I headed north. Cruising along in the extreme heat of Arizona. Supposedly it was a record high, great time to be ripping through on a motorcycle while wearing leathers. Utah had a lot of potential simply from looking at the map. There were a few trails I thought about hitting along with some campsites. I escaped the heat of Arizona only to find Utah wasn't much cooler.
Utah was barren. I began thinking about running out of gas again and how my spare tank was still empty. An odd paradox. I chugged on to Zion National Park. Zion is really popular on the internet and as I found out, even more popular in person. It was mid week, maybe Tuesday. I thought maybe it would be manageable. Well before the park I realized I was quite wrong. Long lines of traffic lay ahead. The heat was still stifling. Zion was beautiful, but you know what? I didn't take a single picture. Just google images for pictures of Zion, I doubt I would be able to take a picture any better than what already exists. The point is, I just wanted to leave. Car and human traffic was rivaling inner city traffic. I had to crap (had to, as in I really had to). Parking was full everywhere. Fortunately the beauty of a motorcycle is often parking can be made anywhere. I defied all the NPS signs and rode over a sidewalk. With that out of the way, I promptly left the park behind. In a way, I was saddened. There was some really nice looking trails. The heat was beginning to become too much. I was supposed to stop in Zion for the night, however that never happened.
Utah is funny. I've heard stories but after stopping for food, it was pretty obvious. The place is very different. Not a place for me. I knocked out a bunch more miles and made my way to Salt Lake City. I was excited for Salt Lake City. The internet told me it was awesome and had a lot to offer. I got into the city and on every corner was the stereotypical mormon males with backpacks. I went farther into the city, and there was LDS churches everywhere. Bigger than any other building. The city really wasn't so appealing anymore. I've been riding since 3am and it is now 4pm. I was tired. I haven't camped in awhile so I found an out of the way campground high in the mountains outside of Salt Lake City. I took a seasonal road up and over a mountain pass to Park City, a legendary mountain bike location.
Beautiful location. Salt Lake City was a little more appealing with this kind of environment surrounding it. The campground was nice and reasonable. While I was paying for my spot, I used the killswitch to turn off my bike instead of trying to get the key out of the ignition. It was really stuck. I'd deal with it later. I got back on my bike to head to my camping spot only to find it would not start. Bike had power but the starter button did nothing. I pulled in the clutch lever, made sure it was in neutral, moved the kick stand up and down (kick stand safety switch). Nothing still. Well. I was in good spirit. I asked the campground lady for a spot closer since I would be pushing my bike. She got me a much closer spot and I began pushing my bike, only to see the killswitch was in the off position. I never use the kill switch to turn off my bike, I use the ignition key. Muscle memory, changed my routine and it messed me all up. I laughed at myself, hit the switch, started right up and I took off to my spot. I camped right next to this.
The hammock setup.
View from my hammock.
Knowledge gained, don't wrap your hammock straps around a tree thats profusely leaking sap from someone who carved John Loves Deb in it. Come morning my straps were covered in lovely sap, making my departure a bit slow.
During that night, I woke up only after a few hours. The cold had seeped in. Being ontop of the mountains meant the night got cold even in mid summer. It was below 40 degrees. I got up and unrolled my sleeping pad to insulate my body from the hammock as the hammock does not have any insulated qualities. I had no problem going back to sleep, woke up at 9am, very late for me. Took my time leaving and had a slow ride back to the city. I wanted to catch a movie premiere that was showing in the city.
Perhaps tonight would be a hotel kind of night so I could go be social after the movie premiere. I did my searches, oddly a Hilton was the cheapest. The parking lot was pretty much empty. I walked in and immediately felt like I did not belong. The fellow behind the desk had that look. That look of "what are you doing in here". His tone of voice agreed. My helmet hair was out of control, the mountain beard was coming in, my clothes were crusted with dead bugs. He claimed they were booked for the night. Yeah. Okay. That was enough for me.
Back to the road, where I felt the most comfortable. The movie premiere is showing elsewhere anyways. I simply did not want to be in the city anymore. Or any city for that matter. I was nearing the end of the trip and really wanted the last bit to be spent where I wanted to be, the Cascades. I went to Boise Idaho, just to see it. Another large dry place. I'm slowly realizing that these places that interested me on the internet generally don't work out so well in person. Water has become important to me and too many places are missing a good amount of it.
My ignition key was still giving me trouble, so I unlocked my gas tank lid and left it open so if my key would not come out of the ignition I could at least refuel to get to my final destination of Seattle. It seemed smart. The highways of Idaho were long and flat and boring. I started thinking about what if I wrecked with an open gas tank. Fireball would be imminent. Risk of fire while riding was even possible. Suddenly I wasn't too fond of my decision. Turns out my gas mileage plummetted too. At the next fill up, I locked up the tank and continued to just fight with my key instead. Night came upon me and I stopped at a cheap hotel.
After getting a room I figured I would just push my bike to a nearer parking spot. I recently found that if I turned my key past the "On" position to the parking light position, the key could be removed so I could unlock my gas tank. This was a relief as it meant I would make it to Seattle. I had turned my key to the parking position while I was getting a room. Just like the killswitch earlier, it was out of my routine and I forgot that in the parking position the steering is locked too. I pushed my bike off the kick stand and went to push it forward. The steering is locked to the left. I pretty much pushed my bike over right over there. I grabbed the handlebar with both hands and dug my boots in as the bike fell to the point of no return. In my head I already thought to just let it go. My body held it though. I pulled it back up and actually pulled so hard that I pulled the bike back on myself. I was now lifting the bike back up to keep it from crushing me. I got it back to where it should be, kicked the kick stand back out and took a breather. Just like the killswitch, I laughed at myself. Then I did a 360. Did anyone see it? No? Good. Pushed my bike to the parking spot and promptly went inside.
Left early as I had a focus. I've passed by Mount Rainier in the past but never spent time there. Mountains are where I belong. Volcanos are even better.
This is more my speed.
Oh yeah.
The opposing range was impressive too. Mount Adams was visible and so was Mount St Helens. Mount hood was barely visible too but I doubt it can be seen in the pictures. 100 miles prior from even getting to Mount Rainier, the volcano was clear on the horizon.
A really nice trail led up the mountain to the base of the glaciers. I was concerned at the trailhead as the trail was paved and human traffic was pretty congested. The trail started off as a steep incline. Actually lasted two miles. The incline weened off most of the people.
The trail was absolutely beautiful.
I took my time, simply enjoying the beauty. The blue glaciers coming off Mount Rainier. Waterfalls coming out of melted snow pack. Needless to say, I was happy.
In the past I rarely smiled, if at all. I'm getting the point where I just don't care. If I am happy, I am happy. If I am not, then I am not.
I got to my final destination and slowly dismounted. That's it. 7,000 miles. I now had a few days before I would fly home. I gave myself a night's rest and felt I should maybe keep things going while I am here. Mount Baker wasn't too far. I wandered my way there to find a 50 mile long one way road to an observation point. The road twisted and turned up the elevation. I found myself traveling at a brisk pace. The shadows cast by the forest hid uneven spots in the road and other dangers. A white car was suspiciously close to my tail. I let the game get the best of me and I stepped it up, dropping it into turns and gunning my way out of the turn. I put some distance between myself and the white car. I slowed it down to a reasonable speed only to find the white car zoomed back up onto my tail. I could've pulled over. But I didn't. Again I stepped it up, only to repeat the same process. My ride was no longer a mountain cruise. I had no problem leaving the car behind but it required fast pace on a road I've never ridden on before that I was already struggling to see due to the dark shadows. I saw a sign for a turn off ahead for some waterfalls. Okay. I'd stop. The turn was on the outside of the next turn and it was on a hill crest too so I couldn't see down the road. I was still moving pretty quick and went to the outside of the turn to head down the waterfall road. As soon as I hit the crest I saw the road, it was loose gravel and turned immediately and sharply to the left.
Well, I reap what I sow. I consider myself an experienced rider and really should have known better. None the less the situation presented was now in my face and I had to deal with it. The waterfall road was paved for about 30 feet before it turned to gravel and making a sharp left with a guide rail along the outside. I scrubbed off as much speed as I could on the pavement. Once I hit the gravel I could no longer brake hard nor turn sharply. I felt my tires sink into the gravel and at my current speed, thought an impact with the guide rail was imminent. I modulated the front brake as best as I could, feeling it lock up and push the tire to one side and then the next. I began dragging the rear brake and let the tire skid. I managed to slow down a bit more with this method and was now faced with the turn, far too sharp to just lean over and ride it out. The gravel became really soft as my tires sank deeper. My choice now was which side of the bike would take the hit. Hit the guide rail head on would be the worst option, sending me over it and likely bending my forks. I let the back tire slide out to the side as it was still locked up. Dirtbike experience pays off. I began turned to the left and really leaned the bike into the turn as the rear continued to slide out. I was now facing the right direction but was sliding completely sideways into the guiderail. I let off the rear brake, dropped the clutch and gunned it. The sound of the gravel hitting the guide rail sounded like machine gun fire as I sprayed gravel everywhere. It was close. I was now heading down the road in the proper direction. Heart pounding. I stopped. Looked behind me and saw my path of travel. I was one foot from the guide rail. Well. At least I'm sure it looked awesome if anyone saw it. Throwing a sportbike over like a dirtbike is no easy task.
I stopped at the falls and took a break. No more of that horsecrap. Here I was, laughing at myself again. I had a mountain to see. Got back on the road to Mount Baker and casually made my way there. The scenery was much better at a slower speed.
I love this environment. I took the long way back to Seattle, taking a step back and not getting caught up in silly games. The next day I wanted to go to Leavenworth for lunch. I've been there twice already and figured it would be a simple trip to relax some more. The heat was pretty high even in this region. Nowhere near Arizona but still getting up there. I left my friend's place and headed towards Stevens Pass, my first stop.
I was in a long line of cars approaching a traffic circle. The cars began to slow and I saw a deer flip up into the air and into the opposing lane. The deer flopped around in the roadway. The cars in my lane continued on. I slowly rolled by and the deer continued to flop until it made it into the ditch. I saw a car pull off the road ahead and I stopped as I figured it was the car that hit the deer. The driver was an older fellow and he didn't know what to do. The damage was minimal to his car, a slightly bent hood and broken grill. I explained I was a cop and walked him through it, although it was a pretty simple process. He was concerned about the deer and I told him I'd check up on it. I walked back up onto the roadway and could see the deer was still in the same ditch. A farmer stood at the edge of his field watching me. I crossed the road and approached the deer. Not much for external damage but as I got closer the deer scrambled with it's front legs, trying to get away. The entire rear half was motionless. I've seen this before, deer often get paralyzed when they are hit solid. It was fairly young. The farmer approached and he asked about the deer. I told him it's probably not going anywhere. He then asked if I happened to have a gun in my backpack in a joking tone. I simply said, "Yeah, I do". The deer made another attempt to run away but barely pull itself anywhere. I looked back to the road and waited for a line of traffic to pass. I drew my gun and shot the deer in the back of the head. I watched as bright red blood rushed from the wound. The deer instantly sank into the weeds as it's body released the muscle tension. It was over in a matter of seconds. A couple leg twitches and the deer was now lifeless. I didn't even think about it. In less than a second, I drew my gun and pulled my trigger. After the fact I started thinking about what if my shot didn't kill it? I quickly dismissed the what ifs. Whats done is done. I leaned down and gave the deer a quick pat. In a sense to check it for life, but also to say farewell.
The farmer got his tractor and came over and removed the deer. He said he watches these deer all the time and they almost never try to cross the road. He seemed a little upset and perplexed but accepted it. I went back to the driver and he asked if I found the deer. I said "Yep". He then asked, "That was a gunshot wasn't it". Again I replied, "Yep". We talked a bit and turns out he is originally from Rochestor NY. He gave me a heads up that this part of the route is strictly enforced for speed, informing me that he got a 38mph ticket in a 35mph. Personally I feel that is ridiculous...
I got back on the road. This trip has been filled with memories, the most memorable being the unplanned ones. Things that just happen cause I was present. It feels safe to control. To know what is going on. To plan things. But in the end, those things end up holding very little value. Its the random people I meet that I remember best. It is the places I visit accidentally that I end up loving. A tale that has become true as I age.
I stopped at Stevens Pass to check out the bike park. While hiking around I ended up on a part of the Pacific Crest Trail, a trail that in it's entirety runs from Canada to Mexico. My mind started spinning as I stood on these trail. So much potential. I hiked a small portion of it. Perhaps I will be back someday.
I ate lunch in Leavenworth. It was good. Nothing fancy. The heat was getting bad on the eastern side of the Cascades. I rode back over the mountain range to spend one more night in Seattle. The following day I made one last stop before my departure. A seemingly simple lake that certainly has more to it than the eye can see.
An old boat launch caught my attention. Concrete slabs linked together with metal eyelets, as if the whole boat launch could be rolled up like tank treads.
I had a final Moses moment and call it the end.
As a final conclusion, I managed to unstick my key with excessive amounts of WD-40. My tires made the whole trip without replacement. In fact, my rear tire still had some life and that is over 7,000 miles. I've never been able to get a sport bike rear tire to last over 6,000. Needless to say, I will be running this tire again in the future. My front tire did not fair so well but I did not expect it. On the wear bares and worn horribly, it made it just barely.
Rear.
My bug collection was diverse. This is after scraping and washing too.
In conclusion, I did things I've never done before in many categories. My outlook was different. I felt free. I experienced different realms of happiness and some personal trials. Overall the trip was a success and I already know it won't be long until I yearn for the road again.
