2 Wheels Move the Soul - A Summary
This will be my last posting for this 4 Corners on 2 Wheels blog.
"We spend all our time sealed in boxes, and cars are just the rolling boxes that shuffle us languidly from home-box to work-box and back, the whole time entombed in stale air, temperature regulated, sound insulated, and smelling of carpets.
On a bike I know I'm alive. When I ride, even the familiar seems strange and glorious. The air has weight and substance as I push through it and its touch is as intimate as water to a swimmer. I feel the cool wells of air that pool under trees and the warm spokes of sunlight that fall through them. I can see everything in a sweeping 360 degrees, up, down and around, wider than PanaVision and higher than IMAX and unrestricted by ceiling or dashboard." {part of longer anonymous quote}
Sent to me by a friend (Andrew, who with Matt and Phil, met me at Starbucks for the final miles home - Thanks guys for the 'welcome back')
FAQ (and answers):
What was my favourite? Too many favourites to mention, but definitely: Blueridge Parkway; PEI with Renae at a wonderful B&B; the plane flights (thanks to Dale and Tim); the Wyoming, Idaho and Oregon areas (may do them again next year); and every day just riding. I must admit I also loved writing the blog entry as it gave it all a focus.
How far did I go? From Blaine to San Diego to Key West to Madawaska Maine to Gaspe Peninsula to Prince Edward Island to Nebraska to Vancouver Washington to home = 23,035 kilometres or 14,313 miles.
How many States and Provinces did I travel through ("visit" might be a slight overstatement)? 30 States and one District: Washington, Oregon, California, Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, Florida, Georgia, North Carolina, Tennessee, Virginia, District of Columbia, Maryland, Massachusetts, Connecticut, New York, New Hampshire, Vermont, Maine, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Iowa, Nebraska, South Dakota, Wyoming and Idaho. 5 Provinces: Quebec, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, Prince Edward Island and British Columbia.
Favourite Motel? "Favourite" must be interpreted "most commonly used". Super 8.
Scariest Place? Los Angeles freeways (rush hour or anytime).
Longest Day? 11 hours. Northern California to Thousand Oaks (and a few other times as well)
Highest Price Gas? $3.19 USD per gallon (Joseph, Oregon)
Lowest Price Gas? $2.39 USD per gallon (can't remember where)
Closest Call? Last day outside Marysville, Washington, when a car did not consider my motorcycle a legitimate occupant of the carpool lane and ignored my presence there.
Weather? Rained less than 8 hours in total the whole trip, as it was mostly sunny and warm. Weirdest weather was in Florida where the rain was so severe (we were not riding at the time) you would think it was the equivalent of laying down in a river. Worst rain while riding? Northern Vermont into Quebec (day 18). Hottest day? 107 F in Arizona/New Mexico. Coldest day? 47 F in Wyoming.
Best Food? Our family and friends. White Hart Inn, Connecticut.
Worst Food? Huddle House, Northern Florida (with special mention of Mom's Place and the "genuine" Vermont maple syrup.
Place to return to and spend some time? Washington DC, Tennessee and the Appalachians generally, Nebraska.
Least liked place? Florida. Least friendly and most commercialized.
Best Place to return to ride? Wyoming/Idaho/Montana/Oregon/Washington. Anyone game?
Day 45 - The Return Home
Like the lightning and thunder that awakened me early this morning, I was immediately struck with the startling invasion of realities that awaited me less than 100 miles up the road. Certainly, there are an abundance of positive things in returning home today. Seeing my long-suffering, hard-working and loving wife, Renae; reconnecting with my kids, and my grandson, Patrick Jordan (PJ), seeing the Kuhn & Company team, and returning to my work that has challenged and fulfilled me for 30 years, and continues to do so.
But, like the rain that was relentlessly punching the surface of the pond outside, there was the sense of being overwhelmed. No longer the relative freedom to casually explore back roads and highways, interesting small towns and extraordinary sights. The now pending deadlines and demands are inevitable (and justified given my 45 day absence), but nevertheless daunting. I am reminded of my days as a 10-year-old Cub Scout, vigorously repeating the motto, "We do our best". Keeping that in mind I remind myself that reentry after any extraordinary experience is almost always difficult.
The weather, like the deer that appeared to nibble at plants in the backyard during a short respite from the rain, may just be a reminder that life has cycles and seasons, some short and some longer, and we must do our best to engage, learn from and even enjoy each experience.
Now, enough sentimentality. I would be remiss if I did not thank those who have made this adventure possible. Firstly, I literally thank God for safety, health, excellent weather (no more than 6 or 7 hours of rain the whole 45 days), and an album of lifelong memories that have now been created. As well, I am deeply indebted to Renae for encouraging me to take this trip. As one other biker I met put it, "You must have a lot of domestic capital". I will choose to interpret that to mean that my wife loves me dearly, if undeservedly. Secondly, I am extremely thankful for the Kuhn & Company team (not to mention the tremendous patience of clients), who have been so supportive in enabling me to be gone from the office for so long. Next I want to express my appreciation for my travel mate, George, who put up with my snoring and getting us lost more than once (even numerous times at the same place!). I am also sincerely appreciative of those who opened their homes to us (who you will find referenced and resistantly pictured in postings of prior days). Lastly, for those of you who have read this blog, thank you for the encouragement and giving me a focus for recording the events, experiences and reactions of each day. I hope that it has been an encouragement to others who, like a 57-year-old with Parkinson's disease, may have dreams that, though demanding, are well worth pursuing.
Not one of the past 45 days has gone by without thinking of my friend, Hugh Stansfield. Not only did he encourage me to take this trip (he would have loved nothing more than to be on it), and to assume the task of writing a blog (which he had so faithfully undertaken on our 2008 cross Canada adventure), he has been a continuous "companion" reminding me that despite some discomfort, challenges, and even pain from time to time, the adventure, like life, is well worth it.
PS. There will be one final post on this blog answering some questions about the trip and summarizing details.
Day 44 - Short, Sweet and Safe
I understand that most accidents happen close to home. This is understandable from simple calculation of the time spent on the roads close to home, versus the time spent farther away. However, it seems ironic that traveling 14,000 miles without a near miss incident would change when I was 150 miles away from home. The young man driving souped-up Japanese-built car apparently liked my lane, and my particular place in that lane, more than he did his own. He did not look (or if he did it was nothing more than a momentary glance), but simply changed lanes in the heavy traffic into the fast (far left) lane I was occupying, without warning or signal. While I reacted reasonably quickly, breaking as hard as I could without losing control. My front tire was approximately 18 inches from his left passenger door before I had no choice but to risk the narrow section between the lane and the guardrail (strewn as it was with debris) to avoid a collision. I do not think he ever saw me. My suspicion was that, if he would have clipped me, he would have kept on driving either out of total ignorance or fear. Disaster averted, road rage suppressed, prayers said aloud for continued safety, heart beating wildly proving some cardiac ability remained, and I continued on. My pupils must have looked like pinballs in their sockets as they furtively sized up every vehicle within seeing distance.
By the time I reach my destination (only 200 miles today), the incident was a distant memory, and I set about to enjoy the short time I would have with my friends, Tim and Marybeth Person (and daughters Elizabeth (shown) and Lindsay). These are friends with whom there is an immediate reconnection whenever we meet.
It seems ironic that both Tim and Dale (my collegiate friends with whom I went to Europe in 1972/3) are both pilots with their own planes. In fact, Tim lives in Frontier Airpark just north of Seattle. He loves flying and was more than happy to take a flight around the Puget Sound area after a delicious salmon barbecue dinner. It was a beautiful early evening, with sunshine streaming through distant clouds, some sprinkling their water cargo as if they were bombing sunset fires instead of coastal island mountaintops. Somehow this beauty at the end of the day reminded me that tomorrow would be the end of a journey that carried with it its own beauty.
Tim handed over the controls to me and, for the second time today, my heart was in my throat as I tried to manage the very different task of three-dimensional steering. It just so happened that while I was piloting the small plane we entered several areas of "rough road" that felt a lot like we experienced on the Gaspé Peninsula (except for the fact that I was not going 30 miles an hour over ground that was inches below my feet, but rather 150 miles an hour 1500 feet up). As with the earlier incident, I survived, allowing us to swing through the Seattle airspace as well as view Mount Rainier.
I will never be a pilot, although I totally enjoyed being along for the ride. I would rather take my chances behind the handlebars of Big Blue.
Day 43 - Birthday Rest Day
Although it was not a travel day, there was enjoyment nonetheless. This picture is of my father-in-law, Louis Guinett, a master stone mason (noted last blog entry - Multnomah Falls shot), and my extraordinary mother-in-law, Elsa Guinett. Louis, Elsa and I celebrated Louis' 80th birthday over lunch. They have both been an inspiration to me and I appreciate them a great deal.
Deb and Gregg had their kids and grand kids over for a BBQ to celebrate my birthday. I received many birthday wishes and felt loved by friends and family.
A great day despite not riding.
Saturday I will be going to visit my friends, Tim and Marybeth Person, north of Seattle, and then head home Sunday afternoon.
What a great ride.
Day 42 - Full Circle But Not Home
Desert with water. That was the scene as I left Clarkston (but only after enjoying a Starbucks oatmeal and a non-fat, no-foam latte for breakfast). First it was the Snake River cutting its way through what would have been, apart from the life-giving water syphoned from it, a barren land. But the river, and the various streams and ultimately the churning Columbia, have been the flumes used to make the desert bloom. Heading west through increasingly larger towns the water was sucked from those seekers of the sea and sprayed and sprinkled by various means on wheat fields, grapevines, orchards and all manner of crops (including the famous sweet onions of Walla Walla - my favourite name for a city - Walla Walla Washington). The rivers, primarily the Columbia which I crossed several times to get the best ride, and the bone dry landscape feeding off them, were the themes of the day. I felt as if I were a river, proceeding home from faraway places but leaving part of me behind along the way, even as I consumed parts of the places I passed through as they become part of me. It found myself hoping that I have left something of value behind (besides innumerable MasterCard imprints) as I know have been enriched by what I now carry.
Okay, enough of the prose.
It was a warm and windy day that bore me on the somewhat fast (6 hour) 340 mile trip to Vancouver Washington, where I am staying with my wife's sister, Debi, and her husband, Gregg, (who put George and me up the first evening of our journey - May 29). It seemed fitting - finishing the circle. As well, it was Louis', my father-in-law, 80th birthday on July 7 and I wanted him to know how important he is to me (having lost my own father this past February things like this rank as more important now).
The Columbia River, and especially the famous "Gorge", provided a dramatic foreground when framed by the dry hills or sculpted cliffs that constrain its flow. Playground for some and scene of history for others (the famous Lewis and Clark expedition of 1804/5 resulting from Thomas Jefferson's Louisiana Purchase from the French - actually far more than Louisiana - 23% of the area of the continental US) travelled along its banks and down its powerful course to secure the beachfront of the Pacific for America (to avoid the encroaching Canadians who were joint owners of Vancouver Washington until the Oregon Treaty of 1846).
The scenic highlight of the day was the 1913-built Historic Columbia River Highway, which parallels the frenetic pace of the four lane Freeway 84. It is elegant (if a road can be described that way) and offers dramatic waterfalls hundreds of feet high (where Louis and Gregg have both left their incredibly artistic touch in the stonework they have performed there - the building in the photo is Louis's handiwork). Near its western end it rises to the Crown Point to offer a panoramic view of the route taken. It is there with a wave to that journey now nearly complete that I turned away to descend and to rest, wash my filthy Big Blue (one lady commented on observing my dusty and bug-spattered bike, "My it looks like you have been gone a long time.") and enjoy family before riding the final 300 miles home.
POSTSCRIPT - One request of any that may be reading this blog: If there are questions I have not answered that are boring a hole in your skull, please either post them in the Comments or email me at bobkuhn1@gmail.com, and I will try to address them.
Day 41 - Back on the Backroads
Today was entirely a back roads day. Before leaving McCall at 7:30, I considered two routes: one aggressive in terms of distance, and one less so. Both were destination rides; going where the best motorcycle rides in the area were. The weather made my decision for me. It was rainy and overcast and I decided that a longer ride was not going to be fun in the rain (and the direction of that ride was the same direction as the bad weather). So I opted to go with the shorter ride in the direction of the better weather. It was a good choice (total today was 256 miles or 412 kms).
The rain soon stopped and the first part of the morning took me through the Payette National Forest. There I had a close encounter with a deer who decided to leap across the road moments before I was about to cross his path. It could have been very messy (for both of us), but I was able to brake in time due to the extraordinarily good ABS braking system on my new bike. Both the deer and I avoided certain calamity (and I expect that our respective hearts were pounding a little harder after that interaction). I have often heard that the first deer you see is simply a warning, therefore I was doubly careful from then on (especially when passing through areas with heavy growth on both sides of the road). But, alas, no further wildlife was encountered, at least not that would have made a mess of my motorcycle. I was swooped at by an eagle who must have thought I was some fast moving prey. This caused me to duck, as he swerved away. I am sure he realized, somewhat belatedly, that my helmet was unlikely to serve as much of a meal.
Generally, the day can be described as a series of "twisties" (stretches of tight turns requiring fairly precise leaning into the curve, pushing the handlebars towards the road surface, but in the opposite direction of the corner - you have to ride a motorcycle to understand that this actually works and that the opposite would be disastrous). These were separated by short straight stretches (necessary to give me a break).
There were 5 extraordinary twisty portions of the ride today. The first took me from an Idaho town called Cambridge through to and then clinging to the banks alongside the Snake River (which is a very large, fast flowing body of water as it forms the border between Idaho and Oregon). The roads were virtually deserted, with none of the usual road work crews to impede progress. The 2nd magnificent ride portion was through the Hell's Canyon National Park in Oregon (considerably different than the Hell's Canyon in British Columbia). Again, the roads were not busy, although they were very narrow and in some places prone to potholes, pieces of wood, rocks, and some accumulated water from the recent rain. As there was no center yellow line it was necessary to keep one's eye on the road ahead, just in case. At one point I took a slight detour onto a gravel road (looking for a place to take some pictures of the Canyon). It proved to be more than a little rocky and not the type of terrain where one would usually take a Gold Wing. However, I managed to turn around after a mile or so (and did get a reasonably good picture or 2). After a very pleasant meal in a town called Joseph (on asking a local where the best food in town was, she promptly introduced herself, asked me my name and told me hers, after which she escorted me to a rugged little restaurant with tables set up on the veranda and in the yard under that large elm tree, and going on with her walking her dog, she wished me a continued good ride. Everyone seemed to be friendly, including the gas station attendant who actually pumped gas for me and was quick to tell me that she and the young fellow who worked at the garage were getting married next Saturday in a small park in the center of town, and that I was invited to come if I were still in the area. Now that is friendly!
The 3rd portion of the ride that was particularly exciting was the road leading down into and up out of the Grande Ronde River valley, just outside Oregon and across the Washington border. This is affectionately known as the Rattlesnake Grade (both for its shape and the fact that the Northern Summit is called the Rattlesnake Summit). This portion of road was a return visit for me as we had thoroughly enjoyed it last year on our way back from our cross Canada trip. It is an 18 mile stretch of road in total comprised of nonstop 35 mile an hour or less corners, switchbacks and hairpin curves carved out of the steep hillside with nothing between a slip of the throttle and a 500 to 1000 foot drop with an abrupt stop in a dry creek bed. Guardrails; what guardrails?
The last 2 exciting portions of the ride are located on the outskirts of Lewiston and Clarkston (Twin Cities bridging the border between Washington and Idaho along the Snake River). The portion of highway leading down off the plateau above the towns is a newly paved section of well banked curves. With the vista of the valley comprising the 2 towns forming something of a carpet below, it is a dramatic re-entry to civilization. The final exciting ride was actually one I took after checking into the motel. There is a little known (except for local folks) strip of road called the Spiral Highway, also named the Lewiston Highway), which was originally a wagon road leading from the Lewiston/Clarkston settlements in the valley 2000 vertical feet up the steep incline to the plateau above the north side of the towns. It is 7.2 miles in length and has approximately 40 curves, many of which are hairpins that are supposed to be taken at 15 miles an hour. However, the road is so perfectly engineered that the corners can be taken at much faster speeds (of course I stuck to the speed limit... okay maybe a little faster).
While pictures do none of these roads adequate justice, at least there is some attempt in those attached.
Crossing over into Pacific Time, I have come to the realization that within a few days this epic journey will be complete. My current mileage is just shy of 27,000 km (16,750 miles) and I expect another 1000 km/650 miles. At this point it feels like when you are reading a good book and you are almost finished. Something draws you along to the ending, while a contradictory feeling is resistant to the conclusion only because the journey through the pages of that book have been so enjoyable. I will resist the temptation to write the ending now, and will save my closing comments for another time. Meanwhile there is more riding to be done.
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