Monday was a long day. In fact, it was the longest day of the year: the summer solstice. For us, it was also a long day. Diana arrived in Salt Lake City at noon, and after re-packing, we set off for Ely, Nevada. Passing the Great Salt Lake and into Wendover, Utah, the ambient air temperature gauge on the bike showed as high as 106 degrees. We were both already tired, and the heat was taking a toll, so we didn’t bother to stop at Bonneville Salt Flats for photos, although in hindsight of course (now that we’ve cooled off), we wish we had. We also stopped at a rest area in the middle of nowhere, about 30 miles or so before Ely, that had a historical marker discussing the Pony Express, which passed near here. Again, no photos (mistake), but we learned some interesting history, such as:

• The Pony Express only operated for 18 months in 1860-1861, before the war with the Paiute Indians paused delivery, and the Trans Continental Telegraph made it virtually obsolete.
• The riders could only carry about ten pounds of mail in their “mochillas”, special pouches that quickly slipped over the rider’s saddle and saddle horn for fast horse changes.
• The cost to send a half-ounce of mail was five dollars, the equivalent of about $160 today. And we complain about the cost of postage!

Outside of Ely, we found a fantastic campground. Ward Mountain Campground is at 7,400 feet elevation, so even though it was nearly 100 degrees in Ely, it was around 82 at our campsite, and in the low 60s in the morning. This was also the best bargain for an established campground at $8 a night.

Crossing Nevada can be a lonely affair. We saw very little traffic along the way.

We had planned to head for Bishop, California on Tuesday, as the county fairgrounds there has showers and we can camp on a large grass field for $15, but the heat once again had me thinking. We made a detour for Mammoth Lakes, crossing through Tonopah, Nevada and a great road called the Benton Crossing over to Highway 395 and into Mammoth.

At just under 8,000′ elevation, it was 77 degrees when we pulled into Mammoth mid-day. While Mammoth is a ski area in winter, it’s also incredibly busy in the summer, and it took us a while to find a place to camp. Eventually we ended up at a National Park Service campground in town, just across from Starbucks, which allows us to walk to wi-fi and charge all our devices.

We’ll stay here another night, then head south to meet up with a friend for a ride toward the coast.

On our way out of Mammoth, we took a couple of quick detours, first just above town to Lake Mary, and then north to Mono Lake.

We then headed south on Highway 395. As we expected, it quickly warmed up, and we found ourselves just wanting to get through the heat and to our destination for the evening, which would again be at elevation. For several weeks now, this has been our routine: find a spot to camp at high elevation, ride through the lower roads to it in 95 degree temperatures, then arrive at a nice climate for the night.

We stopped at the historic site of Manzanar, which was a Japanese relocation facility during World War II. Unfortunately, they were closed (open Friday through Monday only), but a couple of the reconstructed buildings/exhibits were open as was the rest of the outdoor area. Only the large auditorium building remains from the original camp, but there are signposts indicating where each of the other buildings stood, and what it was.

Walking through the buildings had a little bit of the same feel as walking through some of the German concentration camps. I’m sure the treatment was different, but it still felt like we were intruding on something very wrong that happened. I felt like some of the stories in the exhibits (some based on newspaper accounts from the 1940s) seemed to put a “happy face” on the lives of the people there. It seemed quite biased and skewed to me. Taking about how much some of the inhabitants enjoyed the “mountain views” seemed crazy. This place is extremely isolated in the high desert; it does have a view of the mountains, but it is not in a forested or nice area. Referring to the “laughter and music” coming from the auditorium likewise didn’t feel right; there may have been nights like that, but overall these people were taken from a much better life and put in a guarded concentration camp in the desert, against their will. Like the German camps, it’s good to preserve this history in the hope that it never happens again. But don’t sugar-coat it.

South of Manzanar, we turned up Nine Mile Creek Road, and headed for Kennedy Meadows. It was 97 degrees at the bottom, but 72 when we arrived at Troy Meadow Campground.

The campground was only about 20% full, and nearly everyone there had a dirt bike. It’s a bit hard for me to believe that with all the time I spent riding off-road in Southern California, and having ridden at Kennedy Meadows, I never bothered to drive past the General Store in this direction. There are multiple campgrounds here with single-track trails leading right out of them. You can ride your dirt bike right out of your campsite onto dozens if not hundreds of miles of great trail.

We knew that today was going to be a full day of riding, sight-seeing and visiting with a good friend. We had no idea that it would be as exciting as it was at the end of the day.

When we awoke at Troy Meadows in the morning, it was 43 degrees. Once again, our focus on camping at elevation to avoid the heat had paid off. As we packed up to leave, pickup trucks and toy-hauler trailers were already pulling into the campground. People were arriving early to claim their spots for the weekend. This place is not easy to get to; it’s about a five hour drive from the Los Angeles area, and the last hour or more is up a twisty, climbing road. But such is life in SoCal: if you want to beat the other thousands of like-minded recreation families to a spot, you have to leave home early.

We rode down Sherman Pass Road toward the tiny hamlet of California Hot Springs (population 37). This road offers some incredible views, and should be on any adventure rider’s list. It is paved, but full of potholes and gravel, so not an ideal route for the sportbike or cruiser crowd. Single-track trails criss-cross the road in many locations, so it’s possible to add some challenge (and fun) to the ride.

We had planned to meet a good friend and former co-worker near California Hot Springs, and ride together to the coast. Kevin and I had agreed to meet at a spot just east of the “town”, but somehow we both managed to miss a turn, and amazingly we passed each other not far from the meeting point. Kevin had left home in Orange County early that morning, and had already done about 200 miles of mostly freeway riding by the time we met. We had left the campground and ridden about 70 miles of mostly 25mph twisties, so we had enjoyed the shorter and cooler morning.

After meeting up, we rode to the Trail of 100 Giants. This is a short 1.3 mile walking trail that takes you past some incredible Sequoia trees.

After hiking the trail, we took off on a spirited ride through Ponderosa and out to Porterville, where once again we ran out of elevation and the heat set in. We had to cross the Central Valley, and we knew it would be hot, so we kept moving. We rode past miles of orange groves and vineyards, eventually taking Highway 46 across towards Paso Robles.

Shortly before arriving at the Pacific Coast Highway, we turned off of Highway 46 onto Santa Maria Creek Road. The road is little more than one lane wide, and winds about 16 miles through some beautiful hills before dropping into the town of Cambria.

A bit less than two miles down Santa Maria Creek Road, Kevin came around a corner to see a Toyota RAV4 lying on its’ side in the ditch. The driver was just climbing out, and he ran towards Kevin. As we pulled up, the driver asked us to call 911. The car was already starting to catch fire, as was the very dry brush under it.

After confirming that no one else was in the vehicle, we set to work. Diana called 911, while Kevin and the driver got some boxes from the RAV4 to beat the grass fire out. I removed out camping gear from the back of the bike and pulled our one gallon RotoPax container of water off the rear rack. I was sure that it wasn’t going to do much to put out the engine fire, but I handed it to Kevin anyway. He threw some water on the isolated fire and it began to die. We had just enough water to actually put the vehicle fire out, and the driver was able to beat the grass fire out. Had we not arrived when we did, we were convinced that this would have turned into a large and destructive fire.

After an exciting end to our day’s ride, we continued on to Cambria and north to San Simeon. For once, we didn’t need elevation to relieve the heat. The ocean breeze felt great.

In the morning we said goodbye to Kevin, as he headed south towards home and we continued north a short distance toward Big Sur.

We’re more than a week behind in posting to our blog, so I’m going to play catch-up here, as we have a few down days in Boise, Idaho.

After leaving Kevin in San Simeon, California, we had a short day’s ride to Big Sur. We had a reservation for a camp site the following night at Pfeiffer State Park, but we didn’t have a reservation for tonight. This turned out to be our first wall: everything along the Pacific Coast Highway was sold out and fully booked, except for $300+ hotel rooms, which will never be in our budget (one night’s stay at $300 takes away ten to fifteen nights camping at $20-$30 a night. You can see how we can extend our travels significantly by “sleeping cheap”). We started at San Simeon State Park, where we were told “Sorry folks, park’s full. Try Plaskett” (an hour north). We checked several others along the way, but all were full. At Plaskett we were told “Sorry folks, park’s full. Try San Simeon.”

Kevin had mentioned that a friend of his told him about a place to wild camp above Big Sur, so rather than drive hours north and inland, we decided to try it. The road was dirt, but fairly good condition, though in places it had some fairly deep silt. We climbed 3,000 feet up in seven miles to a ridge that looked out over the ocean. At that height, the marine layer (think coastal fog) was below us, so while it was 60F when we left the coast, it was 84F up here. It felt much warmer. We cooked dinner and went to bed early, but it never cooled off, so we didn’t sleep much.

At 5:30am we were up and packing. Our descent got interesting in a hurry when I overheated the rear brake until it faded away (did I mention we are overloaded?) on a steep downhill silt section. With no rear brake and the front ABS still active, we managed to build speed downhill until the embankment on the outside of the corner at the bottom of the hill provided some serious stopping power. From the outside it probably looked like a small atomic bomb had detonated. The silt mushroom cloud completely covered us and we were suddenly a brown bike and two brown riders. No damage and no injuries, thankfully. I was able to pull the bike upright away from the embankment and let the brakes cool, and we continued down to the coast at a slower pace.

The rest of the day was spent riding up the coast to Carmel, then back to Pfeiffer State Park. The dense marine layer limited visibility — and photos — and kept the temperatures in the low 60s.

I was reminded of the term commonly used by TV meteorologists on the news in Los Angeles: “June Gloom”. The marine layer doesn’t burn off until nearly noon, and some days later. Diana just kept saying, “This is not what you see when they show you California on TV and in the movies.”

Nope. That’s Hollywood. This is reality.

We left the Big Sur campground and went north again to Monterey, then inland and back into the heat. By the time we stopped for lunch in Los Banos it was 100F. At a convenience store there, I saw something I had never seen before: the handles for the front doors were wrapped in towels and taped. Apparently since the doors face directly into the sun, they get so hot that people burn themselves just opening the door.

After lunch we continued north on the 5 Freeway to Stockton, where we headed east to my sister and brother-in-law’s home. A week earlier we had been only 150 miles from here, but we had done a 750 mile loop instead to get to this point.

We spent the next two days relaxing at their beautiful home and enjoying some great meals and conversation. I also mounted a new set of tires that we had shipped to their house. It turns out the original tires probably would have taken us all the way to Boise, but we weren’t sure at the time, and the front was beginning to show some considerable wear. The new tires were extremely stiff and a bear to mount with hand tools, but I eventually got them on.

Diana said their home felt like a really comfortable Bed and Breakfast. I reminded her not to say that to them, as I was pretty sure we couldn’t afford the room rate!

I only see my sister about once every ten years or so, and we didn’t really want to leave so soon, but we had another reservation already booked further up the coast.

I checked the air pressures in the new tires one last time before heading out that morning. Still, about ten miles down the road, the rear tire suddenly went flat. It appears that I had somehow pinched the tube in a folded position near the valve stem when installing it, and while it held air overnight in the garage, once it heated up, it let go. The tire was hot and much easier to dismount and reinstall on the side of the road this time. Within an hour we were back on the road and headed to Napa.

Passing through Fairfield, I saw one of those “Adopt A Highway” signs that announce people and companies who clean the litter from the sides of the road. This one had the famous “Jelly Belly” logo on it. Over the intercom, I said to Diana, “I think this is where Jelly Belly is located.” About thirty seconds later we saw the large corporate sign on the opposite side of the road with “Factory Tours” on it. A sudden detour was in order.

A short ride later and we were at our campsite at a city park in Napa. We had passed by a lot of vineyards in Napa, and the Sonoma Valley the next morning as well. But since we were on the bike, we didn’t stop to do any tastings. I’m sure we’ll return in the future, and perhaps do the Wine Train.

The next day it was back to the coast and cooler temperatures again. We hit Highway 1 at Jenner, and continued north all the way past Fort Bragg to Leggett, where we jumped back on the 101 to Myers Flat and Hidden Springs campground in the Humboldt Redwoods State Park. I had never ridden this northern section of Highway 1, and it was beautiful. Much less traffic than further south, few if any RVs clogging the road, and stunning scenery.

We had two nights reserved at Hidden Springs, and it allowed us to cruise the Avenue of the Giants and marvel at the giant redwood trees and the beautiful lush surroundings.

A tip from a local sent us down a dead-end dirt road, where we parked the bike and hiked through the trees to the “Lost Bridge”.

We had two nights of great (cool) sleeping temperatures, and met some neighbors who gave us some good tips about Alaska. After two nights, it was time to head north again, and we continued along 101 though Eureka and into southern Oregon. The winds were strong, but the temperatures never exceeded 65 degrees.

Not far into Oregon, we stopped to meet another long-time friend. Darren and I go all the way back to kindergarten, though we lost touch for nearly two decades when I moved to Texas in the 1970s. When we reconnected in the 1990s, we found that we shared similar interests in motorcycles and airplanes. Back around 2012, when he needed a place to keep his Beech T34, he offered to let me plane-sit, and for a couple of years I flew it on a regular basis. Just before I left on my Round-the-World ride in 2015, I flew it back to Southern California and returned it to him. Not long after that, he sold it.

So it was not only great to see Darren in Oregon, but it was great to suddenly see the T34 sitting in the hangar as well. He had re-purchased it, and it brought back some great memories (we actually flew the plane from New York to California together when he first bought it around 2002).

We spent the afternoon with Darren, then got back on the road and headed for Eugene. It was our first time riding after dark in quite a while, and while I try not to do that, especially where there are Elk Crossing signs, we arrived at our hotel safely just after dark.

I’ve had multiple friends and others refer to the Yamaha 700 Tenere as a “unicorn”, since they are rare and you almost never see one on the road. In the last seven thousand miles, we’ve seen two others: one in Big Sur, and the other on Highway 1 in Oregon.

This week I was privileged to take a ride with two other unicorns…another T7 and a new Harley Davidson Pan America (which until now I wasn’t even aware was available to purchase yet, much less already sold and available for rent).

Tom and Erin, friends from Tennessee and Ohio respectively, flew into Boise and rented two motorcycles so we could go for a ride. Tom ended up on a nicely appointed 700 Tenere, while Erin chose the Pan America, a bike we were all curious to see and experience.

Erin had planned a route for us, and I plugged some GPS coordinates into my Garmin. The temperatures here have been over 100 degrees nearly every day for more than a week, so we agreed to meet at 6am and get an early start, as it looked like the loop might take the better part of the day.

We left out of Meridian and headed south on I-84 for about 20 miles before turning off and heading east onto dirt and into the mountains. We were all happy that the morning temperatures were hovering around 66 degrees.

We climbed up to Pine, Idaho, a tiny little town with a gas station and a cafe, and had a late breakfast. We met several other riders here who were doing the Idaho Backcountry Discovery Route, or BDR. Our loop would include a portion of the BDR, and surprisingly we covered the majority of it without encountering another vehicle of any kind.

By the time we reached the Middle and North Forks of the Boise River and began our trek west back towards Boise, it was getting warm. Once or twice we saw 102 degrees on the bikes’ air temperature readouts. The last part of the ride was hot, and the dirt road was corrugated for about 50 miles and rocky in places, making for a bit of a jarring ride.

Returning to Boise, we had covered around 220 miles, about 150 of which was off-road. It was a great day of riding, and we all felt like the bikes had done well. I have a feeling not many retailed Pan Americas have been ridden as far in the dirt — and in one day — as Erin rode this one.

It was a great day of riding and just getting to hang out with some good friends.

Diana and I have a couple of more days in Boise to relax and catch up on some chores before heading northwest. This is our first house-sit since we left home, but not our last, and we’re enjoying the luxuries (and cost-savings) of a home, while also getting to hang out with some fun fur babies.

As we’ve discussed in earlier blog posts, one way that we help lower our overall travel expenses is to house-sit. There are several advantages to this for us:

• It saves money on lodging (hotel, campsites, etc)
• It gives us a chance to relax in a home with pets (we miss our own pets and this gives us some comfort, even if they aren’t our animals)
• It allows us to have good internet to sit and plan our next moves
• It gives us a space to do maintenance to the bike and gear
• It allows us to do laundry
• It allows us to cook a broader range of meals than we can do with our camp stove

For the homeowner, there are of course also advantages:

• Their pets get to stay in their familiar surroundings while the homeowner travels
• The pets are well cared for, and we report (usually via text) daily on their activities
• The house has a “lived in” appearance while they are gone, so it’s less of a target for thieves
• Any potential problems that may occur at home are caught early by the sitters
• Plants and/or gardens are watered and cared for

Since we knew we would be in Boise for a few days, we decided to search out a house-sit opportunity for an extra few days there while we planned the coming week or two. We found a sit on TrustedHouseSitters.com that matched our dates and applied, and were thrilled when the homeowners quickly selected us to be their sitters. We ended up spending a few days with some of the most mellow, laid-back pups you could imagine, as well as a great cat, all in a comfortable home that was near groceries, restaurants, and other supplies.

So after a few days of research, bike maintenance, and relaxing in Boise, we headed out into the heat once again. Destination: The Pacific Northwest.

“The Trail of romance, adventure, hope, faith, and achievement as well as the Trail of misery, tragedy, hardship, despair and death.”

This is not a description of our ride, thankfully, but rather a quote from Walter E. Meacham describing the Oregon Trail, the route from Missouri to Oregon in the mid-1800s that emigrants, moving west, followed. It was a difficult journey, made even more so by greedy trading post merchants in Missouri who knowingly convinced pioneer families to seriously overload their wagons with unnecessary supplies. The trail was littered with personal items, broken wagon parts, and often new merchandise that families abandoned as they continued their drive west.

Esther Lockart described her journey across the Oregon Trail in 1851 this way:
“We came across many evidences of the jaded conditions of the cattle in the trains preceding us. Feather beds, cook stoves, chairs, tables, bedsteads, dishes…all in good condition, strewed on the ground…left to decay and rust among the lava rocks.”

Captain Medorem Crawford, an experienced Oregon Trail team leader, issued a letter “To Emigrants” full of helpful advice on how to make a successful crossing, including how many men it would take to support each wagon, how many days it should take, and what supplies should be taken. In it he advised, “Each person should take 250 pounds of provisions; one-half of which should be flour, fifty pounds bacon, the balance in sugar, coffee, tea, rice, dried fruit, etc.”

We are camped this night in Emigrant Springs Campground, along the Oregon Trail. Of course, this wasn’t a nice, civilized campground with restrooms, showers, water spigots, and paved roads in 1851. But it was a stopping point along the Trail. The Civilian Conservation Corps began to develop this camp area in the 1930s. Sitting here tonight, looking at our motorcycle, it’s easy to imagine it as a wagon and oxen or mules, with all our supplies attached to it. It is much harder to imagine the intense daily strains the emigrants encountered on their more than one hundred day journey across this rugged land.

And it’s even harder to imagine how much I would weigh after eating 125 pounds of flour and fifty pounds of bacon.

After a couple more days of 100 degree weather, we arrived in the Pacific Northwest. We rode through Seattle to get to Camano Island, where we camped for a night, not only because it’s a nice place, but because it set us up for an easy day the following day to Anacortes where we caught the ferry to Orcas Island in the San Juan Islands. We were traveling too fast again, and wishing we could stop for more than one night, but due to the huge number of RVs and summer tourists, there were no campsites available. We were lucky to find one site for one night at Moran State Park on Orcas. We pledged to work harder at trying to book some of these places a little farther ahead.

Unlike on the Outer Banks in North Carolina (where motorcycles go to the front of the line at the ferry dock, but board last), motorcycles are sent to the front of the line here and board first. So while we were waiting for the ferry to Orcas, a Harley pulled up, and we spent a good while chatting with Johnny Mudd, an Orcas resident. Johnny is in his mid 70s, looks a bit like Billy F. Gibbons of ZZ Top, and was quite entertaining to talk with. While Johnny mentioned at one point that his family was the same Mudd family from the Harvey Mudd College and the La Brea Tar Pits in California, he gave no hint at just how entertaining he and his twin brother Jimi really are. I’m not going to go into detail here, but if you have time and want to head down a fun rabbit hole, Google “Jimi Mudd” and click on the second article that pops up.

Once on Orcas, we set up camp at Moran State Park and set off to do some touring. Two suggestions from our conversation with Johnny were high on our list: the view from atop Mount Constitution, and clams at Buck Bay.

Leaving Orcas Island, we headed south from Anacortes and caught the ferry in Coupeville to Port Townsend, where we spent a night with my niece and her husband. David prepared a fantastic dinner for us, and we spent the evening around the table talking about everything from our trip to their recent purchase of a sailboat that will soon be their new home. Once again, we were gone too soon as we had a commitment in Seattle, but we hope to return very soon for at least one more meal. I mean visit. 🙂