Part 3:
13 days & 2657 miles / 4276
kilometers
in Nevada, Southeast Oregon & a Wee Bit of California:
July 2018
Day 9, Sunday
We ate some things we had in the room for a very light breakfast - for
me, that was peanut butter again - and then left Alamo for Rachel. I felt
great - completely back to normal, both temperature wise and tummy wise.
We stopped for gas at Ash Springs, because there is NO gas in Rachel, then
headed onto Nevada 375 - the Extraterrestrial Highway. It was a
surprisingly
interesting
and pleasant ride. The landscape was varied and the road more curvy
than I remembered.
Most
every road sign is covered by stickers, and that got annoying - it's
graffiti. It's ugly. At one point, I even saw a sign with "infowars" on it
and it pissed me off. I hate Alex Jones and I hate absolutely everyone who
is a fan of his or defends him in any way, shape or form.
A dual sport rider, complete with panniers, passed us - we gave each
other a thumb's up, and I was excited that we would meet up in Rachel. But
when we got to Rachel, he wasn't there - I guess he just drove on through.
And that's a shame, because it's worth stopping in.
Rachel was, believe it or not, smaller than I remember from 22 years
ago. For instance, I remembered a building next to the Little A'Le'Inn,
but there wasn't such there. The
Little
A'Le'Inn sign is the same, I think - I didn't take a photo when I
was there last. There's
lots
more "decoration" outside than my first visit.
I used my dwindling Spanish skills to get a group of Italian men to
take
our
photo in front of the Little A'Le'Inn sign, and then we went inside.
My gads, it
looks
exactly the same as 22 years ago with one exception: instead of
selling videos, pamphlets books and bumper stickers promoting extremist
right wing conspiracy theories and gun use, it was selling lots and lots
of very fun alien swag, like
decanters
and
ceramics.
I heartily approve of alien swag, and bought a sticker for my panniers and
a luggage tag. We also bought breakfast. Guess what I had! Yup, biscuits
and gravy. ALIEN BISCUITS AND GRAVY. I skipped coffee though - I was still
worried about how it might affect my tummy. We explored inside some more,
took
photos,
admired
the bar and talked to the staff a bit. I wish I had asked them what
it was like to have the movie
Paul
filmed there, if Simon Pegg was a nice guy, etc. We watched a mini van of
tourists from Vegas come in, take a few photos and then rush out (why come
at all?!). Then we went outside, took more photos, and
I
had an alien encounter. It was nice to dawdle, even in a hot day. I
wonder if this is the first time they've had vehicles in the area with
stickers supporting the United Nations? I also have a sticker on my bike
in Arabic. Yikes, I'm probably in a conspiracy video now...
We finally had to wrap up our visit to Rachel and continue on our way
West. I was in the midst of a generally very groovy feeling. This was,
believe it or not, my favorite day of the trip, and it made all of the
trip up to this point wonderful - even the challenges. When I was in
Rachel back in the 1990s, I was a wreck - my father had killed himself in
February of the year I visited and I was in a horrible relationship that
had made me an emotionally beaten-down mousy thing that was scared to
utter an opinion. It was the worst time of my life. I loathed who I was.
It was rock bottom. How awesome to come back more than two decades later,
at 52, on my motorcycle, with my awesome husband, unafraid to tell anyone
exactly what I think (though I did NOT wear my "Texans for Obama" t-shirt
here) and oh-so proud of my work and travels over the last two decades. I
love riding my motorcycle, as much as I'd hoped and maybe more than I ever
expected - it's the joy of my life these days, and has been for years now.
This, now, is a good time, despite all my work challenges and fear about
the political situation (and the consequences we're paying for such). It
was so great to feel that all at once.
As we left Rachel, we saw cows in the road, but far in the distance up
ahead, and they had crossed by the time we got close. I'm glad we never
encountered any close up - that always scares me. I did see a long dead
calf on the side of the road - I wondered why no one had picked it up. As
always when I see something dead on the side of the road, I hope it was a
quick death.
We continued on to Warm Springs, Nevada, a former town at the junction
of U.S. Route 6 and State Route 375 - there are just three or four
abandoned buildings there now. There is still a pool there where, many
years ago, people could take a dip in water from the springs that still
run down the hill in a man-made channel. I can't believe someone doesn't
open some hippy dippy retreat campground here - it's a great spot for such
and just 50 miles from Tonapah. We paused for a bit to hydrate, saw some
wild
goats enjoying the channel for the springs, and then headed on.
Later, we stopped again at a
rest
area that was very obvious in the Nevada desert landscape and talked
with some Harley riders from Montreal who didn't really seem to want to
talk to us, but I made them. They asked the obligatory
how-can-you-ride-in-all-that-gear question. Of course, I can't believe
anyone who doesn't do it. We now automatically assume that any Harley
riders we see traveling long distances in the USA are foreigners, usually
French-speaking, especially if they are decked out in pristine Harley
brand t-shirts and other clothes. That's fine - live your dream, ya'll. We
paused for a little longer so I could eat two of the mini roast beef
sandwiches I'd made that morning.
We pushed on to Tonopah. As we crossed into town, I saw a sign for the
Tonopah Animal Shelter, a building on a dusty hill out in the baking sun.
It made me immediately sad. When people ask online for the name of a small
nonprofit that really needs money - yes, people really ask that - I always
suggest local animal shelters, especially in rural areas. Please, if you
are looking to donate online, consider the
Tonopah
Animal Shelter or the
Desert
Haven Animal Society. And if you are looking to adopt a pet and
those are hard to come by in your area, as they are where I live, consider
a road trip to Nye County, Nevada.
We had made reservations at the Best Western in Tonopah because it had
a pool, and we were needing a swim. Yes, NEEDING a swim. I went right past
the hotel initially because the new Best Western logo is boring and
not-at-all eye catching nor memorable. We were pleased to see
reserved
motorcycle parking right out front. I had been joking that it was
such a shame that we were in Nye County, Nevada one day too late to be on
Live PD. We checked into the hotel and I made a
Live PD
comment and the front desk clerk said, "Oh, they were here last night!" I
was so excited! But it wasn't what I thought - the crew had
stayed
at the hotel, they hadn't
filmed at the hotel. She said they spend
most of their time filming in Pahrump.
We unpacked and took a nap - the heat is just so draining. Then we
changed into swim suits and headed for the pool, which we had all to
ourselves. I'm a large woman and I am terribly body-conscious and hate
being seen in a swim suit and it was so hot and I was on vacation and I
didn't give a damn, avert your eyes, passing traffic, because I am going
in the POOL. Oh, it was heavenly. It was beyond heavenly. We swam and we
swam. We swam laps. We played childhood pool games. We told childhood
swimming stories. We lamented that we only go swimming when we are on
vacation. And we swam and swam. This is privilege, to swim in a rural
desert town. I cherish it, I do.
It had gotten smokier and smokier as we got closer to Tonopah, but the
smoke was very high in the sky. After our swim, when we came out of the
hotel to walk a bit on the main street before supper, the smoke had
increased significantly and come lower. The Carr fire and other fires were
raging, and the smoke was building up in every valley and canyon even a
hundred miles away. But I was able to breathe fine - I was stunned I
didn't need my inhaler and my eyes weren't watering. We walked around
downtown just a few blocks, peering in the windows of closed shops in
historic
buildings. Then we walked back near the hotel and ate at Tonopah
Brewing Company, because Stefan was in the mood for BBQ. I wasn't, really.
I saw that they had chicken on the menu, something very rare to find
outside of Kentucky, where the BBQ chicken is AWESOME. What they heck, I
ordered it. And it was ROCKIN'. Best BBQ I have had, by FAR, outside of
Kentucky - and that includes Texas. Stefan liked his
BBQ
pork as well. The
sauces
and the beer was good too -
made
right onsite. It's a
terrific
place to eat and drink.
Sadly, there was no Internet in Tonopah. None. We didn't have phone
service either. The front desk told us that the fires in California had
reeked havoc on all of their communications systems. It's amazing my
reservation was received by the hotel earlier. Normally we don't need the
Internet on a trip and, in fact, avoid it. But because of those fires and
the heat, we needed to plan our route back. And without the Internet,
that's difficult: maps often don't show all roads, and maps are often
mistaken about what's paved and what isn't. And it was too hot to do
gravel for more than just a few miles - heat takes the fun out of
everything truly. We both pick up brochures and what not along the way if
we think it might help on this or a future trip, and luckily, one of the
items we had picked up was a Nevada map that was different than the one we
had brought, and it should much more clearly what was paved and what
wasn't. It helped us to be able to plan our trip back into Oregon to both
avoid fires and find some interesting paved roads. Another problem is that
the hotel had Las Vegas local TV stations, which weren't providing much
fire information at all - we needed Reno stations instead, but they didn't
have those.
We rode just 158 miles this day, but it felt like so much more, and not
in a bad way. Yes, it was still hot, but I don't think it was ever over
100, and that made all the difference. We'd overcome so many obstacles on
this trip and still managed to have a great trip. And it was a great trip.
Yeah, four days before I had thought, screw it, maybe we should just go
home. Yes, the flats and the wreck and me getting sick and the
disappointment at Great Basin and the heat exhaustion had been drama after
drama, but now, they made great stories. I could tell Stefan was feeling
very proud about changing TWO motorcycle tires within 48 hours using just
hand tools and liquid dish washing soap - how could you NOT walk around
proud after that? And I had loved all these little towns. I totally see
the appeal of selling everything, buying a pickup and a little camper and
moving to some little remote town, working a season as a waitress or maid
in a tiny motel, living in my camper, hiking on my days off and just
dropping off the map for a while. I won't, however, be doing that any time
soon and probably ever.
But I would like a Tonopah Muckers t-shirt.
It was early when I went to bed. But the heat was so draining, and a
great night of sleep helped face a very hot day. And
we
slept oh so well...
I did wonder something aloud yet again: what do people in Tonopah and
Rachel and Alamo and Mina and Luning do? Do most of them work in
something related to the mining industry? Or the cattle industry? Or are
they all hiding out from the IRS or the mob or something?
Day 10, Monday
While traveling throughout Nevada, and particular in Tonopah, I
remembered that, believe it or not, once upon a time, I thought I wanted
to live in the desert. I thought I wanted to live near Bishop or Lee
Vining, California. I wanted to live in a little cabin and help take care
of mules and burros and a B & B - none of which I have ever done.
There is a romance about the unique beauty and isolation of the desert,
especially the Sierras, that can immediately suck you in. I don't know how
long that little romantic notion lasted - I don't have it now at all. I
love being in the desert, but I also love coming back home to a
tree-covered world.
Once again, we'd set the alarm for 6 a.m. to get up. It wasn't so much
that we were in a hurry to leave as much as that we wanted to get good
riding in before the worst part of the day. Best Western does a terrific
breakfast, included as a part of your room price. I got all the milk I
wanted, which was good, because as I wasn't drinking coffee, and juice
rips my stomach up, I
needed something, and I
love milk. I
nibbled on some other breakfast items and I took an apple with me for
later. Then
it
was time to head out.
Heading out of Tonopah, I saw the infamous Clown Motel. It is every bit
as scary looking as you can imagine. 13 miles Northwest of Tonopah is a
rest stop, and we didn't stop there, but I'm noting it because, if you
ever need tent camping in the area, this is a great place - yes, it's
allowed.
Believe it or not, we were going back through Mina (pronounced My -
nah), where
we
had once infamously camped, in the middle of town, right next to the
highway, back in 2012. Now, six years later, the restaurant with a boat as
an entrance had closed, but the bar across from our campsite looked like
it was still doing business every night, and we saw a burger shack that
seems to be open for lunch. We stopped just for a second just to remember
the craziness of that night, then pushed on to Luning, which I haven't
been to since the 1990s. If we had to camp right next to the highway,
Luning would have been a far better place, as their dirt center of town,
right next to the highway, has public toilets - and they flush.
There's a sign in the center of "town" in Mina that says there are
petroglyphs nearby, but offers no info on how to find them. Since
returning from our trip, I have spent lots of time searching Google for
where to find petroglyphs in or near Mina, Nevada, or Chautauqua County,
Nevada (that's where Mina is). I have found people saying they went, but
absolutely no information on where they are. Maybe writing the
Nevada
State Historic Preservation Office would get the info - I'll try
that if I am ever planning to be in the area again.
I hadn't been to Luning since 1996. There's not much to see. Like Mina,
it's a really sad town full of shacks and trailers and you wonder who the
people are there, why they are there, what they do all day... Luning is a
turnoff point for the
Berlin-Ichthyosaur
State Historic Park, which I highly recommend, but we had both been
there, separately, and did I mention it was hot and riding on gravel did
not sound appealing to either of us? We had the time to do it, but just
didn't have the inclination - the heat had taken its toll on our incentive
to see things.
We headed through Hawthorne, and I realized I had been through that
town before as well - I realized it as soon as I saw the endless bunkers
all over the landscape. There are thousands. Supposedly, these bunkers and
other storage hold the reserve munitions to be used by the US military
after the first 30 days of a major conflict. The area also hosts desert
training for military units. We stopped at the Sinclair gas station in
Hawthorne and I had a nice chat with the manager, a man from India who
seems to regret moving from the Los Angeles area, and if you have been to
Hawthorne, you know why: unlike Tonopah, there's not even that many
tourists through the town, the landscape is like the moon, and
Walker
Lake is not quite the picturesque getaway you might imagine.
We rode on for a bit and stopped for lunch at
Dini's
Lucky Club Casino in Yerington, Nevada. The casino looked like any
other casino, but the restaurant looked like any small town diner, and we
got there just before the movers and shakers of town descended for lunch.
It was great people-watching, seeing officers of local civic clubs and
local elected officials schmooze throughout the room. One of the four
business suit clad men behind Stefan was trying to tell the other three
about the #metoo movement - all I heard was that it "is a reality now" and
"it's changing things," but I didn't get to hear the juicy bits I really
wanted to hear. Because there is nothing like hearing a guy explain the
#metoo movement to other guys. Stefan was happy that he didn't have to go
outside to smoke: he could just go into the casino, sit at a machine and
puff away.
We pushed on through the smokey, gray landscape, which wasn't at all
nice to look at - although, at one point, we dropped into a river valley,
with trees, and the temperature immediately dropped 10 degrees, not
kidding. We were on the lookout for
Fort
Churchill State Park, where I hoped we could camp for the night. We
had picked up a brochure somewhere that said it had adobe ruins of the
early army fort, a beautiful restored building, Buckland Station, an
important way station in the 1800s for pioneer travelers that we could
tour, a working ranch we could visit and a campground along the Carson
River. "An idyllic place for campers, hikers, bird watchers, canoeists and
equestrians," the pitch told us. Well... it's a beautiful site, it is, but
Buckland
Station is
open
only on weekends (neither we nor
the
praying mantis were aware of this), the Carson River was all but
dry, and that working ranch is long gone or private now and hidden away
(though we did see an Amish-looking guy watering a little garden). But
worst of all... IT WAS SO HOT. We drove through the grounds and
we
loved the look of the site, very much, but it probably wouldn't get
below 85 Fahrenheit (30 Celsius) that night, and we just couldn't do it.
We just couldn't. I would love to go back and spend two nights there so I
could spend a day exploring the site on foot, truly. But not today.
We headed back out to alternative 95, and then for reasons I don't
know, we went West on Highway 50. I finally pulled over at a convenience
store to get a drink and pour ice water down my back. Stefan said it would
be better to go back the other way, back to Alt 50, head North, and hope
to find a hotel in a bigger town. I agreed. While we were there talking, a
very old man, probably in his 90s, came out of the store, looked at our
bikes, and began to tell us about the Indian he used to ride. "It was an
Indian. Had a kickstart. I'd leave the bar, go out, try to get it started,
jump and jump on that kick start, give up and go back in the bar for a
drink."
Back we went, ultimately heading to Fernley and
landing
at a Super 8 near the Interstate. It was right next to the Silverado
Casino and Ranch House restaurant. We unpacked and, once again, took a nap
- heat is exhausting. Then we headed over to the Silverado for supper.
Stefan said he wasn't hungry, so I ordered a quesadilla appetizer - and he
ate half of it. I should have ordered another, because I was still hungry,
but I decided not to, because I have never weighed more on a motorcycle
trip that I did on this one. I weigh as much now as I did in 2011, when I
was at my heaviest. I have gained a huge amount of weight in the
last year, and I don't know why - nothing has changed in my life in the
last three years. But the weight has made the trip way, way more
uncomfortable than it had to be. It's bothered me every day - I just
didn't want to blog about it every day.
We rode 242 miles this day.
Day 11, Tuesday
Once again, we set the alarm for 6 a.m. The
sky
looked beautiful in a really eerie way. There was
ash
on our motorcycle seats. We went next door to the restaurant for
breakfast. Even though it was early, I
finally had an appetite
again, and so, I was back to my favorite vacation breakfast meal: biscuits
and gravy. I had half a cup of coffee, with a lot of cream. I missed
coffee SO MUCH. We got gas at the gas station next door - once again,
encountering super friendly convenience store staff (thank you again,
Nevada). We had to be on Highway 80 for not even a mile, then got off at
the next exit, for Nevada State Highway 447. It would take us North and
then into California. We were aiming for Klamath Falls that evening.
Highway 447 the highway is now the primary route to access the Black
Rock Desert, the site of the annual Burning Man festival, so when that's
happening, it's probably good to avoid. But otherwise, it's a
fantastic motorcycle route: it's paved, it's a bit curvy at times,
it's scenic and it's beautiful. Unfortunately, the smoke blocked much of
the scenery, but we still found this
really
amazing part of it where stones rose up out of the landscape like
something built by humans. This was one of our best rides of the
trip - it was in the 90s rather the 100s, and at this point, yes, that
made a huge difference. I was stunned that we saw no motorcycle travelers
at all on this excellent road. Not one. We had seen motorcyclists even on
the most hot days, but so many - too many - stick to interstates.
One thing we did see on the sparsely used road, something we saw almost
every day on this trip: a semi truck owned by Sherman Williams, the paint
company. I mentioned to Stefan that I had seen one or two of those trucks
EVERY day, no matter what road we were on, except gravel roads, and I was
surprised when he said he'd noticed them too. CONSPIRACY! CONSPIRACY!
As we got further north, the landscape was turning gray and white -
gray and white land and sand. The smoke blocking out the faraway scenery
and sky, and
vast
fields of what looked like salt beds, made it look like we were on
the moon. We stopped in tiny, tiny
Empire
and its store that has a little bit of everything: canned goods,
liquor - including pre-mixed
Long
Island Tea from Chi Chi's, made in Owensboro, Kentucky - dusty
bicycle helmets, a two-person tent, some camping chairs, homemade
sandwiches, t-shirts, wine and more. I bought a t-shirt. I usually buy one
t-shirt on a trip, and I had already bought one, but I wanted another one.
I considered buying a Gerlach High School Rocket Club t-shirt - Gerlach is
the town next door. I asked the teen tidying up the shelves, "Is that for
real?" And he said yes. I asked him if he had been in the rocket club and
he said, "It's a really small school.
Everyone is in the rocket
club." But I bought an Empire store t-shirt instead. We also bought
something cold to drink - I was determined to stay hydrated. The staff was
very happy when I left, because I had felt the need to sing along with
"You're So Vain" and "Hopelessly Devoted to You" when they came on the
store stereo.
Later, at one stop for a rest, we found
rocks
that looked like coral, the
skeletal
remains of an animal. And, yet, I was really enjoying the ride. It
was still an interesting, beautiful road, even got to ride through some
little canyons. We pushed on, into California. I was really disappointed
that there was no Welcome to California sign. I realized we were in a
different state when I saw the roads leading away all started with CA and
a number. It was also much greener than the landscape we'd had for the
last few days.
We drove through tiny, charming Eagleville, California, population 59
in 2010. Sorry we missed their annual BBQ, held on the last Saturday of
July, which attracts about 1000 people and benefits their volunteer fire
station. We
passed
through a recently burned area along the road - I think it's
this
fire from July 13, which burned 2,100 acres. It came so dangerously
close to farms and ranches outside of Cedarville. We ate at the first
restaurant we saw,
Woody's,
on the right side of the road as we entered the town. I had a damn good
burger. And the waitress gave us a free, very large cup of ice for our
cooler. The only downside were the two cowboys who came in and sat behind
us. The day was now baking hot and one of the cowboys had no problem
leaving his horse trailer, with his horse in it, still with saddle on, out
in the mid-day sun while he dined. Another cowboy joined him. I don't know
which was talking, but here is what I overheard, mostly while Stefan was
out having a smoke and I was done with my meal, all said with the most
smug tone:
You know, I'm just trying to live my life like Trump. You know? He
gets it done. He says he's going to do something and he does it, no
hesitation. I want to be that way. That's the way to be. But it's hard.
It's hard to do. I'm doing my best. I work hard. I can barely keep up,
you know? And I work all day with these cows, all day, and I get home,
and my wife is like, 'Talk to me, spend time with me!', and man, I am
just not in the mood. I am tired. I just want to be alone. She just
won't shut up. We've been together since high school. I married her
right out of high school. But, you know, I've changed. I'm different
now. I need my time. I need my space. I just want her to leave me alone.
blah blah (I zoned out) and then
Well, you know, I have all this paperwork because of these cows,
man. All this paperwork for accounting and taxes. The wife does it. I
can't do nothing with it, she does it all. It's always a mess. Then I
have to be all nice to her. Maybe bring her some flowers. Because I need
her to do it all.
There was a lot of "fucking" and "fucks" in there too. Stefan came in,
sat down, looked at the expression on my face as I said, "Get. Me. Out.
Of. Here" through clenched teeth and out we got. He did stop to note
the
rocks that are all around the doorway of the cafe. They look like
coral. And probably are coral from when this area was under the sea once
upon a time.
We took California 299 and we turned North onto US Highway 395, a road
we have been on in different parts of Oregon and California but I'm not
sure we've been on it specifically here. Soon,
we
were back in Oregon. And I confess now that, this entire day, we had
an apple in our luggage. And that's a no-no when passing through
California borders. Sorry, Cali, I forgot. I found the apple that night
and realized what I had done. And then I ate it.
We stopped at Lakeview, Oregon at a Burger Queen - I knew they would
have ice cream. They had only soft serve. But they had milkshakes, and
that's what we ordered and enjoyed. They were magic. Lakeview is actually
a cute little town with a fair number of historic buildings. The city
bills itself as the "Tallest Town in Oregon" because of its elevation. A
shame that their sheriff's department that is headquartered there insists
on putting "In God We Trust" on their cars, in big letters you absolutely
won't miss. If you think that's okay, then when a city puts "In Allah We
Trust" on its police cars, or "Satan is Our Savior," you cannot complain
about it. How much more wonderful and appropriate it would be to put the
original USA motto on these cars: E pluribus unum. It means out
of many, one. It originally alluded to the states - out of many
individual states, one nation. But its evolved meaning - out of many
different people, one nation - would mean so much more now, and mean
something to all of us, across belief and values.
I also am sick of the neo-Fascists bumper stickers and signs for sale
in so many gas stations. The messages are as bad as alt Right memes on
Facebook. No, I'm not going to post examples, because that just furthers
that hate speech, and I'm not going to do it.
We jumped on state road 140 going West and headed to Klamath Falls.
The road about 15 miles out of the city was paved recently and it was NOT
paved properly. It is uneven right in the middle of the lane - something
very dangerous for motorcycles. It was terrifying to hit that little shelf
created by the uneven pavement. What the hell, ODOT? I'm putting this here
and I hope that, if some motorcyclist gets hurt because of this, a lawyer
finds this blog.
The day had cooled off a lot, and we realized just outside of Klamath
Falls that we could have camped that night - it would have gotten cool
enough that night for that. But the smoke was still rather thick, though
very high up. I hadn't had any respiratory problems at all because of the
smoke, but I wasn't convinced I wouldn't. We already had made a
non-refundable hotel reservation via Booking.com at the Motel 6 in Klamath
Falls. Super friendly staff checked us in, and we were very happy to see
there was a pool - not as nice as the Best Western in Tonopah and, sure,
it wasn't nearly as hot, but, yeah, we were going to definitely get in it.
Vacation! The staff said that they had gotten a couple of calls from
people fleeing the Carr Fire, to see if there were rooms. So sad...
We
had a little swim and then went to have pizza at a place across the
street. I was walking around in my Texans for Obama t-shirt, which I don't
remember packing on purpose - I usually don't pack white t-shirts, but I
must have thought, "oh, maybe we'll go hiking or walk around somewhere
and, if we do, I'll need a white t-shirt" and packed it, without really
thinking about the potential consequences. By then, particularly after
hearing dumb asses in Cedarville, I didn't care. Bring it, rednecks. But
no one said anything. Hope there wasn't spit on my pizza.
We talked about going back to our home the next day. We had booked the
dog sitter until Saturday but had told her before we left that we might
come home early, like on Friday. And here we were, talking about being
home on Wednesday. It made me so sad. I had hated the heat, but I also was
feeling really sad not to camp just one more night - just ONE MORE NIGHT.
We'd camped in a national park, a BLM-managed site and a state park - we
were missing the national forest camping experience, always my favorite.
But, well, okay, we'd go home tomorrow, Wednesday... I texted our dog
sitter and told her we MIGHT be home Wednesday, that I would text her
confirmation on that day.
Back in the room, we could hear people below us, a very large,
trashy-looking family, being very loud and seeming to be gearing up to
party well into the night. But at some point, not sure when, we realized
they were quiet. We suspect someone complained - wasn't me (and it often
is me, but not this time).
One thing that was driving me crazy on this trip, as it does on even
a day trip around Tillamook County, that I want to vent about: men who
shoot signs are assholes and should have their guns taken away and
should not be allowed to be within 10 feet of a gun. Oh, sure, I'm sure
there are a few women that do it, but I'm sure the vast majority
of men. Men who voted for Trump. It's not only dangerous (you have no
idea what is beyond that sign), it's not only illegal, it's not only
vandalism and disrespectful, it also takes away information road
travelers need. We have missed turnoffs and notices about sharp turns
because some asshole with a gun thought it would be fun to shoot up and
destroy a road sign. There is no middle ground on this issue: if you
shoot signs, you are an asshole and be banned from using guns for
LIFE, period. And I should get to throw things at you.
Day 12, Wednesday
Once again, we set the alarm for 6 a.m. Probably didn't really need
to, but we weren't sure how hot it would be. We had breakfast at the
Black Bear Diner (Oregon franchise), which was right next door. Stefan
got served not-at-all-fully cooked hashbrowns and was ticked off, but
the waitress took it off our ticket and was immediately apologetic, and
it turned out she'd really wanted to ask him where he was from, because
she wants to learn German. I just couldn't be mean to her.
US 97 North was boring. But I wasn't too bored. We stopped for a
break and to pee on a turnoff that turned out not to be packed white
gravel but, in fact, fech fech - pronounced fesh fesh. It's dirt that is
now powder. It's like riding in powder. It was mostly packed down where
we turned off, but I stopped almost immediately and told Stefan that,
once we were done, he was going to have to turn my motorcycle around for
me. I was stunned when I went into the woods for a pee and even the
ground where there was ground cover - trees and bushes - was fech fech:
I sunk a few inches every step I took. I walked back to the bike and we
looked down the road that went into the forest, and slowly coming
towards us was a large forest service truck, with a cloud of dust behind
it that looked like smoke. Or a haboob. We rushed to put on our helmets,
Stefan jumped on my bike and turned it around as quickly as he could, I
jumped on my bike and we got the heck out of there before the truck
reached us and we were absolutely buried in dust. The truck obviously
was going slowly to give us time to get out of there, and we very much
appreciate that.
We had talked about going around Crater Lake - our National Park Pass
is good through August, so it would have been free - but with all the
smoke, there wouldn't have been a view. We've been before - we'll go
again some day. We also passed on the Collier Logging Museum.
We turned onto state road 58 to head to Oakridge. It wasn't even noon
yet. The trees got thicker, the ground more lush with grass and bushes,
and the hill far more steep. By the time we got to the pass near
Odell
Lake, it had cooled off significantly, even though the sky was
mostly clear - yes, we were seeing blue sky at long last. It was
absolutely the best weather we had experienced on the entire trip. It
was even cool at times on the ride this day. When we got to
the
overlook for Diamond Peak and pulled over to take a break, and
were about to descend into Oakridge, it was perfect weather. I don't
know why I didn't say it then, but I was thinking,
let's camp here.
Let's camp! Let's not go back yet. But I didn't. I idiotically
waited until we'd gone another 30 miles down into Oakridge and stopped
at the official rest stop to announce my bright idea. Stefan agreed, but
first we now had to get gas and supplies, and we decided to have lunch
as well.
We ate a Mexican restaurant behind the Dairy Queen in Oakridge and it
was quite yummy, for Oregon, anyway. Rather than retrace 30 miles back
up to the pass, we decided to try to go to a closer campsite - the map
showed some sites along a river, near a lake. Big mistake - what we
thought would be wooded campsites right on the water was a desert-like
sandy landscape far above Hill Creek Lake, which is actually a
reservoir. It was well more than 15 degrees warmer here, in contrast to
the Odell Lake area. We'd wasted about 30 miles of driving, over an
hour, in heat again, and I was cranky as could be. It still wasn't 3
p.m., and Stefan said it was worth it to drive back up the hill and try
a site there.
Up we went, hoping against hope we would find an open campground and
a decent campsite on Odell Lake. I turned into the Princess Creek
Campground, and as we drove the broken, narrow road through the
campsites, I wasn't feeling optimistic: though the campsites were were
passing were all available, they were very close to the road. We went
around to complete the loop through the campground and saw that the
campsites on the water were occupied. As we neared the end of the loop,
I found an open spot next to the water and suggested we take it. Once we
unpacked and set up the tent, we realized we had found the VERY best
campsite in the entire campground:
we
had our own private little rock beach looking out onto the lake.
We
were in a perfect site. The
PERFECT
SITE. There's no running water, but that's okay - we brought
plenty.
Princess Creek Campground has seen better days: the campsites need a
thorough grooming, tent pads need to be built or reclaimed from the
weeds, and the road is becoming impassible. I wish they would restrict
the size of RVs that can be in the sites - the sites are not built at
all to accommodate massive RVs. We also spotted
hog
weed on one side of our campsite - that's not good, as this
invasive, non-native weed has a sap that can burn your skin.
Once we'd put the tent up and settled in and
waded
out into the water and enjoyed the quiet - no one was running
their generators - I almost started crying. It was beautiful - our first
blue sky, a cool evening, a night cold enough to snuggle down in our
sleeping bags... it was beyond perfect. I so wanted a last night
camping, and we were not only getting that, we were getting a
perfect
night camping. We couldn't believe the bugs weren't even that bad. We
learned from someone else that, the days before, the campground had a
ceiling of thick smoke and all the landscape was hidden. Not so today
and tonight! It was the perfect last night - we finally got our stars
and our Milky Way sighting. Glorious. This camp site is worth reserving,
most definitely (probably always possible to find a site during the
week).
Worth noting that there are signs on all the info boards noting two
important things: (1) fires are NOT allowed at Princess Creek Campground
until further notice, not even in fire pits. That didn't stop some
assholes from having one anyway - I so wish someone had come through to
nail them for it. (2) Cyanobacteria (harmful algae) bloom has been found
in the lake. The toxins they produce cannot be removed by boiling,
filtering or treating water with camping-style filters. And ingesting
the toxins can be deadly, especially to dogs - I have a dear friend
whose dog died after spending some time playing in a lake that turned
out to have this algae bloom. We were fine, as we'd just waded into the
water up to our waists. But no way dogs should be allowed to swim in the
lake - and, yes, I saw some people doing it and, yes, I warned them it
was not a good idea. I tried to be nice about it, but people do not like
being told what to do with their animals.
It was a perfect night. We had a nice dinner of something out of a
can, drank our beer,
watched
the sunset and were feeling very groovy. But before nightfall, I
got a text from a friend that rarely texts me, asking me if I'd heard
about a mutual friend of ours. And my brain just suddenly went into
overdrive: my roommate from university had also sent me an instant
message on Facebook earlier, something he never does either, but I don't
have Facebook IM on my phone - I had seen the notice via email. I had
just shrugged that off when I saw it, but seeing this text now, from
someone else - I knew there had been a death. My friend, Gary Marlin,
was just 51 when he passed away in Chicago, where he'd flown from his
home in New York City to help with the load-in for the pre-Broadway run
of
Tootsie. Gary and I went to high school and Western Kentucky
University together - he was in the same drama geek "gang" as
me. Such a huge part of high school and WKU days. And recently,
Gary was my political rant buddy on instant messenger - we
loved
to rant. For those of you who are my Facebook friends: if you think my
posts are provocative, you should have seen what Gary and I were saying
to each other. But my favorite memory of Gary is when he chose a play I
wrote my junior year at university,
I Don't Believe in Fairy Tales,
to direct as a part of WKU's Children's theater season. I was so
incredibly honored - and he did a
fantastic job. I saw it four
times and was astounded by how he made it even funnier and more lively
than I ever imagined. As one of my professors wrote, "You didn’t see him
on stage, but I assure you he was on stage for days and days before you
got there, making the magic that the director and the designers had
envisioned actually happen on that Broadway stage. For the past 14 years
he has had a Broadway contract, well, with the exception of from 5 to
5:30 pm between
The Color Purple and
Jersey Boys. He
recently went straight from
(Escape to) Margaritaville to
Tootsie
without skipping a beat!"
So I cried and Stefan patiently listened as I told stories about Gary
and our theater gang.
70 miles of our mileage that day was just wasted back and forth on roads as
we tried to camp. I'm so glad the day turned out well, because that wasted
time had really ticked me off.
Day 13, Thursday
This
was our view from our tent. I was mostly very happy when I woke up.
It had been a beautiful last night camping. It had been all but silent. It
was a little chilly in the night and in the morning. We had the most
beautiful view out of our tent that we had ever had. We'd gotten that one
more night out that I had wanted so badly. And I would, hopefully, be home
with my dog and cat that evening, after 12 days out. We had just 180 or so
miles to go, and I was hoping we could make it enjoyable. There was a
tinge of sadness, however, thinking about Gary.
We hadn't set an alarm. It was our last day, and there was no reason to
rush at all.
I
sat out on our private beach and looked at the water. I like the
ocean okay, but I just don't quite get the appeal of sitting on an ocean
beach and watching the water. I so much prefer a beautiful, natural lake
or, even better, a creek or river. I love the sound of the water and the
look of the water. I could sit there for hours. I appreciate that Stefan
let me do that. If I could do it every day, I would be a different, better
person.
We packed up and I gave lots of dirty looks to the campers over by the
pit toilets that, once again, thought the burn ban didn't apply to them.
We headed back through Oakridge and saw the turnoff for the road that,
once upon a time, would have taken us to Eric and Gail Haws' wonderful
home outside of Westfir. We miss Eric very much and remember fondly his
Burning Moto Man motorcycle gatherings. Here's
a
blog tribute I wrote about Eric's passing that gives some background
on this pioneering motorcycle traveler and wonderful travel host.
We stopped at Dexter Reservoir for a break and to look out over the
water. Clouds had rolled in and the temperature had dropped, and it was
wonderful to be cold. We left and passed a sign and it suddenly
dawned on me that the Dexter Lake we had just looked at was the very same
Dexter Lake referred to in Animal House. I laughed in my helmet.
We pushed on to Eugene and jumped on I 5 North. I got off at the sign
for 99 and we headed North. I thought we were in downtown/central Eugene,
and there was a lot of businesses, but no restaurants. We went right by
the University of Oregon and so I thought we would start seeing
restaurants, but we didn't, or if we did, they obviously didn't serve
breakfast. I really didn't want to get off of 99, but I was beginning to
think I should make a right and another right and head back the direction
we had come, but on a different road, and maybe we would have better luck.
Just when I was beginning to get really frustrated - I was damn hungry and
getting angry/hangry - I saw tiny
GJ's
Restaurant on the right side of the road. I know a breakfast diner
when I see one. We had to go around the block and come back to get into
the parking lot. Holy moly, by pure chance, in a food desert, we had ended
up at the
best breakfast diner in a hundred mile radius, I am not
kidding. The biscuits and gravy were AMAZING. Maybe the very best of the
entire trip. I
love this place! I knew this was our last meal of
our trip, and I really wanted to enjoy it. How awesome that it was at
GJ's.
After our meal, while Stefan was having a smoke, I checked Facebook, to
see what was being said about my friend, Gary Marlin. And I cried a bit.
Still do.
Once we were out of Eugene, 99, and then 99 West, turned out to be a
decently interesting road to ride. We saw a few bicyclists on the road and
I couldn't tell if they were bicycle travelers or homeless people riding
bicycles - it's hard to tell. And I thought about the difference, and how
that difference results in someone being treated oh-so-differently...
University of Oregon, Oregon State and Western Oregon University are
all really close to each other on this road - U of O is just 41 miles from
Oregon State, which is just 22 miles from WOU. I so wish WOU was closer to
Forest Grove, so I could try to work there... but I digress...
But, eventually, it was back through McMinnville, and Carlton, and
Yamhill, and Gaston, and to
home.
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