Steven Tyler belted out "I'm baaa-ck, I'm baaa-ck in the saddle agaaa-in..." inside my helmet as I rolled down I-5 toward Olympia, the state capitol, amongst zigzagging sleepwalking distracted commuter traffic. I was headed toward the 101, Montesano and then Aberdeen, home of Kurt Cobain of Nirvana. The welcome sign at the city limit of Aberdeen simply says 'Come As You Are', and is a not-so subtle nod to the hometown boy who rocked the world then took his own life like so many other 27 year old shooting stars. Brian, Janice, Jimi, Jim, Amy, Justin Beiber, oh, wait, not quite yet! Didn't Kurt swear 'I don't have a gun'?
It's a bleak place, Aberdeen - the American one, made even bleaker when the Autumn rains set in until late-Spring, and sometimes right on through Summer. Gray's Harbour, the region's called, a fitting name for a relatively forgotten backwater of a place. I didn't stop. I never stop there.
On 101 again, through Hoquiam, then north toward Quinalt, La Push and the Hoh rainforest along the pine-studded coastline of Washington state, the road is a two-lane state highway, smooth and banked, with plenty of fast-moving log trucks making the rounds back and forth along the heavily forested coastal range. It's a veritable smorgasbord of monoculture pine forest for companies like Weyerhaeuser & Rayonier, and many others. Gubmint land, taxpayer supported, Bureau of Land management contracts. Clearcut awards handed out like a free haircut on a bad hair day. The picturesque low range hills are devastated.
I watched one log truck overtake another right in front of me at 80+ miles per hour on a curve. Neither of the drivers touched their brakes. That's some kind of trust. Placing the GT in cruise, I slowed down a coupla hundred metres behind them since 70 mph seemed reasonably quick on those roads; this
is the home to massive bull elk and playful deer, not to mention the occasional wandering raccoon.
Moss hung heavy from low slung pines, the air thick with the peaty scent of a millenium or two of organic rot, pine needles, skunk cabbage, ferns and salty-sweet, sea air. The sky had remained cloudy until I hit the coast. Now breaks of blue beckoned me northward. Traffic was light, this being a mid-week day and it was early still. I was one hundred miles into my 400 mile ride. It had taken me an hour and a half to reach the coast.
At Kaloloch Lodge I pulled in and rode amongst the cabins right to the edge of the beach. The water was as grey as the sky and the sand. Driftwood lay in piles against the scrub trees at the beach's edge.
It's no bucolic, white sand Aussie beach, but beautiful and stark in its own right. The grey whales are heading north about now. I spotted not one through the salty haze.
There's a sign that sign 'Largest Cedar Tree'. I had to look. It should have said 'Largest Cedar Tree on the Ground'. It was massive. Once.
A couple in khaki and comfortable walking shoes scrambled over the carcass. I snapped this quickie and departed.
A cute, petite blonde with a Pittsburgh accent, coffee mug in hand, and some fancy-arse sunnies, hair unkempt and tossled like she'd just rolled outta bed, walked up to me and took my picture from behind (w/o my permission, damn it!) and proceeded to tell me about her travelling partner,& etc...
'He's 72 and doesn't like hiking, I like to hike, we travel a lot and I have to book casinos and cruises, places where he can eat and drink, I'm 45 but people tell me I don't look it, I've gained a few pounds, I've never been to Alaska, have you?, I hear an accent, I've never married or had kids, I've done alright for myself but I need to keep moving, I rented a BMW in Vegas last month, it was fast, but I couldn't help thinking about the cost of maintenance, I like bikes too, I went to the class to get my endorsement, but they scare me and I'm scatter-brained, someone would run over me, you should be careful, I don't think anyone pays attention to motorcycles on the road, we rented a Jetta and are going to the Orcas Islands then Canada, What part of Australia?, I should go there, do they play golf there?, it's a long flight, I hear, are there snakes? I don't like snakes, I'm getting old. What are you doing all the way out here if you're from Australia? I'm a Capricorn, what are you?
At that stage I told her I was Gemini and that today I was celebrating my 55th birfday with a nice ride and some solitude, that I needed to get rolling, sweet, earnest thing that she was. 'Devalin', she told me as she spelt it out. D-e-v-a-l-i-n-D-a-i-s-y. So no one will find me unless I tell them. You should look me up on Facebook. Uh huh. Then she grabbed my camera, I didn't stand a chance. She was r-e-a-l nice.
So I posed, as you do.
I rather enjoyed her monologue, as it took me away from my own thoughts and into another's world for a moment, but bid the nice lady farewell and was off. Seems she has a good life if travel and sightseeing, having convos with total strangers, and splurping your guts is a reasonable criterion. There's no one to fact check.
As I retreated into my motorbiking solitude, safely ensconced inside my helmet, I remembered: the road, the beach, the sky, the mountains, the ocean, and my loved ones, all of the reasons I came this way once again.
At day's end as I sat at the dining room table, glass of iced rum to hand, I surveyed my travels,. Up came just under 400 miles (640 kms) in under nine hours all up, with stops for a leisurely lunch in Forks (The In Place - not bad at all), Forks is home to the 'Twilight' series, ample stops for piccies and for just plain gawking at the incredible sights. I am blessed to have the chance.
The K1200GT is a velvet hammer. Amen.
Wednesday's Ride - Olympic National Park Tue Jun 09, 2015 1:36 am
