McGeesBeTrippin

We left Rapid City Monday morning and headed for Sioux Falls, SD, by way of Badlands National Park. We came from the west, so we rode the long way to the visitor’s center, which is on the east side of the park, then decided to take the scenic loop back almost to where we had exited I-90 just outside of Rapid City. So we back-tracked, but we were so glad we did. I don’t understand how a place can seem so barren, dry, and lifeless and still be so beautiful, but this place is exactly that.

We have added Badlands to our list of must-hike places, but hiking is not on today’s agenda. We drove through, stopped at most of the scenic overlooks, and visited with some cool people from Minnesota, who took our picture for us. Then we headed on to Sioux Falls.

Leon said this is what he expected the Painted Desert to look like. He was very disappointed in the Painted Desert when we went through there last year on our way to the Grand Canyon. But he loved Badlands.

The next day, we rode to Omaha to see our dear friends and neighbors, Mike and Jan. They live next door to us in Fort Worth, but they are in the process of having a house built in Omaha and will be moving as soon as it’s ready. In the meantime, they have an apartment in Omaha and have been going back and forth from FW to Omaha. I think it’s a way of weaning themselves from all of their friends in FW, because they’ve been gradually spending more and more time in Omaha. Anyway, we wanted to see their house and their son and his family, who also used to live near FW, so we added Omaha to the itinerary.

As soon as we got to the apartment, we all headed to the new house, where Mike harassed the workers and I picked out the bedroom where Leon and I will stay when we come to visit. I half-jokingly also started claiming various parts of the house for when we move up there after we retire: I’ll put my drums here, and we can park the motorcycles here on the north side of the garage, and you’re going to put a shower in this bathroom for us, right? Jan agreed to all of my suggestions without hesitation. Then we went to a burger place/ sports bar to watch the TCU baseball game. (Go, Frogs!)

I knew the College World Series was going on in Omaha that week, and I also knew we would be in Omaha that week, but I didn’t put the two together and think to book way ahead or make other arrangements, so when I finally sat down and tried to book a room, it was pretty slim pickings. The cheapest I could find was over $200/night and most places that even had vacancies were over $400/night, but we needed a place to sleep so I booked one of the $200 places. When we got there, it was one of the nastiest places we’ve ever seen. When two cops say it was one of the nastiest places they’ve ever seen, you know it’s a nasty place. We turned around and walked back out.

I texted Jan, who said to come back to the apartment and we would figure it out. They only had a couch, two chairs, and an army cot to offer,  but they called their son Scott, who headed over with an air mattress and extra sheets and pillows. We got there around the same time, and in the middle of the discussion about whether the cot or the air mattress would be more comfortable,  Scott said, “Why don’t you guys just sleep at our house? We have a bedroom in the basement with two twin beds you can push together.” We didn’t want to offend Mike and Jan so we weren’t sure what we should do, but when Scott said, “If you like a cool place to sleep, you’ll love it. It’s freezing down there,” that won us over, so we followed Scott to his house and stayed there for the two days we were in Omaha.

Mike and Jan moved into their house next door to us in 2004 within a month of when we moved into ours. We met them one day, almost exactly thirteen years ago, while our house was being built. We came on a weekend to insulate the interior walls because the builders wouldn’t do that, and we noticed that they were in their garage next door. We walked over and introduced ourselves and learned that they were there insulating their garage because their builders wouldn’t do that. We’ve been friends ever since that day. These are the kinds of neighbors you’re lucky to have even once in your lifetime and the kinds of friends you don’t ever want to let go of.

Their son Scott was in medical school when we met them and in the next few years would be doing residency work at JPS. He and his wife Natalie lived in Benbrook and spent lots of time at Mike and Jan’s. They had two kids when we met them but soon added two more. So we’ve known them a long time, too, and have watched the kids grow up, from next door on the weekends at first, and then on Facebook and during holiday visits after they moved to Omaha, once Scott finished residency and moved there for work. I love them all dearly, Mike and Jan and both of their sons and their families. It’s been an incredible blessing to have them for neighbors, and we will miss them terribly. (Hence, the half-joking about moving into their basement in Omaha.)

So we dumped all of our crap at Scott and Nat’s and went to sleep. The next morning, we visited with Natalie and then went back to Mike and Jan’s. We went to lunch and then to see the oldest grandchild’s Eagle Scout project. I don’t know how Adam went from being four years old and riding his tricycle up and down Mike and Jan’s driveway to being a fifteen-year-old Eagle Scout with his driver’s permit in so short a time, but there he is, Eagle Scout and all. His project was a memorial to the the outfitting posts who cared for the Mormon pioneers who plodded through the area that is now Omaha, in wagons and pulling handcarts, as they fled persecution and looked for a place to settle. He did a great job!

We stopped into the nearby Mormon Trail Visitor’s Center briefly, then headed out to the Platte River, just to have a look.

Later that evening, Leon and I rode to a mall outside of Omaha to meet another dear friend of mine, Greg. He and I were at TCU at the same time and were both Religion-Studies students, and in our many classes together, we became good friends. Now he lives in Lincoln, so we got to have dinner with him. I’m very glad for him and Leon to have met. Greg was part of my life during the darker days and hasn’t seen me outside of that, so it was nice to be able to have dinner with him and for him to see that I’m very ok now. I don’t imagine he’s lost any sleep over the last fifteen years or so worrying about it, but I’m still glad for him to know I’m happy now. I was reminded, after spending time with Greg that night, why we were such good friends back then.

I’ve treasured this photo since it was taken, but Greg brought his copy to dinner and I enjoyed seeing it again. We did a re-creation of it, and he even brought a hat to match the one in the older photo.

 

 

We said our goodbyes, and Leon and I left to meet Mike and Jan at a local ice cream shop before heading back to Scott and Nat’s to get some sleep before our long day of riding the next day. Mike and Jan were also leaving Omaha Thursday, going home to Fort Worth for two days and then to Houston to take two of their granddaughters on a cruise. They were making the trip in one day, so they would beat us by a day.

We got up the next morning and rode to Guthrie, Oklahoma, and then to Fort Worth Friday. When we turned onto our street finally, after riding over 6300 miles in 24 days, Mike and Jan were tromping across the yard toward our house, phones in hand, videoing us as we pulled safely into our driveway. Just as they had stood with us in the shop nearly a month earlier while we made sure we had everything packed, said a prayer for safe travels, and embarked on this amazing journey, now they celebrated with us our return home.

I wrote in an early entry that I expected us to learn a lot about how to do a cross-country motorcycle trip. That we did. What I didn’t expect, though, was that I would come to understand, by being gone for so long, what it is to be home. It’s not just the physical existence within a certain set of walls. It’s much more complicated than that, and yet it is as simple as being ok wherever you are. Maya Nagelou wrote, “I long, as does every human being, to be at home wherever I find myself.”  Whether it’s thousands of miles from where you live looking at things you’ve never seen before, hiking a new trail or eating dinner with your daughter and catching up on her life, pushing yourself to do something that scares you but doing it anyway, accepting an offer of hospitality from an unexpected source, reconnecting with an old dear friend and finding it’s as if nothing ever changed, or whether it’s being in your own garage with treasured friends or just watching tv in the living room with your family, home is knowing that everything is ok.

I’d like to say a thank-you to my incredible husband for some of the things he did for us on this trip, including but not in any way limited to the following:

• Packing all the stuff I don’t know to pack, like tools, cleaning stuff, etc.
• Making sure the bikes were in good order before we left and along the way
• Washing and folding all of our clothes, several times
• Every night when we stopped, plugging in all the electronics (phones, helmets, laptop, wifi, and I don’t even know what else) to charge them for the next day
• Packing and unpacking the bikes at each destination while I did whatever I do that always takes so long
• Being patient with my need to stop and eat all the time, or pee all the time, or take pictures all the time… all of that stuff
• Encouraging me, reassuring me, reminding me (“Look where you wanna go”)… all of that stuff too
• Leaving me time to write this blog and sharing your laptop with me for that purpose
• Mostly, for making everything ok with the world, and for being my home. I love you, Bubby.

 

Thanks, too, to Francie for taking care of the house and the dogs while we were gone. There’s no way we could have enjoyed this trip without knowing Snickers and Gilbert were well-cared-for! You’re awesome, Francie!

Also, thanks to everyone who bothered to read this blog. I’ve enjoyed writing it, and I hope someone found something interesting or useful in these paragraphs and photos.

Be at home, wherever you are.

Live hard and ride easy, friends.

Our last two days in Issaquah were fairly uneventful. We bought some groceries to cook dinner Wednesday night, saw Guardians of the Galaxy and hung out at Price and Nathan’s apartment. On Thursday, we boxed up about half of the stuff we had brought and caught the hotel’s shuttle to a UPS store and shipped it home. It was almost fifty pounds of extra clothes, souvenirs we’d bought along the way, an extra rain suit, and just a whole bunch of stuff we shouldn’t have brought in the first place. That lightened Leon’s bike up quite a bit.

On Thursday night, we met Price and Nathan for dinner at a Thai restaurant near the apartment. We were leaving the next morning, and so it was the last time we would see the kids before heading back to Texas. We hated to leave! It was a great visit, though, and it’s always good to leave before you’re ready to, I guess. (I was still sad most of the next day, though.)

We rode through Washington and into Montana Friday. At our first gas stop, we somehow looked at the radar and thought the big green spot would pass out of our way before we got to it, but instead, it built into a bigger green spot and I got pretty wet before we could pull over and get the rain suits out. Leon’s bike protects him from the rain and the cold a lot better, so he only got a little wet from standing still waiting for me to suit up. But I was fairly soaked and freezing all day.

I’ve heard it, and it’s true: Montana is beautiful. Even in the rain and fog, and even scared (I don’t like riding in the rain) and grumpy (I was wet and cold), I loved the ride through Montana. We stopped Friday in Missoula, which, from what I could tell just passing through, is a pretty cool town.

We had much better weather Saturday when we left Missoula and headed for Sheridan, Wyoming. We got a late start, though, because as we were loading up, we noticed the Ducati motorcycle that had parked under the awning at the hotel had a flat tire. Lucky for the woman it belonged to, Leon had not shipped his mini-air compressor home when we purged our bags in Washington, and he aired her tire up for her so she could make it to a dealership to get it replaced.

It seems that in a place as breathtaking as this, they would have scenic turnouts or even just parking areas where people can stop and take pictures, but they really don’t. There are designated tire chain-up areas, but they seemed to always be in the least picturesque spots. So we exited the interstate a few times and chased down little roads to take some photos.

We left Sheridan Sunday and headed to Devil’s Tower. This is the weird formation, caused by cooled magma now sticking up out of the ground, where they filmed the spaceship scene in Close Encounters of the Third Kind. The interesting thing about Devil’s Tower is that the geologists don’t actually know how it was formed, whether the columns of magma were formed and pushed up out of the ground, or whether they were formed and then water and wind eroded the earth around them, leaving them exposed as they are now. They lean toward the erosion theory. Either way, it’s an immense formation, and my rock-loving husband was fascinated with it.

We walked the trail around the base of the tower. The view looking away is impressive, too.

After our hike around the base, we left and headed east to South Dakota. We stopped for lunch in Spearfish, SD and then rode through Spearfish Canyon. This is a motorcyclist’s heaven. There are narrow lanes with curves, high canyon walls, waterfalls, trees, rocks, smooth pavement, and hundreds of other bikers to wave at and talk to at stops.

One couple we had sat by at lunch was stopped at one of the pullouts, and the guy was working on something on his bike. As Leon passed, he said, “I have a bag of tools on my bike. If you need anything, let me know.” The guy looked up and asked if he had a Torx wrench, and he did, so Leon visited with the guy and his girlfriend while I went and looked at the waterfall we stopped to see.

We came out the other end of the canyon and kept going toward Rapid City. We had three things on the Rapid City area to-do list: Spearfish Canyon (check),  the Crazy Horse Memorial, and Mount Rushmore. We decided to do it all that day, so that Monday morning, we could get on the road early.

It made for a very long day, but it worked out well. We went to Crazy Horse first, looked at the monument, walked quickly through the visitor’s center, peed, and then left. I hope they finish it some day, but it really doesn’t look a lot different than it did when Price and Francie and I went in 2008.

We got to Mount Rushmore around 7:00 or 7:30. I had really wanted Leon to see it before it got too dark, because even though they light the faces of the monument after dark, the surrounding scenery is just as impressive as the monument. I don’t think he was able to appreciate it as much as he would have if we’d been there in full daylight, but it was still very pretty.

And had we gotten there earlier, we probably wouldn’t have opted to stay for the after-dark show, which was great. They played a movie about the four presidents and why they were chosen and about Roosevelt’s commitment to conservation. After the movie, they called anyone who had served in the military or who had lost a loved one in military action to the stage to be recognized. It took several minutes for them to make it down through the amphitheater, but they filled the stage. The park ranger said something that got my attention. He said, “For many of these folks, tonight may be the only time they will be publicly recognized for their service.”

I’ve been to events which featured a tribute to the military, and I’ve heard and offered thanks to a service man or woman one-on-one, but I’ve never thought about the public recognition and what that must mean to someone who has given so much of themselves to serve their country. The applause seemed to go on forever, and it still didn’t feel like enough.

We left the park around 10:30 for a nerve-wracking, cold, very dark 40-mile ride to our hotel for the night. We were thankful, not just for getting there in one piece, but for a whole lot more than that.

Live hard and ride easy, friends.

Monday morning, Leon, Price, and I got on the bikes and headed into Canada to ride the Sea to Sky Highway. This is about a 60-mile stretch of road that runs north from Vancouver along Howe Sound and up into Whistler, the site of the Olympic Village during the 2010 Olympics. This was the most beautiful stretch of road we’ve ever seen, with perfectly blue-green water on one side and the majestic mountains of the Pacific  Coast Range on the other. It took a cold, four-hour ride through the I-5 Washington traffic to get there, but it was definitely worth it.

We stopped in Squamish, B.C, a former logging town turned tourist destination, where you can ride the Sea to Sky Gondola up a mountain for a fabulous view of the Sound and surrounding mountains. Leon and Price were quite amused by my nervousness at hanging thousands of feet above ground by a cable, with 30-plus-mph winds swirling around our car.

At the top, you walk through a restaurant and gift shop and out onto an observation platform that leads to a wooden suspension bridge. There was a film crew while we were there, filming a scene on the bridge for a show that will be coming out in the fall. It was interesting to watch them film, and Price was very excited that she recognized one of the actresses.

The bridge was closed intermittently for filming, but they opened it while we were there, and we got to go across.

We sat out on the deck and ate lunch, a hamburger and poutine. I’d never heard of poutine, but it’s basically French fries with gravy and cheese curds, and we need to have it in Texas. I can’t imagine a more beautiful setting for enjoying a meal. While we were eating, the film crew did a few takes of their scene, which ended with the female character sprinting across the bridge to our side. There was a lot of dramatic yelling and the sprinting, and it was all very exciting.

We rode back down the gondola with one of the gift shop employees, who was very nice and not at all bothered by being suspended 300 stories by a wire. She and Price enjoyed talking about the actress they recognized.

We headed north toward Whistler. The Sound disappears and every once in a while we would see a creek (maybe a river – I’m not sure) alongside the road, but the mountains were stunning as we continued inland. I didn’t get any photos of the mountains because we didn’t see any good places to pull over.

As we got close to Whistler, Leon was leading, with Price on his bike. We had not bothered to connect the Bluetooth in Price’s helmet to ours yet, and she suddenly pointed to the side of the road. Leon thought he had missed a turn or something, but I looked just in time to see a bear at the edge of the road, just hanging out and eating some grass or something. Again, there was no place to pull over to get a photo, but it was cute.

We walked around the Olympic Village and checked out the shops in Whistler. We found the police station but there was no one around. I don’t think they have a big crime problem here.

 

We really only came here so we could ride the highway, but Whistler is a great place to visit. I imagine it’s even better in the winter, but I enjoyed it this summer evening. We bought a few souvenirs and then went back to the hotel and called it a day.

On a side note, if you plan to travel internationally and have a cell phone and/or wifi hotspot, turn them off or put them in airplane mode before you cross the border. Within about half an hour of crossing the border, we had run up $1000 in international roaming fees on our wifi hotspot and it got shut off. We’re grateful to Verizon for working with us, but it was a hassle and pretty scary for a while when we thought we might have to pay those fees.

On the way back to Issaquah, we took a little side road that Price recommended, the Chuckanut Highway (no, I’m not kidding, that’s really what it’s called). It was a great, twisty road by a lake just south of Bellingham.

We got back to Issaquah around 5:30 and dropped Price off, then went to our hotel and cleaned up. It was a great two days!

Live hard and ride easy, friends.

After about 54 hours of riding time over eight days, we have finally made it 3034 miles (give or take on all those stats, but they’re pretty close) to Issaqhah, Washington! I have rarely in my life been so glad to arrive somewhere as I was to pull into that hotel parking lot Thursday afternoon.

We unloaded everything and got cleaned up, then headed to meet Price and Nathan for dinner.

The next day, we went into Seattle and met Price at her office. The view from the floor where she works is amazing. To the left, you see the ships and barges that come into the Sound, and to the right, you see the Olympic Mountains in the distance.

We met some of her coworkers, then walked over to Pike’s market for lunch and just to look around. I pointed out the original Starbucks to Leon, who was only mildly impressed.

After Pike’s market, we headed back to Price and Nathan’s apartment, where we ate dinner and hung out with the dog. Of course, Leon was Merlin’s favorite. He would hardly leave Leon alone.

On Saturday, we went on a tour of the Theo Chocolate Factory in Fremont. I’d seen Theo chocolate in higher end stores in Fort Worth, but I didn’t know they were based in Seattle. It was really interesting, and I made myself absolutely sick eating all the free chocolate samples.

We left there and headed to Safeco Field to watch the Mariners and the Blue Jays.

I wanted a hot dog, of course, because we were at a ball game. They had them, but we had to walk halfway around our side of the field to find a concession stand that sold hot dogs. Meanwhile, every single stand had fish and chips and those clam chowder bread bowls that are everywhere along the coast.

The game was fun, even though the Mariners lost. It’s a beautiful ball field, and the weather was perfect for watching a game.

On Sunday, we got up and went for a hike at Rattlesnake Ledge in North Bend. The trail is about two miles long (one-way) and starts at Rattlesnake Lake and it goes up the side of a mountain. When you get to the top, you have an amazing view of the lake and mountains  and forest that’s definitely worth all the huffing and puffing to get there.

 

After the hike, we went to have a look at Snoqualmie Falls.

We went back to our hotel and rested for a while, then met Price and Nathan and some of their friends for dinner. I was happy to finally meet the friends I’ve heard so much about for the last four years.

It’s been a wonderful weekend!

Live hard and ride easy, friends.

 

 

This morning we got up and went to breakfast at our hotel, and there was nowhere to sit. A handsome 20-something-year-old young man who was sitting alone at a table for four offered to share his table with us. There was nothing spectacular about our conversation, except that he’s from Italy and lives in California, and he seemed like a very nice guy. It’s always reassuring to talk to intelligent, hard-working young people like that. It makes me feel better about our future.

It wasn’t a very pretty day – cloudy, cool, and kind of dreary. Even so, the Oregon coast is amazing. We pulled off into the Del Norte Coast Redwoods State Park to look at the rocky beach for a bit. I’m sure it’s prettier when the sun is shining, but it was still nice.

We also drove through some more redwoods, which amaze me every single time I see them.

A little while later, we found a beach near the Pistol River with a lot of driftwood, which we figured out was from downed redwoods.

After Coos Bay, we stopped to see the Oregon Dunes. It was funny to try to get around in the sand. Going downward, you descend about three steps for every actual step, and coming back up is the opposite – you have to take three steps to realize one. But it was fun to run around in it. Again, I’m sure it’s much prettier when the sun is out, but we enjoyed it anyway.

When we got done tromping through the dunes, got back to our bikes and dumped the sand out of our boots, we realized it would be raining most of the rest of the way. So we dug our rain suits out and put them on.

We rode on and made it to our next hotel by around 6:30 or so. It never rained very hard, just drizzled enough to get everything all dirty.

We had had enough of being on the bikes, so we walked a little over a mile to dinner. I checked to see if we could get a ride back with Uber or Lyft, but as it happens, a little Oregon tourist town with a population of just over 700 people isn’t big enough, I guess, to support Uber. So we walked back. Tomorrow, we ride to Issaquah and finally get to see Price and Nathan!

Live hard and ride easy, friends.

We left Guerneville around 9:30 and headed north. I was surprised at how cold I felt, even though it was sunny and in the upper 50’s and I was wearing so many layers of clothes that I could hardly bend my arms. But it was still beautiful.

We stopped for lunch at a tiny little place in Fort Bragg called the Sea Pal Cove that I found on the maps app on my phone. It got good reviews, so we decided to try it. We had our doubts while trying to find it, though, because to get there, we had to wind through an industrial area and then it was kind of up under an overpass in a really weird spot. But we went in and found the very nice owner of the place working the register. We ordered the first of what would be many plates of fish and chips on this trip, and so far, these have been the best. It was a great stop.

We drove on north. It was still cold and still beautiful. We stopped at a vista point that promised cliff overlooks and met Roger and Annabelle, who we thought might be siblings or maybe just friends, and Roger’s dog, Murray. We visited with them for probably half an hour while we looked at the cliffs and the rocks below. Annabell said she has lived in northern California for fifteen years and never seen weather like they’ve had this past winter. She said this year broke all the records in almost every way: most rain, most snow, most extreme temperatures, etc. They’ve have mudslides, floods, you name it. She pointed at flowers on the ground and said she’s never seen some of them before, and others only much later in the year. She seemed concerned and puzzled. They took our picture before we left.

Even though I was born and raised in Tulsa, I consider myself a Texan now, so for me to say this, it means something; California is huge. There is almost every possible climate here – mountains, desert, beaches, forests – and it’s all big. To stand at what feels like the top of the world and look down at clouds above the ocean, way the hell down there, makes me feel quite small and humble.

I was not raised in a religious family. My dad is Baptist but not pushy about it at all ( I know, it sounds contradictory), and my mom was agnostic at best. We did not attend church very often, and I never really felt comfortable talking about God or participating in prayer at family gatherings. I always envied my “religious” friends and the comfort they seemed to feel because of their faith, not to mention the built-in support system that  comes with belonging to a church. I always thought it must be nice to feel connected to something in that way, and not being so, I always felt kind of unmoored.

Several years ago, however, I found myself in need of a twelve-step program, the second step of which states, “We came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.” Other steps mention turning ourselves over to “God as we understood Him,” being ready for “God to remove (our) defects of character,” etc. This was a problem for me, as it is for many people who show up at meetings. Seasoned members of such groups are prepared to help newcomers with this struggle by offering that “God as we understood Him” can take whatever form it needs to for the program to work, as long as we acknowledge that WE are not the higher power and we become willing to surrender ourselves.

I eventually worked that spiritual stuff out and though I don’t go to meetings anymore, I haven’t drunk any alcohol in sixteen years. When I was new to AA, one thing that helped me was to make a list of powers greater than myself, such as the power of gravity that causes the earth to revolve around the sun, the power of a hurricane, the power of a parent’s love. I’m reminded of that list when I stand under the giant redwood trees in Northern California.

These trees are the largest and oldest living beings on our planet. They have stood in this place for thousands of years, anchoring this corner of the continent, impervious to almost everything, even fire. There is no way to comprehend the majesty of these towering trees without standing beneath them and walking and breathing among them. There is something about  this place that even muffles your voice, as if the forest itself is saying, “Sshh…you’re not as big as you think you are.”

The verse in Psalm 46:10 that says, “Be still, and know that I am God…” is also translated as “Cease striving, and know that I am God…” and “Be in awe, and know that I am God…”   Stand amid these marvelous creatures, be still, cease striving, and be in awe. That power is undeniable.

If you’ve been to the Redwood Forest, you know what I mean. If you haven’t, you simply must get yourself here some day and experience this.

Live hard and ride easy, friends.

Today we left Cambria and headed for Guerneville, a little town along the Russian River north of San Francisco. We didn’t make it five minutes out of Cambria before I wanted to stop for photos.

 

Every part of this drive was beautiful. When we weren’t following the coastline, with its foamy, deep blue water, we were seeing green, sloping hills with trees and vineyards. There are wineries and tasting rooms everywhere. I don’t know how there’s a sober driver anywhere in California.

We made it to a state park near Monterrey, Point Lobos State Reserve, where I’d read you could see lots of sea lions. I figured it would just be a bunch of rocks with sea lions, but I had no idea the view would be as breathtaking as it was. The sea lions were on the rocks below, just lying there sunning themselves. That was fun to see, but the rocks and the water were amazing. Leon said, “I always thought Six Flags could do a better job of making their fake water on the log rides and stuff look real, but it actually is that blue.”

There were some hiking trails, and we wandered down closer to the water to see the sea lions from a little closer. They seem very lazy today.

We could have stood and looked at this all day, but we still had lots of miles to cover. We drove on up into Monterrey Bay, where I’d also read about seeing seals and sea lions. And I was hoping to grab some good seafood for lunch. There were a bunch of restaurants on the Fisherman’s Wharf. Almost everywhere you go here offers clam chowder in a bread bowl, which is what Leon had. It’s delicious!

When I start a sentence with, “I read an article that said…,” Leon knows I’m going to drag him into something he’d rather not do, but he humors me. So we walked another half-mile to where I’d read you could see the sea lions up close. We found them on a boat ramp, piled up and wiggling around on each other, or just lying there like they were dead. I had no idea they made such rude noises! There was one seal swimming around just off the ramp, barking and making a raucous like the one drunk girl at a party who just won’t shut up. We couldn’t tell what he wanted, but he was insistent about it anyway.

This one on the side made me laugh, scratching himself so delicately with his tail.

 

We left there, rode up to San Francisco and crossed the Golden Gate Bridge. A few years ago, when Price and Nathan moved to Seattle, we came across the bridge. I was so excited for Leon to see that and couldn’t wait for us to cross it, because he’s really interested in engineering and always watches the “Build it Bigger” kinds of shows. So I talked about how much he was going to love crossing this bridge and how beautiful it was, and when we finally got there, paid our $16 toll or whatever it was and got to cross it, the fog was so thick that we could barely see about three feet worth of one red beam at a time as we passed it. There was no way we could see the next beam, even, let alone the land on the other side or the water below us. I was so disappointed! So it was nice to be able to see it this time, and on a motorcycle was even better.

We finally made it to our stop for the night around 8:30, absolutely exhausted. Leon did some laundry, for which I was very grateful. We were a couple of miles from any restaurants and did NOT want to get back on the bikes, so we walked to the one convenience store in walking distance and fashioned a dinner out of gas station food. Pork skins and bean dip, a frozen burrito, some trail mix and a Diet Coke. Not the healthiest, but it worked.

I don’t really have any interesting stories today We just rode and looked at pretty stuff, but it was a great day. We’re off to Arcata, California tomorrow.

Live hard and ride easy, friends.

There are many ways in which my wonderful husband balances me. He tames my wildly impractical impulses, he helps me discipline my irresponsible spending, he forces me to take myself less seriously; he offers many other helpful counters to my craziness. He also helps me face and overcome my fears. For my every “What if I can’t do it?” or “What if (you name it) happens?” or “I don’t think I’m (you name it) enough,” he has a “You’ve got this,” or “We’ll figure it out together,” or “You’re the most (you name it) person I know.”

Now it’s not that I don’t respect his opinion, but coming from someone as confident and capable as Leon, it’s easy for me to hang onto my own doubts. But when a lesson in courage comes from as unlikely a source as a middle-aged, scarred-up chihuahua with a limp, I admit I have to take notice.

Folks, meet Lupe.

Lupe is the most bad-ass dog I’ve ever met. She’s not just the Chuck Norris of chihuahuas – she’s the Chuck Norris of chihuahuas, dobermans, german shepherds, lions, bears, and honey badgers who don’t give no shits. This is one bad-ass dog.

Last year when I got it in my head to hike the Grand Canyon from rim to rim, Leon initially thought it was one of my weird phases and I would forget about it after a while. It probably ranked up there in his mind with the time I thought I wanted to quit my job and become a professional photographer for National Geographic. But once he realized I was serious about this one, he begrudgingly agreed to come along and, let’s face it, carry most of my crap the whole 25 miles. As if that wasn’t enough, he also had to reassure me when I got started on the “What if we get dehydrated?” and “What if one of us gets bitten by a snake?” and “You know how scared I am of heights – do you think I’ll be able to do the red wall part?” As with this motorcycle trip, the night we spent on the South Rim before trudging down toward the Colorado River, I lay awake all night wondering if we would survive the next two days while he slept like a baby.

This time, I worried about one of us crashing. I worried about how much the trip would cost. I worried I had not planned well and scheduled us for too many miles each day, and we would be tired and sore and miserable every day of the trip. I read newspaper stories about middle-aged motorcyclists who crashed while riding in Oregon, and even looked at wreck photos. Each time I verbalized those worries, I heard from my husband, “We’ll make it,” “If we get tired, we get tired. It’ll still be fun,” or simply “It’s going to be amazing.”

Today, we left Death Valley and rode to Cambria, California. I knew nothing about Cambria when I booked a room there, except that it’s on the coast and about as many miles from Death Valley as I thought we would want to drive that day. We stopped at another Cycle Gear in Bakersfield, where we bought a whole new headset for my helmet. That was an unexpected $280 or so (and did not actually fix the problem). Because of that stop and another detour, we were pretty late getting out of the furnace that is central California and heading into the mountains that meet up with the coast where Cambria is. By the time we got to Pasa Robles, about 25 miles east of Cambria, we were both worn out. My neck and his shoulders were hurting like hell, and we were hungry and needed showers. Badly.

We turned off of Highway 101 onto CA-46 towards Cambria and started up into the hills. Almost as quickly as it had heated up the day before as we descended into Death Valley, it now was cooling off as we climbed. Trees were now green, there were flowers, and the early evening sun was shining through a light fog in the mountains, which made the whole area look like something from a movie. Or maybe an Ansel Adams photo. About three miles from our hotel, we came around a curve and saw the ocean below, clouds hugging the near side of the mountain we had just climbed, and the beautiful town of Cambria sloping down the mountain toward the water. It was stunning.

We carried our stuff into the room and then walked down to the beach. We spent about an hour just looking at driftwood, analyzing the characteristics of the rocks that made up this particular beach (this was Leon, who is fascinated by rocks), and walking along and listening to the sounds of the waves and birds and wind. Then we went to dinner at the only place that was still open, which of course, was incredibly expensive. It was a long, exhausting, expensive day, but we had made it. Many of the things I had worried about happened on this day, and we still made it, and it was still amazing.

I don’t know to whom to attribute the quote, but I’ve always liked it: Courage is not the absence of fear; courage is in acting despite the fear.

Now let me tell you about Lupe.

We met her today at a gas station in Trona, California, between DVNP and Bakersfield. Her owner was sitting on a bench near the door and when we pulled up to the pump, he started talking to us, asking about our bikes and where we were headed. We were ready for a break by then, so we stood around, drank more water, and talked for a while. Once in a while, Lupe would walk to the edge of the walkway and bark at something, then come back and lie down in the shade. Leon said, jokingly at the time, “Now that’s a bad-ass dog.”

The owner said, “She rides with me everywhere I go on that bike. I gotta get her a windshield, though.” I asked how he carries her, and he said she stands up on the gas tank. We were surprised by that, and he said, “Yeah, she loves it.” Leon said, “Man, our dogs would fall right off of there!”

And then the owner said, “She did fall off one time, about a year ago. That’s why I gotta get her a windshield. It was right up there, going around that big curve,” and he pointed back to where we had come from. “I usually keep her harnessed in, but that day I had been to the store and had a bunch of stuff and I didn’t. But I came around that curve and a big gust of wind came at us and just blew her right off before I could grab her. She rolled and rolled.”

We looked at each other, and Leon said, “And she just jumped up and was fine, right?”

The owner said, “Oh, no! She spent three days in the hospital. I felt so bad, you know. I ran over to her and I was crying and saying ‘I’m sorry! I’m sorry!’ because I let her fall off. But she wasn’t breathing when I got to her. So I picked up her face and blew into her nose, you know, and she came to. She just jerked awake. I picked her up and laid her across my lap and went home. I knew she was hurt bad, but the closest vet hospital is 250 miles away, so I ran home to go to the bathroom before I left to take her there.”

Leon asked if all the scars around her head were from that accident.

He said, “Yeah, her head was all messed up and she broke two bones in her back and she had some bleeding inside. She was in the hospital for three days, man. But I’m gonna tell you something. This dog… ”

He stopped for a second, then motioned at Lupe. “I went back home and left her outside while I went in and used the bathroom and when I walked back out the door to take her to the hospital, she was up here,” pointing at the gas tank of his bike, “right up here standing up on this gas tank like, ‘Ok, let’s go. Let me face those fears.’ And she rode all the way to the hospital like that.”

We finished talking and started packing up to leave. Lupe’s owner also decided to go, and he called Lupe over and said, “Let’s go.” She hopped off the step and ran over to the bike, jumped onto the seat and then stood up on the gas tank looking forward. He got on behind her and started up the bike, while she barked, like, “Come on, lets ride!” And they pulled out of the gas station parking lot, into the street where Lupe had nearly died.

Folks, if a 5-pound chihuahua can fall off of a moving motorcycle and die on the side of the road, then a few minutes later get back up on that motorcycle and ride four hours to the hospital to treat her life-threatening injuries, I think I can make it through the rest of this trip.

Live hard and ride easy, friends.

 

 

We left Williams at around 6:20 this morning. It was 49 degrees, so we were pretty chilly at first. It did NOT stay that way. Not at all.

We had the road pretty much to ourselves for about the first hour. We stopped at Mother Road Harley-Davidson in Kingman, AZ to see if they might have a boom mic for my headset, but they didn’t, so we just bought t-shirts and a new ball cap for Leon since he had left his other one in Williams. It was around 80 degrees when we left the Harley shop there.

We went along the north side of the Mojave National Preserve, which was pretty, but it was starting to get really hot. We drank as much water as we could hold every time we stopped, but it seemed like we weren’t keeping up. I think Leon was worried about running out of gas because he kept saying, “There was a Chevron,” or “They usually have a sign that says, ‘Last services for however many miles,’ right?” I was wishing I hadn’t told him about all the articles I read that said to fill up every chance you get so you don’t run out and die of dehydration in the desert. And the hotter it got, the more gas stations he noticed.

As we crossed over into California, we were descending into a basin that makes up the Mojave Desert (disclaimer: I’m not a geologist; this is just my guess), and we rounded a bend looking down into a huge open area and saw two structures that looked like gigantic street lights. From where we were, we guessed they were about ten miles away, and they were incredibly bright and shining down onto something that looked like water. We had just passed through the strangest little twilight-zone town called Nipton, an oil town with no real houses, only RV’s and temporary buildings. That had us feeling a little weird already, and then we found ourselves coasting down toward some kind of alien landing pad and we were a little freaked out. It took us about fifteen minutes to get close enough to figure out that they were some kind of solar panel accelerating station, and we calmed down and went about our way.

 

The last town with fuel before you enter the park from the south is Shoshone, CA. I knew this already, but just for fun didn’t tell Leon. As we approached Shoshone, we kind of coasted down a long decline that went for several miles. Leon’s bike has a thermometer, and he would occasionally tell me what the temperature was. But on this long downgrade, he started saying “99 degrees,” then “100 degrees,” about every few miles. The lower we went, the more frequent the reports became, until about even mile, he was saying, “105,” “106,” “107,” etc.

We stopped in Shoshone, filled the tanks and drank some more of our now-100-something-degree water. It was already around 110 degrees. It was so hot that when we would put our ear plugs back in, they burned our ears. We couldn’t touch any metal part of the bikes at all. I started worrying about how the heat would affect the bikes, and I knew we had quite a ways to go before we got to our lodge.

Now is when I want to try to describe what the heat feels like when you’re on a motorcycle, but I just don’t know how. It’s a little like when you’re making lasagna or something, and you open the oven door after the oven’s been on for a long time and that blast of heat hits your face. We really could have used a CamelBak, but for just one day’s use, it wasn’t worth dragging along on this trip. But we got pretty dehydrated. By the time we got to our lodge and unloaded the bikes and sat down in our room, we were spent. I have felt higher temperatures in, say, an actual sauna, and I have felt outside temperatures around 107 or 108 during exceptional heat waves in Texas and Oklahoma, but 115 degrees just floored me. Even Leon, who likes the heat and doesn’t mind being hot, thought it was ridiculous. With the wind blowing, it truly felt like the entire place was an evil, rogue blow dryer come to life, set on the highest heat setting, trying to kill us.

We decided to go to the pool, which was really nice, and we met a couple from Italy. They were about our age, maybe a little older, and they were on their second trip to the United States. The first time, they came to visit their daughter, who was doing a research project in the Texas Tech’s microbiology department, and they had been to the Redwood Forest and Kind’s Canyon and Sequoia National Parks. This time, they just wanted to see a few things they missed the first time. They both talked about how in all of the rest of Europe, work is relaxed and people get plenty of time off for holiday, but in Italy, there are no labor laws and the job market is really bad, so work is very stressful. Companies constantly demand more of people’s time with no overtime pay, and you can’t complain or they’ll replace you, since there are so many people out of work. It made me feel very grateful to have such a fantastic job and to be able to take time off to make this trip. It also made me wonder what the hell I was thinking, spending any part of that time in this god-forsaken hellhole of an uninhabitable place like Death Valley.

When we got out of the pool and walked back to our room, the wind was still blowing and we were now soaking wet, and as much as we could not believe it, we were freezing all the way back to our building. We had to laugh at ourselves, shivering and hurrying to get to a towel when it was 115 freaking degrees outside.

Just before sunset, we decided to ride up to one of the lookouts and actually have a look at the place before we left the next morning. We rode the five miles to Zabriskie Point and took a few pictures. It was actually very pretty. It’s an interesting landscape, and I see why George Lucas filmed the Tattoine scenes there.

 

When we left at 7:30 the next morning, it was already 95 degrees. I’m glad we went there because I’ve always wanted to go, but unless it’s in January, I probably won’t go back. We stopped for another picture on the way out, but not for long, as we were ready to get the hell outta there.

This really was a great place to see, and I’m glad we stopped here. And now, hopefully, back to the realm of the living.

Live hard and ride easy, friends.

 

There’s not a lot to tell about the first three days. We left Wednesday at about 1:00 and rode to Clarendon, TX, where we spent the night. I’d been awake most of the night worrying about everything about this trip, so it was a long several hours. But we made it and slept well and were up and ready to leave again by about 7 the next morning, after some very nice conversations with some seemingly nice people during breakfast at the hotel.

 
Yesterday, we rode to Albuquerque. We were having trouble with our communications system. I could hear Leon perfectly every time he said anything, but he said I sounded like the teacher from Peanuts every time I talked. I did accuse him of just saying that to get me to shut up, but he assured me that wasn’t the case. But we stopped at Cycle Gear in Albuquerque and the guy was really helpful and actually replaced my microphone at no charge. It didn’t help, but the guy was great. We had dinner at El Patio, an old house that’s been converted into one of the best Southwestern style restaurants I’ve eaten at in a long time. They had a guitarist, who was fantastic. It was a good place for dinner.

 
We got up and left Albuquerque by around 7:20. We decided to stop at Grand Canyon Harley-Davidson to see if they had a different microphone we cold try. They didn’t but it was fun to stop there anyway. Leon saw a bike he wanted to buy, so we left before he could do anything stupid.

 

 

 
We got to Williams around 2:30, checked into our hotel, and then walked up and down main street for a while. We had a nice dinner at a steak house, where Leon left his favorite Harley-Davidson cap, a gift from our dear friends Will and Lisa. We have since called the hotel, and the very nice woman there took our information, waited for the steak house to open, and called them to see if they’d found it. They had, and it’s now on its way to our house. We’re grateful to Amberlee at the Rodeway Inn in Williams!

 
One of my favorite things about traveling is meeting people from all over the place. Today we were checking out the touristy gift shops here in Williams, which I swear must be the town they based the movie Cars on – one long main street with old style service stations made into museums, diner style restaurants, Mother Road stuff everywhere, and I even thought I saw Mater hiding behind a building at the edge of town. Anyway, we stopped in a leather shop where a guy was trying on cowboy boots. We struck up a conversation with his friend and learned that they are from Germany, and they’ve come to America to ride the old Route 66. One of them rented a Harley-Davidson and the other an Indian, so Leon asked him which he liked better. They guy said he didn’t know, as he had only ridden the Harley. Then he added, “But I think they’re both good. Just as long as we aren’t riding some lousy BMW, I’m happy.”

 

I thought that was funny, so I said, “Isn’t that kind of sacreligious of you, being from Germany and all?” He laughed and said he just really didn’t like BMW motorcycles. Fair enough. I don’t really like most American cars, so I don’t know why it surprised me for him to say that. But I love being able to meet people from across the world and exchange likes and dislikes, joke with them, and take an interest in them, even while barely able to understand each other. It reminds me that people are just people, no matter how different they might appear.

 
I think traveling brings out the best in most people. Of course, we’re all on vacation when we’re traveling, so we’re in a good mood. And we’re seeing new things and having rich experiences, so there’s no reason to be grumpy about little things that don’t matter, like traffic and the price of gas and having forgotten to buy laundry soap when you were JUST at the store.

 
Maybe, too, there’s something else at work. Maybe somehow being away from the familiarities of home and structure reminds us that our lives are like traveling. I don’t mean the packing and loading the car (or the Harley) and heading out somewhere just to see what’s out there. Except that I do. From the time we’re born until the day we die, we’re on a trip. Every day, we pack what we have – our motivations, our talents, our ideas – and we go and do our thing, whatever that thing might be. We’re all on that Mother Road; we just don’t realize it most of the time.

 
Yesterday at our hotel, we met a guy and his wife while eating breakfast. We talked for a while, and he told us he had been in the mountains in Colorado recently and came upon a kid sitting on the side of the road with his bicycle on the ground. The guy pulled over and asked the kid if he was ok, and the kid said, “No, man, I’m just spent.” This kid had just graduated from college on the East Coast somewhere and had always wanted to ride his bike across the country, so he just packed his stuff and went. He was headed for Seattle and got bogged down in the mountains. He told the guy he needed to get somewhere and rest up before he could go any further, so the guy loaded the bike up in his truck and gave the kid a ride to a hotel.

 

Tomorrow we’re headed to Death Valley National Park. It’s supposed to be 113 degrees around the time we should get there. I hope they have a good swimming pool.

 

Live hard and ride easy, friends.