Those images will stick with me for a while.

Although I'm looking forward to your further updates, it's sad that we're nearing the end. It's going to be a boring winter without these stories to keep us on the road mentally...



Thank's for the entertainment over these last few months!!! I've truly enjoyed it!

 

Thanks Steve. But, the way I type, it will be June before I finish this.

We have 4 days left in the report. We travel from Medford, to Crater Lake, Bend Oregon, and part way on the John Day Highway, which was a real treat. The next day we complete the John Day and beat it to West Yellowstone on byways. The next day through Yellowstone, to Sturgis. The last day is a long slab home from Sturgis, and to be honest, not much to talk about there.

I have go through all our trip pics from this point and resize/touch up. There are a bunch!

 

I'm still in Medford waiting for the ride home . . . HELP! This is like reading a good book, but your wife was cleaning the house and can't remember where she put it.

 

What a fantastic report. Love the pictures and the stories. I am planning for a road-trip-holiday in the US / Canada next year and this is truly inspiring.

Thanks for sharing.

 

Day 9 – Snow, Dust Devils, Big Spiders, the Dirty Shame, and Mr Norris

The alarm goes off waking me out of a dreamless sleep. Having many Margaritas the night before, I’m a bit groggy, but surprisingly, not hung over. The room is dark and the air conditioner purrs, left on from last night. Chilly. Cheryl elbows me, on purpose, and gets up. “What the hell was that for?” Nothing. She just gets dressed. Like all men who have spent even a small time with women, I’m experiencing “Man wtf moment #1” – otherwise known as the silent treatment. I’m working my way backwards through last night’s events – Mexican place and Margaritas/good, Ride back to the Motel and check in/good, back to the room and passed out/ummmmm….. There is some grey area in there. Fortunately, Cheryl understands the economy of time on a traveling day and cuts to the chase. Turns out there was a debate about doing laundry last night. She wanted me to do it but, I had already, mostly, fallen asleep. My responses to such requests (when entering the REM phase of sleep) have been, historically, inappropriate. I guess my stance was somewhat pointed (“I was a dick”) and she ended up doing the laundry, falling asleep in the laundry room, was awakened by a teenager asking if she was okay (apparently she looked dead), and returned to the room (at 2 am) to find me not worried about her absence because I was, yes – unconscious. I guess I showed sufficient surprise and remorse because she quickly segwayed into “let’s get going” mode and that’s what we did.

Our route for the day was to basically head up to Bend, hang a right, and take the John Day Highway east. I had done some research on ADV and heard that it was a great ride. It was. Our route was plotted to take us to Boise - 522 miles away. I didn't really figure on doing that in one day. We wanted to check out Crater Lake, Bend, and whatever came our way. We were doing well on time so it would be an easy day.

It was a perfect riding day in Medford Oregon. Sunny and mid 70s. We eased the loaded bike out of the lot and into the gas station half a block away. Having heard the stories of militant gas station attendants in Oregon Tazing those that try to fill their own tanks, I sought out the “official” looking kid to pump my gas (it’s a law in Oregon). He was feeling generous (indifferent) and allowed me to pump my own, which suited me just fine. After the usual provisioning (water, Gatoraide, sunblock) we fired up the bike to leave. Unfortunately the GPS didn’t get the memo that we were to depart that day. In reality, it was the cigar socket that dropped the ball. It was dead. I vaguely remembered that I had heard a “crunch” when I locked the steering the night before. Sure enough, the Garmin plug shorted something and took out a fuse. Problem was, I couldn’t find which fuse. An intelligent individual would take a look at the manual and simply replace the right fuse. But I chose to take the more direct route and hardwire the damn thing to my battery. I was in a hurry and for some reason, that I can’t now fathom, it seemed faster to remove the seat , cut off the Garmin cable end, and splice it to the battery. Fuse? We don’t need no stinkin fuses! When smoke pours out of the GPS I’ll know there’s a problem.

Ten minutes later we are rolling with the Street Pilot glowing and silently (because the Garmin plug has the speaker) plotting our route. In this case, it was Hwy 62 heading NE and towards Crater Lake. Oddly enough, Crater Lake wasn’t on our original route. We had heard it’s a “must see” from various people we met along the way, so we figured we would check it out. It was well worth it.

HWY 62 is a nice two lane that runs up to Crater Lake. There are lots of little shops to visit along the way if you are so inclined



Oregon has a lot of scenic river crossings. The riding is fantastic.









As we headed farther from civilization, the road became more narrow (seems to be the theme) and we wound our way through cuts of tall Pine. We turned where the signs indicated the entrance to Crater Lake and headed up in elevation - ultimately reaching about 8000 feet at the top of the Crater.

I figured it would be a pretty small lake (nope - didn't look at a map) and a mile hike up to see it. We were blown away by what we saw. The lake is basically a few steps from the parking lot and down from where we were. It was unbelievably blue and much bigger than I had guessed. Apparently, it's the deepest and bluest lake in the US at just shy of 2000 ft deep. I believe it.



Cheryl is still willing to pose for a pic - sort of.



We took the road that runs north and along the western edge of the crater. Because we were at elevation, there was some remaining snow. Jeff told us that the lake had just thawed out in July.



There was plenty of snow in the parking area too. Chery took the opportunity to blast me in the back of the head when I was packing our jackets in the tour pack at our first stop. I will admit that I have a dark side. When I am startled, which doesn't happen often, I occasionally over-react - especially when things are thrown at me. The ice cold snow melting on the back of my neck and dripping down inside my shirtback did not help. This is fun. Cheryl apologized profusely - something about trying to just hit me in the back. I calculated the odds of being able to toss her into the 33 degree lake before being stopped by some do-gooder. As you can see by the pictures, I cooled down quickly (rimshot) and Cheryl escaped her impromptu bath. I wrote it off as her getting even for a night spent in the laundry room.

Plenty to look at away from the crater too





There are a number of pull offs to gaze and take pictures. We hit them all.



This peak followed us since before Medford. It seemed to want to sneak into every one of our pictures



The road around the rim was very lightly traveled



We accosted some kid and made him take a dozen or so pictures of us at this pullout. A copy of it sits on my desk. Great memories.



A last look at the lake before we head north and out of the park. It's always hard to put natural wonders like this in our rear view mirrors



We headed north, towards the jagged peak again. But the road eventually ran NE and away from it, and in no time it was behind us. This was the last we saw of it. We left it, like so many things, behind us like a new friend whom we wished we could see more of.

 

Another great post. This whole thread has me dreaming of the great American road trip, and has influenced some of the sights I'd like to see.

I look forward to the next installment!

 

Like many others, I'm dreaming my dream through your travels. It's a 50 degree day here in SE Ohio and I would really rather be on the bike, but alas it is not to be. I'm through day 6 of your report and I need to bookmark my place. Your narative puts me behind the bars as if you were the lead bike and the wife and I are just off your rear fender. Hoping that you finished your trip on the forum.

 

Another great installment. But dude, you gotta get a professional editor or something in order to speed this up!!!

 

You said it brother. I've decided to do smaller portions, but more often to get this ball rolling. My goal is to have it wrapped up by weeks end.

Thanks to everyone for the patience and kind words.



We headed out of the park. It was a nice long downhill. There was absolutely no traffic in either direction and zero cross roads, so I elected to slip the bike in neutral and kill the engine. The grade was steep enough for us to maintain a decent speed, but not so fast that braking would be required for the gentle curves. I know it's not exactly text book safe riding, but the feeling of gliding silently down a mountain surrounded by breathtaking beauty is sublime.

Of course that had to end sometime. At the appropriate moment I fired up the bike and we roared ok, with the stock exhaust it's more of a flatulent putt, out of the park and headed towards Bend Or. Here are some sights along the way.





We arrived in Bend around noon. We would look for some lunch after doing the local Harley Dealership T-shirt thing. I don't stop at many dealerships to get the shirt like man y do. But, I did want one from Oregon because it's pretty damn far from home. I guess you can call it a trophy. Anyway, we followed the GPS directions to the general area of the dealership. We were almost there when we noticed a strange apparition up ahead and to the right. It looked like a very tall, brown shadow walking through the Pizza Hut parking lot. As we drew nearer, we saw to our astonishment that it was a heavily developed dust devil. And it was definitely on a trajectory course right across our path. I've seen dust devils in fields before. I've always wondered what effect they would have on the human form if the two were to meet. I figure it's something between getting your hair messed up and an express trip over the goal post as it were, and depending on the strength of the dust devil. This was a biggy, and it was right here in town. Weird. I hit the brakes because I was not about to get near the mini twister. The truck in front of me swerved around a bit. It seemed as if he was not sure what to do either. He did the opposite of us. He gunned it. Right into the dust devil. It was really quite a sight. The truck smashed into a wall of swirling brown and shook from side to side as it blasted through. He escaped intact, but I can't say we would have done the same. My guess is it would have at least knocked us down.

The dealership was very close to the dust devil. We pulled in and ripped the layers off. A familiar ritual at this point. We had been moving the whole time and we had just come down the mountain so to speak. Standing in the sun soaked parking lot it was hot. The local temps were in the low nineties. We entered the air conditioned showroom, which like so many new Harley dealerships, looked more like a Banana Republic clothing store than a motorcycle dealership. They had dozens of t-shirts to choose from. We didn't waste too much time choosing and inquired as to some local grub. The nice lady helping us said there was a decent Mexican place nearby and gave us directions. On the way out I stopped to admire a very decked out CVO Street Glide. It had all the goodies and more. The salesman came over, no doubt hoping I would whip the checkbook out to buy it. Not in this lifetime. Nice. But way too rich for my blood. He figured that out in a big hurry, but being a decent sort, gave me a little backround on it anyway. They took a CVO FLHX and then threw a wheelbarrow's worth of money at it. It showed. He fired it up so we could hear the very nice two into one exhaust. It was intoxicating. I don't care if you are a BMW guy, Ducati guy, Yamaha guy, or anything else. The sound of a big bore, cammed, tuned Harley belching emissions out of a two into one pipe the diameter of a coffee is a symphony. Note to self - do this to my bike when I get home. We saddled up and headed out. It was emasculating to listen to my pathetic, wheezy exhaust after hearing that Street Glide. I was wishing I had my full face tinted helmet on as I slunk out of there. I felt that everyone in the lot was staring at the weakness that my bike emitted, saying "How pathetic" as we road off.

But, the Oregon summer sun and trip that lie ahead cheered me up instantaneously. We looked for the Mexican restaurant and found a pole building with a Coors Light sign glowing proudly in the afternoon sun. It was next to a Fastenal and some oter non restaurant looking place. In fact, the whole compound looked better suited to things of a mechanical nature than food. This is not what we had in mind so we headed towards our route and hoped for the best.

 

C'mon, I hungry and thirsty and you had to go pass the damn place! Hope we don't have to wait too long for our next fix. Again, Neveda you have and continue to make this enjoyable. Great job!