13th August
Well, if you’re going to dump the bike, you might as well do it on Friday the 13th, eh?...
After a couple of days getting used to the (quite scary) prospect of gong back on the road, and trying to balance the throttle bodies on the Adv – it’s a long story and I’ll eventually get around to posting it in the tech section – I’m woken by Sheila bringing me a cup of coffee at 0600. It’s not that she’s keen to get rid of me as soon as possible, or anything (though I have my suspicions
), but more the weather forecast. Today I’m going to be heading due east towards Baker City and the forecast for The Dalles, a city about halfway, is for a high of 103º F. I intend to start early and be through there before the temperature gets too silly.
I gather my things together, ramming everything into the bags, in the certain knowledge that they’ll get used to their new home in a couple of days on the road, and packing will be correspondingly easier. I say my farewells to Jorge & Sheila – we’ll be meeting again someday, I’m sure – hopefully next year when we’re planning for them to come and visit me in Blighty. Top people
. Cricket…
…refuses to make eye-contact with me…
I’m on the road for 0700 and head north through Portland, crossing the bridge over the Columbia River in the bright low sun which will be in my eyes for the next couple of hours…
I enter Washington State, and turn right, to follow the 14 east, along the north bank of the Columbus River. It was here, a few weeks ago, where we met up with the Clean & Sober Harley riders…
It’s a glorious morning, pleasantly warm and cloudless. I pass the Hood River Bridge…
…and stay on the north side of the river – I want to avoid the freeway on the other side for as long as possible.
The postman must be embarrassed to be seen delivering mail to this house…
I rather like the barely veiled threat that Washington State make when discouraging littering…
…it makes me picture somebody like Tony Soprano heading up that government department.
I’m soon past The Dalles and crossing the river at Biggs. After 40 or so miles riding along the hated I-84, I turn off at junction 147 and star heading south east along the Blue Mountain Scenic Byway. To begin with, I think I’ve made a mistake in planning the route…
…because, although it’s undoubtedly a byway, it’s hardly scenic. The road runs along the base of a shallow valley, which affords enough shelter to stop the cooling effects of the light breeze I’d enjoyed in the Columbia Gorge. The temperature climbs steadily. By the time I stop for lunch in Heppner…
… - a nice little town – the local bank’s thermometer is showing 94º F – and it feels warmer. I drink plenty of water with lunch, pack a couple of plastic bottles into my tank pannier (this will become significant) before setting off, following the route I planned last night.
I’m soon confronted by my first navigational obstacle of the day.
As you’ll see from the GPS display, I’m meant to follow this road for a further 18 miles. Except someone has built a dam in the way…
I make my way around the lake and see my road emerging from the water at the far side…
I’m soon back on the planned route. So much for Mapsource V5 – perhaps V6 will have this new feature marked – I later find out that the dam’s been there for 22 years…
The road becomes smoother and a little more scenic as it climbs into the Umatilla National Forest, where I turn off down a prophetically signed Forest Road…
…although I survive this particular gravel road intact. I’m soon on asphalt again, & continuing down the Blue Mountain Scenic Byway, which is starting to live up to its name…
Betty (later to be re-named Bettie) points me up another gravel road…
…which is fine to begin with – then things start going a bit wrong. She points me to a left turn, which doesn’t exist (although there is no dam present, which might be viewed as an improvement). I carry on up the road, ask her to re-calculate the route and she directs me down here…
Well, I’m game – let’s go! I ride slowly down the track, which, fairly obviously hasn’t been driven or ridden in some time. The going’s pretty rough and, when Betty directs me to another non existent side track, I keep on the ‘main road’. Eventually the track peters out…
…and I’m left with no alternative but to retrace my steps. I ride back up the track (which doesn’t appear on the GPS map any more) and spot what looks like a footway or deer track leading out, across the Serengeti like grassland, in the direction Betty’s encouraging me to head. I turn right and, as I’m negotiating the ditch to the right of the trail, let my revs drop, shortly followed by the bike.
Bugger doesn’t even come close to what I was thinking.
Then things start getting interesting. It’s probably 100º or so now, in the shade. There’s no shade. The bike’s lying in a gully and, in going over on it’s right side, it’s squashed both my water bottles (and, comically, my laundry detergent – I’m foaming at the tank
).
I try, whilst still in the first flush of post-prang adrenaline, to pull the bike up – she lies there and laughs at my puny effort.
So I take a picture.
Then I sit down and think about my options. I decide to unload the panniers and see if it’ll make a major difference to shifting the bike around. Eventually, after much sweating and heaving, I manage to get the bike upright again (I rotated it around the right rocker cover, dug out under the rear wheel, then, with my back to the bike, held onto the right handlebar and walked backwards).
Damage is limited and the bike’s rideable…
…right hand pannier’s pretty banged up (worse than it looks in this pic)…
…right rocker cover is showing the normal signs of having a 400 kg bike rotated on it. Interestingly, the ‘paint’ which has been scraped off is a plastic coating (powder coat?
). The main thing is that it’s not holed.
There’s another small dent in the tank, I later notice – if I keep doing this I’ll have to consider the effect on my range – I bet it’s only about 29 litres capacity now…
So the bike’s OK – I’m not. I’ve got a sore left leg (hit the crashbar, I think), but it’s not a factor (although, looking at it as I type, it has a lump the size of a tennis ball and should be a good colour in the morning).
More importantly, I’m severely dehydrated. I’ve been working very hard in full sun for about 45 minutes and I’ve barely able to spit. I get dressed again and slowly, ponderously, ride the bike the 8 miles out to asphalt, then have Betty direct me to the nearest town.
I feel almost drunk – utterly detached from the task of riding, and consequently keep my speed very low, as I cover the 8 ½ miles to Ukiah, where I find The Thicket café and bar. It’s cool, dark and feels like heaven.
I drink six pints of alternating water and Seven Up in the next hour, and feel considerably better. The barmaid, Delores (I’m not making this up), tells me it’s 105º in the shade at the moment. I stay in the bar for an hour and a half, before setting off to find some accommodation.
I decide against the only motel in Ukiah, because something gives me the impression he’s a little politically motivated…
I take a gentle ride to La Grande, amusing myself with the polished up door of a truck on the way…
…before arriving at the Best Western and checking in. I put the entire right tank pannier in the washing machine – no need to add detergent – bargain! I set the air conditioner to ‘Pluto’ and slowly unwind in it’s frosty embrace…
Oh, almost forgot. On the way into Ukiah, I noticed that the particular stretch of the Scenic Byway was being sponsored. It seemed fitting to re-name Betty ‘Bettie’ from now on…
Well, if you’re going to dump the bike, you might as well do it on Friday the 13th, eh?...
After a couple of days getting used to the (quite scary) prospect of gong back on the road, and trying to balance the throttle bodies on the Adv – it’s a long story and I’ll eventually get around to posting it in the tech section – I’m woken by Sheila bringing me a cup of coffee at 0600. It’s not that she’s keen to get rid of me as soon as possible, or anything (though I have my suspicions
), but more the weather forecast. Today I’m going to be heading due east towards Baker City and the forecast for The Dalles, a city about halfway, is for a high of 103º F. I intend to start early and be through there before the temperature gets too silly.I gather my things together, ramming everything into the bags, in the certain knowledge that they’ll get used to their new home in a couple of days on the road, and packing will be correspondingly easier. I say my farewells to Jorge & Sheila – we’ll be meeting again someday, I’m sure – hopefully next year when we’re planning for them to come and visit me in Blighty. Top people
. Cricket…
…refuses to make eye-contact with me…
I’m on the road for 0700 and head north through Portland, crossing the bridge over the Columbia River in the bright low sun which will be in my eyes for the next couple of hours…
I enter Washington State, and turn right, to follow the 14 east, along the north bank of the Columbus River. It was here, a few weeks ago, where we met up with the Clean & Sober Harley riders…
It’s a glorious morning, pleasantly warm and cloudless. I pass the Hood River Bridge…
…and stay on the north side of the river – I want to avoid the freeway on the other side for as long as possible.
The postman must be embarrassed to be seen delivering mail to this house…
I rather like the barely veiled threat that Washington State make when discouraging littering…
…it makes me picture somebody like Tony Soprano heading up that government department.
I’m soon past The Dalles and crossing the river at Biggs. After 40 or so miles riding along the hated I-84, I turn off at junction 147 and star heading south east along the Blue Mountain Scenic Byway. To begin with, I think I’ve made a mistake in planning the route…
…because, although it’s undoubtedly a byway, it’s hardly scenic. The road runs along the base of a shallow valley, which affords enough shelter to stop the cooling effects of the light breeze I’d enjoyed in the Columbia Gorge. The temperature climbs steadily. By the time I stop for lunch in Heppner…
… - a nice little town – the local bank’s thermometer is showing 94º F – and it feels warmer. I drink plenty of water with lunch, pack a couple of plastic bottles into my tank pannier (this will become significant) before setting off, following the route I planned last night.
I’m soon confronted by my first navigational obstacle of the day.
As you’ll see from the GPS display, I’m meant to follow this road for a further 18 miles. Except someone has built a dam in the way…
I make my way around the lake and see my road emerging from the water at the far side…
I’m soon back on the planned route. So much for Mapsource V5 – perhaps V6 will have this new feature marked – I later find out that the dam’s been there for 22 years…
The road becomes smoother and a little more scenic as it climbs into the Umatilla National Forest, where I turn off down a prophetically signed Forest Road…
…although I survive this particular gravel road intact. I’m soon on asphalt again, & continuing down the Blue Mountain Scenic Byway, which is starting to live up to its name…
Betty (later to be re-named Bettie) points me up another gravel road…
…which is fine to begin with – then things start going a bit wrong. She points me to a left turn, which doesn’t exist (although there is no dam present, which might be viewed as an improvement). I carry on up the road, ask her to re-calculate the route and she directs me down here…
Well, I’m game – let’s go! I ride slowly down the track, which, fairly obviously hasn’t been driven or ridden in some time. The going’s pretty rough and, when Betty directs me to another non existent side track, I keep on the ‘main road’. Eventually the track peters out…
…and I’m left with no alternative but to retrace my steps. I ride back up the track (which doesn’t appear on the GPS map any more) and spot what looks like a footway or deer track leading out, across the Serengeti like grassland, in the direction Betty’s encouraging me to head. I turn right and, as I’m negotiating the ditch to the right of the trail, let my revs drop, shortly followed by the bike.
Bugger doesn’t even come close to what I was thinking.
Then things start getting interesting. It’s probably 100º or so now, in the shade. There’s no shade. The bike’s lying in a gully and, in going over on it’s right side, it’s squashed both my water bottles (and, comically, my laundry detergent – I’m foaming at the tank
). I try, whilst still in the first flush of post-prang adrenaline, to pull the bike up – she lies there and laughs at my puny effort.
So I take a picture.
Then I sit down and think about my options. I decide to unload the panniers and see if it’ll make a major difference to shifting the bike around. Eventually, after much sweating and heaving, I manage to get the bike upright again (I rotated it around the right rocker cover, dug out under the rear wheel, then, with my back to the bike, held onto the right handlebar and walked backwards).
Damage is limited and the bike’s rideable…
…right hand pannier’s pretty banged up (worse than it looks in this pic)…
…right rocker cover is showing the normal signs of having a 400 kg bike rotated on it. Interestingly, the ‘paint’ which has been scraped off is a plastic coating (powder coat?
). The main thing is that it’s not holed. There’s another small dent in the tank, I later notice – if I keep doing this I’ll have to consider the effect on my range – I bet it’s only about 29 litres capacity now
…So the bike’s OK – I’m not. I’ve got a sore left leg (hit the crashbar, I think), but it’s not a factor (although, looking at it as I type, it has a lump the size of a tennis ball and should be a good colour in the morning).
More importantly, I’m severely dehydrated. I’ve been working very hard in full sun for about 45 minutes and I’ve barely able to spit. I get dressed again and slowly, ponderously, ride the bike the 8 miles out to asphalt, then have Betty direct me to the nearest town.
I feel almost drunk – utterly detached from the task of riding, and consequently keep my speed very low, as I cover the 8 ½ miles to Ukiah, where I find The Thicket café and bar. It’s cool, dark and feels like heaven.
I drink six pints of alternating water and Seven Up in the next hour, and feel considerably better. The barmaid, Delores (I’m not making this up), tells me it’s 105º in the shade at the moment. I stay in the bar for an hour and a half, before setting off to find some accommodation.
I decide against the only motel in Ukiah, because something gives me the impression he’s a little politically motivated…
I take a gentle ride to La Grande, amusing myself with the polished up door of a truck on the way…
…before arriving at the Best Western and checking in. I put the entire right tank pannier in the washing machine – no need to add detergent – bargain! I set the air conditioner to ‘Pluto’ and slowly unwind in it’s frosty embrace…
Oh, almost forgot. On the way into Ukiah, I noticed that the particular stretch of the Scenic Byway was being sponsored. It seemed fitting to re-name Betty ‘Bettie’ from now on…
