June 16th-18th, 2006

Friday

I know I was late the minute I awoke. It was light outside. I was trying to get on the road by sunrise because it was going to be a long, hot day. The forecast was for 100 degrees in Las Vegas and even hotter in Mesquite. I managed to close the garage door at 6:45. The ride started off great. Many times, I have to spend an hour (or more) just traversing Los Angeles. Not this time. Ortega Highway ends just about at my driveway. I go "over the hill" in the opposite direction of the Friday morning commute. I have the road to myself.

I drop into Lake Elsinore and it is already getting warm. I follow Highway 74 to Perris and go north a short bit on I-15 until I reach San Jacinto Parkway. I follow that road east until it connects to Highway 79 north to I-10 east to Highway 62 just before I reach Palm Springs. I stop for gas in Morongo Valley. It's only 8:45 and it's already over 80 degrees. I decide to take a pre-emptive measure against the heat ahead by soaking my sweatshirt and putting it on under my jacket, regulating the rate of evaporation with the zippers in my jacket. This, along with the constant hydration via the fluid in my Camelback (50% water, 50% Gatorade), I will be able to tolerate the heat for the remainder of the day.

I continue east on Highway 62 until I turn off towards Amboy in Twentynine Palms. At Amboy, there is evidence that I am now on Historic Route 66. This road has more significance to others than it has to me because I neither watched the TV show in the 60s nor did I migrate from Chicago. However, it's a pleasant alternative to the Interstate. For the next hour or so, I meet a lot of Hondapotamuses (aka Honda Gold Wings) going the other direction. I cross I-40 at Fenner and turn north on Highway 95 at Arrowhead Junction, near Needles, California. There's a prettybad accident ahead involving one car and two semi trailers. Clean up is in process by the time I arrive. Thankfully, there appears to be only property damage in this incident.

I stop for gas and lunch in Boulder City. I want to follow Highway 166 around Lake Mead but I don't see any signs as I ride through town. I ask for directions at the gas station and I am convinced I know where I'm going. That feeling continues until I reach the security stop near Hoover Dam. Still no sign for 166. I almost get to the dam crossing (which, by this time of day has more than one meaning) before I make a U-Turn and head back through Boulder City and into Henderson where I find an alternate route (Highway 564). I reach the turnoff which should be 166, but it mentions geographic locations rather than a road number. I take that turn and, as it turns out, is the correct road. I guess this is one of those instances where a GPS would have been helpful.

As soon as I make the turn, I reach a pay station. It's a three dollar entrance fee but that's good for five days. Just a couple of miles after the pay station, I reach a flagman who stops me as well as everyone behind me. She says I have to wait for the pilot vehicle to escort us through the construction zone (one lane). She says he will be here in twenty minutes. Twenty minutes! It's one o'clock in the afternoon half way between Las Vegas and Lake Mead and I'm forced to stand on the pavement in my black riding gear for twenty minutes! I suck on my Camelback.

The pilot car safely escorts us through the treacherous construction zone and I'm once again in clean air. Even though I'm now well behind my self-imposed schedule, the determination to find this road is worthwhile. I still feel this way as I encounter rough (read: teeth rattling) sections of the road.

I connect with I-15 at Glendale, Nevada and take that route (the only option) to St. George, Utah where I get gas and hydrate. While there, I take photos of a project I worked on a few years ago which I haven't seen since the completion of construction. I also take the time to check in with Nancy (aka "The Boss") as well as return a call from a client to resolve a problem he encountered in advance of some field welding scheduled for the next day (Saturday).

After about an hour in St. George, I'm on my last leg of the ride. Although it's the last leg for the day, the adventure is not nearly over. Soon after leaving the city limits (5 pm California time), I turn east on Highway 9 through Hurricane and into Zion National Park where I pay another park fee. It's a spectacular ride through the park and well worth the ten dollars. I start planning a future trip for Nancy and I.

After exiting the park, I turn north on Highway 89 at Mt. Carmel. Highway 89 follows the Virgin River and is incredibly scenic. I start to cool off and, in fact, I'm a little chilled. It's amazing to actually turn on the heated grips when the air temperature is 74 degrees but, since I've spent most of the day over 100, I guess feeling cold at 74 is to be expected.

I roll into Panguitch a little after 7 pm (California time) and start looking for the rally site. I eventually find it, but I arrive after registration has closed. There is a stiff wind as I pitch my tent but it goes up without much difficulty. I take a brief tour of Rally headquarters before checking in with The Boss one last time. I then find a Subway restaurant across the street. After dinner, I find the showers. I organize my accommodations and I am "out" by 10.

Saturday

Today I go "green dot collecting". The green dots are along scenic roads on AAA maps. I leave the camp going south on Highway 89 and turn left on Hwy 12 (green dots). I save Bryce Canyon for another trip, an intentional Freudian act, and continue on through Red Canyon . It’s a gorgeous start to a short day ride. The road is perfect and consists of gentle sweepers. I stop for lunch at a nice cafe in Boulder . After a delicious grilled chicken sandwich, I admire the view from my table when two older men pass my table. One says “Nice bike.” I respond “Thanks”. He then goes on to ask “Do you know that BMW was the first company to use a drive shaft on a motorcycle?” I respond with a “Sure. That was in 1923. But do you know that they also were the first to use overhead valves in a motorcycle or that they were the first to incorporate a telescopic front suspension with hydraulic damping or the first to utilize a tubular framed electrically welded under protective gas or the first to use a wind tunnel tested full fairing or fuel injection or ABS or catalytic converters or adaptive braking or electronically tuned suspensions?” He gave me this blank stare for a moment before he responds: “I rode Indians” and walked away. I’m certain he left thinking to himself “No wonder he’s having lunch alone”.

I pay my bill and ride back a mile or so to fill up with gas. I continue along my route soon passing the four Harleys who left the restaurant the same time I did. There are more great sweepers. On one section, I’m riding along a ridge where there is a dramatic view on either side of the road. Incredible! I continue north to Torrey where Highway 12 ends and I turn west/north on Highway 24. I turn south on Highway 62 and follow 62 to Highway 89. It’s amazing to find such beautiful scenery and great roads with so little traffic. It’s 150 miles from Boulder to the campsite in Panguitch. In between, I never found the need to put a foot down. Total for the day: 253 miles (0 Interstate miles).

There’s plenty of time before the evening’s festivities so I decide to wash the bike. I roll the bike next to the kitchen facilities and use my collapsible bucket to collect a couple of gallons of soapy water. I wash two days, about 900 miles and what seem to be 400 bugs off the bike. Once again it’s beautiful. It’s hard to believe it’s going to turn 75,000 miles tomorrow. By the time I’m done, dinner is being served and I join my campmate, Al from Chico , for dinner and prizes. Once again, I don’t win anything. A new tire would have been nice. I doubt if I could have used the twenty five dollar gift certificate from the BMW dealer in Salt Lake City .

After dinner, I return to the camp area where I find other Southern Californian souls where we discuss, among other things, the route home. The conclusion for everyone is that it was going to be a long, hot day on I-15. I start suggesting alternatives but receive all the expected comments similar to “that will take too long” so I stop. To remain cordial, I skip my usual suggestion of “why don’t you drive a car?” and just nod my head. After the camaraderie, I do as much pre-packing as possible. If I can leave camp by 8 am , I can be home by 8. I take a quick shower and put my head on my pillow by 10. The only problem is that my tent is too close to the music and late night revelers. I think that it was a mistake to leave my ear plugs on the bike. That was the last thing I remember before getting up at 3 to go to the bathroom. I return to the tent, wide awake, thinking I’m not going to be able to get back to sleep. The next thing I remember before waking to the sound of a motorcycle starting right outside of my tent. It’s 5:45 , only 15 minutes before my alarm was scheduled to go off.

Sunday

I’m packed and ready to roll before 7:30 and still had time to have my camp side Starbuck’s. I decide to back track my route from Friday including an encore ride through Zion . It’s hard to believe that there’s so much traffic so early in the morning. Even though I’ve got over 200 miles on my tank gas, the reserve light doesn’t come on. I’m thinking it’s burned out so I stop for gas in Springdale . To my surprise, I can only squeeze in a little over 5 gallons. Even though I didn’t ride that gently from Boulder , I got over 45 miles per gallon and that’s on Intermediate Grade! That non-California gasoline sure is nice! I mention to the clerk that it’s a nice day. She nods but adds” It’s going to be hot today”. I ask “How hot?” She said it was in the mid 90s yesterday and might be close to 100 today. I think to myself “If it’s only 100, I’ll be happy.”

I continue south and stop to hydrate in Overton. There’s a pair on two Harleys stopping for gas and refreshments. When I pass one standing in line to pay for his beverage I greet him with “It’s a nice day for a little motorcycle ride”. He responds “A little warm, though”. I smile. A few minutes later I pass them on the road. I eventually find out how I missed the same road on Friday. There never is a sign marked “166”. This section is called “ Lakeshore Drive ”. To find it from the west entrance, the turnoff has a sign leading drivers to “ Marinas ”. Along the way, I reach a milestone on my bike when it turns 75,000 miles (in just under 4 years).

I gas and stop for lunch at the same place in Boulder City . I try to psychologically prepare myself for the most difficult leg of the ride. It’s about 200 miles from Boulder City to Twentynine Palms and the hottest part of the desert. I pace myself on hitting the Camelback. I soon acquire a taste for hot Gatorade. The liquid in the bag is cool, but the tube is exposed to the weather. To conserve fluid, I only take two or three sips at a time which is held in the supply tube. Every drink is hot. I pull over just outside of Amboy to remove my extremely dry sweatshirt I used for hydrating. My body starts to perspire. As a bead of sweat runs down my face, I lift my face shield and get refreshed with the cooling effect. I occasionally get the same effect at a section on my back that isn’t dried by the vent in the rear of my jacket. I move to a position which allows air to find the wet skin. Since my body is perspiring to stay cool, I’ve got to drink more but I’m concerned about running out before I reach Twentynine Palms. I pull into Twentynine Palms will still plenty of fluid in my 70 ounce backpack. It’s now 130 miles from home and I can now deploy my energy boost strategy: a Frappucino and a Milky Way bar. The sugar is bad news unless it’s my last leg of the day. The crash won’t occur for at least four hours and I’ll be home by then. That’s the last time I put my foot down before pulling into the garage. Later I would find out that it was 106 in Las Vegas and 114 in Needles when I was rode near those locations. It’s probably good I didn’t know that at the time. I might have thought it was hot outside.

I dump the dirty clothes by the washer and ask Nancy if it was O.K. if we ordered pizza. One of the constants in our relationship for more than 25 years is that she has never said “no” to that question. We stay up and watch TV for a while. She “suggests” that I shower before going to bed and I comply. Before putting the wraps on the day, she mentions that I’m usually out not long after I get home after a ride like this. I say “It must be the Gatorade.”