So the third day (Monday, 9 October) was freakin' sweet.
A quick sixteen mile backtrack on US-97 and it was eastward-ho on SR-126 from Redmond to Prineville and then US-26 east into the Ochoco National Forest.
More fast sweepers and small but frequent altitude changes (lots of hills). Since the average ground level around these parts is over 3000', the 4722' of Ochoco Pass and 4372' of Keyes Creek Summit didn't seem like much. (I love fuel injection. It totally kicks ass to not leave big chunks of horsepower behind along with sea level.) The video is next in line for editing.
The thirty miles or so of US-26 between Dayville and John Day (video now in editing) are like moto-heaven. Just-long-enough-to-build-some-momentum straights through the high desert liberally sprinkled with nicely curly canyon sections ("more than 50' from kingpin to axle not recommended") cut into the desert floor. Most groovy.
A gas&water in/urine out stop in Mount Vernon (where we got a recipt for our first IBA Saddlesore - 1000 miles in nineteen hours and some minutes - some years ago) and off again. More US-26 (and more traffic than earlier in the day) until we got to Bates and changed over to SR-7 (at over 5000' each it was chilly at Tipton and Larch summits) after Sumpter the road straightens out, but the first part was tasty. All day the weather was approximately perfect (for October). Mostly high sixties and sunny. The fog and rain far behind in the Cascades (video in post-production). Until the road turned north to go into Baker City. Wind. I fucking hate wind. I don't understand why the atmosphere can't just hold the hell still. It kept up on the short (maybe two miles) bit of Interstate and on the first several miles of SR-203. Unfortunately the gusty wind, lots of dirt and gravel drifted in the corners and the occasional (okay, one, but one is several too many) FULL GROWN GODDAM COW IN THE ROAD sort of took the deliciousness out of it for me, just not an environment conducive to sporting velocities. After the first twenty miles or so the conditions improved (the disappearance of the gusting wind - either blocked by the hills or just stopped - was my favorite part) and the fun-ness reappeared. A little side jaunt on SR-237 through Cove (gas in/urine out) and a few minutes ride to the LaGrande BestWestern (the lobby at the Sandman Inn smelled like the YMCA).
Tuesday was for going home,
so westward-ho this time (with a liberal helping of north thrown in for the first couple of hours. I-84 to US-395 and across the Columbia at Umatilla. All west after that (see Saturday, 14 October for the middle part of the day) as far as Stonehenge. It's a three-quarter scale replica built by railroad baron Sam Hill as a memorial for local WWI soldiers. Sam's own tomb is there, as well. A simple cube about a meter wide by a meter and a half high. The simplicity of it impresses me, it could have dwarfed the Stonehenge memorial if he'd wanted it to. It's in the lower left of the picture, you can't see it from the henge, which is behind me. Just down the road is the Maryhill Museum, which was Sam & Mary Hill's house. It's packed fulla Rodin sculptures and the like. Even the Queen of Romania's GOLD dress and one of her thrones. The Hills had some important friends. There's also a State Park with the greenest grass for miles and miles.
After a photo frenzy, we parted ways.
Thom off down WA SR-14 (which we'd been on since crossing the river) to Portland to visit Doug, and I went up US-97 and home. I managed to arrive just tired enough to sit down, drink about half a bottle of delicious New Belgium 1554 and fall asleep in a chair with my boots on.
And then I had breakfast.







I neglected to take into account the fact that the last ten miles or so are uphill. The design geniuses at BMW put the fuel pump in the front of the gas tank. I didn't make it up the hill.
Not the end of the world, Kawasaki provided nearly 50% greater tank volume when they built Thom's Concours. I'll just siphon some of his and raise the level in my tank so the injectors can get at it. What's this, no siphon? Mr. Always-Prepared isn't? How could this happen?
Well, this was going to be a low impact, just ridin' & shootin' pictures kinda trip. Motels obviate the need for the camping gear, the siphon/lightbulb/wire/etc. bag is attached to the cooler. Back at home. Damn.
So, off goes Thom to the next gas while I snap some pictures of the aluminum factory across the highway. Impressive, isn't it? Just out of curiosity, I checked...yup, four out of five bars of cell coverage. After all, the Interstate is just on the other side of the river. Radio waves can cross water. Cool. Go technology!
It was only about a half an hour until I had two sweet gallons to go the rest of the way up a short hill with. You may rest assured that the siphon bag is now (and will be remaining) on the bike all the time.
