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| Day 1 - Santa Clara, CA Day 2 - Eureka, CA Day 3 - Florence, OR Day 4 - Poulsbo, WA Day 5 - Poulsbo, WA Day 6 - Sandpoint, ID Day 7 - Kalispel, MT Day 8 - Sulfer Springs, MT Day 9 - Jackson, WY Day 10 - Orem, UT Day 11- Estes Park, CO Day 12 - High. Ranch, CO Day 13 - High. Ranch, CO Day 14 - Richland, UT Day 15 - Lee Vining, CA EPILOGUE |
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| It has been said that the longest journey
begins with just a single step. Well, the time has arrived to see
if Linda and I can take that first step on our “big” trip together
to Washington State on our 1995 BMW R100RT motorcycle (photo
1). Why in the world would a 58 years old school administrator
and his younger wife (You thought maybe I was silly enough you give
you her age?) want to travel a thousand miles on a motorcycle? Because
I’m getting old and I don’t want the world to pass me by, that’s why.
At least that’s the excuse that people seem willing to accept. If
you say, “Hey, I think it would be fun to ride 4300 miles on a motorcycle,”
most people think your nuts, but the fear of old age they can relate
to. Anyway, six months ago, we had no motorcycle so a motorcycle
trip wasn’t even in our imagination. Three months ago I bought the
bike, took a motorcycle safety class, got my license, and planned
this trip. Linda, on the other hand, is trying to be a good sport
by climbing on back, which just goes to show you that the love of
her man is stronger than her fear of death on the highway. Now the
saddlebags are packed, the bike is filled with gas, and Linda and
I are on our way under typical early-morning California summer skies
– gray, cold and overcast - headed north. If we’re lucky, these skies
should burn off by noon and it will warm up some. We head North on Hwy. 280 in moderately light traffic bound for San Francisco and the Golden Gate Bridge. Hwy 280 is a nice ride to start any trip but since this is our first big adventure, it seems especially inviting and encouraging. It passes through those oak-covered foothills that define California, and skims right alongside the Crystal Springs Reservoir on its way to San Francisco. The way this trip is starting out seems to generate good karma for all concerned. As we get closer to the City (San Francisco for those not from California), the weather gets colder and we pull into a gas station so Linda can put a sweatshirt on under her motorcycle jacket. I’m a little cool but feeling fine so no need to bundle up, yet. You can’t help but think of the quote attributed to Mark Twain when he said the coldest winter he had ever experienced was a summer he spent in San Francisco. It hasn’t gotten any better in the last hundred years. In fact, as chilly as it is morning, I’m thinking Mr. Twain was an optimist. Traffic through the City is moderate so we cruise along 19th Ave. then meander our way though Golden Gate Park, past the Presidio and over the Golden Gate Bridge. Surprisingly, there are quiet a few people on the bridge for such a cold, overcast, morning. Tourist! We pull off at the “overlook” to take a picture of the Beemer and the Bridge. A nice man volunteers to take a picture with both of us standing behind the motorcycle and the Golden Gate Bridge in the background (photo 2). Such a deal! We’ve only been gone an hour and we’ve already taken our first snapshot. No doubt about it, this means we’re tourist. After another 15 to 20 minutes on the road, we stop at our first McDonald’s for a cheap breakfast. It’s already 10:29 and we beat the clock by a minute. I’ve always wondered what they would do if it was, say 10:40 and they still had one of those lukewarm, styrofoam filled McMuffins left. Think they would actually refuse to sell that hockey puck to you because the clock had run out and it wasn’t their highest quality meal. Me thinks not. Now with gourmet filled tummies, we are back on the bike. By the time we get to Santa Rosa the sun is shinning but it is still not warm. There should be some kind of law against allowing the sun to actually shine in the summer and not be warm. I feel like God must be tweaking my nose. What happened to my good karma? The traffic out of Santa Rosa finally starts to thin out and we start to enter the foothills of the coastal range and as we climb, the scenery gets even better, more and larger trees, and fewer houses. All right, this is more like it. By the time we get to Ukiah, it is still too early to have lunch but I’m in need of something to drink. Another McDonalds is handy so we order a couple of diet cokes and sit in the warming sun next to the motorcycle and nurse a cool one. I feel like I’m in “Pee Wee’s Great Adventure.” Linda and I are in good spirits and looking forward to what lies ahead. The bike has been perfect so far. It seems to handle the two of us without notice and the Beemer’s sixty horsepower is enough power to allow me to pass in the mountains using fourth gear. Now here is a scientifically proven fact. It doesn’t matter whether it’s a car, or a motorcycle, or a moped, every male wants more power and I’m no different than my brethren. I lust after the new BMW R1150RT, which has ninety-five horsepower and more gadgets than a sex toy shop. That’s more than a fifty- percent increase over my present steed. I ask you, what male would not want the additional ponies? At any rate, our “Airhead,” which is what they call our air-cooled, boxer type engine, is doing just fine and I’m starting to get attached to it. < Out of Ukiah, as we climb into the coastal mountains of California, we enter some nice, long, fast, sweeping curves that every rider waits for on these trips. Linda and I lean back and forth in the ballet of motorcycling and there is an uncontrollable grin on my face. The bike even sounds happy! Later, Linda says, “Gee, that was fun on those curves. You really did that well.” Just what every husband wants to hear, admiration from his woman. We’re pointed north on Highway 101 and it’s taking us deeper into some fine country. There are about 36 million people now living in California. As we get further into northern California, we start to leave most of them behind. That’s a good thing for a motorcycle trip. We wanted to arrive at Crescent City by the end of the day but my butt and my shoulder are telling me to stop sooner than later. Since the day is quickly ending, and we are in the middle of redwood tree country, we quickly detour the motorcycle into the “Drive Through” Redwood tree at Leggitt. For those who have never seen a California Redwood, this may not make sense but along the northern coast of California live some of the largest plants on earth, the California Redwoods. We’ve stayed in a motel with 12 rooms that was completely made from just one redwood tree. They can grow 300 feet high and 25’ across and they have been around since before Christ. So how does man honor nature’s greatness. He cuts a hole in the middle of one of these monuments and charges $2 bucks to drive through. I willingly pay up (photo 3). If you must drive through one of these tourist traps, you might as well take a picture just so you can remember that you sold your soul. It so happens that another nice fellow volunteered to take our picture on the bike. He tells us he passed us on the road and admired the Beemer. He has a Suzuki at home but wants a BMW for touring. He says all the right things and I have no doubt he is in the top quartile on the bell curve of intelligence. We pull into Eureka (CA) a little after 4:30 p.m. after putting in 327 miles on our first day. Not bad for a couple of beginners, if I do say so myself. I decide to take Linda to a nice place to stay the night and we check into the Red Lion and have a great dinner in their restaurant. Early to bed after a pleasant end to a cold start.
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