My 6000 mile odyssey
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My 6000 mile odyssey
Let me preface this by saying this is my first post here after trolling for a good bit. Just bought a 2010 FXD, after years of motocrossing. Decided a sport bike wasn't long distance-worthy and metrics just didn't turn my crank at all. Been a blast ever since.
So about 3 months after getting my license a crazy friend of mine who's been riding for years decides he wants to plan a trip from Canton, Georgia to ride about 3000 miles around Arizona then hit the Sturgis Rally for a few days then head back to Georgia. Me, being full of spit and vinegar decided, "F@#k it this is one of those dare to be great situations" and saved up every bit of money I could for what would turn out be one of the greatest trips I've ever taken.
I spend months gathering (see, fabricating) a set of waterproof bags to carry across the damn country, mentally preparing myself, making sure my affairs were in order should I meet the maker etc. We, being the utterly insane people we are, decided, hell, we'll leave on a Tuesday night ride all the way through night and into the next day and make it to to New Mexico and crash there for the night before moving on to Arizona. Well, a few days before the crazy ******* I was riding dubbed most appropriately as "Wild Man" decides to get some kinda stomach virus and blows our best laid plans right out of the water. Long story short we never did do the whole ride through the night thing and ended up leaving early Wednesday morning.
When we left we knew it was gonna be rather warm, but not 109 humid as ball sweating hell warm. We had intended to ride about a thousand miles that day and only ended up doing 650 miles because this aforementioned virus was still kicking Wild Man's *** and he had to give it up or risk making it worse. We had intended to get some alcohol in him to try and kill the virus, but I'll be damned if we didn't stop in the driest ****in' county in Arkansas. So with that idea shot, we decided to hit the hay and haul *** to Gallup NM the next day.
Next day we wake up before the sun crests the horizon and get a move on before the weather even gets a chance to become hell on earth. Again, trying to go for that thousand mythical miles. Well, I'll tell you what somebody out there has it in for me, because as soon as we get through Texas and halfway to Albuquerque, all f!@kin' hell breaks loose and we get dumped on for about a 120 miles. I'm talking the coldest, can't see **** rain storm I'm ever seen. Bear in mind, we ride no windshields, no rain gear, no whining. We ride "put up, or shut up" style. By the 2nd hour riding through all this crazy thunder and lightning madness, praying for a break in the clouds, damn near hypothermic, we finally catch a break 100 miles from Gallup. Only problem is, the sun was goin down, and it gets damn cold at night. But somehow from the gratuitous addition of things called dry layers we managed to push on riding the coattails of 18 wheelers to get out of the wind 915 miles after leaving Arkansas. Still no 1000 miles.
Yeah, **** New Mexican rain.
Next day, after sleeping in the most comfortable bed I've ever slept in, we start out towards Arizona. Not surprisingly, it was clear as hell, not a cloud in the sky. So we move on to the main part of our trip through Arizona. We hop on 40 W for a while til we get of on 191 to head south through the Apache National Forest. If you ever get the opportunity to ride the Coronado Trail, you had better not pass it up. That is one of the most amazing roads I think I've ever seen, so you've ridden the "Dragon Tail"? The Coronado Trail makes the dragons tail look like a lizard tail. Awesome scenery with an awesome road = heaven. After a ride that we decided to make for Globe AZ, get some beers and crash for the night.
coming down out of the Trail.
Waking up at the buttcrack of dawn (sensing a theme here?). We start on the long trek down to Tucson then head back east to do a loop around southeastern New Mexico, hit Tombstone, and head back to Tucson and stop there. About halfway to Tombstone we come across the biggest damn group of vultures, bout five or six of them big bastards sitting in the middle of the damn road fighting over some creature that had been unlucky enough to be struck down by a cager. These damn behemoths had absolutely no fear as we came up on them doing about sixty around a bend in the road. They waited until the last damn minute to take flight after fighting in the middle of the road with each other for what seem ed like forever. While we're hurriedly down shifting as fast as we can these god forsaken flying turkeys pick a flight path heading the same direction we're going. These bastards took off so damn lazily they were about two feet above my head as we passed them slinging insults like crazy (at least I was). But we got over that and moved on to our next challenge, riding the Sonoran Desert at high noon.
Read the sign. The only BankofAmerica sign I saw the whole 12 days. It was in Tombstone of all places.
You know what's in the desert? Nothing. That's it. ****in nothing, and I'll leave it at that. Oh, it was about damn hot as hell, but damnit I kept my jacket on because I didn't feel like baking in the sun and dying from dehydration.
the desert and it's effing nothingness. not my bike.
If you've ever been on a serious Indian reservation then you'll know there ain't **** there. No mini malls, no Mc-effin-Donald's, no easy to find GAS STATIONS. Great unblemished scenery. But it's kind of hard to ponder the mysteries of the universe (as I know we all do when there ain't much to look at but trees and grassland) when your bike is damn near empty and you don't know how far away you are from civilization. The thought occurred to me many times that I might really get stranded in the middle of nowhere, aka the Hopi Indian reservation. Seriously, we were pulling clutches and coasting down hills, that's how desperate we were for a gas station. As we coasted into Tuba City and paid 4.50 for a few gallons of gas I thanked every Indian spirit for not stranding me out there.
If you ever get the chance to ride through the Prescott Natl forest om Route 89, you need to do it you won't regret it, jsut remember to take the Alt 89 through the Coconino cause that **** is crazy awesome riding.
Next day we saw the North Rim of the Grand Canyon blah blah blah blah, camped the f!@k out at 8000 ft and froze my *** off , but the JD was good Blah blah. Picture worth a thousand words. hehe.
Grand Canyon
After this it all kind of blended together, being that this was just the pretty uneventful and scenery filled 1500 mile 2 day journey to Sturgis, South Dakota. However, I will put in one side note. F!@k Wyoming. No seriously, F!@K Wyoming. Maybe more specifically f!@k the Great Divide Basin. I dont have anything against anyone that lives there believe me. That had to some of the most boring riding I think I did throughout this entire trip ,and rain clouds chased me all the way through the damn state. Every time I looked over my effin' shoulder there was an angry rain cloud eyeballin' me just waiting for the chance to take a **** on me.
Then Sturgis. STURGIS. Harley Davidson mecca. It was an interesting sight to see. Too bad I don't remember most of it because I was half in the bag almost the entire time I was there. I did end up with a new tattoo though......
Wild night at Full Throttle Saloon.
After the hazy two days of "wtf happened, and where's that bus that hit me?", We decided we'd seen enough and made the first leg of our journey home to Georgia. Not really much happened during this time. Just pushed the first 500 miles outta the way so we could finally do a grand from Sioux City SD to home. and that's when the **** hit the fan.
The devil or whoever did NOT want me to do a thousand mile run on the trip. We woke up before the sun had even thought about coming over the horizon and started busting *** towards Canton GA. Everything seemed fine til we got about an hour away from Nashville. I swear to God and baby Jesus I'm psychic and based on what happened before, I knew someone somewhere was putting some kind of honky voodoo on me. Sure enough it goes from clear......to utterly black. Rain so damn bad I take my clear glasses OFF just to see down the road. We did 55 from just outside of Nashville damn near all the way to Chattanooga. Luckily, this was a warm summer rain and I ended up not freezing my left nut off. I felt like a damn wet napkin that's been sittin under a beer for too long. Soggy and tore up. But, when the rain broke we actually had a chance to dry off in the blessed warm southern air. After that it was clear sailing all the way back to Georgia, 1075 miles and 17 hours after we left South Dakota we finally made it home to a hell of alot of cold beer and some burned hotdogs.
More Random Pictures:
Mine up front, Wild Mans in the back.
A zen moment in the mountains. (me)
Popup grid lock ****in blows.
No explanation necessary.
The essentials for camping.
Now to start planning my trip up the Pacific Coast Highway.......
So about 3 months after getting my license a crazy friend of mine who's been riding for years decides he wants to plan a trip from Canton, Georgia to ride about 3000 miles around Arizona then hit the Sturgis Rally for a few days then head back to Georgia. Me, being full of spit and vinegar decided, "F@#k it this is one of those dare to be great situations" and saved up every bit of money I could for what would turn out be one of the greatest trips I've ever taken.
I spend months gathering (see, fabricating) a set of waterproof bags to carry across the damn country, mentally preparing myself, making sure my affairs were in order should I meet the maker etc. We, being the utterly insane people we are, decided, hell, we'll leave on a Tuesday night ride all the way through night and into the next day and make it to to New Mexico and crash there for the night before moving on to Arizona. Well, a few days before the crazy ******* I was riding dubbed most appropriately as "Wild Man" decides to get some kinda stomach virus and blows our best laid plans right out of the water. Long story short we never did do the whole ride through the night thing and ended up leaving early Wednesday morning.
When we left we knew it was gonna be rather warm, but not 109 humid as ball sweating hell warm. We had intended to ride about a thousand miles that day and only ended up doing 650 miles because this aforementioned virus was still kicking Wild Man's *** and he had to give it up or risk making it worse. We had intended to get some alcohol in him to try and kill the virus, but I'll be damned if we didn't stop in the driest ****in' county in Arkansas. So with that idea shot, we decided to hit the hay and haul *** to Gallup NM the next day.
Next day we wake up before the sun crests the horizon and get a move on before the weather even gets a chance to become hell on earth. Again, trying to go for that thousand mythical miles. Well, I'll tell you what somebody out there has it in for me, because as soon as we get through Texas and halfway to Albuquerque, all f!@kin' hell breaks loose and we get dumped on for about a 120 miles. I'm talking the coldest, can't see **** rain storm I'm ever seen. Bear in mind, we ride no windshields, no rain gear, no whining. We ride "put up, or shut up" style. By the 2nd hour riding through all this crazy thunder and lightning madness, praying for a break in the clouds, damn near hypothermic, we finally catch a break 100 miles from Gallup. Only problem is, the sun was goin down, and it gets damn cold at night. But somehow from the gratuitous addition of things called dry layers we managed to push on riding the coattails of 18 wheelers to get out of the wind 915 miles after leaving Arkansas. Still no 1000 miles.
Yeah, **** New Mexican rain.
Next day, after sleeping in the most comfortable bed I've ever slept in, we start out towards Arizona. Not surprisingly, it was clear as hell, not a cloud in the sky. So we move on to the main part of our trip through Arizona. We hop on 40 W for a while til we get of on 191 to head south through the Apache National Forest. If you ever get the opportunity to ride the Coronado Trail, you had better not pass it up. That is one of the most amazing roads I think I've ever seen, so you've ridden the "Dragon Tail"? The Coronado Trail makes the dragons tail look like a lizard tail. Awesome scenery with an awesome road = heaven. After a ride that we decided to make for Globe AZ, get some beers and crash for the night.
coming down out of the Trail.
Waking up at the buttcrack of dawn (sensing a theme here?). We start on the long trek down to Tucson then head back east to do a loop around southeastern New Mexico, hit Tombstone, and head back to Tucson and stop there. About halfway to Tombstone we come across the biggest damn group of vultures, bout five or six of them big bastards sitting in the middle of the damn road fighting over some creature that had been unlucky enough to be struck down by a cager. These damn behemoths had absolutely no fear as we came up on them doing about sixty around a bend in the road. They waited until the last damn minute to take flight after fighting in the middle of the road with each other for what seem ed like forever. While we're hurriedly down shifting as fast as we can these god forsaken flying turkeys pick a flight path heading the same direction we're going. These bastards took off so damn lazily they were about two feet above my head as we passed them slinging insults like crazy (at least I was). But we got over that and moved on to our next challenge, riding the Sonoran Desert at high noon.
Read the sign. The only BankofAmerica sign I saw the whole 12 days. It was in Tombstone of all places.
You know what's in the desert? Nothing. That's it. ****in nothing, and I'll leave it at that. Oh, it was about damn hot as hell, but damnit I kept my jacket on because I didn't feel like baking in the sun and dying from dehydration.
the desert and it's effing nothingness. not my bike.
If you've ever been on a serious Indian reservation then you'll know there ain't **** there. No mini malls, no Mc-effin-Donald's, no easy to find GAS STATIONS. Great unblemished scenery. But it's kind of hard to ponder the mysteries of the universe (as I know we all do when there ain't much to look at but trees and grassland) when your bike is damn near empty and you don't know how far away you are from civilization. The thought occurred to me many times that I might really get stranded in the middle of nowhere, aka the Hopi Indian reservation. Seriously, we were pulling clutches and coasting down hills, that's how desperate we were for a gas station. As we coasted into Tuba City and paid 4.50 for a few gallons of gas I thanked every Indian spirit for not stranding me out there.
If you ever get the chance to ride through the Prescott Natl forest om Route 89, you need to do it you won't regret it, jsut remember to take the Alt 89 through the Coconino cause that **** is crazy awesome riding.
Next day we saw the North Rim of the Grand Canyon blah blah blah blah, camped the f!@k out at 8000 ft and froze my *** off , but the JD was good Blah blah. Picture worth a thousand words. hehe.
Grand Canyon
After this it all kind of blended together, being that this was just the pretty uneventful and scenery filled 1500 mile 2 day journey to Sturgis, South Dakota. However, I will put in one side note. F!@k Wyoming. No seriously, F!@K Wyoming. Maybe more specifically f!@k the Great Divide Basin. I dont have anything against anyone that lives there believe me. That had to some of the most boring riding I think I did throughout this entire trip ,and rain clouds chased me all the way through the damn state. Every time I looked over my effin' shoulder there was an angry rain cloud eyeballin' me just waiting for the chance to take a **** on me.
Then Sturgis. STURGIS. Harley Davidson mecca. It was an interesting sight to see. Too bad I don't remember most of it because I was half in the bag almost the entire time I was there. I did end up with a new tattoo though......
Wild night at Full Throttle Saloon.
After the hazy two days of "wtf happened, and where's that bus that hit me?", We decided we'd seen enough and made the first leg of our journey home to Georgia. Not really much happened during this time. Just pushed the first 500 miles outta the way so we could finally do a grand from Sioux City SD to home. and that's when the **** hit the fan.
The devil or whoever did NOT want me to do a thousand mile run on the trip. We woke up before the sun had even thought about coming over the horizon and started busting *** towards Canton GA. Everything seemed fine til we got about an hour away from Nashville. I swear to God and baby Jesus I'm psychic and based on what happened before, I knew someone somewhere was putting some kind of honky voodoo on me. Sure enough it goes from clear......to utterly black. Rain so damn bad I take my clear glasses OFF just to see down the road. We did 55 from just outside of Nashville damn near all the way to Chattanooga. Luckily, this was a warm summer rain and I ended up not freezing my left nut off. I felt like a damn wet napkin that's been sittin under a beer for too long. Soggy and tore up. But, when the rain broke we actually had a chance to dry off in the blessed warm southern air. After that it was clear sailing all the way back to Georgia, 1075 miles and 17 hours after we left South Dakota we finally made it home to a hell of alot of cold beer and some burned hotdogs.
More Random Pictures:
Mine up front, Wild Mans in the back.
A zen moment in the mountains. (me)
Popup grid lock ****in blows.
No explanation necessary.
The essentials for camping.
Now to start planning my trip up the Pacific Coast Highway.......
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