Silver Penguin
Silver Penguin
Once upon a time, there were a group of people who didn't really know each other, but talked via computers, hiding behind avatars and funny names. Someone decided that it might be fun to meet up in a place that was very cold and windy and didn't have any wildflowers. It turned out to be a great idea, since everyone had a blast!
Andy and I set out early Friday morning (if you could actually call it Friday, because it seemed closer to Thursday). The seventy degree sunshine was noticeably absent as we donned layer after layer of gear. Even garbed up like the proverbial Michelin Man we still felt that 38 degrees, plus the wind chill. After about 80 miles it was time to see if hot coffee would restore circulation to the chilled extremities. At the gas station we met a young man who was not loving life right then. It was only his second trip on a freeway on his new ZX-14. He was wearing a light jacket, chinos and dirt-riding gloves. Instead of the usual look of disdain for our ATGATT appearance, this rider looked downright envious. Poor kid said he couldn't even feel his legs.
As the sun came up, our ride became a lot more enjoyable. Tentative plans to meet friends in Trona were to have been confirmed via text message, but we have AT+T. That's the blue map, in the ads where there is no signal in any of the places that you want to travel to. How amazing was it, that we arrived at the planned gas station within seconds of Joseph and Valerie's arrival. When we got there, I would have said that Trona was a small town but my definition of small was soon to be revised. Their local cafe provided a reasonably priced, delicious breakfast for a very modest price. Not only that, but we were able to sit indoors where it was warm and be able to see the bikes. Can't be bad.
Joseph explained that Valerie was new to pillion riding, and completing her training flights. I'm sure that she thought, as many do that you just jump on the back then sit very still. No way is it that simple. The basics of helmet, sunglasses, earplugs and neck wrap have to be negotiated at every stop. Then comes the challenge of mounting a bike with the rider already in place, side bags on and top box. Already, Valerie does this with far more grace than I do but it will take a long time to reach the slick, professional look of the RogDeb team or the Hycles. There is still more challenge before take off, in connecting the communication system, music, GPS, high-speed Internet and in-flight movies.
The weather got better and better as the day went on, as did the scenery. For a first-time visitor to Death Valley I was prepared to be impressed but was still in awe of the majesty of the place. It is a stark, quiet beauty that needs some serious time to stare at and appreciate. We didn't get pictures since we didn't stop along the way, but hopefully our fellow travelers will have some to share. The roads were well maintained, well signposted with plenty of warning for the tighter turns although it was a pretty gentle ride.
Speaking of small towns, we stopped in Shoshone for lunch. I got the impression that the place had closed down several years ago, but the last few people didn't get the memo. I had naively wondered WHERE in town we were going to meet for lunch but the choice was easy since there is only one restaurant. Both the Norcal and the Socal groups were there, enjoying a very nice meal which was served in a most efficient manner, for such a large group.
After lunch we all went our separate ways. After 400+ miles, Andy and I were ready to get off the bikes and enjoy a hot shower then cold beer. Richard (Fairlaner) had recommended the Longstreet Inn and Casino which is just over the state line, into Nevada. The room rates were the least expensive I'd seen in a long time yet the place was up to our friend's very exacting standards. We were delighted with the clean, spacious room that had a view of an ornamental lake/pond. Being non-smokers, the hotel itself was a choking experience but our room had just the right amount of airfreshener that allowed us to breathe easily, and not smell the deodorant stuff all the time.
Dinner was in the hotel's steakhouse which was OK, and we'll leave it at that. We didn't have to ride anywhere to get there and the company was the best. Since it was Karaoke night in the casino, it seemed like a good idea to go to the bar across the road. (Andy was in favor, since he still blushes at my last experience with Karaoke, many years ago). We learned later that the redneck bar is only patronized by people passing through. The locals avoid going there, for reasons which we would soon learn.
At first, our bartender seemed just a little too animated but as the night wore on, whatever mind-altering substance that he has chosen turned him into a total weirdo. He jumped onto the bar a couple of times and even threw a bottle across the room. Along with him was a trucker who started out drunk and got more drunk. He partnered with Roy for a pool game of drunk Brits versus drunk Americans. Each nationality had their own interpretation of the rules, which prompted some heated arguments. At one point, Mr Bartender rearranged the balls, during a game. Did he not know that Fairlaner's pride was resting on winning this game?
The trucker brought his dog into the bar. That was fine, for a while until the bartender started chasing it. Both were tumbling furniture and barking at each other.
The TV music station was entertaining us with Creedence Clearwater Revival, which was an excellent choice for a rowdy bar. Then a member of our party selected a Beatles' love song on the juke box. Another excellent choice in music but the bar was a small place to have two tunes, competing with the drunks for volume.
We did wonder how the bar stays in business since rounds of drinks appeared without being ordered, or paid for. The rounds that we did pay for were dirt cheap. It was certainly an entertaining evening.
Next morning were were up early, but there was no 'brigh-and-' preceding that statement. As Andy and I got onto our bikes, we saw Old Michael doing some warm up drills in the parking lot, then he took off ahead of the group. I understand later that the gauntlet had been thrown down, to 'Catch Me If You Can'. We rolled out next, on the GS's. It wasn't long before the group flew by us at warp speed. DCarver came up level to say hello, then dropped back to sweep position as the others headed for the horizon. A little later, I saw the infamous yellow helmet BEHIND us. Don't underestimate our friend Michael. He had ridden past the turn off, watched the people who were chasing him go by, then joined the CandyButt delegation. We tootled along at a mere 5-10 over, smelling the roses, being passed by old couples in Prius's etc. and had a thoroughly enjoyable ride.
The group breakfast was at Furnace Creek by which time the sun was shining with the promise of a lovely day to come. So much for the forecast that said maximum temp of 38, with 40% chance of precipitation aka snow! Replete with cholesterol-laden calories, we waddled back to our sturdy steeds with Scotty's Castle as our destination. Some rode fast (betcha can't guess who?) and some rode slower. All arrived safely and enjoyed the ride. The road was in pretty poor condition at the beginning. Personally, I was very glad to be on my dual sport rather than the FJR but our intrepid crew had no problems getting to the solid black top. The road showcased some of the Valley's best views (which I hope someone photographed, because I didn't). The wind was starting to pick up which was presenting a challenge, to hang onto the bike.
In the middle of nowhere, Scotty's castle is quite the sight. We spent some time admiring from the outside while others took the tour and learned about the history of the place. Some interesting theories were thrown out about the reason for building the castle, but perhaps Joseph will explain better than I could, about that. It was a very pleasant place to stop and relax, with some great people to talk to. Duke, the biker dog was enjoyed the grass and the shade. Unfortunately, Duke and his Dad took a tumble shortly after that. No real harm was done but it must have been a huge shake up for both, since the bike fell on Duke's side. Later in the day, the little guy was wagging his tail with no apparent harm at all but Dad was sore.
Now, I'm wondering how to describe our journey from the castle to the hotel, without a string of expletives. It was the kind of ride that would warrant all the four letter words I've ever heard of and then some. Richard described it well, using his favorite word! Our plan was to meander along and look for some dirt roads to explore. Gradually the plan morphed into just living long enough to get back to the hotel. The pretty twisties, in the shelter of the hills, gave way to a long ribbon of straight road that appeared to last for several hundred miles. Each side was flat land for miles, allowing the wind to really whip up into a frenzy. The bikes were leaned over somewhere between 30-45 degrees with frequent powerful gusts from both sides. Our 80mph dropped to 70, then 60 as I struggled to hang onto the bike and keep it basically ON the road, preferably on my side. At one point we were down to 20mph. We pulled over to take a break but holding onto a stationary bike was just as difficult as a moving one. My front wheel was steered towards the center of the road, just to stay straight. Each time a vehicle approached from the other side, I would pull over using the lug-nut theory. (Was that credited to Joseph or Don?) Essentially, the more lugs nuts it had, the further I would pull over. The 18 wheelers were the most exciting because they brought turbulence in their wake. Some felt like a big hiccup, others were a major punch to the gut. This was not fun at all. The temperature dropped but at least there was no rain or snow. After what seemed like hours of this torture, we made it safely back to the hotel, thank goodness. The wind speed continued to increase as we warmed up in the hotel room. Thoughts of a ride later on were postponed because we were exhausted.
A hot shower, and the packed lunch that we'd picked up for the road put us into a happier frame of mind. A nap was even better and then dinner with the crowd. We did give the redneck bar a miss, in favor of an early night.
Many of the group, especially myself were dreading the ride home since it was still windy this morning. Thankfully the winds were nothing like as strong so we had a short, pleasant ride home. Had we known for sure that it would be calm, we would have found a longer route but it's nice to be home in time to post the report the same day.
The few photos I took are posted on Facebook. Too tired to post them here as well, but I might in a couple of days.
Thanks to Mad Mike and Richard for organizing this, and to Old Michael for being the willing butt of all our jokes. (There - I said OM and butt in the same sentence).
Andy and I set out early Friday morning (if you could actually call it Friday, because it seemed closer to Thursday). The seventy degree sunshine was noticeably absent as we donned layer after layer of gear. Even garbed up like the proverbial Michelin Man we still felt that 38 degrees, plus the wind chill. After about 80 miles it was time to see if hot coffee would restore circulation to the chilled extremities. At the gas station we met a young man who was not loving life right then. It was only his second trip on a freeway on his new ZX-14. He was wearing a light jacket, chinos and dirt-riding gloves. Instead of the usual look of disdain for our ATGATT appearance, this rider looked downright envious. Poor kid said he couldn't even feel his legs.
As the sun came up, our ride became a lot more enjoyable. Tentative plans to meet friends in Trona were to have been confirmed via text message, but we have AT+T. That's the blue map, in the ads where there is no signal in any of the places that you want to travel to. How amazing was it, that we arrived at the planned gas station within seconds of Joseph and Valerie's arrival. When we got there, I would have said that Trona was a small town but my definition of small was soon to be revised. Their local cafe provided a reasonably priced, delicious breakfast for a very modest price. Not only that, but we were able to sit indoors where it was warm and be able to see the bikes. Can't be bad.
Joseph explained that Valerie was new to pillion riding, and completing her training flights. I'm sure that she thought, as many do that you just jump on the back then sit very still. No way is it that simple. The basics of helmet, sunglasses, earplugs and neck wrap have to be negotiated at every stop. Then comes the challenge of mounting a bike with the rider already in place, side bags on and top box. Already, Valerie does this with far more grace than I do but it will take a long time to reach the slick, professional look of the RogDeb team or the Hycles. There is still more challenge before take off, in connecting the communication system, music, GPS, high-speed Internet and in-flight movies.
The weather got better and better as the day went on, as did the scenery. For a first-time visitor to Death Valley I was prepared to be impressed but was still in awe of the majesty of the place. It is a stark, quiet beauty that needs some serious time to stare at and appreciate. We didn't get pictures since we didn't stop along the way, but hopefully our fellow travelers will have some to share. The roads were well maintained, well signposted with plenty of warning for the tighter turns although it was a pretty gentle ride.
Speaking of small towns, we stopped in Shoshone for lunch. I got the impression that the place had closed down several years ago, but the last few people didn't get the memo. I had naively wondered WHERE in town we were going to meet for lunch but the choice was easy since there is only one restaurant. Both the Norcal and the Socal groups were there, enjoying a very nice meal which was served in a most efficient manner, for such a large group.
After lunch we all went our separate ways. After 400+ miles, Andy and I were ready to get off the bikes and enjoy a hot shower then cold beer. Richard (Fairlaner) had recommended the Longstreet Inn and Casino which is just over the state line, into Nevada. The room rates were the least expensive I'd seen in a long time yet the place was up to our friend's very exacting standards. We were delighted with the clean, spacious room that had a view of an ornamental lake/pond. Being non-smokers, the hotel itself was a choking experience but our room had just the right amount of airfreshener that allowed us to breathe easily, and not smell the deodorant stuff all the time.
Dinner was in the hotel's steakhouse which was OK, and we'll leave it at that. We didn't have to ride anywhere to get there and the company was the best. Since it was Karaoke night in the casino, it seemed like a good idea to go to the bar across the road. (Andy was in favor, since he still blushes at my last experience with Karaoke, many years ago). We learned later that the redneck bar is only patronized by people passing through. The locals avoid going there, for reasons which we would soon learn.
At first, our bartender seemed just a little too animated but as the night wore on, whatever mind-altering substance that he has chosen turned him into a total weirdo. He jumped onto the bar a couple of times and even threw a bottle across the room. Along with him was a trucker who started out drunk and got more drunk. He partnered with Roy for a pool game of drunk Brits versus drunk Americans. Each nationality had their own interpretation of the rules, which prompted some heated arguments. At one point, Mr Bartender rearranged the balls, during a game. Did he not know that Fairlaner's pride was resting on winning this game?
The trucker brought his dog into the bar. That was fine, for a while until the bartender started chasing it. Both were tumbling furniture and barking at each other.
The TV music station was entertaining us with Creedence Clearwater Revival, which was an excellent choice for a rowdy bar. Then a member of our party selected a Beatles' love song on the juke box. Another excellent choice in music but the bar was a small place to have two tunes, competing with the drunks for volume.
We did wonder how the bar stays in business since rounds of drinks appeared without being ordered, or paid for. The rounds that we did pay for were dirt cheap. It was certainly an entertaining evening.
Next morning were were up early, but there was no 'brigh-and-' preceding that statement. As Andy and I got onto our bikes, we saw Old Michael doing some warm up drills in the parking lot, then he took off ahead of the group. I understand later that the gauntlet had been thrown down, to 'Catch Me If You Can'. We rolled out next, on the GS's. It wasn't long before the group flew by us at warp speed. DCarver came up level to say hello, then dropped back to sweep position as the others headed for the horizon. A little later, I saw the infamous yellow helmet BEHIND us. Don't underestimate our friend Michael. He had ridden past the turn off, watched the people who were chasing him go by, then joined the CandyButt delegation. We tootled along at a mere 5-10 over, smelling the roses, being passed by old couples in Prius's etc. and had a thoroughly enjoyable ride.
The group breakfast was at Furnace Creek by which time the sun was shining with the promise of a lovely day to come. So much for the forecast that said maximum temp of 38, with 40% chance of precipitation aka snow! Replete with cholesterol-laden calories, we waddled back to our sturdy steeds with Scotty's Castle as our destination. Some rode fast (betcha can't guess who?) and some rode slower. All arrived safely and enjoyed the ride. The road was in pretty poor condition at the beginning. Personally, I was very glad to be on my dual sport rather than the FJR but our intrepid crew had no problems getting to the solid black top. The road showcased some of the Valley's best views (which I hope someone photographed, because I didn't). The wind was starting to pick up which was presenting a challenge, to hang onto the bike.
In the middle of nowhere, Scotty's castle is quite the sight. We spent some time admiring from the outside while others took the tour and learned about the history of the place. Some interesting theories were thrown out about the reason for building the castle, but perhaps Joseph will explain better than I could, about that. It was a very pleasant place to stop and relax, with some great people to talk to. Duke, the biker dog was enjoyed the grass and the shade. Unfortunately, Duke and his Dad took a tumble shortly after that. No real harm was done but it must have been a huge shake up for both, since the bike fell on Duke's side. Later in the day, the little guy was wagging his tail with no apparent harm at all but Dad was sore.
Now, I'm wondering how to describe our journey from the castle to the hotel, without a string of expletives. It was the kind of ride that would warrant all the four letter words I've ever heard of and then some. Richard described it well, using his favorite word! Our plan was to meander along and look for some dirt roads to explore. Gradually the plan morphed into just living long enough to get back to the hotel. The pretty twisties, in the shelter of the hills, gave way to a long ribbon of straight road that appeared to last for several hundred miles. Each side was flat land for miles, allowing the wind to really whip up into a frenzy. The bikes were leaned over somewhere between 30-45 degrees with frequent powerful gusts from both sides. Our 80mph dropped to 70, then 60 as I struggled to hang onto the bike and keep it basically ON the road, preferably on my side. At one point we were down to 20mph. We pulled over to take a break but holding onto a stationary bike was just as difficult as a moving one. My front wheel was steered towards the center of the road, just to stay straight. Each time a vehicle approached from the other side, I would pull over using the lug-nut theory. (Was that credited to Joseph or Don?) Essentially, the more lugs nuts it had, the further I would pull over. The 18 wheelers were the most exciting because they brought turbulence in their wake. Some felt like a big hiccup, others were a major punch to the gut. This was not fun at all. The temperature dropped but at least there was no rain or snow. After what seemed like hours of this torture, we made it safely back to the hotel, thank goodness. The wind speed continued to increase as we warmed up in the hotel room. Thoughts of a ride later on were postponed because we were exhausted.
A hot shower, and the packed lunch that we'd picked up for the road put us into a happier frame of mind. A nap was even better and then dinner with the crowd. We did give the redneck bar a miss, in favor of an early night.
Many of the group, especially myself were dreading the ride home since it was still windy this morning. Thankfully the winds were nothing like as strong so we had a short, pleasant ride home. Had we known for sure that it would be calm, we would have found a longer route but it's nice to be home in time to post the report the same day.
The few photos I took are posted on Facebook. Too tired to post them here as well, but I might in a couple of days.
Thanks to Mad Mike and Richard for organizing this, and to Old Michael for being the willing butt of all our jokes. (There - I said OM and butt in the same sentence).
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