The Vulture's Chronicles
I t has been a long spring and
summer, and even though my riding buddy Al and I had
fun in June, I needed to ride somewhere out of the
local area. Work has been full of challenges and at my
age, and a life full of accomplishment, I really didn't
need or want the stuff that came at me and that I
agreed to do. So, there have been demands on my energy
level and I was feeling more than drained.
Psychologically I'm dealing with getting older - I have a fairly advanced Glaucoma I wasn't aware of untill my eye doc discovered high pressures and over the top blood pressure. Got the BP under control with meds, and eye drop medication seems to have stopped the Glaucoma from getting worse. I do have some vision loss but the good thing is I can still see well enough to ride, even at night.
My wife was bummed that we had no vacation time together this year. I had planned for it but her work screwed her out of our scheduled time in June and now I have the first week of September off and she can't go. Add to this and it's labor Day weekend. I need to leave Sunday so I can take a leisurely ride to Rick Meyer's place to have my RT's saddle done. I don't want to pound a 700 mile day when the idiots are out in force along with every pissed off LEO on overtime. So with all that as a background I took off early Sunday the 3rd and made way for Redding, CA.
I left in the dark somewhere around 0530 so I could get arond Portland before folk awakened and decided they needed to drive somewhere near me. Good plan and I made it before traffic got real intense. It is warming up rapidly and I think the heavy traffic I do encounter is folk headed for the coast where temperatures are forecast to be in the 60's. I get caught up in a dense pack of cars headed south on I-5 so decide to run with some Harley boys on vacation from Michigan. They are bantering with each other on their CB and I listen in for entertainment. My Autocom CB setup is working marginally well. It is a neat thing to hear friends tease each other the way long time buddies do and kind of nice to hear one of them tell his buddies to check out my RT. "That BMW looks real nice how its lines blend in with the rider" "Yeah" says another, "He was haulin ass back there, must have needed some friends" I found a hole in the pack and hauled ass out of there.
The ride is uneventful and I'm hyper vigilant for drunks and LEO activity. I stop in Medford for some lunch and a rest, deciding to eat an Asian salad at a fast food place. Shortly afterward, and a few miles down the road, I begin to feel sweaty and a bit nauseous. Feeling like I might throw up. Slow down just in case and the feeling intensifies. I roll off the throttle and head into a rest area and then up comes the salad. it could have been fatal had I been on the slab at 75 mph when that happened. As it was my helmet filled with lunch as did my hair and I had a hard time keeping the bike under control. Basically I just dropped my feet till I felt the ground and then braked to a stop. I flipped up the face shield and moved to a place where I could park the bike.
I spent a lot of time cleaning up and more than one person gave me distance. Eventually I got my helmet back together, and traded jackets, and feeling a bit recovered made for Yreka, CA. My helmet stinks and I have to run with the visor open but in time I get to my destination for the night, score a motel room and unload the bike. Puke gear is thrown in the washing machine and I clean out my panniers. At a car wash I blas my mesh jacket and wash the dried vomit off my bike. I discover chunks under my saddle and in places I would not have expected. Bike looks and smells better so I report to my laundry, and throw stuff in the dryer and begn to dismantle my helmet. The liner gets washed and th cheek pad covers too. I had some Q-Tips and used those up cleaning suspect material from the vent holes. My Autocom mic is wasted and goes in the trash. Seems like I've done what I can.
I wanted to ride route 3 so I can avoid holiday travellers on the freeway and depart early. The three hours after sunrise is my favorite time to ride and it is nice and cool. The only disappointment is smoke from forest fires and a lingering stench in my helmet. In any event I see plenty deer and enjoy the ride to Weaverville, CA. I'm ready to eat something and pick a restaurant. Turns out everybody in 600 miles is there so what normally takes an hour took two. No big deal as I'm close to Redding anyway and the people watching is fun. I especially liked the 2 year old who snagged the butter off his mom's pancakes and squished it through his fingers and spread it everywhere. Only took him an instant, and he took his mom completely by surprise. Don't think she appreciated my giggle 'cause he went for the syrup next after he looked at me. She busted him though - game over.
Did a motel 6 in Redding, and found a bike shop open. Tried some helmet fresh. Just covers up the stink. Later that night I discover the source, a couple chunks of puke in the venting mechanism of the helmet - the part up front. I eat lightly and sleep well.
I get to Rick Meyer's place, and he begins on my saddle. In a few hours I'm ready to go and glad to get moving - it is almost 100 degrees. My plan is to get somewhere into Nevada and make for Susanville, CA on route 36. I pound water from my hydration sysem and just enjoy riding. This is the 3rd day out and some of the funk of the past 2 months is getting blown off and I just want to move. In time I'm through Susanville and headed for Reno, NV. At Reno, I pound East on the freeway and eventually jump off for Highway 50 and Fallon, NV.
At the gas station I chat with a VFR rider from San Jose. He asks "Where you headed?" I say "East somewhere". "Thinking of making for Austin" he says as I wave good bye. In time he catches up and hangs with me at 85 mph through the sunset all the way to Austin. I love Nevada for riding and especially Highway 50, and the sunset brings out amazing color. Austin is small and the proprietor of the Mountain Motel says they have no water in town worth drinking. "Get some bottled water".
He isn't at all encouraging about local eateries. "Been sick in both of them". Last thing I want to deal with, so I walk to the local gas station and buy a sandwich and water out of the cooler. Sleep well.
At 0500 I depart and await the sunrise while dodging deer, coyote, and rabbit. I had a notion to do Death Valley, but blew that off yesterday with 120 degree tempratures forecast in that region. Today, as I ride I decide on Cedar City, UT and depending on weather there maybe head for Toray or some other neat place. I have breakfast in Eureka and turn South at Ely, NV eventually turning onto Route 120. I find that the RT is still pulling like a freight train at 131 mph but I roll off the throttle as I see something on the road up ahead. I need to have Moto-Lights added so people and creatures can judge my speed - my theory at least about why the ravens didn't get out of my way in time. At about 95 mph, and me hard on the binders, the RT blasts through a herd of black birds. One is hit real hard and explodes all over me and the bike. Not only do I have a slight puke smell in my helmet, I now have to deal with bird entrails and blood. About 10 miles after getting that cleaned up with the last of my water I nail a rabbit. Thump, thump. Bunny is toast and the RT barely noticed.
There are thunder storms all around the Cedar City area and the rain helps wash crow and bunny detritus off the RT, and me. Regardless, I don't want to ride in severe weather and the forecast suggests I get out of there. Toray is out so I make for Page, AZ via highway 89. I get up into the high country full of Aspen and showers, and the wonderful smells that accompany rain. Twisty road, no critters, 50 degrees - just right.
I want to pass the couple on the Gold Wing and trailer not because I need to be in front but the way they are riding it seems to me only time before he runs that rig off the road or into oncoming traffic. The trailer must be affecting the handling of the bike. Finally I get a shot at a straight bit and nai the double yellow - bidding the couple good bye and best wishes.
Pulling into Page, AZ is a trip. Glen Canyon is one deep mother and the dam that created Lake Powell is impressive. So are the storms encroaching on me, so I skeddadle for a Motel - 6. I walk to a burger joint, have supper and head for sleep.
On Thursday morning the Weather channel implies that today I'm doomed. Oh well, try and outwit mother nature. Durango, CO looks like an intermediate goal and I head there - in the rain. The signage along the road simply says "Don't drive through water across the roadway - flash flood danger". OK - got it. It is cold, about 45 so I stop at a roadside place for coffee and have a brief chat with two Harley riders from Colorado. One has a bad battery, so I give him a push and off they roar. The dogs decide I must have something they can eat so here they come all friendly and hopefull. One is convinced my earplugs must be edible and jumps up on me to get them. Thanks for the muddy paw prints on my pants buddy - here have a Power Bar.
It is dry for a bit yet turns real wet by the turn off for Monument Valley. I really want to go there and head into the storm anyway. About the time I think this is a big mistake, the road turns away from the blackness and rain and I ride into misty stuff and eventually out of the soggy altogether. Got some pictures:
Rain in the background - just rode through it
Pretty neat - worth the wetness to see it.
Always need a bike shot
Rain chasing
OK, enough flower sniffing - make for Durango, CO along fun to ride twisty roads and get there in the sun with temperatures in the low 70's. Excellent!
I get gas, and a chicken sandwich, and head North for Grand Junction as a destination for the day. Durango seems a Yuppie town and not real interesting to me. I'll investigate it some other time but for now it is North on Route 550. I climb, and climb, and the GPS says the altimeter is near 11,000 feet. It is raining hard, it is cold at 45 degrees, and there is some fellow towing a 5th wheel who refuses to pull over on this twisty mountain road to let people by. Dick. Eventually I shoot past about 8 cars and the Dick on a short straight bit and get some speed up. That eases the rain off my visor and I begin to have fun on this super twisty road. There are many U Turns at 15 mph and there are no guard rails so a screw up means bad things will happen. I make sure they don't happen to me. I see lots of BMW bikes and few of us wave given the demands of the road - need both paws on the grips.
After a few hours the fun ends with a decent into flat terrain outside Grand Junction. Guess what? All the motels are full. So I do the freeway East to Rifle, stopping at each motel hoping for a room. Nope. Well this could be a long night and it is getting cold so I add my heated vest, fill up and head North on 13 for Craig. The dark is real dark as it is raining lightly. The speed limit is 65 but I have courage for only 50 mph. There are deer all over the place and my headlight needs to be aimed better. I spend the better part of 90 minutes dodging critters before a big truck roars past. Cool, he can hit the critters and light the way for me. Fine with him he says on the CB and we both haul ass. to Craig. The woman at the motel suggests Steamboat Springs another 50 miles east so with little choice I head out.
Everything is full, but for one place with no sign indicating their vacancy status. $140 for a room isn't so bad under these conditions. I eat a couple of oatmeal cookies, drink some hot chocolate, and drop off to sleep.
In the daylight this town looks like it does on TV. I'm out of there fast, but with the cruise on the speed limit, 'cause for certain LEO helps the local economy - he's pulled a couple of early risers over already. I back track in the rain for highway 13 and venture North and a rise in elevation. I like this as I break out of the rain and am riding in high country again, reveling in the sense of freedom and the peace that I now feel.
This route takes me into Wyoming and generally toward Rawlins. I am into the basin of Wyoming and there is an awful lot of work being done for natural gas and oil. In Rawlins I decide to go to Cody, WY and make for there at speed with the locals. I always set my cruise control for the speed limits in the little towns along the way. However in the town of Thermopolis I get busted for speeding.
The road leaving town heads up a fairly steep pitch and when I see the 45 mph sign I roll on the throttle. What I didn't see was the flat spot and there he was. My Escort is no match for his instant on Radar so I just pull over to save him the trouble. "Nice bike" Thanks. "Driver's License, registration, and insurance please" "You were going 41 in a 30". Just admiring the beauty of your town and not paying attention - didn't see the flat spot - your favorite place? "yes".
I get rid of my liner in the jacket and drink some water while he checks me out. "Sign here, and when you mail your check in just write the citation number on the check" OK, thanks. "Have a nice day". I'm looking at this young fellow - polite and all of maybe 20 years old - wondering how much he brings into the town coffers. I was speeding and he got me, but it would have been more sporting out in the open like a Highway Patrol LEO might do.
Well I'll be $52 less wealthy after I get home. Regardless, Wyoming is another of my favorite places to ride and eventually I get to the Wind River canyon. I'm in a bunch of cars who want to go slow so I pull over at a roadside pull out and let them go so I can ride the canyon like a guy on a bike should ride it. While there I hear this amazing noise of a locomotive being amplified by the canyon walls. What the hell - take a picture.
The Train
A bit of the canyon
Here is an up-side:
57.3 mpg - it was 58.6 earlier but I got happy with the throttle. The RT loves real gasoline that the mountain states and the likes of Texas have. No ethanol, no oxygenates, just righteous 91 octane.
In a short while I get to Cody, WY and begin the motel room hunt. Just like last night most places are full or rooms are reserved. I persist and get another expensive room. The proprietor explains this is the second season with geezers taking vacation when the young families are all back at work with kids in school. It dawns on me that most of the occupants of the cars I have passed are elderly and they are in Buick, big BMW, and Lexus sedans. OK, filed for future reference.
I dine on meat loaf in the establishment that Buffalo Bill used to hang out in. The meat loaf was about as appealing as this very old hotel, saloon, dining room place. It had that old sensation in the mouth. The expresso at the coffee joint was good and I check the Weather channel before I fall off to sleep. Tomorrow looks good.
My choice is to head straight into Yellowstone National Park or head North for Red Bluff. I pick the latter but after about 10 miles I notice a road going West - a real twisty road according to the GPS - so divert that way which will bring me into the Northern part of the park and then I can make North to Livingston, MT. Good choice! The RT and me climb to high country and enjoy the best twisty road of the trip, early in the morning and 55 degrees. Perfect, and no LEOs out here either.
The Beartooth
I eat the best corned beef hash in a little town that looks like a little old mining town ought to look like. Restaurant full of elderly folk, who are curious about me being on a bike. Tell them I can't afford a Lexus. It is $20 to enter the park but it is worth it.
He and his woman held traffic up for a while. later I came round a bend and almost hit one of these big guys strolling along the yellow. I had to stop, and wanted a picture, but decided to make a dash for safety when he ambled up to the bike and looked me over real close - just didn't like how he was checking me out.
Antelope in foreground
A Bull Elk at the North entrance to the park
And his women folk
I decided I needed to get home so, haul ass for I-90 and turn West. My initial plan was to do Lolo Pass instead of a long freeway slog home but it seemed Montana was on fire. Smoke obscured the scenery and in Missoula I'm told it is bad along Lolo Pass. With that settled I load up on fuel and drone West. The traffic is surprisingly light. It takes a few hours to get to the Columbia River. Spooky riding with the most intense wind I have ever ridden in. My speed drops to 50 and it is hard to stay in my lane. By Ellensburg it diminishes, and the ride home is uneventful.
Today, as I put this together, I'm feeling rested and ready for whatever awaits me at work. I'm sure my psyche will need adjustment in a couple of months but for now the ride has done what it needed for me and I've seen a lot of very pretty country.
Psychologically I'm dealing with getting older - I have a fairly advanced Glaucoma I wasn't aware of untill my eye doc discovered high pressures and over the top blood pressure. Got the BP under control with meds, and eye drop medication seems to have stopped the Glaucoma from getting worse. I do have some vision loss but the good thing is I can still see well enough to ride, even at night.
My wife was bummed that we had no vacation time together this year. I had planned for it but her work screwed her out of our scheduled time in June and now I have the first week of September off and she can't go. Add to this and it's labor Day weekend. I need to leave Sunday so I can take a leisurely ride to Rick Meyer's place to have my RT's saddle done. I don't want to pound a 700 mile day when the idiots are out in force along with every pissed off LEO on overtime. So with all that as a background I took off early Sunday the 3rd and made way for Redding, CA.
I left in the dark somewhere around 0530 so I could get arond Portland before folk awakened and decided they needed to drive somewhere near me. Good plan and I made it before traffic got real intense. It is warming up rapidly and I think the heavy traffic I do encounter is folk headed for the coast where temperatures are forecast to be in the 60's. I get caught up in a dense pack of cars headed south on I-5 so decide to run with some Harley boys on vacation from Michigan. They are bantering with each other on their CB and I listen in for entertainment. My Autocom CB setup is working marginally well. It is a neat thing to hear friends tease each other the way long time buddies do and kind of nice to hear one of them tell his buddies to check out my RT. "That BMW looks real nice how its lines blend in with the rider" "Yeah" says another, "He was haulin ass back there, must have needed some friends" I found a hole in the pack and hauled ass out of there.
The ride is uneventful and I'm hyper vigilant for drunks and LEO activity. I stop in Medford for some lunch and a rest, deciding to eat an Asian salad at a fast food place. Shortly afterward, and a few miles down the road, I begin to feel sweaty and a bit nauseous. Feeling like I might throw up. Slow down just in case and the feeling intensifies. I roll off the throttle and head into a rest area and then up comes the salad. it could have been fatal had I been on the slab at 75 mph when that happened. As it was my helmet filled with lunch as did my hair and I had a hard time keeping the bike under control. Basically I just dropped my feet till I felt the ground and then braked to a stop. I flipped up the face shield and moved to a place where I could park the bike.
I spent a lot of time cleaning up and more than one person gave me distance. Eventually I got my helmet back together, and traded jackets, and feeling a bit recovered made for Yreka, CA. My helmet stinks and I have to run with the visor open but in time I get to my destination for the night, score a motel room and unload the bike. Puke gear is thrown in the washing machine and I clean out my panniers. At a car wash I blas my mesh jacket and wash the dried vomit off my bike. I discover chunks under my saddle and in places I would not have expected. Bike looks and smells better so I report to my laundry, and throw stuff in the dryer and begn to dismantle my helmet. The liner gets washed and th cheek pad covers too. I had some Q-Tips and used those up cleaning suspect material from the vent holes. My Autocom mic is wasted and goes in the trash. Seems like I've done what I can.
I wanted to ride route 3 so I can avoid holiday travellers on the freeway and depart early. The three hours after sunrise is my favorite time to ride and it is nice and cool. The only disappointment is smoke from forest fires and a lingering stench in my helmet. In any event I see plenty deer and enjoy the ride to Weaverville, CA. I'm ready to eat something and pick a restaurant. Turns out everybody in 600 miles is there so what normally takes an hour took two. No big deal as I'm close to Redding anyway and the people watching is fun. I especially liked the 2 year old who snagged the butter off his mom's pancakes and squished it through his fingers and spread it everywhere. Only took him an instant, and he took his mom completely by surprise. Don't think she appreciated my giggle 'cause he went for the syrup next after he looked at me. She busted him though - game over.
Did a motel 6 in Redding, and found a bike shop open. Tried some helmet fresh. Just covers up the stink. Later that night I discover the source, a couple chunks of puke in the venting mechanism of the helmet - the part up front. I eat lightly and sleep well.
I get to Rick Meyer's place, and he begins on my saddle. In a few hours I'm ready to go and glad to get moving - it is almost 100 degrees. My plan is to get somewhere into Nevada and make for Susanville, CA on route 36. I pound water from my hydration sysem and just enjoy riding. This is the 3rd day out and some of the funk of the past 2 months is getting blown off and I just want to move. In time I'm through Susanville and headed for Reno, NV. At Reno, I pound East on the freeway and eventually jump off for Highway 50 and Fallon, NV.
At the gas station I chat with a VFR rider from San Jose. He asks "Where you headed?" I say "East somewhere". "Thinking of making for Austin" he says as I wave good bye. In time he catches up and hangs with me at 85 mph through the sunset all the way to Austin. I love Nevada for riding and especially Highway 50, and the sunset brings out amazing color. Austin is small and the proprietor of the Mountain Motel says they have no water in town worth drinking. "Get some bottled water".
He isn't at all encouraging about local eateries. "Been sick in both of them". Last thing I want to deal with, so I walk to the local gas station and buy a sandwich and water out of the cooler. Sleep well.
At 0500 I depart and await the sunrise while dodging deer, coyote, and rabbit. I had a notion to do Death Valley, but blew that off yesterday with 120 degree tempratures forecast in that region. Today, as I ride I decide on Cedar City, UT and depending on weather there maybe head for Toray or some other neat place. I have breakfast in Eureka and turn South at Ely, NV eventually turning onto Route 120. I find that the RT is still pulling like a freight train at 131 mph but I roll off the throttle as I see something on the road up ahead. I need to have Moto-Lights added so people and creatures can judge my speed - my theory at least about why the ravens didn't get out of my way in time. At about 95 mph, and me hard on the binders, the RT blasts through a herd of black birds. One is hit real hard and explodes all over me and the bike. Not only do I have a slight puke smell in my helmet, I now have to deal with bird entrails and blood. About 10 miles after getting that cleaned up with the last of my water I nail a rabbit. Thump, thump. Bunny is toast and the RT barely noticed.
There are thunder storms all around the Cedar City area and the rain helps wash crow and bunny detritus off the RT, and me. Regardless, I don't want to ride in severe weather and the forecast suggests I get out of there. Toray is out so I make for Page, AZ via highway 89. I get up into the high country full of Aspen and showers, and the wonderful smells that accompany rain. Twisty road, no critters, 50 degrees - just right.
I want to pass the couple on the Gold Wing and trailer not because I need to be in front but the way they are riding it seems to me only time before he runs that rig off the road or into oncoming traffic. The trailer must be affecting the handling of the bike. Finally I get a shot at a straight bit and nai the double yellow - bidding the couple good bye and best wishes.
Pulling into Page, AZ is a trip. Glen Canyon is one deep mother and the dam that created Lake Powell is impressive. So are the storms encroaching on me, so I skeddadle for a Motel - 6. I walk to a burger joint, have supper and head for sleep.
On Thursday morning the Weather channel implies that today I'm doomed. Oh well, try and outwit mother nature. Durango, CO looks like an intermediate goal and I head there - in the rain. The signage along the road simply says "Don't drive through water across the roadway - flash flood danger". OK - got it. It is cold, about 45 so I stop at a roadside place for coffee and have a brief chat with two Harley riders from Colorado. One has a bad battery, so I give him a push and off they roar. The dogs decide I must have something they can eat so here they come all friendly and hopefull. One is convinced my earplugs must be edible and jumps up on me to get them. Thanks for the muddy paw prints on my pants buddy - here have a Power Bar.
It is dry for a bit yet turns real wet by the turn off for Monument Valley. I really want to go there and head into the storm anyway. About the time I think this is a big mistake, the road turns away from the blackness and rain and I ride into misty stuff and eventually out of the soggy altogether. Got some pictures:
Rain in the background - just rode through it
Pretty neat - worth the wetness to see it.
Always need a bike shot
Rain chasing
OK, enough flower sniffing - make for Durango, CO along fun to ride twisty roads and get there in the sun with temperatures in the low 70's. Excellent!
I get gas, and a chicken sandwich, and head North for Grand Junction as a destination for the day. Durango seems a Yuppie town and not real interesting to me. I'll investigate it some other time but for now it is North on Route 550. I climb, and climb, and the GPS says the altimeter is near 11,000 feet. It is raining hard, it is cold at 45 degrees, and there is some fellow towing a 5th wheel who refuses to pull over on this twisty mountain road to let people by. Dick. Eventually I shoot past about 8 cars and the Dick on a short straight bit and get some speed up. That eases the rain off my visor and I begin to have fun on this super twisty road. There are many U Turns at 15 mph and there are no guard rails so a screw up means bad things will happen. I make sure they don't happen to me. I see lots of BMW bikes and few of us wave given the demands of the road - need both paws on the grips.
After a few hours the fun ends with a decent into flat terrain outside Grand Junction. Guess what? All the motels are full. So I do the freeway East to Rifle, stopping at each motel hoping for a room. Nope. Well this could be a long night and it is getting cold so I add my heated vest, fill up and head North on 13 for Craig. The dark is real dark as it is raining lightly. The speed limit is 65 but I have courage for only 50 mph. There are deer all over the place and my headlight needs to be aimed better. I spend the better part of 90 minutes dodging critters before a big truck roars past. Cool, he can hit the critters and light the way for me. Fine with him he says on the CB and we both haul ass. to Craig. The woman at the motel suggests Steamboat Springs another 50 miles east so with little choice I head out.
Everything is full, but for one place with no sign indicating their vacancy status. $140 for a room isn't so bad under these conditions. I eat a couple of oatmeal cookies, drink some hot chocolate, and drop off to sleep.
In the daylight this town looks like it does on TV. I'm out of there fast, but with the cruise on the speed limit, 'cause for certain LEO helps the local economy - he's pulled a couple of early risers over already. I back track in the rain for highway 13 and venture North and a rise in elevation. I like this as I break out of the rain and am riding in high country again, reveling in the sense of freedom and the peace that I now feel.
This route takes me into Wyoming and generally toward Rawlins. I am into the basin of Wyoming and there is an awful lot of work being done for natural gas and oil. In Rawlins I decide to go to Cody, WY and make for there at speed with the locals. I always set my cruise control for the speed limits in the little towns along the way. However in the town of Thermopolis I get busted for speeding.
The road leaving town heads up a fairly steep pitch and when I see the 45 mph sign I roll on the throttle. What I didn't see was the flat spot and there he was. My Escort is no match for his instant on Radar so I just pull over to save him the trouble. "Nice bike" Thanks. "Driver's License, registration, and insurance please" "You were going 41 in a 30". Just admiring the beauty of your town and not paying attention - didn't see the flat spot - your favorite place? "yes".
I get rid of my liner in the jacket and drink some water while he checks me out. "Sign here, and when you mail your check in just write the citation number on the check" OK, thanks. "Have a nice day". I'm looking at this young fellow - polite and all of maybe 20 years old - wondering how much he brings into the town coffers. I was speeding and he got me, but it would have been more sporting out in the open like a Highway Patrol LEO might do.
Well I'll be $52 less wealthy after I get home. Regardless, Wyoming is another of my favorite places to ride and eventually I get to the Wind River canyon. I'm in a bunch of cars who want to go slow so I pull over at a roadside pull out and let them go so I can ride the canyon like a guy on a bike should ride it. While there I hear this amazing noise of a locomotive being amplified by the canyon walls. What the hell - take a picture.
The Train
A bit of the canyon
Here is an up-side:
57.3 mpg - it was 58.6 earlier but I got happy with the throttle. The RT loves real gasoline that the mountain states and the likes of Texas have. No ethanol, no oxygenates, just righteous 91 octane.
In a short while I get to Cody, WY and begin the motel room hunt. Just like last night most places are full or rooms are reserved. I persist and get another expensive room. The proprietor explains this is the second season with geezers taking vacation when the young families are all back at work with kids in school. It dawns on me that most of the occupants of the cars I have passed are elderly and they are in Buick, big BMW, and Lexus sedans. OK, filed for future reference.
I dine on meat loaf in the establishment that Buffalo Bill used to hang out in. The meat loaf was about as appealing as this very old hotel, saloon, dining room place. It had that old sensation in the mouth. The expresso at the coffee joint was good and I check the Weather channel before I fall off to sleep. Tomorrow looks good.
My choice is to head straight into Yellowstone National Park or head North for Red Bluff. I pick the latter but after about 10 miles I notice a road going West - a real twisty road according to the GPS - so divert that way which will bring me into the Northern part of the park and then I can make North to Livingston, MT. Good choice! The RT and me climb to high country and enjoy the best twisty road of the trip, early in the morning and 55 degrees. Perfect, and no LEOs out here either.
The Beartooth
I eat the best corned beef hash in a little town that looks like a little old mining town ought to look like. Restaurant full of elderly folk, who are curious about me being on a bike. Tell them I can't afford a Lexus. It is $20 to enter the park but it is worth it.
He and his woman held traffic up for a while. later I came round a bend and almost hit one of these big guys strolling along the yellow. I had to stop, and wanted a picture, but decided to make a dash for safety when he ambled up to the bike and looked me over real close - just didn't like how he was checking me out.
Antelope in foreground
A Bull Elk at the North entrance to the park
And his women folk
I decided I needed to get home so, haul ass for I-90 and turn West. My initial plan was to do Lolo Pass instead of a long freeway slog home but it seemed Montana was on fire. Smoke obscured the scenery and in Missoula I'm told it is bad along Lolo Pass. With that settled I load up on fuel and drone West. The traffic is surprisingly light. It takes a few hours to get to the Columbia River. Spooky riding with the most intense wind I have ever ridden in. My speed drops to 50 and it is hard to stay in my lane. By Ellensburg it diminishes, and the ride home is uneventful.
Today, as I put this together, I'm feeling rested and ready for whatever awaits me at work. I'm sure my psyche will need adjustment in a couple of months but for now the ride has done what it needed for me and I've seen a lot of very pretty country.