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Sacramento to Green Bay Part II
- Thread starter Old Michael
- Start date
Help Support Yamaha FJR Motorcycle Forum:
James Burleigh
Well-known member
I am a fan of your pictures, your writing, and your trip. I mean, most trip reports (that have an ending anyway :glare: ) are just about going from here to there and seeing some pretty sights and riding the motorcycle. Your report is about a journey, a sojourn, a quest--and that makes it rise to the level of epic. Thank you. Be safe coming home.
Jb
Jb
Midlifefjr
Well-known member
Awesome ride report - makes me want to fire up the ride and hit the road. Be safe. :yahoo:
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Day 10
On…….to…….Yellowstone. Dying. Where’s Kevorkian when you need him?
Okay, I’m hung over. Sorry. The ibuprofen isn’t working.
But, that ain’t gonna keep me down. Up at dawn. I can hear Chitown’s alarm being repeatedly
slapped back to snooze.
I pack up my tent and gear, trying not to bend over and send myself into shock. Ow. Ow. Ow.
Quickly to a nearby MacDonalds for some joe. There will be no “100 miles to the first cup” this
morning. The little lady at the counter looks at me with disgust. I go to their bathroom, and
I look at me with disgust.
Great decision-making dude! Especially the Scotch! Now get on that motorcycle and ride for
10 or 12 hours up over some mountain passes ! Through Yellowstone! On the Sunday of
Labor Day weekend! In heavy traffic!
I climb aboard my Yamaha, lurch out of the parking lot, ease up the onramp, and hunker
down for the trip up to Billings. Gosh, this motorcycle is loud.
Big sky country!
Okay, in what seems like about a month of freeway, I’m through Billings and finding my way
onto 212 toward Yellowstone.
Ralphie was uncomfortable posing for this one.
As I approach Red Lodge, I pass through a few miles of incredible carnage. It appears that the
night before was a deadly one for animals crossing the highway, and every few hundred yards
I come upon another bloody scene, strewn with animal flesh and organs and fur and …. Sheesh!
There were a variety of casualties, but at least 3 deer it seems. And in the dark I suppose
they were hit repeatedly. They’re gonna need a fire hose to clean this up. Moving on.
At a quiet roadside rest stop, I finally pull over, find a quiet corner with a shaded picnic table,
and take a 40-minute recuperative nap.
Onward and upward!
212 into the Northeast Entrance to Yellowstone is an amazing road. It’s a fantastic climb up
to well over 10,000 feet and through Beartooth Pass. Traffic wasn’t bad yet, the air was cool
and dry, and the 17 ibuprofens I’d ingested were starting to do their job. The overlooks and
vista points were packed with cars, but on a bike you can always find a place to park.
Up and over Beartooth Pass.
I had decided that because I’d timed it rather poorly, I was going to just cruise through a part
of Yellowstone, go out the West entrance, and continue on my voyage.
Amazing country - a bit like Yosemite? Oh, and product placement. Sorry.
One could spend days here with a camera.
Next year, I hope to come this way, tour Colorado more extensively, take some time in
Yellowstone, and then shoot up to Glacier and do some camping. (The following year – Alaska and Canada!)
I’ve been on the road for a lot of days now, and I must admit, I’m wearing down.
Unlike most readers of this forum, I’m not a young fellow any more, and lots of 500++ mile
days are taking their toll. If you’ve been reading this crap through all of these posts,
you’re probably wishing it was over too. A couple of more days. Whew!
After a bit of a wait getting through the gate, I was into the park, for the first time in my life,
and it’s something to see. There’s still plenty of evidence of all the fires a few years back,
but mother nature recovers, and beautifully.
Taken while riding. Not good photos. Not good idea.
This may be starting to affect my gas mileage.
As most folks are aware, this park, or any of our national parks, can’t be appreciated by just
driving through them. Ya gotta put on a backpack and explore.
Though my quick trip through wasn’t what I’d have preferred, it did have its moments.
I of course saw hundreds of bison, elk, and ………motorhomes. At one point, I rode within a
couple of feet of a buffalo on the side of the road. I didn’t see him until I was near enough
to smell him. Then it was –just keep riding and pray he’s docile. He was. I don’t know if
they always are. Wildlife.
There's a buffalo out in that field. See him.
Didn’t see any bears. I’ve NEVER seen a bear in the wild, dammit. And I live almost in
the shadow of the Sierra Nevadas. I was once, however, married to …..uh, never mind.
Well, almost too soon, I’ve exited Yellowstone and find myself in the lovely little clogged,
congested town of West Yellowstone. And I’m treated to $4-a-gallon regular gas. Hmmm.
Okay. Hwy. 191 to Bozeman! Great road. Great scenery. Relatively light traffic. Smooth asphalt.
Too much light-I'm learning- but that water HAD to be cold!
Hwy. 191. Very pleasant. More relaxing than Yellowstone.
And it’s gotten a bit cooler this afternoon. Nice riding. This day is ending sooooo much better
than it began.
An hour or so before sundown, I check into the KOA at Gallatin Gateway, just outside Bozeman.
I even had my own spruce tree.
A quick sandwich, and I hit the sack. Nearly home. Well, sort of nearly.
Made it!
Motorcycling is good. Lots of ways.
Day 10 mileage – 582.
On…….to…….Yellowstone. Dying. Where’s Kevorkian when you need him?
Okay, I’m hung over. Sorry. The ibuprofen isn’t working.
But, that ain’t gonna keep me down. Up at dawn. I can hear Chitown’s alarm being repeatedly
slapped back to snooze.
I pack up my tent and gear, trying not to bend over and send myself into shock. Ow. Ow. Ow.
Quickly to a nearby MacDonalds for some joe. There will be no “100 miles to the first cup” this
morning. The little lady at the counter looks at me with disgust. I go to their bathroom, and
I look at me with disgust.
Great decision-making dude! Especially the Scotch! Now get on that motorcycle and ride for
10 or 12 hours up over some mountain passes ! Through Yellowstone! On the Sunday of
Labor Day weekend! In heavy traffic!
I climb aboard my Yamaha, lurch out of the parking lot, ease up the onramp, and hunker
down for the trip up to Billings. Gosh, this motorcycle is loud.
Big sky country!
Okay, in what seems like about a month of freeway, I’m through Billings and finding my way
onto 212 toward Yellowstone.
Ralphie was uncomfortable posing for this one.
As I approach Red Lodge, I pass through a few miles of incredible carnage. It appears that the
night before was a deadly one for animals crossing the highway, and every few hundred yards
I come upon another bloody scene, strewn with animal flesh and organs and fur and …. Sheesh!
There were a variety of casualties, but at least 3 deer it seems. And in the dark I suppose
they were hit repeatedly. They’re gonna need a fire hose to clean this up. Moving on.
At a quiet roadside rest stop, I finally pull over, find a quiet corner with a shaded picnic table,
and take a 40-minute recuperative nap.
Onward and upward!
212 into the Northeast Entrance to Yellowstone is an amazing road. It’s a fantastic climb up
to well over 10,000 feet and through Beartooth Pass. Traffic wasn’t bad yet, the air was cool
and dry, and the 17 ibuprofens I’d ingested were starting to do their job. The overlooks and
vista points were packed with cars, but on a bike you can always find a place to park.
Up and over Beartooth Pass.
I had decided that because I’d timed it rather poorly, I was going to just cruise through a part
of Yellowstone, go out the West entrance, and continue on my voyage.
Amazing country - a bit like Yosemite? Oh, and product placement. Sorry.
One could spend days here with a camera.
Next year, I hope to come this way, tour Colorado more extensively, take some time in
Yellowstone, and then shoot up to Glacier and do some camping. (The following year – Alaska and Canada!)
I’ve been on the road for a lot of days now, and I must admit, I’m wearing down.
Unlike most readers of this forum, I’m not a young fellow any more, and lots of 500++ mile
days are taking their toll. If you’ve been reading this crap through all of these posts,
you’re probably wishing it was over too. A couple of more days. Whew!
After a bit of a wait getting through the gate, I was into the park, for the first time in my life,
and it’s something to see. There’s still plenty of evidence of all the fires a few years back,
but mother nature recovers, and beautifully.
Taken while riding. Not good photos. Not good idea.
This may be starting to affect my gas mileage.
As most folks are aware, this park, or any of our national parks, can’t be appreciated by just
driving through them. Ya gotta put on a backpack and explore.
Though my quick trip through wasn’t what I’d have preferred, it did have its moments.
I of course saw hundreds of bison, elk, and ………motorhomes. At one point, I rode within a
couple of feet of a buffalo on the side of the road. I didn’t see him until I was near enough
to smell him. Then it was –just keep riding and pray he’s docile. He was. I don’t know if
they always are. Wildlife.
There's a buffalo out in that field. See him.
Didn’t see any bears. I’ve NEVER seen a bear in the wild, dammit. And I live almost in
the shadow of the Sierra Nevadas. I was once, however, married to …..uh, never mind.
Well, almost too soon, I’ve exited Yellowstone and find myself in the lovely little clogged,
congested town of West Yellowstone. And I’m treated to $4-a-gallon regular gas. Hmmm.
Okay. Hwy. 191 to Bozeman! Great road. Great scenery. Relatively light traffic. Smooth asphalt.
Too much light-I'm learning- but that water HAD to be cold!
Hwy. 191. Very pleasant. More relaxing than Yellowstone.
And it’s gotten a bit cooler this afternoon. Nice riding. This day is ending sooooo much better
than it began.
An hour or so before sundown, I check into the KOA at Gallatin Gateway, just outside Bozeman.
I even had my own spruce tree.
A quick sandwich, and I hit the sack. Nearly home. Well, sort of nearly.
Made it!
Motorcycling is good. Lots of ways.
Day 10 mileage – 582.
Day EEEEE – leven!
Packed up in the dark, and left in the dark – about 5 a.m. I reckon. A campground is a quiet place
at this hour. Walking to the bathrooms, I chuckled at how many snorers I could hear. I considered
pushing my fully laden FJR to the exit so as not to awaken anyone – but nah. Try pushing 600+ lbs.
on gravel in the dark. Maybe if they were selling trusses at the exit.
Out smoothly, watching once again for deer, and shortly I’m on I-90 aimed for Missoula. It’s a might
chilly, especially at speed, but I’m feeling great, and I can almost smell the Pacific. Or maybe, it’s
that I haven’t showered in a couple of days. Hey, I’m a vagabond. I got a right. What with the riding,
and camping, and my disdain for public showers (in public bathrooms!) I’ve fallen a bit behind on
some stuff. I have, however, kept up on my oral hygiene. Still flossing twice a day. Ya only
get one set of teeth!
Do you think I sometimes go into too much detail here? Have your attorneys contact…..
I-90 through this part of Montana is a road that invites one to go very fast. So I did. Mostly
straight with groups of very nice high speed sweepers here and there, it made for a very pleasant
start to my day. I ran a couple of hundred yards behind a fellow rider on a BMW for quite awhile.
I soon was able to tell that he was running with his cruise on 87 mph. My speedo was showing
about 92, and I’m pretty sure of the 5mph error. Well, he was a very disciplined sort. Actually,
I never saw him move. He could have been a robot. Always perfectly in the dead center of
his lane. He never leaned his body, or moved his head. I didn’t even see his glove move
when he signaled a pass. I followed him for almost an hour, until I turned off at Missoula.
I wonder what he did when he got to the ocean.
I took HIGHWAY TWELVE from Missoula, and into Idaho.
How many states are there, anyway?
It was great to be back in the Pacific
time zone. (I hadn’t reset my watch during the trip.)
This is a group of Gold Wing riders who I'd leapfrog for a good part of the day. I'd stop for photos, and
they'd stop to **** and plunder. That's what these Wing Nuts do. They scare me.
Holy crap! What a friggin’ road 12 was!
If I was a better rider, I could have done some incredible things on this stretch of pavement.
As many of the more seasoned readers of this forum know, this road follows a river valley for
most of its length (the Lochsa River), and it’s just a blast to ride. You enter Idaho through the
Lolo Pass, and the fun continues for hours. And then some more.
There was a smokey haze in the air all day from a fire somewhere in the canyon. Or maybe it was a
smokin' hot FJR coming through here that day.
Note, the flat spot on my Pilot Roads. Interstates. Or me.
What's that sound coming?
I’ve promised myself that
I’ll retrace this route next year during my Glacier Park trip. And it looks like it would make for some fantastic
river rafting. I’ll not say much else. I’m sure many could chime in if they’ve ridden it.
On the downside, I ended up not getting many grand views of Idaho, since I spent my entire ride
through the state in a forested river valley. Looking on my maps though, it appears that Idaho
is a state one could spend weeks riding and enjoying. I noticed parts of 93, and 21, and 75,
and 55. Making notes.
By afternoon, I was to, and through Lewiston, and suddenly into Washington!
Lewiston. That's a, uh, industrial, uh, thing over there.
I almost got run over taking this photo. But it's worth it to get these cheezy "welcome to" shots,
don't you think?
Things got noticeably less exciting through these parts. And I had my first LEO encounter of
the trip. I was cruising along at speed and suddenly, on a long, twisting downhill, I zoomed
into a 35mph zone entering a little town – I think it was Pomeroy or Pataha –not sure – and still
at 60 I see this police car on my right. I grab the brakes just as he hits his lights, points to his
radar gun, and wags his finger at me. Then he turns off the reds, and just watches me go by.
Bless his heart. I almost went back to shake his hand. Almost.
Some small town shots- The Columbia County Courthouse in Dayton ....and an FJR.
Midday light wrecks my shots. I gotta figure out a cure. I'm sure it's just the camera. Ha!
Western Washington is a part of Washington State that I never knew existed. I mean, I ignorantly
thought the whole state was covered with pine forests, and …….coffee shops.
...the FJR is a relatively small motorcycle... Relatively.
These guys put this sign out to lure me into stopping. It worked!
I switched to 124 at Waitsburg, and headed into “the tri-city area” of Kennewick, Richland, and
Pasco. What a clusterf*ck. I’d been planning on jumping on to I-82 south into Oregon next,
but there are absolutely NO signs advising of its existence as you go through this metropolis of
convoluted highways. I VERY seldom get lost, but I managed it here. When I stopped into a
gas station to get my bearings, I encountered a fellow motorist asking me, how the hell could
he get on 82 south! We both went inside for help. Well, it was late, and I decided to just get
a room and call it a night right here in friggin’ Kennewick. And weather was approaching, so
all the better.
It felt good knowing that tomorrow at this time, I’d likely be in California again.
Super 8, KFC, charge electronics, write in log, and fall asleep watching . …….
Day 11 mileage – 587. A trend?
Packed up in the dark, and left in the dark – about 5 a.m. I reckon. A campground is a quiet place
at this hour. Walking to the bathrooms, I chuckled at how many snorers I could hear. I considered
pushing my fully laden FJR to the exit so as not to awaken anyone – but nah. Try pushing 600+ lbs.
on gravel in the dark. Maybe if they were selling trusses at the exit.
Out smoothly, watching once again for deer, and shortly I’m on I-90 aimed for Missoula. It’s a might
chilly, especially at speed, but I’m feeling great, and I can almost smell the Pacific. Or maybe, it’s
that I haven’t showered in a couple of days. Hey, I’m a vagabond. I got a right. What with the riding,
and camping, and my disdain for public showers (in public bathrooms!) I’ve fallen a bit behind on
some stuff. I have, however, kept up on my oral hygiene. Still flossing twice a day. Ya only
get one set of teeth!
Do you think I sometimes go into too much detail here? Have your attorneys contact…..
I-90 through this part of Montana is a road that invites one to go very fast. So I did. Mostly
straight with groups of very nice high speed sweepers here and there, it made for a very pleasant
start to my day. I ran a couple of hundred yards behind a fellow rider on a BMW for quite awhile.
I soon was able to tell that he was running with his cruise on 87 mph. My speedo was showing
about 92, and I’m pretty sure of the 5mph error. Well, he was a very disciplined sort. Actually,
I never saw him move. He could have been a robot. Always perfectly in the dead center of
his lane. He never leaned his body, or moved his head. I didn’t even see his glove move
when he signaled a pass. I followed him for almost an hour, until I turned off at Missoula.
I wonder what he did when he got to the ocean.
I took HIGHWAY TWELVE from Missoula, and into Idaho.
How many states are there, anyway?
It was great to be back in the Pacific
time zone. (I hadn’t reset my watch during the trip.)
This is a group of Gold Wing riders who I'd leapfrog for a good part of the day. I'd stop for photos, and
they'd stop to **** and plunder. That's what these Wing Nuts do. They scare me.
Holy crap! What a friggin’ road 12 was!
If I was a better rider, I could have done some incredible things on this stretch of pavement.
As many of the more seasoned readers of this forum know, this road follows a river valley for
most of its length (the Lochsa River), and it’s just a blast to ride. You enter Idaho through the
Lolo Pass, and the fun continues for hours. And then some more.
There was a smokey haze in the air all day from a fire somewhere in the canyon. Or maybe it was a
smokin' hot FJR coming through here that day.
Note, the flat spot on my Pilot Roads. Interstates. Or me.
What's that sound coming?
I’ve promised myself that
I’ll retrace this route next year during my Glacier Park trip. And it looks like it would make for some fantastic
river rafting. I’ll not say much else. I’m sure many could chime in if they’ve ridden it.
On the downside, I ended up not getting many grand views of Idaho, since I spent my entire ride
through the state in a forested river valley. Looking on my maps though, it appears that Idaho
is a state one could spend weeks riding and enjoying. I noticed parts of 93, and 21, and 75,
and 55. Making notes.
By afternoon, I was to, and through Lewiston, and suddenly into Washington!
Lewiston. That's a, uh, industrial, uh, thing over there.
I almost got run over taking this photo. But it's worth it to get these cheezy "welcome to" shots,
don't you think?
Things got noticeably less exciting through these parts. And I had my first LEO encounter of
the trip. I was cruising along at speed and suddenly, on a long, twisting downhill, I zoomed
into a 35mph zone entering a little town – I think it was Pomeroy or Pataha –not sure – and still
at 60 I see this police car on my right. I grab the brakes just as he hits his lights, points to his
radar gun, and wags his finger at me. Then he turns off the reds, and just watches me go by.
Bless his heart. I almost went back to shake his hand. Almost.
Some small town shots- The Columbia County Courthouse in Dayton ....and an FJR.
Midday light wrecks my shots. I gotta figure out a cure. I'm sure it's just the camera. Ha!
Western Washington is a part of Washington State that I never knew existed. I mean, I ignorantly
thought the whole state was covered with pine forests, and …….coffee shops.
...the FJR is a relatively small motorcycle... Relatively.
These guys put this sign out to lure me into stopping. It worked!
I switched to 124 at Waitsburg, and headed into “the tri-city area” of Kennewick, Richland, and
Pasco. What a clusterf*ck. I’d been planning on jumping on to I-82 south into Oregon next,
but there are absolutely NO signs advising of its existence as you go through this metropolis of
convoluted highways. I VERY seldom get lost, but I managed it here. When I stopped into a
gas station to get my bearings, I encountered a fellow motorist asking me, how the hell could
he get on 82 south! We both went inside for help. Well, it was late, and I decided to just get
a room and call it a night right here in friggin’ Kennewick. And weather was approaching, so
all the better.
It felt good knowing that tomorrow at this time, I’d likely be in California again.
Super 8, KFC, charge electronics, write in log, and fall asleep watching . …….
Day 11 mileage – 587. A trend?
DAY 12
The final push. I know. The only thing more draining than writing this, has been reading it.
Sorry. Hey, I was into it, okay! I just wish I could focus as much on constructive things.
Moving along…
The morning sky in Kennewick.
I bolted from Kennewick at first light in a drizzling rain. I had checked my oil and it was low
enough that I had to add most of a quart. I’d been putting off stopping to get an oil change,
but I was gonna find a place today and get it done. I’d gone well over 5000 miles so far, and
I didn’t want to make the final push home without taking care of Ralphie.
Looking at my planned route –an express run back to Sacto via the interstates- I planned on
finding a Yamaha shop in Portland and getting it done there.
Down 82 into Oregon and then a hard right and due west on I-84 to Portland. Once again, though
I’d been living in Northern California for almost 30 years, I’d never been through this area..
84 is really just another river road, following the Columbia all the way to Portland. Nice country,
and nicer the closer you get to Portland.
The road surface through here is sort of a course asphalt, maybe purposely because of the wet weather?
Don’t know. Anyway, the low clouds and imminent rain showers dogged me most of the way
to Portland. Then, at about The Dalles (how is that pronounced?) it started pouring on me.
The sky kept getting lower.
Not sure where this was . . . .
Cool bridge nearby.
Is it clearing up?
Then on and off till I was approaching Portand. Recognizing that I’d soon be in the freeway
maze of a large metropolitan area, I pulled off to see if I could find that dealer I needed to get
an oil change. Having thought about my plan, I began to consider that it was unrealistic
to think that I could easily
a. find a dealer
b. find a Yamaha dealer
c. find a Yamaha dealer who’d change my oil while I waited.
Yeah, I know, I know. If I had a Garmin it would have been a cinch. But I had only maps, my wits,
and as it turned out, a big bucket full of dumb luck.
I chose an exit at random, pulled into a gas station, and went inside to ask for a phone book.
For the hell of it, I asked the sleepy-looking kid at the counter if he knew of any motorcycle shops nearby.
“Well, there’s an ATV place a few blocks that way.” He said pointing south. “They might know where
a bike shop is.” he said blankly.
Worth a try. Following his “directions” I scooted up the street, made a left, went about 3
blocks, and EUREKA! This sight greeted me!
Notice which sign is biggest. You know what they say....
Speaking of big, is that a muffler, or a corn silo?
Inside their huge showroom, to the service desk, and I’m being told I’ll be back on the
road within an hour. Great crew, great service, and while I waited I got to wander around
looking at shiny stuff. Going okay so far…..
Why is the one in the middle so dirty?
What do we have here?
Are these things fast mister?
What the HELL is that?
Action Motor Sports. Tell ‘em some ***** on the FJR forum sent ya.
As promised, I was back on the road in about 45 minutes, and Ralphie was feeling much better
as we rode off into what soon became a downpour. No matter. We were now blasting south
on good ‘ol Interstate FIVE, bound for California and Sacramento.
I-5 is really not that bad a road through Oregon. Yes, it’s a bit tedious, but for an interstate,
it could be a lot worse. Lots of greenery, some changes in elevation, sweepers in some spots,
and lots of motorists trying to make good time and so making good “rabbits.”
I was coming to the end of my journey, and there were a bunch of things going through my mind.
It had been a hell of an adventure, but most of the adventure honestly had gone on inside
my helmet. Lots of changes the last year or so, and this trip allowed me to put a great
deal of it in perspective. And I’d made it home safely. That too is good.
I’ll not even attempt here to be profound in any way. Most of you reading this have been
on plenty of long rides, and likely lived through far more compelling stories than mine.
It sure is fun, isn’t it, this motorcycle thing?
I must mention a couple of conclusions that I’ve arrived at though.
Traveling solo is a completely different experience than riding with another. It’s not better
or worse, just completely different. I like it.
I think this motorcycle is just a great tool for exploration right out of the box. I’m sure there
are plenty of other bikes that are just as good, but I’ve become awfully fond of this blue one.
When you’ve absolutely no mechanical concerns, you can more fully focus on having the time of your life.
Okay, let’s wrap it up.
Shasta from afar.
A view of Mt. Shasta turned out to be the last time I’d stop for a photo on this trip. It was a welcome sight.
I pressed on and was back at my place a little after 9 p.m. The last 100 miles or so, I had to stop 3 times
just to clean my face shield. Lots of bugs after dark.
Hey! This last day of riding I put up 840 miles, including a stop for an oil change, rain for a
good part of it, and the bug thing. That damn near makes me an Iron Butt! Well, maybe another time.
Thanks to all who’ve slogged through this and especially
those who’ve offered comments. It was greatly appreciated. Peace.
Trip total - 6218 miles.
The final push. I know. The only thing more draining than writing this, has been reading it.
Sorry. Hey, I was into it, okay! I just wish I could focus as much on constructive things.
Moving along…
The morning sky in Kennewick.
I bolted from Kennewick at first light in a drizzling rain. I had checked my oil and it was low
enough that I had to add most of a quart. I’d been putting off stopping to get an oil change,
but I was gonna find a place today and get it done. I’d gone well over 5000 miles so far, and
I didn’t want to make the final push home without taking care of Ralphie.
Looking at my planned route –an express run back to Sacto via the interstates- I planned on
finding a Yamaha shop in Portland and getting it done there.
Down 82 into Oregon and then a hard right and due west on I-84 to Portland. Once again, though
I’d been living in Northern California for almost 30 years, I’d never been through this area..
84 is really just another river road, following the Columbia all the way to Portland. Nice country,
and nicer the closer you get to Portland.
The road surface through here is sort of a course asphalt, maybe purposely because of the wet weather?
Don’t know. Anyway, the low clouds and imminent rain showers dogged me most of the way
to Portland. Then, at about The Dalles (how is that pronounced?) it started pouring on me.
The sky kept getting lower.
Not sure where this was . . . .
Cool bridge nearby.
Is it clearing up?
Then on and off till I was approaching Portand. Recognizing that I’d soon be in the freeway
maze of a large metropolitan area, I pulled off to see if I could find that dealer I needed to get
an oil change. Having thought about my plan, I began to consider that it was unrealistic
to think that I could easily
a. find a dealer
b. find a Yamaha dealer
c. find a Yamaha dealer who’d change my oil while I waited.
Yeah, I know, I know. If I had a Garmin it would have been a cinch. But I had only maps, my wits,
and as it turned out, a big bucket full of dumb luck.
I chose an exit at random, pulled into a gas station, and went inside to ask for a phone book.
For the hell of it, I asked the sleepy-looking kid at the counter if he knew of any motorcycle shops nearby.
“Well, there’s an ATV place a few blocks that way.” He said pointing south. “They might know where
a bike shop is.” he said blankly.
Worth a try. Following his “directions” I scooted up the street, made a left, went about 3
blocks, and EUREKA! This sight greeted me!
Notice which sign is biggest. You know what they say....
Speaking of big, is that a muffler, or a corn silo?
Inside their huge showroom, to the service desk, and I’m being told I’ll be back on the
road within an hour. Great crew, great service, and while I waited I got to wander around
looking at shiny stuff. Going okay so far…..
Why is the one in the middle so dirty?
What do we have here?
Are these things fast mister?
What the HELL is that?
Action Motor Sports. Tell ‘em some ***** on the FJR forum sent ya.
As promised, I was back on the road in about 45 minutes, and Ralphie was feeling much better
as we rode off into what soon became a downpour. No matter. We were now blasting south
on good ‘ol Interstate FIVE, bound for California and Sacramento.
I-5 is really not that bad a road through Oregon. Yes, it’s a bit tedious, but for an interstate,
it could be a lot worse. Lots of greenery, some changes in elevation, sweepers in some spots,
and lots of motorists trying to make good time and so making good “rabbits.”
I was coming to the end of my journey, and there were a bunch of things going through my mind.
It had been a hell of an adventure, but most of the adventure honestly had gone on inside
my helmet. Lots of changes the last year or so, and this trip allowed me to put a great
deal of it in perspective. And I’d made it home safely. That too is good.
I’ll not even attempt here to be profound in any way. Most of you reading this have been
on plenty of long rides, and likely lived through far more compelling stories than mine.
It sure is fun, isn’t it, this motorcycle thing?
I must mention a couple of conclusions that I’ve arrived at though.
Traveling solo is a completely different experience than riding with another. It’s not better
or worse, just completely different. I like it.
I think this motorcycle is just a great tool for exploration right out of the box. I’m sure there
are plenty of other bikes that are just as good, but I’ve become awfully fond of this blue one.
When you’ve absolutely no mechanical concerns, you can more fully focus on having the time of your life.
Okay, let’s wrap it up.
Shasta from afar.
A view of Mt. Shasta turned out to be the last time I’d stop for a photo on this trip. It was a welcome sight.
I pressed on and was back at my place a little after 9 p.m. The last 100 miles or so, I had to stop 3 times
just to clean my face shield. Lots of bugs after dark.
Hey! This last day of riding I put up 840 miles, including a stop for an oil change, rain for a
good part of it, and the bug thing. That damn near makes me an Iron Butt! Well, maybe another time.
Thanks to all who’ve slogged through this and especially
those who’ve offered comments. It was greatly appreciated. Peace.
Trip total - 6218 miles.
Jackson
Well-known member
Great report! Good pics, and excellent writing. Thank you.
Wicked Webby
Right is Harder than Wrong.
Ole Mike,
Very nice write up and pics. Nice to hear that you had a safe adventure.
WW
Very nice write up and pics. Nice to hear that you had a safe adventure.
WW
stryg8r
Well-known member
Great report Mike. Best I've read in a while. Thanks for taking the time to post it.
Bokerfork
Well-known member
As long as we're resurrecting dead RR's take a look at this gem. Especially the self portrait about 15 pics in.
The only improvement in this guy's reports is the company he keeps and the distinct shortage of verbiage he now attributes to his pics.
Just for fun, go to the end of the RR section and notice the lack of comments by other forum members. My how times have changed.
The only improvement in this guy's reports is the company he keeps and the distinct shortage of verbiage he now attributes to his pics.
Just for fun, go to the end of the RR section and notice the lack of comments by other forum members. My how times have changed.
beemerdons
Certifiable Old Fart
And we are reading this snarky *** comment from a Dude who does a Ride Report about Rocks? And is also too fecking lazy to bring the OM photo forward for us? Pinche Cabron, la Puta Maji!
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GeorgiaRoller
Exit Stage Left
Epic ride sir! I thoroughly enjoyed your pics. TFS!
SwollenRaccoon
Well-known member
Absolutely wonderful report, OM! Being a lifelong Packer fan, and being familiar with a lot of the Wisconsin/Minnesota areas you rode through, I have to agree with most of your comments. However, next time you come this way, let a few of us know, and we can show you some MUCH more interesting roads than you took, and only mere minutes from your somewhat less-interesting route through this part of the midwest. Great report, and glad you enjoyed your trip and made it home safe. Keep up the good work.
wheatonFJR
...
Great report.
Wish I could do a report like that. Some people got it...and some people don't.
Wish I could do a report like that. Some people got it...and some people don't.
