An old mate asked me if I wanted to ride his late-model Sportster, V11 Guzzi or R1200ST for the weekend. I nodded appreciatively towards one of them and did what any red-blooded, certified moto-head would do faced with a coupla free days and a loaner bike in what could be considered perty close to sugar-coated bikie heaven on a stick. I headed out over the closest mountain range!
Early Sunday I made my way over the brilliant North Cascades Highway, north and east of Seattle toward the faux-cowboy town of Winthrop. It was gunna be a day ride. It became two. The ST is a great bike in the twisties even though it has a wheelbase slightly longer than its touring-oriented cousin, the R1200RT, of the same build era. When ridden moderately, the long-legged ST returned amazing mileage of 3 litres per 100 kms, after I worked out the maths from US gallons and miles, which was about 55 mpg! The premium petrol was costing me on average about $3.70 per US gallon, which ain't so bad given our AU$6.20 (converted) for PULP in Australia. This bike has some pretty sagged out shockies so I was bouncing over the rough bits of tarmac, but beggars can't be choosers and at the end of the day I was grinning stupidly, thankful for the ride, and thoroughly enjoying myself. I think I've found a clean K1100RS to get through my Summer in the States on and am looking forward to throwing a leg over something sorta familiar.
Here's a coupla more nice pictures of my weekend: 4392 metre tall (14,409 feet) dormant volcano Mt Rainier from a spectacular vantage point on Highway 410, just up the road from Greenwater.
From 1656 metre high (5430 feet) Chinook Pass looking east.
Chinook Pass summit still in snow.
Slowly melting snowbanks over three metres high, mid-Summer, 15c degrees.
The back side of Rainier from Skate Creek Road, not far from Packwood. The glacier-fed river was COLD.
I wouldn't be lying if I told you this ride didn't suck very much at all.
hmm just a mere molehill ....giggles ...at over 3 times the elevation any of the roads i have recently travelled on, i'd say thats a good ride your having over there ...summer ? good greif !!!
an awesome friend to lend you a bm for a day (or 2 ) trip ... and the down side of that chinook pass along the east looks like some awesome twisys ... (jelous )
enjoy brother gith
keep em comming !!!
__________________________________________________ cheezy grin whilst riding, kinda bloke ....oh the joy !!!! ...... ( brick aviator )
'86 K100 RT..#0090401 ..."Gerty" ( Gertrude Von Clickandshift ) --------O%O '86 k100 rs.. #######.. "Fred " (f(rame) red ) ( Fredrick leichtundschnell ) - - bits and pieces from many kind friends across the k100 world ...with many thanks .. 1987 k100rs ######## "Red" - (red sports rs TWB style ) 1989 K100rt #009637 "Black Betty" (naked rt ala Nigel , now sporting an rs main fairing )
"The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page." - St. Augustine from 1600 years ago & still true!
K1 - 1989 - AKA Titan (unique K1/K1100RS hybrid by Andreas Esterhammer) K1100RS - 1995. AKA Rudolf Von Schmurf (in a million bits) K100RS - 1991 AKA Ronnie. Cafe racer project bike K75RTP - 1994 K75C - 1991 AKA Jim Beam. In boxes. K1100LT 1992 - AKA Big Red (gone) K100LT - 1988 - AKA the Bullion brick. Should never have sold it.
Humph now I'm even more jealous. Keep enjoying yourself and is the k11 that K11?
__________________________________________________ "Man sacrifices his health in order to make money. Then he sacrifices money to recuperate his health. And then he is so anxious about the future that he does not enjoy the present; the result being that he does not live in the present or the future; he lives as if he is never going to die, and then dies having never really lived." Dalai Lama
__________________________________________________ "Man sacrifices his health in order to make money. Then he sacrifices money to recuperate his health. And then he is so anxious about the future that he does not enjoy the present; the result being that he does not live in the present or the future; he lives as if he is never going to die, and then dies having never really lived." Dalai Lama
charlie99 wrote:hsummer ? good grief !!!...the down side of that chinook pass along the east looks like some awesome twisties ... (jealous ) enjoy brother gith keep em coming !!!
Chinook Pass drops rapidly down the other side following that faint line that you can just see in the middle of the picture further back up this thread. Of course, it isn't straight and turn after turn (with only a low stone wall 'protecting' us from a sudden drop to certain death) come at the rider. The road's in pretty good nick given the constant freeze and thaw cycle going on. Down the other end the road follows the contour of the land much as the clear flowing river does alongside the ribbon of tarmac. Scrub sub-alpine evergreens gradually give way to taller pine and then, voila, bang, you're in high desert dry pine forest with massive rocky outcroppings and no sign of regular rainfall like on the 'other side'.
A fair bit of Washington State, like western Oregon and the northern part of California, is a place of contrasts. BTW, Mt Rainier has a close cousin just to the south. She's known as 'Helen'. Some of you may remember May of 1980. She's a saint too. They're part of the Cascade Volcanic Arc, a smaller part of the larger Pacific Ring of Fire, which locally contains Mt Adams, Mt Hood, Mt Jefferson, Mt Shasta and the others. It's a veritable disaster waiting to happen. And it happens once in a while.
This photo puts into some perspective the size of the snowbanks as they melt away from the side of the highway up on Cayuse and Chinook Passes. This one went up and up still. I dunno who this 5' 9" yobbo is, but he keeps getting in my good shots. Off you go, ya bloody galah!
Wonderful travelog gith. Good writing and fabulous pictures. Hope you have time to get to get farther east, the northern desert is something too. I lived in Seattle after college and your pictures brought back memories. Safe Travels and welcome to the States.
Thanks all. I've had the good fortune to travel extensively in the States having lived here on and off for over twenty years. The place (and the people) has been good to me and my 29 year old daughter lives in Northampton, Western Massatucky. October will bring us together again after five quiet years.
I've ridden or driven through and stayed over night at least one night in every state bar Alaska, and that's on my bucket list. At age nineteen I hitch hiked solo right round the USA for nearly a year with a rucksack, a scraggly beard, and a healthy dose of scepticism and naviety in equal measure.
Meantime, I've old mates in Portland, Oregon (and British Columbia - Clubbie) to catch up with.
JR_K100RS wrote:Have you thought about bringing the Bike home at the conclusion of your tour GITH ?
JR
Melbourne Australia
Yeah, I do know a fair bit about getting a bike into OZ from overseas: take it apart, whack the bits into a pallet container and call it secondhand, valued accordingly.
Cascades are also making the Adirondack mountains of NYS seem pitiful, too. Just fantastic stuff, and so thankful for your sharing. Living vicariously through others sure isn't the same as doing it yourself, but I speak for many here when I say, "Thanks!" It is inspiring and makes me want to plan/execute my own trips even more.
Safe travels--thanks again for sharing.
__________________________________________________ Bob
Thanks Bob. I've been through the 'Dacks and can say that upstate New York roads at certain times of the year would light any motorbike riders' inner fire with their twisty bits and beautiful scenery.
On the train to Portland tomorrow morning early and will most certainly have some more photogenic 'scenery' to post and observations too as I ride back up past Mt St Helens - hoping it's sunny and clear - as she is a sight to behold. If I have the time I'm going round the back side on Windy Ridge. From there atop the steep hill one can view straight into the heart of an active volcano. It is awesome. Pix to follow.
OG, In Sherwood til tomorrow. Trying to connect with mates in the area too. I'll PM you my US mobile number. You'd be somewhere in the greater PDX area, no? It'd be wunderbar to catch up. Cheers.
On Sunday morning I arrived on the Amtrak Cascade train at Central Station in Portland (Stumptown, because that's all that was left as far as the eye could see, circa mid-1800s, when the loggers came through as Portland spread east over the other side of the Willamette River) and disembarked the train to my friend's waiting car. It was grey, cool and raining. We drove down to Sherwood, just a half an hour South of the city as the skies cleared. At their farmhouse in the pine forest we ate, drank and got merry. Next morning, after a quick pack up, and long goodbyes, I threw a leg over and made my way North again toward Washington state, needing to get 'home' sooner than I'd hoped for. I almost hooked up with an old mate, a colleague from a former workplace, and ourveryown Old Goat too, but we couldn't quite connect. But there will be plenty of 'next times' this Summer.
Instead of droning the two and a bit hours up I-5 corridor to the big smoke of Seattle, I tucked and rolled off the highway near castle Rock onto some sweet back roads (the Jackson Highway) on old Spencer Road near the Cowlitz fish hatchery (salmon!) towards Salkum, intersecting with state route 12, through the narrow Shoestring Valley on state route 508, Morton, up state route 7 to Elbe, past Alder Lake, Meridian Road to Graham, Kapowsin, Orting, Puyallup, Sumner (where I lived once), and onward. The F800 is a good little machine, this one's the short-arse model, no centre stand and a seat cut to within a mm of the frame, but suprisingly comfy on a four hour ride. She's a bit too buzzy at 4000 rpm and above - the tyres felt out of balance - and it returned an astounding 58 mpg (US gallons) at mostly 65-70 mph and less. This bike will be my Summer-long rider so I'll have to see what is causing the excess buzz, or live with it. I reckon it's the tyres. Perhaps I should refer to them as 'tires' now that I'm over here...I'm too tired to call them tires, tyres it is.
Mt Rainier in the cloudy distance from Mineral, Washington.
The sweet, li'l F800ST next to the blue-green waters of glacially-fed Alder Lake near Elbe, Washington.
This is, without a doubt, the land of the tall pine.
Sunday at ten AM it had already reached 85f degrees (29c). I pushed the blue F800ST backwards out of the stiflingly hot garage into a morning rapidly filling up with bright sunshine. Donning my Arai helmet, mesh gloves, and riding jacket, all possible vents were opened. I was planning to head for the mountains where I knew it would be a few degrees cooler. The daytime maximum was forecast to reach 94f (34c). Not a single, solitary cloud blocked the sun's efforts. We would not be disappointed.
I can plead delerium but in fact it was prolly just excitement for a ride after a busy weeks' work. I rolled out onto the empty street in front of the house I'm staying in and promptly got into the wrong lane. It was only when a blue Dodge minivan came towards me round the bend a coupla hundred metres away that I twigged to the idea that this isn't how it's done in America. I indicated a quick left, got off that street onto a neighbourhood lane. Embarrased inside the anonimity of my helmet, I stopped and reflected for a mo'. Smarten the f*ck up! It is the first time I have ever done that on a motorbike here in the States and I have lived here on and off over the years long enough to know the bloody difference! One day they'll come to their senses and swap sides like other civilised countries...
I resumed and had no other incidents, not even a close call with the very many tourists and errant drivers on the road that busy day. But my own head was now clear and focused after that unfortunate puckerstring tightening back at the house.
After a short stint on the "Interstate" highway I rolled through the quaint little towns of Orting, along the Carbon River to South Prairie onto Mud Mtn Road to Buckley and then Enumclaw. From there highway 410 winds up to Greenwater and the famous Mt Baker/Snoqualmie and Mt Rainier National Parks. This was my first stop.
Lupine and Daisies intermingle (and soon too, the beautiful Indian Paintbrush) - there's enough room for all in this bountiful paradise.
I rode to the top of Chinook pass where I'd taken the pix of snowbanks and lingering snow a month ago. The Summer so far has not been what an Aussie would call warm round these parts but there has been some sunshine, and a bit of time has passed. The snow way up there has mostly melted away, filling rocky rivulets and streams, rolling over waterfalls until it reaches a river called the Carbon, is filled with glacial gravel, picks up brown mud, empties into the slow-moving Puyallup River and then finally makes its way to Commencement Bay at the foot of the city of Tacoma, bound for the sea, way out beyond Puget Sound through the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Have a look at a map.
Mt Rainier in the distance from above Lake Tipsoo near the top of Chinook Pass. A month ago this pond and the hills surrounding it were frozen over with three metres of snow.
I sat in the sunshine on a rock near an incredibly cold, bubbling stream until my bald head felt hot to the touch, and was prolly already burnt. The road from over the top of the pass curves down and round the lake and is quite a smooth ribbon of tarmac. Bikers love to roll through there at a rapid pace, given the usual relative emptiness of this high slice of heaven. But we have to share the roads at the weekend, and at anytime, but the car parks filled with out-of-state plates of caravans and pickups towing trailers, and some incredibly stupid d*ckhead deathwish motorcycle riders seemed to choose not to take any responsibility for their display of a lack of riding skills or manners to other road users. I had a front row seat for the show. On one side was nature in all its bounty, on the other was the usual human carnival, even at this altitude.
Walkers strolled round the muddy path alongside the crystal clear lake. Serious climbers covered in mud who'd wandered up in their bliss walking sticks in hand only to face mobs of Harley riders revving and posing...
Picinickers sat at tables swatting at flies whilst scavenger birds pinched their lunches. It wasn't exactly bucolic, but I could think of one or two places that'd be worse. The natural surroundings make up for the masses, and truth be told, I recognise that I am not apart, but one of them. Knowing this and also knowing the roads, I bid a hasty retreat for someplace less crowded.
The road is gravel beyond Sunrise Point, Mt Rainier in the background.
Between Sunrise Point and Sunrise, looking southerly towards a row of serrated mountains, appearing still but quite active geologically. We're but a speck in time compared to these ancient and impatient ridges, thrusting upwards still as we move through our days, our weeks, our lifetimes, never noticing.
That's a genuine 14,411' (4392 metres) glacier-covered stratovolcano, all of 54 miles (87 kms) southeast of the city of Seattle and less from Tacoma.
This from Wikipedia: Mt. Rainier is considered one of the most dangerous volcanoes in the world, and it is on the Decade Volcano list. Because of its large amount of glacial ice, Mt. Rainier could potentially produce massive lahars that would threaten the whole Puyallup River valley.
Mt St Helens is her cousin by ancient marriage, with Mt Baker to the north, Mt Adams to the east and Mt Hood and Mt Jefferson to the south making up the closer part of the family.
Many innocently ignorant people (of the dangers) live and work in the Puyallup River valley.
This amazing scenic beauty is an hour south of where I live. In one easy tankful I covered about 250 miles (400 kms) on some fine roads, at decent speeds, with plenty of places to safely overtake, and some fine roadside-with-a-view establishments in which to sate a thirst or satisfy a hunger. Premium petrol's only $3.69 per US gallon (3.785 litres). Except for many more cars and 'pickurps' on the ample roads, there's room to roam. If any of you 'furriners' ever get to North America to ride this is one of the undersung regions to tour by motorbike in. Awesome earthly majesty surrounds at every turn, but you'd better make it on a sunny day.
It was only 75f (24c) up the top of the mountain, proving that nature truly is cooler than the rest.
Always love your prose GITH. So settle my mind here: you began this thread on a R1200RT, you've been bringing a R1150GS back to health, and are riding an F800ST in the lastest installment of 'Oz goes North'. Which have you stolen, and which are legitimately purchased?
__________________________________________________ "There's never enough time to do it right, but there's always time to do it over."
club_c wrote:Always love your prose GITH. So settle my mind here: you began this thread on a R1200RT, you've been bringing a R1150GS back to health, and are riding an F800ST in the lastest installment of 'Oz goes North'. Which have you stolen, and which are legitimately purchased?
Tee hee! I'm currently resurrecting the R1150GS in a mate's garage, just awaiting the subframe from Californ-I-A, to resume the work. The R1200ST is a local mate's and he's got it back now (just got in for him some Ohlins shockies front and rear), and the little blue F800ST is an old mate's from near Portland, Oregon. She can't ride this Summer due to a hip replacement replacement, and as a true biker she recognises the need to keep her machines moving, hence the loan to me of the bike. I'll return it with a new rear Pilot Road II sneaker and a 12,000 mile service done at Summer's end. It had 8700 miles on it, now it has 9900 in three weeks of daily commuter and a bit of mountain road touring use.
The big GS is the real deal. The current owner is away at Sturgis and suggested himself that I get the bike going. He doesn't wish to see it again; too many good memories. It sat for three years in his garage covered up after the traveling Kenworth rear-ended him, nearly cost him his life.
I plan to ride that back east to see my daughter in Massachusetts in October, tall windscreen, heated gear and grips available for use. If it suits me I'll ship it back to OZ for some gravel road riding to faraway places I'm not able to easily get to on the Mighty K...unless I get one and convert it per the current "K75 for purchase" thread.
Glad you enjoyed the read, and yes, let's connect before the season slips away. A coupla weeks' time I'll be free to head north for a ride nearer your way. I'll PM you my US mobile number.
"The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page." - St. Augustine from 1600 years ago & still true!
K1 - 1989 - AKA Titan (unique K1/K1100RS hybrid by Andreas Esterhammer) K1100RS - 1995. AKA Rudolf Von Schmurf (in a million bits) K100RS - 1991 AKA Ronnie. Cafe racer project bike K75RTP - 1994 K75C - 1991 AKA Jim Beam. In boxes. K1100LT 1992 - AKA Big Red (gone) K100LT - 1988 - AKA the Bullion brick. Should never have sold it.
I RODE THE CASCADES ON MY 05 R1200RT IN 2008. YOUR PICS BROUGHT BACK THE MEMORIES OF THAT FANTASTIC TRIP. GREAT PICS! THANKS! IN 08 GAS PRICES WERE AT THE HIGHEST SO THE R1200 FUEL ECONOMY SURE HELPED THAT 10,000 MILE TRIP. LEAVING TOMORROW FOR VERMONT. STILL UNDECIDED ABOUT WHICH BIKE K100 OR RT. I BELIEVE FUEL ECONOMY WILL WIN. MONEY'S TIGHT.
On Sunday it was grey and coolish in town so I decided that a quick ride to the mountains and a short walk through the tall trees was in order. I rode on gravel for 15 - 20 miles under dense cloud cover with occasional blue specks above me for inspiration. Imagine my surprise when I came round one steep and sharp bend and the clouds disappeared. I'd ridden through them and above me was blue sky as far as I could see. It grew warmer even at altitude. I rode on, the bike and me now covered in dust and mud, for several more miles until I came to these glacial waters known as Mowich Lake.
As you can see to the right, people are enjoying the warm sun, even though for me as a Queenslander it was too bloody cold, in the water and the air, to go for a swim. But there were kids and adults in the crystal clear water.
I locked up my riding gear and hit the trail between tall pines and jagged, rocky escarpments. The shimmering grandeur of Mt Rainier off at a distance through the trees was awe-inspiring. I am drawn to that mountain. It's easy to see why. it is immense.
Here, from high in the mountains, as shown in this scene of the valley below there still lingers remnants of the morning's cloud cover.
I walked on through dense forest and rock slides, hoping to reach Mt Tolmie Lookout, a fire watch tower above Lake Eunice. Deep patches of crystalised snow lingered, melting in the mid-Summer sunshine, running into clear streams and rivulets and on down into the many lakes in these mountains. Wildflowers and skunk cabbage grew densely in the green grass around the rocky lake, and so did the mossies. I pulled my light jacket up over my head in an attempt to escape their swarming, nagging bites. They have a short season, the water was right there, there's mossie eggs to feed! As long as I moved and stayed in the shade they didn't bother me....much. Still it was beautiful.
Looking at my clock I noticed it was growing late. I had another 1.9 miles to go to get to the firetower and already several hikers were coming back down towards me. I didn't have any real food and only light clothing. The two water bottles I'd brought along were only half full. The temps would drop rapidly once the sun went behind the hills before me. I bid a retreat back towards the bike and the gravel road back down the mountain. It was a 4.7 return mile walk by the time I'd got back to Mowich. My legs felt strong and my breath not too puffed for a middle ager. I'll be back again with Mt Tolmie Lookout my target.
In this last photo you can just make out the shape of the firetower atop the ridge.
Yesterday back at work a tall, bearded gent walked up to the counter to pay his service bill. As soon as he opened his mouth I knew another Aussie was standing before me. We chatted, as you do, and it turns out he's from SE Qld too. He and his wife are touring North America by R1200GS-Adventure for six months. We know the same people in the Brissy-area Beemer club. Agreeing to meet up at the Morningside RSL for a coldie, we bid farewells and bon voyages. He waved as he rolled out the driveway. A coupla hours later a tall dark slinky drink of water glided in towards the parts counter on a mission. She was chasing after a coupla parts for her new American beau's Beemer and she too was an Aussie, just back in the States from Canada looking for accounting work in Seattle.
little known fact , mozzies love dark things and will land on dark (when even in the sun ) rather than light coloured things more specific ...cloathing when worn .
when in townsville for the annual floods one year (ross river virus abounds ) i went up castle hill , the swarms of mozzies attacked everyone ...but did notice this observation to be true by more than a high percentage, folks wearing yellow or white had 1 or 2 on them but folks with dark blue or black had tens to hundreds
just a heads up if travelling in the bush , i hadnt heard of it before till i hit townsville and was listening to some reseacher about the phenomenom..
__________________________________________________ cheezy grin whilst riding, kinda bloke ....oh the joy !!!! ...... ( brick aviator )
'86 K100 RT..#0090401 ..."Gerty" ( Gertrude Von Clickandshift ) --------O%O '86 k100 rs.. #######.. "Fred " (f(rame) red ) ( Fredrick leichtundschnell ) - - bits and pieces from many kind friends across the k100 world ...with many thanks .. 1987 k100rs ######## "Red" - (red sports rs TWB style ) 1989 K100rt #009637 "Black Betty" (naked rt ala Nigel , now sporting an rs main fairing )
"The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page." - St. Augustine from 1600 years ago & still true!
K1 - 1989 - AKA Titan (unique K1/K1100RS hybrid by Andreas Esterhammer) K1100RS - 1995. AKA Rudolf Von Schmurf (in a million bits) K100RS - 1991 AKA Ronnie. Cafe racer project bike K75RTP - 1994 K75C - 1991 AKA Jim Beam. In boxes. K1100LT 1992 - AKA Big Red (gone) K100LT - 1988 - AKA the Bullion brick. Should never have sold it.
This being the long Labor Day weekend in 'Merkuh and me with a day free from work I pondered the map for about five seconds...Cape Flattery it would be, out past Neah Bay, where the Makah Indian Nation still legally, but not without rising protest, hunt whales off the front of their boats (albeit, powered by internal combustion, not human-powered paddles, these days) with thrown harpoons.
Far out on the Olympic Peninsula, Cape Flattery is the furthest point West of the mainland USA, jutting out into the cold north Pacific, and the island just off shore houses an old lighthouse. There's a narrow road called state route 112 leading to the end of the peninsula that twists and winds through logged pine forest. The road follows the contour of the shoreline for a good many mile and within sight of the Strait of Juan de Fuca, the busy body of water separating the US state of Washington from Vancouver Island, British Columbia, Canada. It's a beaudy!
Our forum mate Clubbie lives over there in that fine land, but a fair bit East of this view.
The 'Titansilber' R1150RT settled into a steady idle out in front of my garage on a cloudy mid-morning as I donned some warm gear. It's been getting cool at night lately as Autumn approaches. I wanted to be prepared.
I rolled down Interstate 5 to Tacoma and across the Narrows Bridge, made famous the world over for being the star of that '40s era film clip where the span wiggles and dances to unseen rythmns and then unceremoniously collapses into the Tacoma Narrows waterway far below, taking several cars, no humans, but someone's pet dog. It became known as Galloping Gertie. (Pardon the reference, Charlie!) Here's a film clip from Goob Chewb.:
A new, double bridge has been built next to the replacement for the original. No reports of wind-driven dramas these days or of what happened to the original engineers on the job.
Up state route 16 is the little town of Purdy and there I turned off the main highway and crossed over a salty tide marsh with mounds of discarded clam shells. I wanted to avoid the heavily industrialised naval base area of Bremerton. Sea air permeated my nostrils. I love riding if for no other reason than you can smell the scents, and feel the temperature change, of the area as you pass. Away from the water the narrow road climbs up into the pine forest and after thirty or so miles the inland sea of the Puget Sound reappears. Holiday homes dot the shoreline, some of them large enough to house several families. Speed boats roared out across the open water. Rows of fishermen cast lines from the shoreline and the occasional salmon flashed its pink belly in skyward leaps after unseen-to-me breakfast. I spotted a few high-flying eagles. Loads of tourists (like me) jammed the roadways but the RT has more than enough oomph to dispatch them easily in the few overtaking zones. I would soon be following the Washington version of the famous highway 101.
I took a quick shortcut through the ragged heart of the Skokomish Indian Reservation, noting that the Lucky Dog Casino was loaded with cars even at that early hour of the day. I wonder how many lucky dogs were smiling like Cheshire cats over their winnings...or crying over spilt milk.
Soon enough I'd reached Port Angeles, where the ferries transport cars and trucks back and forth between the US and the picturesque provincial capital of Victoria, in British Columbia. At that stage one can either continue on 101 towards Forks and go through the pass near Lake Crescent, or opt for state route 112 along the water. As the arvo was upon me and it was still a fair way to go, I took the high road through the pass. Lake Crescent was formed long ago between two mountain ranges when a landslide collapsed a wall of mud in the middle of a valley. In places it's 600 feet deep (182+ metres). Talk about spectacular!
The RT purred and rolled into the bends, for such a large girl she too can dance. The big boxer twin just hums along. 70 mph (120 kp/h) saw a bit over 3000 RPM in the relaxed top cog of sixth. Many times I'd just look ahead, indicate, and overtake with a healthy and satisfying roll-on twist. In that area most of the two-lane highway speed limits are 60 mph so I could amble along about ten over with not too much worry. But being a holiday weekend the state, local and sheriff's constabulary forces were out making sure the Yanks weren't having too much fun.
I am convinced there are far more coppers per capita in Americaland than in Australia, and in many more levels and layers too. The buggers are everywhere! And they're often quite large, with no neck and crewcuts "high and tight, soldier". So are their cars. I wonder if they know that most of the GM variants were designed and are built in Australia....based on the long-wheelbase Holden Commodore chassis.
In no time I was at the turn off for Neah Bay. The speed limit dropped to 50 mph but 70 was easy in the smoothly paved twisties, void of traffic. Before long that smoothly paved road turned to chip seal gravel and sprayed down to keep the dust at bay, but turned to mud. I slowed accordingly. As I'd already been on the roasd for five hours, stopped for lunch, it was four o'clock, with darkness falling at about eight or so, I reckoned I had the time.
Reaching Neah Bay I was again confronted by the relative desolation of the local tribe's village. Garbage was strewn about, houses in need of more than a coat of paint. The general grubbiness of the place, the signs warning against drugs, alcohol and spousal abuse, and the overall slimness of opportunity save fishing, left me feeling for the poor sods, and here there's no casino! I watched a thin, urban gangster-dressed man hand a small plastic bag to a fat guy in an aged cadillac and take the cash in one deft motion, then move on looking about as if to be casual. It happended right under a hand-drawn, brightly coloured sign warning of the dangers of drugs. I struggled with my internal gentrified sense of the order of things. Then I realised that this is the way it is and it's not likely going to change regardless of how much dosh the gubmint throws this way. The largest building in town was the federal dole services office.
I rode the further ten miles or so on a nicely paved road (six years ago it was potholed gravel for five miles) and switched of the machine at the car park for the Cape Flattery Trail. Stripping off my riding gear I stowed it in the topbox and two side bags and headed down the track into the deep and dark piney woods.
The track down to the cape.
Cape Flattery lighthouse on Tatoosh Island.
Better days for the locals? I think they meant to spell it 'Strait' of Juan de Fuca. But it does run a bit straight.
It was five minutes to six as I dressed for the return ride. I'd covered nearly two hundred miles. It was about that distance to return. A good bit of the first part of the ride would be following the narrow and muddy road back to Port Angeles. That section took me over an hour to go forty five or so miles. Not a bad average on a big street touring bike. I admit to letting the back tyre lose traction as necessary in some corners. My teenage dirt bike riding days sometimes pay off. Darkness fell hard and so did the cold so I adjusted my trajectory and headed out along with a steady line of returning holidayers over the Hood Canal, across the bridge, and down highway 3 to state route 16.
Near Bremerton a black Toyota Tacoma ute (Hilux in other parts of the world) overtook me on a three lane downhill stretch of the main highway. I saw him coming up behind me so I gave it a squirt and slipped into the middle lane. Traffic was heavy. He was gone in a flash. About a half a mile up the road a car gained on me and I could tell by the shape of the grill and the headlights that this was no friendly tourist stuck in the fast lane. Within a coupla klicks he'd dropped in behind me as I sat steadily on the speed limit (which I had been doing except for that quick shot to get out of the lane) and on came the blinding blueberries and cherries. I pulled to the side of the highway and pressed the button for the hazard lights, cut the engine, and removed my gloves. In a second me was at my side with a flashlight in my eyes and saying "Hello, do you know why I stopped you?" Before I could answer he offered up "I clocked you at eighty miles per hour between those last two exits." I knew this couldn't be true as I'd watched the tacho and it wasn't ever over 3200 RPM (72-3 mph) for many miles. I exclaimed "My goodness." "I was trying to keep it between 60 & 65 since getting onto the highway" in real surprise at what he was suggesting to me. (It was the other dude in the black ute, I swear it!)
He was a young fellow, and polite, not overbearing or threatening like some of their kind can be. He simply said straight up to me, "It's alright, I'm only going to give you a warning. Where are you going and where have you come from?" I said where I'd been, that I was cold from the late ride,. He looked at my licence, jotted down the details and with a smile bid me farewell and to ride safely. I thanked him and rode on home, thirty five or forty miles further. In my gut I knew I wasn't ticket bait. But it would have been his word against mine, and a nuisance to have to arrange a court date two, three months off in the future, which I would gladly have done in that circumstance.
All in a day's travel. It was 8c at ten thirty PM when I pressed the garage door remote and idled the bike in off the driveway. I showered to cut the chill in my bones and hit the sheets. Today the sun is shining again and the map is spread out before me. What adventure can we muster up this fine day?
Jeez TWB I thought you'd know the standard response to "do you know why I stopped you?" is ....."you're the faschist, you tell me!" :suspect: but here's the trick; never say it outloud
Lovely ride in the crisp cool air, stay safe and thanks for posting. 88
"The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page." - St. Augustine from 1600 years ago & still true!
K1 - 1989 - AKA Titan (unique K1/K1100RS hybrid by Andreas Esterhammer) K1100RS - 1995. AKA Rudolf Von Schmurf (in a million bits) K100RS - 1991 AKA Ronnie. Cafe racer project bike K75RTP - 1994 K75C - 1991 AKA Jim Beam. In boxes. K1100LT 1992 - AKA Big Red (gone) K100LT - 1988 - AKA the Bullion brick. Should never have sold it.
Thanks, boys! Worked today, but that didn't stop me from taking 'the long way home' and stopping to take in a little scenic beauty. You decide for yourself, but I'm smitten...
I clocked out of the computer at work at exactly 5.06 PM this fine Saturday arvo on what was my last day of the Summer season at South Sound BMW. In a coupla days' time I will be swinging a leg over the R1150RT and winging my way East over the Cascades and the Rockies towards New England. I've got eight weeks until I have to be back in the office to start "hauling up the data on the Xerox line" once again.
The weatherman had been saying 17 and rain (well, actually, American weathermen say things like 63 degrees when they mean 17...) would greet me on my departure date. Now they're talking about things like 23 (73f) and sunshine instead for at least the next ten days or so. I'm glad they're often wrong or change their minds with regularity in this case.
So, the bike is tuned and eager, I'm sorted, packed and ready, though the bike's not fully loaded yet. It'll take me a coupla minutes to cram some useful travel kit into the pannier liners and point the front tyre (tire) to the bitumen (tar) ahead of me. It's a lonely road at times and though I enjoy the solitude I'll be glad for the warmth of good, quiet company. She ain't far away.
"I'm just standing in a doorway I'm just trying to make some sense I ain't waiting on a lady I'm just waiting on a friend." -Mick Jagger & the Rolling Stones
The Cascades of Washington State Ride. Tue Jul 10, 2012 2:45 pm
