonderful tromping down the Avenue of the Giants. Those redwoods are amazing there and the flora gave the impression that if one could forget the year, it would seem that the scene was from a forest primeval.

Along the Avenue of the Giants is a huge 1000 year-old-tree. It’s dubbed "The Immortal Tree" because it’s survived floods and axes and the like. It was 298 feet tall, but is now 248 feet because it lost its top to lightning. An older gentleman was taking his wife’s photo there and I volunteered to take both of them. He said that they came up from Santa Rosa every few months just to
"keep their perspective on their place in nature."

At the last gas up of the day, it was blazing hot. The friendly woman gift shop/gas station owner came out with a cheery smile and a bit too much conversation (for my mood, at any rate.) But she offered us to turn on her sprinkler to cool us off and Karen took advantage of the offer – tromping through the cooling drops. I was sorry to have missed a picture of it.

We soon realized that San Francisco, to our great disappointment, wasn’t going to happen this day. For a multitude of reasons, not the least of which that we were tired and that tomorrow we’d get to spend more time with June and her husband, but also so we could grab a cable car in San Fran, we decided to stop short of the goal today.

We found a nice place and settled in. I ran for supper while Karen unpacked gear and after journal writing and checking email we went to sleep relatively earlier than usual.

July 16, 2005 - Saturday – Day 21

2005-07-17T14:17:00.000-04:00

48 States or Bust – The USA on Two Wheels
Miles Today: 278 - Total Miles: 5,273 – Average: 263.7
1:30pm-8:30pm – 7 hours
Corvalis, OR to Crescent City, CA (OR,CA – 22/48)
(-staying at an Econolodge -)
- ON THE LEFT COAST - OVER 5,000! – THE PACIFIC! -

Was up, fully refreshed at 6:30am, and went into the Powell’s kitchen area to type some journal notes and eventually get AOL and Mac tech folks on the line. We surmised either there was a corrupted program on the hard drive or that there was something wrong with the lines coming into the house which presented connection. (On the other side of the day, when connecting without a hitch to the hotel phone line, it was clear that the problem was that house phone line inadequacy.)

Scott, Karen, I, and Lola (a friendly chocolate lab) went for a mile run/walk around 10am or so. It was a wonderful seeming neighborhood, and we talked as we ran and walked, and would stop occasionally to take a picture of beautiful flowers or a unique home’s architecture. For example, there was one particularly modern home set in with the others, and also an unusual blossoming artichoke.

When back we enjoyed more conversation and then hauled off to the local K-mart and supermarket to get a few things for us. The Powells got a bunch of things for the up-coming wedding and bar-b-que before the wedding. After checking out K-mart’s selection of binoculars, I ran to an across-the-street sport store to have more choices. Bingo! Found some good ones there and not only that, I felt good about getting an $89 pair for $20 in a clearance sale.

At the supermarket I got some rice cheese and when back at the house, I put a few slices between two slices of bread and Scott offered to go out into their garden and get some lettuce for the sandwich. I don’t recall ever getting lettuce that way, and it was delicious!

We left way too late and by 1:30pm, after some picture taking and good-byes, we were on the road. Five miles after leaving Scott and Sara’s place we rolled over 5,000 miles for the trip!

We took Scott’s routing advice and found the road to Peoria to be as good as he suggested it would be. Flat and countrified, it was a gorgeous romp through the warm afternoon. I got a little worried as I went over that magic 100-mile mark since the most recent gas fill up, but a gas station appeared in Harrisburg, just as my consternation was causing an almost permanent grimace. The grimace reappeared though when I noted the price was another one over $2.50/gallon.

About three miles before reaching the coast it got cold. And then it got colder! By the time we were very far along, we had gloved up and made sure all our zippers were tightly closed on the our Aerostitch air vents. Still, we had some shivering going on at some points through the rest of the day’s magnificent ride.

We arrived at the coast road (Route 101) at exactly 4pm, rolling over mile 100 on the button from Scott and Sara’s home. Let it be known that at 4:50pm we stood looking at the Pacific Ocean – after having crossed the continent! It was a great feeling of accomplishment.

Just below Port Orford we saw the huge apartment-building sized rocks just plopped down close to the shore. And the rugged thin coastline where strewn driftwood pieces were at once bleached white and also with deformed shapes.

Much of the ride down the lower part of the Oregon coast was devoid of other traffic - with hills or ocean on the right and a faint huge half-saucer half-moon rising in the blue sky above the mountains on the left.

Because of the wind and frequent shifting because of the mountainous terrain, it was an exhausting ride, but we made our goal of Crescent City, CA, some 278 miles south from our start point.

From that constant shifting, my left hand felt the most tired and hurting of any day of this trip so far. By the next morning, it has always recovered, and I hoped that would be the case this time, too.

While Karen unpacked, I loped across the wide street in the 9pm duskiness to get some Subway sandwiches and other foodstuffs at a grocery there. Back at the room we ate hungrily, poured over the maps, and chatted with June Bell, a former second grade student of mine, who we’ll be staying with tomorrow night just south of San Francisco.

July 15, 2005 - Friday – Day 20

2005-07-17T13:55:00.000-04:00

48 States or Bust – The USA on Two Wheels
Miles Today: 278- Trip Total: 4,995 – Daily Average: 262.9 (travel days)
Boardman, OR to Corvalis, OR
(-stayed at cousin Scott’s -) (OR – 21/48)
- THE COLUMBIA GORGE -

We rode through the fabled Columbia River Gorge area. I had heard a lot about the place and it was as beautiful as reported, but I couldn’t see very much of the first part of it from the interstate. And that’s because the winds were buffeting me and the bike ferociously. There was no letting hands off the bars. At a gas station the guy said it was almost always like that – and when it wasn’t, it was way too hot. He said since the windsurfers were out, it must be even windier than usual.

We got off the big highway about an hour or so after traveling and got onto the old, even more scenic highway. This one though was tough riding for me also; this time because it was so narrow, twisty, and had no shoulder. We passed a few of the fabled waterfalls and then came to the grand-daddy of them all – Multnomah. I had never heard of this world famous falls. It was a two tier waterfall with the top part being 542 feet high and the lower falls being 69. It is the second highest all-year waterfall in the US. It looked gorgeous as the water tumbled from the top of the mountain.

People were there from all over the world and the place was abuzz with activity. It was the first time that employees of a gift shop let us put our gear in a back room so we didn’t have to carry our helmets and heavy jackets around. We were very appreciative.

As usual, I would volunteer to take pictures of folks so the whole family could be in the shot. I did this with one big group of 24 or more women and we got very friendly – turns out they were grandmother types from Taiwan but had the spirit of teenagers, that’s for sure. For the last photo (after about 5 different of their cameras) I handed my camera to a passing guy and I got in the middle of the otherwise all-woman group. They laughed and laughed. We’d see each other over the next half hour as we’d walk the short distance to the falls. One woman in particular, Bebe, would pull me over to be in all their various pictures.

Karen walked up to the big cement bridge part way up to video from there. It was originally a wooden bridge but was replaced by cement in 1914. It was a magnificent view of the falls except that for the first time at a major attraction the sun was in the wrong place for great pictures. It was high over the falls throwing glare all over the place. We did the best we could. After about 90-minutes or so we packed up the bike, which incidentally, was in a "motorcycles only" area. We chatted with a guy who had a brilliantly dazzling shiny-silver Harley. He helped us with directions to Stayton, OR which was our next stop.

But first we traveled more of the old highway seeing a few more falls on our way, until we came for the cut off for the Vista House on Crown Point. We climbed for what seemed ages around little twisties and finally reached the top where there was a cool looking old building. The view of the river was amazing in both directions, but much of it was lost on me because it was at this point we noticed that my beloved miniature binoculars must have fallen off the bike at some point, so I was upset about that.

We shortly traveled down the mountain and headed toward Salem, OR, and then toward Stayton where my college buddy, Ken, and his wife Maria live. Regrettably, we ran into several significant traffic jams and sat in the broiling heat for a bit waiting for the long line of cars to move. That right emergency lane looked mighty tempting to me and twice I skirted down on the right in front of 50 or so vehicles.

Eventually, we were on I-5 where the traffic was moving. I noticed a white car behind me and there appeared an orange light on the roof of that car. I immediately got nervous thinking it was a police car – and as he rode behind me for awhile I was thinking that he was considering whether or not to ticket me for riding in that side lane. But then after a bit, the car passed and I noticed it was a regular auto with some kind of bright colored ball on the antenna. Whew! BUT THEN, right after that I looked over to the left and there hanging on my side was an auto with "SHERIFF" emblazoned on the door and the fellow inside with the badge was gesticulating to me. My stomach drops, but then I notice he’s giving me a vigorous thumbs up (After clearly reading our "All 48 States" sign on the back of the bike!).

In Stayton we visited with one of my longest old time friends, Ken Weaver (and his wife Maria). Ken and I met over 40 years ago. Hadn’t seen him since one of my coast bicycle rides back in the early 90’s, I think. We were college chums what seemed like a million years ago at Kutztown State College. We got to reminisce for a couple hours and catch up on each other’s lives. Ken and Maria live on 5 acres in a rural type setting and it was truly peaceful and quiet as the four of us sipped lemonade and talked about our lives.

Eventually, we had to get going. We called cousin Scott and got directions to the nearby town. Then we trucked about an hour to Corvalis, OR where my cousin Scott and his soon to be wife lived. Readers may remember that on the other side of the continent we had stayed with Scott’s sister, Leslie. (Whose little baby was pictured on the motorcycle on day 1 of the trip.) It was great seeing Scott and Sara. The two will be married at the end of the July and we were sure sorry that the timing for us attending the wedding wasn’t a little better.

After unpacking we all chatted a bit. And I munched on the humus and crackers that were laid out and it was delicious.

Karen’s new mc pants had arrived from Aerostitch. (Carla came through for us!) After we fixed the velcro calf adjustment, the bright yellow pants fit perfectly. Scott and Sara took us to a Corvalis vegetarian place called Nearly Normal and we munched on good stuff in the outside area.

When back to the house, Karen showered and got ready for bed and I fiddled with the AOL connection for waaaaayyyy too long into the evening. I tried all manner of things to get it working, but could not do so. Finally fell into bed at 11:45pm exhausted and frustrated at not being able to figure out the problem.

July 14, 2005 - Thursday – Day 19

2005-07-15T01:56:00.000-04:00

48 States or Bust – The USA on Two Wheels
Miles Today: 342- Trip Total: 4717 – Daily Average: 262.1 (travel days)
10am-4:30pm – 7.5 hours (with time change to Pacific Time)
Superior, MT to Boardman, OR
(-stayed at an Econolodge -) (MT,WA,OR – 21/48)

My gosh! This day went by like a blink of an eye. Seems we were no sooner putting stuff on the bike than we were taking it off. The first 200 miles in the cool of 65 degrees, and with a swift tailwind that helped make the riding easy and delightful. (We had decided that the day off AND the cool morning helped make it so great!) The last 150 miles or so, though, was super wind-buffeted in at least 95 degrees and very hard riding.

The terrain changed before our eyes throughout the day. It began as tree-filled mountain riding and we billy-goated over quite a number of high passes. Look Out pass in Montana being perhaps the most famous – and that clocked in at almost 5,000 feet. Then there was the lesser known 4th of July Pass. Both ranged upward on fairly good I-90 roadway and the descents were good, too, with fabulous views stretching green everywhere.

Then we rode out of the mountains and into dead flatland of farms and tawny wheat-colored pastures as far as blue horizon. And then, by the end of the day, it was buttes, scrub, and prairie land baking under the hot sun.

--------------------------

We were out on the road after having breakfast and after airing up the back tire a bit. It was 10am. As we headed over Look Out Pass there was a work zone. Some of the bright orange cones had blown or were knocked out to the middle of the roadway. I was super careful, but I clipped one of them on my foot peg as we went by. It had negligible impact.

The first 111 miles took about two hours, what with all the mountain curves as we left Montana. I guess Karen enjoyed the views. I was busy studying the highway. For a lot of the time I try to hone my cycling skills. Still need a lot of work on the turns, especially slower tight turns to the right.

We passed a number of "run-away" truck ramps. Karen wondered how the cars in FRONT of those runaway trucks must feel...

Especially on the straight-aways, it was a terrific late morning ride. It had me feeling like a speedy silver bullet whistling down a slender tube on that cool morning.

A little morning drama on the highway - I watched the scene unfold. A couple riding two-up were on a bike in front of us. They seemed on a long tour, too. She was wearing a pink top with a leather vest, he was a heavy guy with a black bandana on. They were in the left lane and in front of them was an enormously long and very big trailer truck. They kept on in the left lane waiting for the truck to move over, but it didn’t. So the motorcyclist went over to the right lane and sort of hung there for a few minutes, clearly trying to decide if he should pass on that right side, which he decided to do. I braked a little - worried about what might happen. The motorcyclist made his move to pass on the right and as he got to the middle of the truck, the trucker put on his right turn signal and started to move over into the right hand lane. I gulped and braked a bit more anxiously awaiting what disaster might happen next. Well, just in time, presumably having seen the impatient and/or stupid motorcyclist trying to pass blindly on the right, the trucker pulled back into the left lane and let him go by. I let out a big "Whew!"

The enormous L-shaped lake around Coeur d’Alene was just magnificent to view for what seemed miles – it was dark blue and shiny and populated with sunny shimmerings.

At about 12:20pm at a Sprague rest area, we stopped to munch on a couple of the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches Karen made yesterday. We sat on the grass under a shade tree and had a relaxing picnic. From where we sat there were great views of a harvesty-golden-grain hillside and on the grass near us in the sunshine, seagulls cawed away. Part of the highway would could be seen in the distance and Karen noted they looked like little toy cars moving along there.

As we crossed into Idaho in the morning, we moved into Pacific time and set our watches an hour back. It’s been good getting that extra hour during the day every so often when we changed time zones, but I guess it will be the other way around shortly when we head east.

Also a milestone for the trip: just west of Spokane, Washington we turned the corner to the south. Gassed up again right after our lunch break. Highest pricing of the trip! $2.50 a gallon.

A bit into Oregon we saw our first tumbleweed. It was off on the right and I was a little worried about it coming in front of us, but a big truck deflected it.

We could have probably gone on, but at 340-ish miles, we noted an EconLodge off the highway and decided to check out the pricing. Karen was pretty tired anyway and I was beginning to fade. The place was priced perfectly and there was a restaurant right next door with the best veggie burgers since Pennsylvania.

We settled in for the evening of writing, making some calls to folks we were about to visit, transferring digital images from camera to computer, and working on our routing for the next weeks.

July 13, 2005 - Wednesday - Day 18

2005-07-14T11:40:00.000-04:00

48 States or Bust – The USA on Two Wheels
Miles Today: 0- Total Miles: 4375 – Daily Average: 257.4 (travel days)
Rest Day in Superior, MT
(-stayed at the Budget Host Big Sky Motel (MT– 18/48)

Yup, decided on a rest day. Almost all the factors were weighing in favor of taking a day off: the price of the accommodations, the nice setting, the fine room, the wireless internet that worked, the availability of laundry facilities, the proximity to stores, and a few more. Besides the fact that we were pretty exhausted after more than 4,000 miles and 17 days on the road. The main negative was that we would not be able to touch base in Portland with friends we had met at a wedding we shot in April!

We watched some news on tv to catch up on things going on. (I hate doing that on a trip!) And we had a good nap.

I spent much of the day, as much as three hours on-line, with the great tech support people at Apple. Seems I had accidentally transferred 1000 pictures onto my desktop instead of into a folder. (I knew it would be problem if I had put them on the desktop, and I was soooooo careful, but...) Well, they talked me through a bunch of things, but then I figured a way to fix things through my image program which still seemed to work.

I also IM’d with friends back home, including website guru Carl. I told him how it was so good to have the site updated the one particular day when we checked into the Livingston Motel. They were asking about the trip and I told them about the website and the one guy in the back went right to it. He shouted out to the front desk where I was finishing the signing in process, "Hey, I didn’t know they added a fifth head on Mount Rushmore!!!" We all went back for a look, and everyone had a good laugh.

Karen got a bunch of things checked off her list today. She balanced her check statement on-line, she did her laundry, she wrote some old fashioned postcards, she worked some more on updating the expense listing, and she re-waterproofed our boots. She also patched the red bag that had fallen off yesterday on the highway. ("My new red waterproof bag now looks like a hobo bag!") She also made dinner from some of the stuff we grocery shopped (refried beans, salad fixings, pb&j, bread), made lunches for tomorrow and worked on our routing for the next few days ahead taking us into northern California.

I put together a picture showing what all goes on our bike for those trying to figure how we carry a lot of what we do. By clicking the image below, you will get a much larger version of it so you can see all its details.

PLEASE CLICK THE PICTURE

July 12, 2005 - Tuesday – Day 17

2005-07-13T15:54:00.000-04:00

48 States or Bust – The USA on Two Wheels
Miles Today: 300 - Total Miles: 4375 – Daily Average: 257.4
12:30-7PM – 6.5 hours
Livingston,MT to Superior,MT (just west of Missoula)
(-stayed at the Budget Host Big Sky Motel (MT– 18/48)
- HEAT AND TRAVEL -

It was to be a travel day of mainly hunkering down and putting in the miles on a hot day in July motorcycling through the state of Montana.

We slept a little later than usual. Then it was heading into town to send some more things home – more articles that we didn’t need and some of Karen’s souvenirs she bought yesterday.

I had a wonderful morning run out into the country, down lanes with wonderful rural names like "Willow Bend." I was going out for the usual mile and then, as I like to do, thought of what I was hoping would be another way back. In some ways regrettably, it was not a way back without considerable rounding about to get to the main highway again. Got some good pictures along the way though.

Our first leg to Butte was 110 miles through the afternoon heat. Huge, mainly rocky mountain landscape on both sides throughout the day.

At Deer Lodge, a friendly fellow with a huge moustache was leaning out of his truck window with a warm wonderful smile on his face. Kelly was a water tester and I could see he was taking samples at that gas station. He traveled all over the state checking water purities. We chatted for awhile about Butte and how it had changed in the 18 years since I had been there before. I asked him if he remembered the buffalo that use to roam near the interstate, but he did not. He mentioned how much the place had grown in the intervening years.

Some dad at the Taco Bell in Missoula was wearing a t-shirt that read, "Bike Naked in Yellowstone – It Will Bring Color to your Cheeks!" I motioned him over with a smile and said to him, "Well sir, it begs the question, 'HAVE you biked naked in Yellowstone?'" He gave a hearty laugh and said no, not on this recent visit. His cute 4 year old or so daughter laughed at the idea.

Whenever we take off from a dead stop, I get a little couple taps from Karen on the back of my helmet to let me know she’s ready.

A few miles out of Missoula, toward the end of the day, the red little rain proof pack which we keep on the top of the back bag came flying off on Interstate 90! I saw it go in the rearview mirror, pulled over to the side, and then trudged the quarter-mile or so after it.

Karen noted it’s odd to see big billboards and advertisements just have seven digit phone numbers listed. Back home, of course, in the more populated East, we need 10-digits to even call across the street. She also noted that seeing the trees on the top of ridges reminded her of seeing old John Wayne movies where the Indians would be watching the wagon trains coming through the passes.

A common courtesy among motorcyclists is to give a little wave as we pass when we go opposite directions on the roadway. Except for the most hardnosed biker, most do. When riding, Karen and I both generally wave to a passing biker. Karen, so used to doing it by now, was walking along the street with me recently and gave a wave to a passing motorcyclist without even thinking.

I ran out of energy around 7:30ish and we decided to stop at 300 miles, well short of our goal of Spokane. Found a very nice and surprisingly reasonable place in Superior, MT, just off the interstate.

After I finished checking in, I came back to the bike where Karen was engrossed in conversation with someone who just had checked in. Tom was a bicyclist and he had brought his and his wife’s bicycle from Seattle (his license plate: RAINY 1). And they were in the area for some cycling. He was impressed with the map of my cycling and he told us that his daughter had bicycled around the world.

Karen got somewhat caught up on keeping track of the receipts and her emailings. I worked on the journal and was happy to finally have a room’s wireless internet work properly without losing time to get it fixed.