CraigRegs
Well-known member
Well, I'd have had a RR earlier, but part of my arrangement for spending a week on the bike was to refurbish our deck upon my return. So with that (almost) done, I find time to sort photos, recollect, and write.
My plan was 3 days getting from Des Moines to Mariposa with a couple of side trips thrown in (pink, yellow, and blue on the map), 2 days at YFO, and 2 days hauling ass back (green and red).
The day after Memorial Day, I was on the bike by 4:45am, starting my trek across the Great Plains. And because time was limited it was I-80 to Salt Lake City the first day for 1085 miles. I do appreciate states that have adopted 80 mph!
The next morning, I was on the road by 6:30. With a full tank and a belly full of the free continental breakfast, it's across the salt flats, arrow straight, cruise set.
And then a stop at the place where legends are made. Unfortunately, none of that magic rubbed off on me...
...just salt.
I couldn't ride this far, cross Nevada, and not take a short detour north to the IBA memorial in Gerlach. Like a lot of places, I've seen pictures, but being there alters and sharpens your perspective on how it fits in the world. Standing there on the edge of the Black Rock desert, having crept over the granite and gravel, past the folk art that leads up to the memorial, and seeing the names on the totem and in the memorial garden gave me pause.
Whose name will be added this year?
Looking at my Spotwalla track, it's neat that one can pick out the memorial and the picnic table on the satellite image.
Behind the memorial is a tribute from home. Can you see that fleck of red in the scrub brush?
I need to ride up to Webster City and meet Dennis Powell, the guy who created this.
From Gerlach, I backtracked to I-80 until Yuba Pass, CA where I shifted to CA20, taking me to my next overnight in Yuba City. Before tucking in for the night, I walked to Walmart for some supplies, and on the way back decided to stop at Taco Bell for dinner. Primarily because it was right next to the hotel, and I was tired. And apparently I looked it. After ringing up my order for $6.39, the girl behind the counter gave me $4.54 in change for my $10 bill. "Great," I thought, "Another millenial who can't make change." As I pointed out what I thought was an error, she said, "Oh, I forgot to ring it up, but I gave you the senior discount." I was simultaneously bemused and depressed. First time ever for that. I suppose it will become more frequent and less surprising from here on.
Day 3, Thursday, would end in Mariposa, but first I was determined to get to the edge of the continent. Bodega Bay was foggy when I arrived in mid-morning, but still...I made it. One shining sea down...one to go. I rode north on Highway 1 for a few miles, just to say I had ridden it, but obviously there is far more to it than I could cover. I shall return. When the road is cleared and the bridges rebuilt...
And on the way to Bodega Bay, I got a taste of lane sharing!
Nirvana! Why, oh why, isn't the rest of the country this enlightened? Later, around Modesto, I lane shared for probably 5-6 consecutive miles. I can't imagine having to sit in that stop-and- go traffic, sweating more about who's running down my 6 than from the heat. Back home in Iowa, it's been tough to resist filtering between lanes and to the front of the line.
After my brief caress of the PCH, working back inland, my GPS took me on a goat path that receives a fair amount of attention from Cal Trans. At least judging from the patched patches under more layers of patched patches. I stood on the pegs until my thighs burned, then just sat and let the road rearrange my fillings. After finally rejoining Highway 1, the next stop was Fairfield to meet my cousin and her husband who live in the Bay Area. For convenience, and to check another item off my bucket list, we met at an In-n-Out burger.
Good burger, great fries, but I'm still giving the nod in both departments to my hometown chain, B-bops. Stop by and make the comparison yourself.
After a few hours of visiting, I was off to finish the trek to Mariposa, lane splitting like a pro through Stockton and Modesto, then bumping along another goat path, Old Toll Road. And take a toll, it did. Upon arrival at the Mariposa Lodge, I discovered my left bag hanging by one hook! Another bump, and I may have lost it altogether. Pinning it to the mount is now on the list.
Not long after arriving, the Loosyana contingent rolled in and I had a chance to meet 'pants, Redfish, and the man who was on everyone's "to-meet" list, Pops. He and I chatted for a while, and I came away even more impressed with him, and a bit envious of the relationship he and RFH have. Having lost my dad last year, I can only wish for the kind of time these two have had to enjoy each other and their mutual love of riding.
More in the next post, wherein we actually go to the Y in YFO.
My plan was 3 days getting from Des Moines to Mariposa with a couple of side trips thrown in (pink, yellow, and blue on the map), 2 days at YFO, and 2 days hauling ass back (green and red).
The day after Memorial Day, I was on the bike by 4:45am, starting my trek across the Great Plains. And because time was limited it was I-80 to Salt Lake City the first day for 1085 miles. I do appreciate states that have adopted 80 mph!
The next morning, I was on the road by 6:30. With a full tank and a belly full of the free continental breakfast, it's across the salt flats, arrow straight, cruise set.
And then a stop at the place where legends are made. Unfortunately, none of that magic rubbed off on me...
...just salt.
I couldn't ride this far, cross Nevada, and not take a short detour north to the IBA memorial in Gerlach. Like a lot of places, I've seen pictures, but being there alters and sharpens your perspective on how it fits in the world. Standing there on the edge of the Black Rock desert, having crept over the granite and gravel, past the folk art that leads up to the memorial, and seeing the names on the totem and in the memorial garden gave me pause.
Whose name will be added this year?
Looking at my Spotwalla track, it's neat that one can pick out the memorial and the picnic table on the satellite image.
Behind the memorial is a tribute from home. Can you see that fleck of red in the scrub brush?
I need to ride up to Webster City and meet Dennis Powell, the guy who created this.
From Gerlach, I backtracked to I-80 until Yuba Pass, CA where I shifted to CA20, taking me to my next overnight in Yuba City. Before tucking in for the night, I walked to Walmart for some supplies, and on the way back decided to stop at Taco Bell for dinner. Primarily because it was right next to the hotel, and I was tired. And apparently I looked it. After ringing up my order for $6.39, the girl behind the counter gave me $4.54 in change for my $10 bill. "Great," I thought, "Another millenial who can't make change." As I pointed out what I thought was an error, she said, "Oh, I forgot to ring it up, but I gave you the senior discount." I was simultaneously bemused and depressed. First time ever for that. I suppose it will become more frequent and less surprising from here on.
Day 3, Thursday, would end in Mariposa, but first I was determined to get to the edge of the continent. Bodega Bay was foggy when I arrived in mid-morning, but still...I made it. One shining sea down...one to go. I rode north on Highway 1 for a few miles, just to say I had ridden it, but obviously there is far more to it than I could cover. I shall return. When the road is cleared and the bridges rebuilt...
And on the way to Bodega Bay, I got a taste of lane sharing!
Nirvana! Why, oh why, isn't the rest of the country this enlightened? Later, around Modesto, I lane shared for probably 5-6 consecutive miles. I can't imagine having to sit in that stop-and- go traffic, sweating more about who's running down my 6 than from the heat. Back home in Iowa, it's been tough to resist filtering between lanes and to the front of the line.
After my brief caress of the PCH, working back inland, my GPS took me on a goat path that receives a fair amount of attention from Cal Trans. At least judging from the patched patches under more layers of patched patches. I stood on the pegs until my thighs burned, then just sat and let the road rearrange my fillings. After finally rejoining Highway 1, the next stop was Fairfield to meet my cousin and her husband who live in the Bay Area. For convenience, and to check another item off my bucket list, we met at an In-n-Out burger.
Good burger, great fries, but I'm still giving the nod in both departments to my hometown chain, B-bops. Stop by and make the comparison yourself.
After a few hours of visiting, I was off to finish the trek to Mariposa, lane splitting like a pro through Stockton and Modesto, then bumping along another goat path, Old Toll Road. And take a toll, it did. Upon arrival at the Mariposa Lodge, I discovered my left bag hanging by one hook! Another bump, and I may have lost it altogether. Pinning it to the mount is now on the list.
Not long after arriving, the Loosyana contingent rolled in and I had a chance to meet 'pants, Redfish, and the man who was on everyone's "to-meet" list, Pops. He and I chatted for a while, and I came away even more impressed with him, and a bit envious of the relationship he and RFH have. Having lost my dad last year, I can only wish for the kind of time these two have had to enjoy each other and their mutual love of riding.
More in the next post, wherein we actually go to the Y in YFO.
