Episode 7: Turkeys, and Deer, and Outlaws, oh my!
Embarking on a journey shouldn't be to dis-connect, or to connect. Done correctly, you will do both. You hopefully find your balance. If you are balanced, you can handle unexpected things, your confidence will grow, and you can relax, look up and see wonderful things, instead of staring at your own two shaky feet.
Seeing a Chevy Corvette isn't really that big a deal, even for a car-guy like me. Seeing a row of 30 of them cruising by is a little special, but having them all rumble by, through a desolate town where we have yet to see a single human, and 50 miles from any other desolate town, is special.
It felt like our own personal parade, so we waved.
The respite from the sun under our Canby canopy was short lived when the buzzing grew louder, and the more observant of us two (hint: it's not me) said "Hey, look. A wasp nest.". Want to know what 'It's time to go' sounds like? A bunch of wasps. That's what it sounds like. Jacket on, gloves on, dammit!, gloves back off, put helmet on, gloves back on again, restart the still empty motorcycles and head down the highway, letting the breeze chill the sweat off through perforated leather second skin.
My 403 pound Buell is about half the weight of the bikes you usually see in the Starbucks parking lot, but I still don't want to push it along the highway. This routine of seeking out long stretches of unpopulated beauty and undependable maps mean I'm back to mental DTE calculations. I'm nerdy enough that I do it more for fun than for worry, but something happened this time. I quit dividing, and I quit caring. For real this time.
Bubbles trusty, brand new, and completely inappropriate for the task, Ninja sport bike has been trucking along above the speed limit for a week now and still getting 55+mpg. We have a gas can thanks to the more foresighted of us two (still not me), and hell, who cares? We have food, water, tent, and worst case she has the range to get some gas for me. So I better be nice to her from now on.
It's about 60 miles to the border through the still breathtaking Modoc National Forest and on the map we only see 2 towns between our escape of waspy Canby, CA., and the Welcome to Oregon sign. Surprisingly, on this still empty stretch of highway another group of riders went cruising past. Loaded down with soft luggage like we are, but in full race leather suits on 1000cc hyper-sport bikes, the luggage haphazardly strapped to their tiny arrow shaped tails and the ubiquitous bikers friend (the black 6-hook elastic netting) holding the whole mess together. In this deserted environment, it's awesome to see other people doing fun things on inappropriate motorcycles.
The first city we see is Cornell, Ca. who's town sign should just read 'Don't bother', and next up is Tule Lake that has the go-juice we need. Even with the elevation changes, it has been a beautiful warm and clear day the whole way up, so we took advantage of the gas stop to change up clothing layers a bit and pick Klamath Lake for lunch. It's the closest we have been to lots of people for days now, and it feels a little unnerving. Theres no facts to quote but with every birthday that earns me this grey hair, I notice that when just a few people are together, they are nice, helpful, and trustworthy. I can't say the same about population. Add that it's 5 months into a new globally-wide, mysterious disease, political madness, and it's an understandably uneasy feeling for everyone, and it shows. I miss handshakes... and hugs.
Crossing a border is always an exciting moment. The physical manifestation of a mental goal. For me, this border is a time machine that takes me to growing up in Oregon, and having my hippie parents take us kids in the orange VW bus (the same one I was probably conceived in) to hike Klamath Falls. For Bubbles, it is much bigger than that. Never ever would she have thought she would be crossing into another state, confidently riding her own motorcycle 700 miles away from her home, when only a year prior she was almost too scared to get on the back of someone else's. An exciting time to be Bubbles
Borders are also good for reinvigorating your senses. Noting the little changes in your surroundings, like peoples slang, signage, even the cows look different! It sure invigorates the traveller.
The goal for this evening is to stay at Bubbles' ex-inlaws guest cabin in Rogue River. I have met the awesome 'outlaws' Robert and Barbara before and am excited to see them again in their own comfortable setting.
Just a regular, normal, Oregon backyard.
What are YOU lookin' at?
Hey turkey!
Riding high on their incredible hospitality, we took a well deserved extra day to relax and re-set, swapping stories and clinking glasses. Robert is one of those true riders with the chips to prove it, and Barbara has been his compatriot since her days as a beach bunny in Santa Barbara, Ca. They are a super fun couple and our visit with them won't soon be forgotten.
The chips to prove it.
If motorcycles could talk.
Refreshed and re-packed, it was time for goodbyes. But before we headed back out on our own we were tantalizingly close to one of my favorite destinations.
Mmmmmarionberry pie.
I have been known to make that 1600 mile round trip from home, for their homemade Marionberry pie and ice cream.
The pie is near some lake up there.
Had the place to ourselves!
Happily back on the longest path we could find, the winding roads around Crater Lake are perfect for spirited riding while taking in the vistas and valleys in that most spectacular scenery. Even caught off guard by the $50 entrance fee for just 2 motorcycles? (ugh), that place is much more than just the lake, and deserves a lot more exploration. For now though, our destination is much farther north and will still be a few more days away, so tonight we meet total strangers, and sleep in their backyard.
