Before Hudson takes us too far afield, we're here for a trip report, right? So...here we go!
Come on up for a few days...he said. It'll be great, we can take the bikes and ride around...he said. It'll be fun...an adventure ... he...said...
Thus began our plan for 4 days of riding in the PNW. Me, Dave, the FJR and the KTM 1190 Adventure R. Our plan was formed in Dave's fertile, nay...composted...mind. Like an addict, he overdosed on twisty while consuming maps of North Eastern Oregon and Idaho. I was happy to let him plan. He knew the bikes best, so knew the right terrain and distances. Besides, he nerds out on route planning, so who was I to steal that joy from him?
Planned Day 1
Planned Day 2
Planned Day 3
Early the week of our trip the emails started. Links to several days worth of riding all mapped out. Thursday, Day 1, was to be a 400 miler, plus or minus. OK, full day, but I've done more. Day 2 was going to be...over 600 miles. Again, done more...but I was beginning to question Dave's motives here. Saturday would be another 400 - 500 mile day. FML.
OK. I figured I was equal to this task despite it's distances. I mean, c'mon. I did 3100 miles in 8 days last summer. Plus, I fully expected Dave's aging carcass to give out, piece by piece well before we hit our target distances.
Still, that Day 2 didn't feel very relaxing to me. But whatevs. I was committed. Flight booked, male ego on the hook and all. No choice - move forward. And so it went.
Wednesday dawned with a whiff of anticipation in the air. Alternatively, one of our dogs may have farted. I took no time to consider either as I grabbed my gear and headed to the office for a day of client meetings prior to a run to LAX and a shuttle flight to SEATAC. Dave would be there to pick me up, so the only thing left to do was dial up a fun movie for the flight (Deadpool) and coast into town getting jacked up on awesome music!
By the time Dave rolled to the curb at the airport in his new rental-car-rejected, man-card-ejecting, fleet-manager-pleasing Honda Accord I was ready to ride! Bring it! New phrase of motivation? MAXIMUM EFFORT! (Courtesy of Deadpool, natch.)
Early in our planning I made the conscious decision to not bring my GoPro and no camera, sacrificing photos for being in the moment. Swapping the interruption of "the flow" for, well, enjoying the damn moment. Thus many of our best moments went unrecorded. We'd later be grateful for this...
Day one, Thursday, dawned bright and clear. A decent night's rest set me up for smooth runnings this day, despite our late night tending to details. After running a couple errands, including introing Dave to my old neighbor Linda, and watching him geek out over her train set, we blasted back to the Hacienda Verde to pack and dash.
I opted for the KTM, wanting to get some seat time on that surly beast and see if, as a package, it was worthy of it's reputation. I can sum it up thusly: whatever KTM is sending out in press releases, that bike is the real deal. Yes, I want! Of course, I didn't know that when we started out. I just knew we had to make some miles to get outta WA and down to John Day OR for the night.
This is the moment where I have to confess. I lied. See Dave asked if I'd ridden Yakima Canyon and been through Ellensburg. After living in Redmond for 8 years I figured I must have, so like Daniel Craig in his coolest James Bond moments, I said, "Of course I've been to those places."
I hadn't.
Upon leaving the I90 after a pleasing 45 minute nap, at Cle Elum, we hung a right. Ruh Ro...never been here before!
And within seconds, my man's seemingly impenetrable wall of fuzz-busting electronics were put to the test. They failed. Our Mark 1 eyeballs spotted the gent in the cruiser before anything electronic woke up. In fairness, he was turning on to the main road, so likely wasn't irradiating the nearby countryside. I was ever so grateful when we glanced at us and decided to head the opposite way. The road was clear...and damn! What a road it was! Do I need to explain that as speeds increased everything gets more...lively.
We had a very lively start to our day...
We'd seen some military rigs on the highway earlier in the day, passing them with a jaunty wave. Checking the rearview mirror we saw the STUDENT DRIVER signs hung on their front bumpers. We crawled through Ellensburg where it hit me like a hammer - I'd never been there before. I thought I had, but hadn't. Such a rookie mistake! On the other side of town, slipping down the 97, as we pulled into a gas station, we passed more soldiers learning to drive big war rigs. Busy day for the miltary teaching their crews to handle heavy iron in public. We escaped unscathed with more waves of encouragement. Secretly, we probably both would have swapped a ride on our bikes for a few minutes commanding one of those gigantic trucks.
At the gas station, Dave still hadn't disconnected from work life. His stereotypical Microsoft gotta-go-gotta-go energy had him launching for orbit while I was still getting ready. This disconnect had him stewing in his juices while I chatted with a biker we'd passed in the canyon a bit earlier. Turns out the guy was taking several months off life to go motorcycling, telling his boss, "You either give me the time or I quit." He said he was due back in Colorado on Sept. 6th. Righteous.
By now the temps were creeping up, but it must be said, it never got really uncomfortable. Of course, if we all remember back to our rider training classes (those who took them), or to any one of your Fall rides, you understand "wind chill". Basically the cooler the temp, when combined with your motion through it, makes the air "feel" colder. Altitude has an effect of course, but did you know that if you rotate the speedo beyond Mach 1, the air chills nicely? We were nice and cool...
A bit more on the 97, then we hopped to the Bickleton Highway. Lunch was at the awesome Bluebird Inn in Bickleton. This is where things began to get weird. We both ordered salad with our sandwiches, foregoing fries. No idea what overtook us. But damned if we didn't enjoy the leafy bits. Followed by cherry pie with ice cream, of course. After hoisting the KTM Adventure off the Camel Toe equipped side stand's 40 degree lean, we beat it further South. Grabbing gas at Bigg's Junction, we stepped inside to cool off a bit and deal with the middle-aged need to mark territory every 30 miles or so. I'm beginning to understand the allure of a Harley. The ride comfort matches ideally with an aging gent's need to urinate frequently...LOL (I kid!)
As Dave stands near the ATM guzzling a Gatorade and swearing it not only tastes good, but gives him wings, I spot a twenty sitting in the tray of the ATM. Apparently the last user left one behind. I scooped it up and spent about 1.5 seconds deciding to get in line and give it to the cashier in case the rightful owner came back in. Yeah, I know - highly unlikely, but it was the right thing to do, so it was what was done. As we left, Dave was formulating a plan to return to the station to claim the twenty in 30 days...
Filled with the right liquids and emptied of the wrong liquids, we took to the highway again. Blasting South, or East, or who the h*ck knew what direction I was going in, we enjoyed things immensely as the roads became less straight and more twisty. The rest of our run to John Day was completed with much gusto, on schedule, with no drama and maximum leaning. We spotted a few deer along the roadsides, but they mostly stared and went back to munching.
At the Best Western, Dave was overjoyed to learn about the hot tub. I just wanted a hot shower.
A walk to dinner netted us a real gem. We found a locally produced map for motorcyclists. Red roads are paved. Blue are dirt. Purple are highways. This map became our new best friend as we refactored Day 2's riding. Dropping our mile count by a couple hundred, we found some very tasty roads. Roads that had been recommended to us by friends, but that we had no first-hand knowledge of. This map painted a clear picture. We must ride these roads!
