Chapter 2 - The Great Brown

*** continued from previous post  ***

Chapter 2

The Great Brown

Frozen.  

That's what I was.  Frozen.  

You think I jest.  T'was a sad sight, watching your poor old father shiver and shake as I scooped slush off the windshield of the bike.  Why the hell don't you ever see a motorcycle with wipers?  That's what I'd like to know.

Oh yeah.  Not supposed to ride a bike in the snow.  That’s why.

We pushed on.  Down.  Down.  Down.  Away from the snow and the cold and the grey sullen skies of our homeland.   

I could go into great detail describing to you how I shredded the twisties as we descended the east side of the Cascades and navigated those rare and beautiful miles into the tiny burg of Naches.  But I won't.  I'll spare you the minutiae of each turn of the tire, each apex, each rise of the blacktop.  I shall resist the urge to create a lyrical ballad - an ode to the pines and the rivers and the wondrous, wondrous curves. 

Let's just say if the road and I were both doing time in prison by the time we arrived at the bottom I could have traded it for smokes.  

Oh stop cringing.  I thought that image rather clever.  You're a Navy girl.  Suck it up.

The temperature inched steadily upward as the day progressed from early to mid-morning.  Steadily and rapidly.  Really rapidly.  Climbing faster than a helium balloon escapes a toddler's sticky fist at the zoo.  Not that it made much difference.  My core was hovering somewhere between Minot, ND in January and the McMurdo Station in . . . well, pick a month.  August will do.  I had a ways to go before I would be warm again - if ever.  And miles to go before I sleep but that's a different story entirely.  

For a moment there I seriously considered setting myself on fire.  I reasoned that it probably wouldn't be that bad, and I could more than likely put it out before I incurred too much damage.  You know, finding the sweet-spot wherein the fire had warmed me enough that I could taste again, but right before I entered the burnt-marshmallow stage.  

*** the journey continues tomorrow ***

Oh, the weather outside is frightful

*** continued from previous post  ***


As you'll remember, the road to Chinook Pass is no cake-walk. In less than an hour you climb from 500 feet above sea level, to 5400 feet all the while winding through dense forest and steep roads, literally clinging to the sides of the mountains. I remind you of this so that the next part of our story makes sense.

For you see I, the man who was adamant about this being summer, and now less than 10 minutes into our voyage, was beginning to get cold. The temperature dropped with every hill, every twist and turn of the road. I should have pulled over and put on some extra layers - and possibly set fire to my chest - but I thought the seat warmers and heated grips would be enough. Plus, there was that little pride thing I had going. No way I was going to admit I'd made a mistake in my choice of gear after the discussion your Mom and I had earlier. I was able to fake it almost all the way to the top of the pass. I'm sure that your Mom thought my shivering was nothing more than a bit of rough road. She may have had her suspicions, as evidenced by the following conversation that took place half-way up the mountain.

Mom leaned forward and said, "Sure glad I wore my heavy gear. Yep I'm warm and toasty back here. In fact, I was thinking about unzipping my jacket a little. Cool off a bit. How you doing?"

I would have replied, but my jaw was locked in a permanent clench. I think I may have bitten my tongue in half. It didn't matter. Hypothermia was sitting in - hard. Less than an hour from home and I was about to die the death of the dinosaurs. Again, it didn't matter. It would all be over soon.

Yet I'm a survivor. I'm scrappy. Somehow I managed to hold on the last few miles where we reached the final ascent to the top of the mountain. I don't know if you remember this, but the stretch of road from the intersection of Hwy 410 and Hwy 123, to the top of Chinook pass - while only 3.5 miles long - climbs almost 750 feet with some MAJOR switchbacks. I mean MAJOR switchbacks. No, even bigger than that! This is usually the 'fun' part of the trip. Usually. But the Universe was getting the game on early because as we rounded a corner it began to rain. Then the rain turned to snow. And the snow began to stick. In August.

Well, as I have said many times in my life - and never in a particularly positive tone - this should be interesting.

And it was. Interesting I mean. A little slippery. A little slidey. A little 'change your undies.' Despite the odds, and I might mention that I was beyond cold at this point, we managed to make it to the top. I pulled into a little rest area just over the summit, cutting a black stripe through the slush to the blacktop below, and coasted into a parking space. I would have wept but my eyelids were frozen.

"Can you believe this?", Mom asked shaking her head in amazement. "It's August for crying out loud."

I tried to say something. I can't remember what. It was probably poignant, beautiful, profound. A statement worthy of being carved in stone. A summation of the human condition that would have birthed insight and peace between nations but was now lost because I couldn't move my lips. Such is the tragedy of man.

Oh wait, I remember! I said, "COLD!"

"Yeah," Mom said, and pulled off her helmet. "It is a little chilly. What does the thermometer on the bike say. Like 38, 39 degrees?"

I managed to tilt my head to look at the digital readout on the instrument cluster. Either I heard ice crack on the back of my helmet or I had shattered another vertebrae in my neck. I hardly noticed. The display was frosted over just a tad. "33", I said. Only it came out "Thhhhhh. . .thhhhhh. . .thhhhh. . ." Sounding much like I was trying to blow up a balloon with a lisp.

"Aw, are you cold babe?" she asked, cocking her head. "Guess you should have worn your heavier coat."

It wasn't so much what she said, although that stung, it was the particular way she giggled as she said it that nailed me. Were it not for my complete inability to speak, or let loose of the handlebars, there may have an altercation.

However, I knew the hard part was behind us. Soon we would descend down into Eastern Washington where the weather was warmer, the roads were less crowded, and granola was not on the menu. We waited at the top of the pass for awhile, watching the light snowfall, allowing the feeling to return to my limbs, and then with a mighty 'Hi Ho Silver! Away!' we set out on the twisty path that would eventually take us to Canada.

Of course, before we could get to our first stop at Galaway Bay, BC we would have to cover 350 miles. As I explained to your Mother, "Piece of cake!"

Darn good thing it was early in the morning. Otherwise, we might have run into trouble.




*** the journey continues tomorrow

Chapter 1

The Journey Begins . . . Sort of

Since you've forsaken us and left us to wander alone in our twilight years while you're off getting all Navy-a-pated - we did what most 'recently elderly' people do and bought a new motorcycle.  She's a 2008 Victory Vision.  This beauty is like nothing you've ever seen.  I tell you the styling on this bike is revolutionary.  She is an ode to art deco.  She is a sonnet of line and form and function with a bass note of devil-may-care intensity.  Cherry Red.  106 cc's and 96 hp.  Cruise control.  Stereo.  GPS.  Heated seats.  Heated hand-grips.  Electric adjustable windshield.  Enough computer chips to build a robot.  

I admit, I'm smitten.  I may, if pressed, leave your Mother for this bike - she's just that hot.  Not that your Mother isn't hot - she is.  But Mom doesn't cruise from 0 to 60 in 4.5 seconds unless she's mistaken the caffeine pills for breath-mints again.  How best to sum up the Vision?  She's a big-ass Buck Rodger's lookin' rocket-ship that raises more eyebrows than a beauty-pageant contestant explaining the nuances of quantum physics.  Yeah, that about covers it.  Needless to say, the brand-lemming bar-hopping motorcycle fashion crowd gives us a wide berth.  Evidently, and unbeknownst to us, it's entirely possible the Vision is a virus that may infect chrome.  But you know us.  You know how we are when it comes to other people's opinions . . . we could not care less.  Oh yeah - we're rebels.  We're trend-setters.  We just roll like that.  Plus, we're tired of sore butts and cold hands.  And cold butts.  And sore hands.  Our new baby is a plush recliner on wheels that corners so well and accelerates so quickly it should come equipped with an extra pair of undies and an insurance policy as standard equipment.  Zoooommmmmm!!!!!  

So, what do you do when you have a big honkin' bike?  Isn't it obvious?  You take a big honkin' trip.  And that's exactly what we intended to do.  Go bust some blacktop, you know?  Shred some twisties.  Run afoul of the law if possible.  Oh, the wild yonder called to us, begging us to explore, to investigate, to conquer its mysteries.  You don't keep a thoroughbred locked in the barn, do you?  Same with the Victory Vision.  She may look like a cover-girl model but our baby is no 'garage queen'.  She's a debutante born to tour the world.  The open road is her life-blood.  She is an artist of speed and g-force with the countryside her canvas.

  

Did I mention I love this bike?  But where to go?  That was the real question.  A relaxed weekend on the coast?  A nice day-long drive through the Cascades?  An over-nighter down on the Columbia River Gorge?

Silly, silly Amber.  This is us - these are your parental units of which we speak.  Short trips are for the weak and feeble.  Anything less than 300 miles a day is for sissies.  We had the time.  We had the equipment.  We lacked common sense.  All the cards were falling into place.  This was our chance to really test the legs of the bike as well as our endurance.  Possibly our marriage of thirty years, but that would come later.  So, in the fevered optimism that is our 'reason d'etre', we decided that a 2500 mile, week long motorcycle excursion to the Canadian Rockies, and Banff National Park in particular, on a big-ass spaceship-styled road-eating motorcycle seemed like a good idea.  

No, that's not quite right.  This trip seemed like a GREAT idea.


Protip:  Pay particular attention to the word "seemed".  Funny word that.  All kinds of interesting connotations.

*** continued tomorrow

Got twisties?

Well, I have been in hiatus for quite some time and my life's schedule being thrown my way by both work and home don't look like that will be changing much any time soon, but I'm not dead. In fact, just a short while back I did some REAL LIVING. Living to Ride, Riding to Live, if ya know what I mean.

I've driven both of these roads I'm going to tell you about before in a car, but never on a motorcycle until now. It's something I've wanted to do for years, since the first time I drove the roads. I finally made it happen with a couple of close friends whom are now even closer friends than before. Funny how that happens. Must be that biker brotherhood thing.

The ride was roughly 800 miles and we broke it up into 3 days.
Now I know that 800 miles doesn't sound like a lot for three days, but when 1/3 of thee miles are on back roads and you take the scenic routes to get there and there are more twisties than you can count, than you can respect 800 miles of pure put a freaking smile on your face riding.

Day 1, we got to a late start, but started at my place and rode most of the daylight away heading North on Hwy 35 / 61 taking the scenic route along Lake Superior.




We had prior reservations and stayed the night at the Aspen Lodge in Grand Marais, MN. We got a room with Lake Superior view, two double beds and a cot.



This worked out fine and the fair was reasonable. If you've ever seen one of those "Where the Hell is Wall Drug" bumper stickers, the you've likely seen a Yellow with Black lettering "Sven and Ole's Grand Marais, MN" bumper sticker too. Well, it's because it is some of the best pizza in the world. Of course we ate dinner there. I try to eat Sven and Ole's Pizza once a year, or I go through withdrawl. 'Nuff said. Eat there if you ever visit
Grand Marais.



Day 2, we started off bright and early in the morning and we rode the Gunflint Trail.




Its 55 miles one way. It starts in Grand Marais, MN and heads North West where it ends at the Canadian border at a lake in the Boundary waters. In fact, the trail goes through the Boundary Waters Canoe Area, thus all of the twisty roads and lakes to view as you roll on through. The Gunflint Trail is filled with twisties, rolling hills, lakes, coniferous trees, pine trees and wild life. We even saw a fox cross the road right in front of us. There are a couple of places you can stop to eat on the way. I recommend Trails Center Lodge, which is at the center of the trail (midway going one direction, not midway turning around).

This is a good place to fuel up too if you have a smaller tank like I do.

There is a place toward the end of the trail by the turn around point too. But I really do recommend Trails Center Lodge for your food stop. I've eaten at both. Trail Center Lodge food freaking rocks.






Sitting at a pit stop, fulfilling a little boy's fantasy!



We double backed down the Gunflint, and then back down Hwy 35 / 61.

This starts the next leg of the journey. When you are traveling South from here on Hwy 35 / 61, you want to take a right at Hwy 1 at Ilgin City and head North West again. At this time, you are remembering the beautiful rolling twisty ride you just finished on the Gunflint, but you are in for quite a surprise. The Gunflint Trail is kind of like Hwy 1 if some one grabbed on to both ends and gave it a little tug to straighten it out a bit.

From here, Hwy 1 will take you to Ely, MN, which is a small, quaint old mining town. There is a really cool mine tour you can take. (I've done the mine tour with my family. It's really cool.) We didn't do so as our time was limited, but if you find the time, I do recommend it. Back to the twisties. The road from Ilgin City To Ely is almost exactly 60 miles one way. Precisely 42 of which are twisty. Some as twisty as Needles Hwy in So. Dakota. The twists and turns vary from switch backs to long rolling curves that you can hang for what seems to be forever at about 55-60 MPH. I suppose if you have a different bike, and more balls than I have, or are at least more daring than I, you could go much faster. There are a few lakes and rivers that are beautiful to see while you are on this road, but really, when you are riding these twisties, you're having so much fun you really don't care. At the mid point of the road there is a gas station for fueling up if needed, and a Coop with gas too. Again, helpful for those us with small gas tanks who already pushed limits riding from Grand Marais to this point here. This was also a good place to grab a snack before motoring on to Ely.
We stayed the night at a quaint home made cabin.

The cabin was loaned to us to use for the night from a friend of one of the guys I was riding with. Accommodations were a bit rough, but what do you expect for a little cabin in the middle of no where. The solitude and scenery made up for lack of pampering after a long ride.





We stayed up late drinking beer and talking smart around the camp fire and then called it a night. Good times my friends, good times.




Day 3, We packed up our gear in the morning to "DO" Hwy 1 again on our last leg, the journey home.

I enjoyed double backing Hwy 1, I think just as much as hitting it for the first time because I kind of knew what to expect more on a bike than the first way through. I was able to push the speed a bit more and really enjoy the curves. You know, when you drive a twisty road in a car, it aint the same as on two wheels, so the first time through for me was like being a Hwy 1 motorcycle twisty virgin. You want to enjoy it, but yet, you don't want to crash and burn either. I feel it's best to play it safe the first time through on motorcycle on any unknown road. Eventually the twisties ended, and we were shortly back on the freeway, heading home.

We safely and successfully returned home and ended the journey that made 3 friends better friends than before.

Got twisties?

Riding weather

Life's been busy lately. Lack of time to do much but work. Weekends always seem to be too short. I even have a hard time keeping up with SOA. I watch it, but find little time to really sit down and write something that will do the last episode justice. I will. Soon. I promise. I just need more time. I should have taken the time to do so yesterday, but instead hopped on my bike for ride with a couple of friends to go leaf peeping. Boy was it a splendid afternoon. I was in such a rush to get out there and enjoy one of the last really nice weekend days of the season that I didn't even remember to bring my camera. I'm hoping for some of those Indian summer days coming soon where I can take advantage, and get out a few more times yet this season for rides that last more than 15 minutes. Fall is my favorite season, and to me the best riding weather. Can't beat the scenery and the mild temps. It's one of the few times where you can be suited up with the proper safety riding gear and feel comfortable temperature wise. I led the ride on some of my most favorite twisty back road routes that I know. Yesterday, we rode almost nonstop for about 5 hours and only put on about 150 miles. You do the math. That's a lot of twisties.

Hope you all had a great weekend. I'll post my SOA review soon.

Riding weather

Life's been busy lately. Lack of time to do much but work. Weekends always seem to be too short. I even have a hard time keeping up with SOA. I watch it, but find little time to really sit down and write something that will do the last episode justice. I will. Soon. I promise. I just need more time. I should have taken the time to do so yesterday, but instead hopped on my bike for ride with a couple of friends to go leaf peeping. Boy was it a splendid afternoon. I was in such a rush to get out there and enjoy one of the last really nice weekend days of the season that I didn't even remember to bring my camera. I'm hoping for some of those Indian summer days coming soon where I can take advantage, and get out a few more times yet this season for rides that last more than 15 minutes. Fall is my favorite season, and to me the best riding weather. Can't beat the scenery and the mild temps. It's one of the few times where you can be suited up with the proper safety riding gear and feel comfortable temperature wise. I led the ride on some of my most favorite twisty back road routes that I know. Yesterday, we rode almost nonstop for about 5 hours and only put on about 150 miles. You do the math. That's a lot of twisties.

Hope you all had a great weekend. I'll post my SOA review soon.