Bayou Self (well, there were gators)

I-10 connection (Wikipedia photo)

Swamped

Blue and I decided to take a short overnight trip down to Louisiana, to go on one of those airboat ride tours. The trip itself is pretty simple and boring, about two hours in the "Mississippi Tunnel", that is, trees on both sides of the freeway, and then as you cross over to Louisiana, you go over this stretch of freeway that goes over the western edge of Lake Pontchartrain, which is pretty neat. It took us a leisurely 4 hours to do the 200 some miles, which included a lunch stop.

After going through all these different airboat operators I selected this particular one. I figured what their website lacked in HTML refinement, they probably make up in local knowledge, and I was right. These people know the swamps and the tour, on a boat that sat 6 people (I wanted to avoid the "tourist barges", as there are some that take a whole bus load of folks), was fun and educational, as we weaved our way through what looked like the leftovers of the original Jurassic Park. The boat captain kept us informed of things we were seeing and it was nice to hear it from someone who lives there and makes a living out of this everyday, along with alligator hunting. Anyway, here are some photos of the 90 minute tour. I will post some videos later.

Water everywhere, nothing is solid around here.

Hanging Moss

Things you can do with an airboat, like going over a 6 foot levie

Local resident comes to say hi

"Big Hall", I believe the tour captain called this big gator with a taste for chicken. He was big alright, but apparently used to these regular visits and the accompanying treats.

"Ok, give me the chicken and beat it!"

Water Cypress shoots coming out of the water.

Sailing on a sea of flowers.

Beautiful flowers, and sweet scented also.

These Water Lilly leaves reminded me of Packman.

Water World, heading back at high speed.

It was a nice tour but I need to go back and try some other areas of the state, as there are lots of places where you can go visit the swamps. This place is only about 45 minutes south of New Orleans, so if you are in the area this is something you might want to check out. It is certainly a view into a lost world. it takes very little imagination, believe me.

In retrospect: thoughts on planning and gear

A few thoughts on gear for those of you who ride

After two weeks and 4,000 miles, I can now say things went remarkably well. I cannot remember how many hours I spent planning this, but it went on for months and months. I kept going over the route, trying to figure out where to go, what to see, where to stay. I have to say that once I had a good plan, I stuck to it and it worked out fine. There were no incidents, accidents, unexpected problems (other than that pesky Texas speeding ticket). So what went well?

Room with a view, Driftwood Lodge, Springdale, UT

1. Planning. I guess there are two schools of thought. Some folks might just get on their bikes and hit the road. I need a little more planning than that. Actually, I need a lot more planning than that. I prefer to know where I will be sleeping each night, for instance, what roads, to take, what to see. Sure, you need to leave the door open to the unexpected, and I did add a few things to my trip that I had not planned on doing, but in the end you have a limited amount of time and it comes down to choices. I think it pays to spend some time selecting a route, deciding on what you really want to see, and how long you (realistic) need to see it. I did add an extra day to the trip, which could be used in case anything came up. As it turned up, I decided to use it to extend my return trip home from Albuquerque to MS. Still, I had the extra day and it was nice to be able to make changes as needed.

It is also important you figure out how many miles you want to ride each day, which sections of the trip are just "road to get there", and which will require more time to see. For the Million Dollar Highway in Colorado I planned no more than 120 miles for one day, and that was perfect. On my first two days I did 550 each day, or there abouts. For me, that was too much, for some that is nothing. You need to know your limits, and the only way to find out is to try it for yourself. I have NO interest in joining the Iron Butt club, it is just not my thing (although I am in awe of those you do it). Your trip, your call. Just be realistic about it. Bike style, experience, weather, physical condition, terrain, all play a part, so aware of that.

2. Lodging. I was pretty happy with my choices, happier than I expected with the Driftwood Lodge in Springdale, Utah (highly recommended), and far less happy with the Spanish Trails Motel in Durango, Colorado (to avoid at all costs, if you can), but I

A charming little place to stay in Delta, Colorado

guess that evens out. One place that also surprised me was this little mom and pop little motel and RV park in Delta, Colorado. When I arrived there I was worried that the gravel driveway was an indication of what was coming, but the owners were so nice and the room so meticulously clean (besides being not 30 yards from the Gunnison River) that I actually really enjoyed staying there and would recommend it to anyone passing by.

The rest of the places were ok, no surprises. After the end of a long day on the road, getting a clean, comfortable room, and a long shower, was top on my list.

3. What to pack. The only way to truly know what you need on a trip, is to find out what you need on a trip. In terms of clothing, for instance, I packed more that I needed. Even thought I had packed a bunch of T Shirts, I ended up wearing the same one on the road, which I washed every night. It is one of those sports t shirts that wicks moisture and dries super fast. Next time I will take a couple of those, and a couple of my favorite Ts to wear, along with my "safari" shirt, which I like wearing when I am hiking,, etc, and that is that.
I also packed cold weather gear, which I did not need, but since I was going to go through the San Juan Mountains, I was not sure. As for rain gear, it came in handy the first day, and you really need to have it. Mine is part of my Rev'it Sand 2 Jacket and pants, a removable layer, so it was easy to carry and easy to use (and remove). Still, take a good look at your route and carry what you might need for the weather you might encounter.

Note: Thelostadventure.com has an excellent article on packing, planning, etc. I am in no way associated with them, but it does have some good information. Check it out.

Nikon Coolpix P520

4. Gear. One thing to keep i mind is that you need to at least pack what you may need for emergencies. I stowed a tire repair kit under my seat, where it shall remain until I need it. Just knowing it was there made me feel better. I had some tools I might need for some basic repairs, but I was not going to cross the Kalahari Desert, so I was not too worried about field repairs beyond tightening things on the bike, or removing a panel. Carry some basics tools, some duct tape, some tie wraps, that sort of thing. Simple stuff. You need to decided what is essential and what is not, and this depends greatly on where you will be travelling.

One thing I will add next time is a pocket camera. While I ended up carrying my bigger camera on a strap around my neck to make it easy to reach, a small point and shoot that you keep right at hand will make it easier to take that quick shot when you don't have the time or opportunity to set up your primary camera. In my case I had just purchased a Nikon Coolpix P520, a so called " bridge camera", something between a point and shoot and a DSLR. Mine has a 42X optical zoom, which is more fun that useful in my opinion (or for my needs). It is not too big or two heavy and I am happy with the results. One thing I should have done is try the camera before the trip. I ended up getting the camera a few days before I left, with little time to check it out. Only after I got back did I realize I could have used a different format that allowed for wider shots. No big loss, but a lesson that you need to try all your gear before a big trip, not during one.

I also got a helmet cam. No, not a GoPro, I did not want to spend that much. I got a Polaroid XS100 Extreme Edition HD 1080p 16MP Waterproof Sports Action Video Camera. For $115 you get a very decent camera and the results outweigh my expectations. Do you want to produce a TV documentary? get something else. Do you want to capture some video on your trip? this will do fine. The price is right, the image is good, it is a good camera and I am happy with the results. The only think to remember is to TRY it before you actually want to capture anything of interest. I ended up with a lot of video of the road in front of me until I reviewed it and figured out I had to point the camera way up in order to get a normal viewing angle. Play with it and figure out your riding position and how best to position the camera. See my video page for samples.

Rev'it Sand 2 Jacket

I spent quite a bit of time reading reviews and trying to decide what riding gear to get. I own a couple of jackets and pants, but decided I needed a “four season”, more technical sort of gear. And this time I thought that “budget” was not enough, since I was going to spend two weeks wearing the same thing, through (possible) rain, deserts, mountains, etc., and the solution needed to match the challenge.

I finally decided to go with Rev'it, and I must say that after putting the Sand 2 pants and jacket through 4,000 miles I am absolutely satisfied with my purchase. The combo is not cheap (at least not for me), but 

you get solid construction and the functionality you expect from this level of gear. I got it from Revzilla.com, the first time I order from them, and I was very pleased with the service. You can check it out on their site by clicking here.

They were out of the Sand 2 pants, so I had to get them from a different vendor, Motorcycle Superstore. Same price and they also give you points for gear you buy from them. The pants are very comfortable, and I never noticed the knee or the hip armor (which I had upgraded). This stuff molds itself to you but is extremely tough. Both the jacket and the pants have a waterproof liner, as well as a cold weather liner. I rode through a few brief but heavy downpours and the waterproof liners did their job.

For boots I wore my old Pro Sports boots, a brand that does not seem to exist anymore. They are actually track boots made in Italy, with some sort of goretex-like membrane. My feet never sweat and they are great, although for touring I would prefer something with a bit more traction on the ground. Still, they are in great shape, so no need to replace them yet.

Because I left my short summer gloves home (you always forget something), I ended up ridding with a pair of cheap ($20) gloves I picked along the way. My other pair, some summer gauntlet style gloves from Joe Rocket, became a pain to put and off, so I ended up ridding with the cheap ones.

After half backing in the desert sun on my way to Albuquerque, I picked up a cooling vest made by Built. I have never heard of this brand, but that it what they had at the store (like the gloves) and it turned out to be the best $40 I spent on the trip. In the hot, bone dry air of the desert this thing kept me cool long enough until my next gas stop, at which time I just soaked it again and off I went. I guess you can spend more for these things, but this worked out fine for me. Off course, as I mentioned before, if you live in a hot, humid climate, forget about it. Without evaporation it turns into a portable steamer. I had to stow it away once I got into Oklahoma and on down South.

My helmet is an Icon Alliance in bright orange. I believe in being seen, and this thing really stands out. This helmet is comfortable but noisy at speed. I wear earplugs (more on that), so it is not too bad. Luckily I can control wind flow (and noise) thanks to the FJR's adjustable windshield, so that helps. With the Sena Blue Tooth intercom installed, I can listen to music, take and make calls and listen to books on tape (well, MP3s), which is really great for those long stretches of road.

Earplugs. Next time I take a long trip I am going to have to invest on some decent, custom made earplugs. After a few days, that was my Achilles tendon, as I experienced quite a bit of discomfort on my left ear. Still, it was pain or the wind tunnel. But something I really need to look into.

The Sena SMH10-11, by the way, is a fantastic piece of hardware.

Quality is top notch, it is easy to use, and the sound is great. When making calls, I generally had to add öh, by the way, I am in the middle of the Arizona desert doing 75 mph right now". The noise cancelling software they use is THAT good. Music levels are acceptable (remember I am wearing earplugs and there is all that noise), and quality is good. When you take in consideration all the factors (noise, wind, speed, etc), this is a remarkable piece of hardware. I love the speed dial function, which allows you to keep three numbers at the tip of your fingers. There are two controls, a big jog dial and one small button on the top, and thanks to some clever software design, that is all you need. Voice prompts let you know where you are in the selection sequence, and pairing it with my Google phone is super easy. I cannot recommend this enough. I have no idea how the intercom part works, but it seems it is also excellent.

All in all everything worked the way it was supposed to work, and in several instances (clothing, Sena) it surpassed my expectations. If you are going to spend a few weeks on the road, it pays to have the right sort of gear. It just makes the trip more enjoyable, not to mention safe. 

Revising the past (blog editing)

Now that I am back in town I have been dedicating some time to cleaning up the blog, correcting typos, adding maps, and a few other things I really could not do on the road (or simply did not have the time and energy to do). I am also writing some reviews on the gear I used, so come back again, you may find something new here and there.

As for another trip, well, Blue has some ideas, and I like what I am hearing. Prince Edwards Island in the Fall sounds like fun, or, for a shorter run, a one week trip down to the Florida Keys. There is also the Pacific Coast, but that may have to wait for a different time.

Meanwhile, if anyone has any suggestions for rides around this part of the country (Jackson, MS), let me know. There is the Tail of the Dragon, off course, about two days from here, but I am not sure about riding with so many people around, so I am more interested in the " less traveled road".

So, stay tuned...

Day Sixteenth: Van Buren AR, to Ridgeland, MS

I was just here, two weeks ago...

My little mascot during the trip

420 miles to go, to get back, to end the journey, if that is possible. I slept well and by 6:30 I am awake, get dressed and go have yet another variation of Motel Breakfast. I noticed for the first time the morning air is warm and heavy, as if the night was not enough to cool the earth. I pack the bike one last time, noticing I left the bike cover in the previous motel, one notch on the few losses I had on this trip, along with a pair of sunglasses and some cheap Walmart slippers that went AWOL on the first night.  Nothing serious, I am not too worried. Time to saddle up and hit the road, East-Southeast to Little Rock, then on to Mississippi.

This should probably be a time to reflect on the trip, take stock of what I have seen, the places I have been. But I am hot and tired. The cooling vest no longer works due to the high humidity in the air, and the temperature gauge hovers around 90 F/32 C, although it feels much higher.

After Little Rock I leave the freeway, the rest of the trip on secondary sleepy roads. I remember after going by a church that it is Sunday. During this trip I completely lost track of time, and any effort to align my head with the calendar was quickly thwarted as I went back to a more natural Day One, Day Two, Day Three manner of reckoning time. But now I see it is Sunday, the entire South, it seems, is indoors, singing and praying. Outside churches I see small groups of people dressed in their Sunday best, little children jumping around in their little suits and ties and dresses. Somethings never change and that somehow gives me a sense of comfort. I ride on, unchurched but for the silent prayers in my head, of thanks for the beauty I have seen, the safe passage I have had, and my destination a few hours away, that it may hold, no harm to man or machine. I have become very fond of Blue, I must say.

I ride through green fields that stretch to the horizon, the fertile lands of Arkansas merging into those of Mississippi. Lush, intense green that seems almost unnatural, and beyond a sky so blue it make me almost forget that I am hot and sweaty and tired.

In small towns whose names I do not recall I pass by bronze images of generals and soldiers gazing into eternity, made anonymous by time but not forgotten, reminders of the folly of man, and of the bravery of some. There is so much silent history in the South, like a wind, whispered, the past here is less gone than in other lands.

On Highway 65 I follow the elegant arch of lake Chicot and come to a beautiful white bridge, suspended over the Mississippi. I cross the river and am there, and the greens I had seen seem even greener as I head down country lanes, and fields.

I stop to get some gas and get a drink and the big black girl who takes my money seems to believe I do not want my 8 cents in change, as she does not offer them. Next to her, a big white girl with several teeth missing, smiles and wishes me a good day. Sometimes I do not know if I have crossed some invisible line between reality and the land of stereotypes, but there are times when I have serious doubts.

After Yazoo City I ride through miles and miles of what seems like a carefully manicured lawn. I don't think you get too many highways in the country that look like this, but you do in the South.

Blue and I, safely where we started

I finally get to know territory heading down towards the Natchez Trace Parkway. I wind my way trough shady alleys of trees and into Ridgeland. I am back after two weeks, no one to greet me, no one to ask anything but I don't care. I stop Blue's engine and put the kick stand down. I pat the bike's tank as if it were a living creature. It is almost anticlimactic, as I unload the bike and climb the stairs in the hot, humid afternoon air, wondering what I can make for dinner. Perhaps I will dream of the open road tonight, great stone arches, snowy peaks, and remember all the wonderful people we met.

16 days and  4,101 miles. What a trip.

Day Fifteen: Amarillo, Texas, to Van Buren, Arkansas

When I wake up the wind is still there, but the skies have cleared. I have some breakfast, check out and pack the bike. Back on the freeway it is me and Blue against the wind. This will go on all day.

I cross Oklahoma from West to East in one giant step, a man on a mission, stopping only for gas and a quick bite to eat. The landscape begins to change slowly, and before I know it it reminds me of Mississippi, long stretches of freeway lined by trees and green that crops up whenever it is not

Oklahoma City (stock photo)

covered by asphalt. The air is also noticeable thicker and my cooling vest, which relies on evaporation, no longer works, leaving me with a clammy, stuffy feeling. I get rid of it at the next gas stop, next to a restaurant that advertises "all the catfish you can eat". When I get back on the road a very large bugs explodes on my face shield, its yellow guts running down slowly pushed by the wind, before freezing in place like glue.

I stop for lunch before hitting Oklahoma City, then head across the big city. I hate ridding through big cities, and this one is no exception.

For dinner I walk over to this Italian Grill. The combination of "Italian" and "grill" worries me a bit, but I am out for a quick meal, not a gastronomic experience. Inside the usual Saturday evening crowd, families, with kids, a few young couples, some older folks. The place seems to be staffed by too many waitresses for the size of the establishment, but it seems to work. I want a beer or a glass of wine, but the waitress reminds me, almost apologetic, that I am in a dry county, inside what is mostly a dry state. Yes, I see that, the 1920s temperance movement is alive and well in the south. Alcohol is bad for you, but the large plates with pizza and pasta the very large couple next to me is putting down, helped down by judiciously applied slabs of butter on the olive oil bread, is not. I get it. Water please, I ask.

The chicken Marsala I ordered also suffered from the constraints of being cooked in a dry county. I pay my bill and return to the hotel to realize I lost Blue's cover, probably left it at the hotel this morning.

I took no pictures today.

Tomorrow I head back to Ridgeland.

Day Fourteen: Albuquerque to Amarillo, Texas

On the road, again

Now the pain begins, the vacation is over and I still have 1,200 miles to go. As I right this I am watching sheets of rain fall from a black sky, as a large storm moves past this part of Texas. Moments earlier the sky to the north was lit by an eerie light, as a leaden darkness spread across the horizon to the south. Luckily it seems Amarillo is on the edge, so the wind is not as strong as it was an hour ago, and this may not be as bad as it looks. I tried to cover Blue, but the wind was so strong I decided it was probably better to just let it get wet than have a loose cover beat on the paint all night. A lady from the cleaning staff saw me struggling with the motorcycle cover and told me I could just move the bike and park it right in front of the main door, under cover. I thanked her and moved the bike, pointing it into the wind and leaving it as close to the wall as possible. it will not be completely protected but it is better there than out in the parking lot.

This is supposed to clear by morning, and I sincerely hope so, as I have 420 miles (670 km) to do before I make it to Van Buren, Oklahoma. I am not going the way I came, so this will be new territory. It may even be that I see things I like, new landscapes, but right now all I can think of is the open road ahead of me and the fact I miscalculated the amount of miles I needed to do every day before I reach Mississippi.

Today I did only 280 miles (450 km) yet it felt like twice that amount. I felt anxious for the first time in a long time, and had to will myself to release my grip on Blue's handlebars, to let go of my breathing and relax. It did not work very well and all I wanted was to get to the motel and take a long shower.

I am bone tired, the strong wind that blew across the empty plains shaking me and Blue, grabbing and letting go, punching me for hours and hours. This makes the turbulence coming off the big eighteen wheelers even harder to deal with, but you just keep pushing on. Fortunately it was not too hot. There is nothing out there other than wind and more wind. There is probably enough wind in this part of the country to power most of the US. Again I am reminded of the emptiness I had witnessed when I came by here before, as if God was unable to finish this part of the earth before He rested on the Sabbath, and then, when the new week had began, completely forgot where He had let off and left it like that.

The hotel is very nice, but the receptionist is not, asks me for my visa and driver's license like a cop at a traffic stop. I am too tired to get annoyed so I grab my things and go towards the direction she points, where my room is. A few moments later I realize I am going towards a dead end in the building and that the receptionist simply did not care to tell me that. I make a mental note of her name for when I am less tired to complain about it.

It takes a long, long shower to wash away the noise of the wind. For dinner I go to the sports bar across the street, a sports bar, the temple of fired food served among a cacophony of sportscasters blaring out scores, trivia, games playing on giant screens. The waitress was kind and attentive even though she looked tired. Some people are better at their jobs than others.

Time to get some rest, which should come easy tonight.

Day Thirteen: Durango, Colorado, to Albuquerque, New Mexico

Hitting Return

I was up at 6:30 and on the road 40 minutes later. For me Durango was a bad Motel and I could not wait to get out of there. I am now on the return leg of my trip, and the joy of discovery is quickly turning into the realization I have more than 1,000 miles of boring road before me. The highlight is my stop over in Albuquerque and spending a little more time with my friends there. 

I drive through some small towns, nondescript conglomerations of people, names that mean nothing to me. The landscape is bland, nothing to catch the eye, especially after what I had seen in the last few days. It is hard to believe I have gone from alpine meadows and the rocky heights of the San Juan mountains to this in less than a day. The world is flat again, empty, like someone hit the reset bottom and things have not rebooted yet.

I find myself riding through Bloomfield, hunger and a lack of coffee remind me it is 10 AM and I have not yet had breakfast. A big sign points to a restaurant
like many others on the road, trucks parked outside, people coming and going, local people. If they like it, so will I. I do a U turn and park my bike. I see the big display case with Coca Cola memorabilia, a nice collection that n one seems to notice, bottle sets, little trucks, banners. A couple groups of old men sit and talk while the waitress goes around filling coffee cups. One waitress in particular seems to be filled with a contagious joy, the old men laugh easily, she seems to care. She is young and pretty but the beauty seems to be more of a radiance than a physical thing.  A young delivery man comes him, they seem to be old friends, she laughs, he laughs and jokes. I do not hear what he asks her but she volunteers a time for a date. That seem to take him aback. She laughs, having caught him off guard. Later I hear her turning down an offer, saying only lobster will do. They seem like old friends, comfortable with each other. He orders a large breakfast and eats heartily. His waitress friend does a few more rounds, then comes and sits with him and they talk some more. They seem to go well together.

My waitress is an older lady, tells me the special is " eggs and bacon", which strikes me as an odd special. I order it, and coffee. A few minutes later a large plate comes in and I eat the food with gusto, washed down with two cups of coffee. I joke that I am on a trip, not on a diet. The waitress tells me there is no way to diet with this food.The bill was $4.90. I am surprised, especially after two weeks of being milked out of my savings by all the touristy places I have gone through, so I leave her a tip that is out of proportion. A bit of Karma, I hope. I know I can use some myself.

I get to Albuquerque around noon, happy to see my friends again. At the request of my friends, I made Gaspacho, always a hit and miss, as most people are not keen on cold soups. It was a hit and miss but a good one, and a good compliment to the perfectly seasoned roasted pork and potato salad. Laughing is easy with old friends, and yes, I will have some more wine.

After dinner I subject my friends to a quick showing of my pictures. They are good sports, and we laugh that hopefully the camera batteries will give out before I have a chance to scroll through all the 1,300 photos I took.

Again I think about my return to Mississippi and how long it will take me to make peace with the loneliness that awaits. I go to bed at 10, tired, but I cannot sleep. Luckily I decided that I would only do 300 miles next day. Somehow the return trip looms even larger than the map tells me, an unmeasurable distance between two points.

Day Twelve: Million Dollar Highway (550), Colorado

I know there's a heaven, I rode through it today.

Well, for starters, how's this for a picture? This was right after the pass on 550, outside of Oray, Colorado. Alpine meadows, magnificent mountains, flowers everywhere, the air was fresh and the puffy clouds provided a perfect backdrop. This was a fantastic ride, stunning vistas, heaven.

I had a crappy night, could not get any sleep despite the fact this pace was very quiet and pleasant. After some coffee and cereal, I said goodbye to the owners, who were very gracious and reminded me I need to look for more of these " mom and pop" motels.

I left Delta around 10 AM under cloudy skies that looked like rain was coming. I had checked the weather and it showed some possible rain over the mountains. I put on my rain layer, but ended up getting the jacket layer off in a parking lot some 30 miles later, the skies now cleared. I could not get rid of the pants rain proof layer, since it requires I take my pants off, never a good idea in a parking lot.

In the distance the snow capped mountains began to rise higher and higher and I was full of expectation for what I might find. I also looked for some cooler riding, after having spent so many days riding through deserts. The road began to weave right and left, the sort of road Blue really likes, much better than the miles and miles of boredom we had done on several occasions on this trip.

Shangri La, with beer

The San Juan Mountain range reminded me of  Switzerland, steep snow capped mountains, meadows, waterfalls. But this is the United States, Colorado, so you have that plus these delightful little towns that were once mining centers.

Oray, Colorado

I arrived in Oray around noon. The town is very cute, arranged as usual along a main street, old buildings that still keep their nineteenth century flavor. The whole town is on an incline, since it was founded probably on the only piece of semi straight ground they could find between one mountain wall and the one facing it. On account of this the left side of Main Street is higher by quite a few feet than the right side (facing the pass). The town literally sits on a hill, going down will, so to speak. This posed some problems when trying to park Blue, since I could not park nose in on the right side of the road since I would never be able to get the bike out of there

At the Oray Brewery, good food, good beer and nice people

(there is no reverse on
a motorcycle, for those of you who are not motorcycle inclined), and parking on the other side would put the bike at an angle I did not like To make matters more interesting, the side streets are dirt. I mean, good old dirt. And they are also at an angle. I don't know if they are always like this, or this is because they are fixing them, but even the back streets were dirt. I finally found a spot next to where some German bikers had left their Harley, dirt of the gravelish kind, but uphill and fairly level. I would just have to be careful backing the bike out of there. But  first, lunch, as the smell or grilled meat that was coming over from this brewery just across the street caught my attention.

A lunch, with a view

Yes, it's water under the bridge...

The Oray Brewery is on a corner of Main street, topped by a terrace on the third floor where you can have one of their beers and look out on the gorgeous scenery. As I was ordering and talking to the nice waitress, she told me I should probably eat quickly since the pass would close at 1:30 and not open until 6:30 PM. This was 12:30. The pass, she told me, was only about a couple of miles up the road, and that I would have enough time. I ordered a beer (550 something or other, really good), and a burger, which was perfectly done and quite delicious. While waiting I struck up a conversation with this retired couple who were on a vacation trip, really delightful folks. I have met a lot of people on this trip, and it is always a joy to swap stories and just find out who these other travelers are.

(stock photo, I was too busy not falling over the edge)

I ate my burger, said goodbye to the good folks I had been talking to, and headed up the road. There had been a big rock slide and the road had been blocked. Crews had cleared it but they still needed to close it for several hours to allow the machinery to finish the job. One of the things everybody talks about when they mention the " Million Dollar Highway" is how scary. The road winds up the side of the mountain is a series of super tight hairpin turns, on one side the a vertical rock wall that climbs to the sky, on the other a sheer drop all the way down to, well not good. and off course, there are no guard rails. The reason for this is that during winter the snow crews need to be able to simply push the snow over the abyss, which makes you wonder how many snow plows you would find at the bottom of those ravines. Apparently none,as their crews are some of the best in the state, and manage to keep highway 550 open all winter, no small task. Guard rail or no guard rail, the drive, or ride in my case, is exhilarating but not scary, as you have to crawl up at 20 miles per hour. Still, if you have a fear of heights this might not be your cup of tea.

A note on names

More information here

There are several theories behind the name " Million Dollar Highway". One relates to its mining past and the claim that the road bed was filled with tailings from the gold mines and that there was still a lot of gold ore mixed with the gold. Another one, more modern, has to do with the feeling some folks get when they look out their car window and see nothing but space all the way down to the ravine, thus eliciting the old " you could pay me a million dollars and I would never drive this way again". For others, myself included, the view is worth a million dollars. Better yet, the view is priceless, so don't be afraid, it is truly worth it. Read more about it here.

As it turns out, getting there just before they closed the pass was a good thing because I think I was one of the last people to make it through. This, along with the fact I stopped at this beautiful meadow you see on the first picture, and stood there for a good half an hour, made it so that when I got back on the road, there was no one else going either way. I had this fantastic mountain road all to myself for a good 15 miles.

Elysian Fields

Going over the pass you meet with dust and dirt on the road form the heavy machinery that have been fixing it. It is narrow and I had to pay close attention to what I was doing. I stopped at a water fall to take pictures, and it seemed that at every turn you were looking at a perfect post card. Once  on the other side of the pass I came across this beautiful meadow with yellow flowers and green grass and a magnificent view of the mountains in the back drop. One car had also pulled over, and its occupants, this charming coupe from Australia, were sitting on a rock in the middle of the field having a picnic. I did not want to spoil their moment but did ask if they could take my picture (the one on top), they did and we struck up a conversation, comparing notes on our voyages, we both amazed that one day you can be in the desert admiring the crazy red spires of Moab, and the next you are in an alpine meadow looking at snow caped mountains and listening to a rushing stream go by.

It was hard to eave this place, its beauty was so intense, the view so elevating it almost brought tears to my eyes. I sat for a moment, and that was my prayer, that one moment, with the camera off, just letting my soul reach out and feel the incredible beauty of the moment. Master Yoda would have been proud.

I kept riding, telling myself I would go straight on to Silverton, but at the next bend another vista would open up and I had to stop. At one place, I pulled over and sat one what looked like God's balcony, a valley of green below me, and the ever presence high snows, like a silent chorus on a silent prayer.

Silverton, coffee and funny buildings.

The road kept going down the mountain until I got to Silverton, a cute little town with a huge main street, lined with brightly colored old buildings, and a steam train that links Silverton to Durango, and which has been running for more than 100 years. I went in to a store to buy a pin for my jacket and stayed to talk with the lady at the store, who had lived in California but had ultimately found a home here in the mountains of Colorado. Silverton lives from the tourist industry, skiing in the winter, outdoor sports in the summer.

When I asked for a place to get some coffee, the young attendant told me to go next door, she also worked there, and the coffee was good. i thanked her and walked over. There I met Steve,who was having lunch and wanted to know where I was traveling to, from, etc. Walking anywhere dressed in full motorcycle touring gear gets people interested. I liked Steve, there was something solid and kind about this man.

Meanwhile, back in 1968...

After Silverton the landscape opened up, and the magic of the mountains was quickly lost. I got into Durango, on what seems the very edge of the town and finally came across a crappy motel. It had to happen, and it happened here. This place, Spanish Trails, must owe its name to the time Spanish explorers were roaming lands not far form here in search of El Dorado. The rooms are old, the buildings are old, and, judging from the appliances, the last time this place was remodeled was in 1968. And then, after I unloaded the bike and took a shower, I find out someone had slept on the bed and the sheets had not been changed. I talked to the young attendant, who gave me what he described as " their best room", immediately above the other, that being the only distinction I can see. No one seems to have slept here,but I am not betting any money. As soon as the sun rises I am going to be out of here.

I really did not feel safe leaving my things behind. That, and because I was tired and in no mood to go find a restaurant, I walked across to the supermarket and picked up some sushi, or at least that is what they called their overprice dead fish covered bricks of rice.

I will go to bed now, forget about these trifle matters, and dream of Shangry La and my Elysian Fields. I was there today. I even have a picture or two to prove it.

Day Eleven: Moab, Utah, to Delta, Colorado

Sometimes it is better than you think

Today was shaping to be another downer. I did not sleep too well, despite being tired from the 3 mile/ 5 km hike yesterday. While it was not a long hike, it was uphill and it was hot so that's my story and I am sticking to it. I got up at 9, took a shower and went downstairs to get some breakfast. I had some coffee, a waffle and some cereal with yogurt. Then I went up to my room and began getting things ready. By now I have it down nicely, so it did not take me long to get the bags packed. I sprayed some Pledge on Blue's screen and headlights in an effort to get rid of the dead bugs. I was somewhat successful, since some bugs are now almost as hard as the plastic itself.

Not wanting to haul all my stuff downstairs by hand, I got a cart and used the elevator. There are two hard cases, one large rear pod/trunk, a tank bag, the helmet, my jacket, the camera, an extra bag that straps on the back seat and carries water, way too many things to carry by hand, although I have done it several times already.

With the bike ready and fueled, I headed out of town. There are two ways to get back to I 70: the way I came in, which is nice but nothing worth writing about, and SR 128, which goes along the Colorado River Gorge. Just as you get to the edge of town, you turn right along the river. And then the fun starts. You are immediately surrounded by tall, red, canyon walls, as the road weaves alongside the river. At places the canyon walls recede and the stage opens into grandiose views or sky high mesas, snow caped backdrop mountains, green meadows. It is a fantastic ride and far more impressive than what I was expecting. This goes on for 15 miles and the views are simply fantastic.

Blue and I under the Great Blue Sky

Then you are out of the gorge and the landscape opens up like a book laid flat open. On the side of a lonely road I saw some sort of four legged goat/deer thingy, with large, curled back horns. He was as surprised as I was, and I made a point from then on to go slower, you never know what else might pop up out of nowhere.

A quick stop in Frutia, Colorado, for some coffee, then another hour on the road, through Grand Junction and down on to Delta, a place I had never heard off and my first stop that is just that, a stop.

From the outside edge, Delta appears as a small town, nondescript, with a river running across the main highway. I follow the GPS to the Riverwood Inn, but I see a sign that says " Riverwood Motel and RV, some RVs parked in a small cluster f trees, a river that runs right behind the main office, and a gravel driveway. Blue does not like the gravel, which is deep and loose. I park in front of the office, which turns out to be the motel part as well. It is a long track home sort of building, with a nice little lobby, a fireplace and a hallway that leads down to the 10 or so rooms that make up the motel. The young attendant is nice, tells me I can park my bike around the building, since " people like

to see their bikes". I get Blue around the gravel yard and park by a tree, not 50 yards from where the river flows. The room is nice and everything is very clean and neat. Nothing fancy, but the AC works, there is plenty of hot water (even if it takes 5 minutes for it to flow) and sitting here on the bed I can see the Gunnison river flowing by while the wind stirs hand fulls of cottonwood, falling like snow . It is peaceful and different and I welcome not having anything yo do for the rest of the day, no wonders to see, no photos to take. A long shower, some coffee and downtime. This was a good ride after all.

I spend the rest of the afternoon resting and updating my blog. The weather is warm and windy, with heavy dark clouds above. now and then sudden gusts of wind wake up the cottonwood trees, which unleash another fuzzy snow storm.

I ride into town in search of an Italian restaurant I saw online. The town, aligned along its main street, which is Highway 50, is a pretty,  tree lined town, with buildings hearkening back to the 30s and 40s, and well preserved, small stores, all close at this time of the evening, but which speak of a quiet, old style community.

I find the place, Davetos Italian Restaurant. It looks like it was remodeled not long time ago, with Italian scenes painted on the walls. It is a cozy, family oriented place with a touch of class. The place is not busy, this being a week day I imagine. The waitress comes over and I order some pasta and a glass of wine. The food is ok, the service is very good. I eat quietly looking at Blue, which looks funny parked outside without her saddle bags.

Tomorrow we tackle the mountains and the Million Dollar Highway.

Below is one of the videos I took while ridding down 128. This is raw footage, since I do not have the means to edit video right not. Don't get car sick now!