It occurred to me that as I live in Washington, would start the 50CC in San Diego and end it in Florida with a need to get home that I could also complete a venture known as a 4 Corners Ride if my homeward trek took me through Maine. The corners are Blaine, WA, Sa Ysidro, CA, Key West, FL and Madawaska, ME.
My boss granted the vacation time and I set to figure a way to do both events in the time I requested. An associate of mine, and former Air Force acquaintance rides a Kawasaki Concours and I could see the lust in his eyes as I revealed my plans. I invited him to join in the fun. He readily agreed.
Many people at work and some Internet acquaintances have asked for a trip report, or simply asked how the trip turned out. My Journal is an easy way to share, and respond to their interest. It also helps me to relive a very special event in my life.
The photos are scanned using an inexpensive scanner - sorry for the poor quality. I since have acquired a digital camera that does much better.
Day 1
Rode with a friend Bob Schanzer and Al to Blaine, WA to bag our first corner. It is only a few miles North and we got to check out the radar detector, FRS communications and so on. All worked well and the jaunt served to burn in my fresh Excedras.
Weather is warm and sunny and it is a nice ride. We lunch at a restaurant on the waterfront and then ride home for some sleep as we depart for San Diego at 0200 in the morning.
Day 2
I'm to meet Al at McDonalds at 0200. It is 42 degrees and threatening rain. I wait for him 20 minutes and call Laurie to see if he called. I tell her I'll wait a half hour more and then depart. I also tell her I tried to call him but information has his number unlisted. Planned all the trip details except to trade phone numbers. Duh!
I depart Tacoma, WA without Al about 0300. I hooked up my electric vest and was glad of it. It had only warmed to 45 degrees. I get through Portland, OR and Salem, OR and stop at a McDonalds for coffee. Call Laurie. No Al. I'm both worried and feeling a bit odd about leaving without him but conclude we will hook up in San Diego at the Motel 6 where we have reservations.
I press on for a Sacramento, CA KOA campground and begin enjoy the rain and cold and mostly, the intense sense of freedom. Bike is running well. My vest is working well and the Frogg Toggs (rain gear) are working well too. I mistakenly think this will be the last of the cold till we get home. I'm really craving sun and warm weather - it is the first time in my life that I've had some depression associated with the winter gloom of the Northwest and hope a good dose of sun will soften the symptoms.
I stop for a photo of Mt Shasta but missed the most dramatic shot one gets rounding a corner on the freeway. It is right in your face - big and ominous in the wet conditions - stunning. When I stop the rain has too but the mountaintop is now hidden in cloud.
I press for Sacramento, CA. I loaded the coordinates for the KOA campground into my GPS and was guided right to the place. Neat tool! $29 for the night and I sleep like dead people.
Day 2
I really want a shower each morning I ride as it sets the day up right to be clean. Not this day! Some creative soul defecates in all the shower stalls, sinks, and didn't flush any of the toilets. The notion that more than one individual was involved bounced around inside my skull as in stupor I gaze at this mess. While physically immobilized by the sight I began to consider the possibility of this being the terrorist attack the government was warning about. Maybe it was a person with a great diet and a huge colon. You never know.
The ride south is good and I stop for breakfast in a Denny's restaurant. Al isn't all that cool with Denny's because of their treatment of minority customers so I figured to sneak this one meal in since we had not hooked up yet. Turns out they contribute 20% of the proceeds for the All American Slam to a museum on Civil Rights so that's what I order. Place isn't all that bad. They are playing a mix of Neil Young on the music system.
The ride reamins enjoyable until I meet a line of cars and brake lights behind a car in the left lane that's going about the speed limit. There is a truck in the right lane appearing to be a tad bit slower. I can see plenty of room so pass them all on the right and cut in front before I get to the truck - so I do. I guessed it to be a Washington driver leading the pack. It is. I'm not surprised. I suppose there will be more of Washington's finest to deal with on this trip.
A fellow approaches me while I'm filling up on gas. He has an ST at home and chats for a while. Turns out he is from Montreal and says to call him if we have time. We trade business cards. He is Mr. Jacques P. Dupuis and seems to be associated with the government of Quebec or perhaps Canada - a member of their National Assembly. It is a bit hard to tell from his card. The Honda ST1100 is not all that common and ST owners sure make themselves known. It was a pleasure to meet Jacques.
The ride continues to be uneventful till I get to the hill on I5 that takes you over the mountains into the LA Basin. I stop and refill my water bag at a rest area and then head up. Not bad as I can keep a safe 5 mph faster pace than the cars. Going down the other side is a whole different thing. The speed limit is 65 but the cars just fly by and the trucks control the right two lanes leaving one for me. There is smog. The odor is distinctly unpleasant. Some corners have a decreasing radius and have rain grooves cut into them and it is HOT. The ST does well but my BP is up. I've never driven here and I have negative psych established about that which I'm about to enter. I gas up at the bottom before I head into LA. ST is maintaining 50mpg.
I plan to ride through LA on I5 for San Diego. People do drive fast here. I'm normally in the left lane so I only have to worry about those behind me and on the right and I normally drive 5 mph faster than the other drivers so I'm constantly passing folk. It is a safe motorcycling practice and the LEOs seem to understand it. Today I'm well over the posted limit by 10 or 15 mph minimum and taking corners at 85 to 90 with locals who desperately want to pass. I let them.
I soon realize that drivers here respect a turn signal and let you move over, and they know how to merge onto the freeway. I can get on and off easily. They also seem to give me a lot of room. I actually feel quite safe compared to Seattle where using your turn signal is an invitation for the inbred next to you to fill in the gap preventing you from moving over. Slow drivers stay in the right hand lanes and let the fast guys move in the left lanes. Completely opposite of Seattle where the game is go slow in the left-hand lane and piss people off, or speed up so merging drivers can't enter the freeway. I wonder if the road rage shootings in California scared the losers into moving to Washington.
I was not prepared for bikers who lane split. It is legal in California, but I was startled a couple of times by riders who used the space between me and the cars next to me to get on down the road. I'm too chicken to try and follow them.
I quickly learn why the motorcycle magazine guys who test bikes in this environment always seem to have something to say about stock suspensions. Several times my ST bottoms out on the big heaves in the pavement and I get a bit of headshake now and then. I bail for San Clemente after passing through the worst of it - need a potty break!
San Clemente is a very picturesque town and I'm starting to understand all the southern California guys I met in the service who droned on and on about their hometowns. Having rested I go on to San Diego. Again the GPS proves superb, directing me right to my motel. The shower felt good and dinner was pleasant. Al called from Sacramento. Turns out he dropped his bike near his driveway and couldn't lift it up till some neighbors got up. He decided to wait till today to start and planned to drive through the night. I'm glad he is OK and so is his bike. The day is good.
Day 4. San Diego exploring and 2nd Corner
I notice Al's bike as I head out about 0900 so I know he is safe. My gloves are shot and my face is sunburned so I set out for a motorcycle shop seeking an Iridium shield and new gloves. GPS takes me right to the place. I don't see a shield but I score a great pair of gel gloves that vent nicely.
Cruising around town I conclude this place has seen its finest day a few decades ago. Some areas are very nice but mostly its cars and exhaust and places to spend money. To be fair I didn't check out the zoo and any other major stuff and I probably didn't get to the good part, but on the whole what I saw was old past its prime real estate.
About 1630 Al and I hook up with the fellows from Arizona who also will do the 50CC. Actually they plan a 100CCC returning to San Diego from Jacksonville, FL with a bunch of riders doing an East to West 50CC. Very nice people and it is a treat to meet folk from one's Internet experience.
Al and I leave for our second corner and complete the requirements uneventfully. We head for bed about 2000, as we are to meet our 50CC witnesses at 0145 in the morning.
Day 5. 50CC Start
We get our paperwork signed and dash off at 0200 as planned. The others have departed about 15 minutes ahead of us. It is cool, about 55 degrees. It gets colder as we ascend through the mountains on I8.
The descent is flat out scary. High wind gusts, tight corners, and trucks where you would prefer they not be. The ST does not like sudden gusts of wind from the side so I drive conservatively till we get down. Then I adjust throttle a tad to build a moving average of 70+ mph. I've calculated we need to maintain a 60mph moving average overall to have enough time for fuel stops and 6 hours rest along the way.
The sun is coming up as we reach our first fuel stop in Arizona.
We blast on and stop once the temperature raises above the "get some clothing off" level. Once stripped of cold weather gear we proceed at speed to maintain our moving average as we can assume the cities ahead of us and traffic will eat into our rest time. The daytime temperatures seem to be around 85 to 90. Not bad. I'm drinking lots of fluid and that really helps the endurance.
Things are going well until Al declares Bingo fuel in El Paso. I take a wrong exit and we are downtown where gas stations don't exist. Not good - it eats up about 40 minutes getting out of there and back onto the freeway for a real gas stop. After that we just deal with the construction and traffic until that thins out and we can make up some time.
After a while I notice that Al is losing speed, and well into our approach to Fort Stockton I lose sight of him altogether. I pull into our scheduled fuel stop and wait for him. He said he was sleepy and had pulled over for a short stretch. He didn't have much sleep after his 1200 mile straight through ride to San Diego so I locate a rest sop 50 miles ahead on the GPS and we pull in there so he can sleep for 30 minutes. I'm not tired but try to nap anyway. 30 minutes or so later and Al is good to go, and now I'm not.
A couple hundred miles on and we notice a big thunderstorm ahead. Lots of lightening and the wind is picking up smartly. I didn't like pounding through those last year in the daytime and don't like the prospect of dealing with this at night, while also looking for the famous Texas hill country deer. We decide to take a few hours sleep at the Iron Butt Motel (Rest area picnic table top) and let the storm pass, as it seems it will. The Sheriff who checks us out agrees with the plan noting the rain is hideous ahead and there have been a couple of accidents reported. We chat with him some more and learn he rides bikes, so I tell him to go get his and join us - guy actually looked like he was considering it for a moment.
We get moving after about 3 hours and it seemed the storm had passed until we got to the top of a rise. Unfortunately it just passed to a location farther ahead of us - at least it will be daylight soon. We did see tons of deer and highway blood smears from deer victims in the remaining hill country we pass through so feel we made the right decision.
Day 6 - 50CC cont.
After San Antonio we stopped for food and press on for Houston in the rain. The rain became more intense with each mile covered and the wind picked up considerably. Horizon is black. All hell breaks loose as we get to Houston. Traffic, worst downpour I have ever ridden in, and I'm unsure if it is wiser to take the toll loop or got through the middle.
I opt for the latter and we hit a time eating traffic jam caused by the rain and construction. Once through the worst of that the car drivers just go nuts and speed through the flooded downtown freeway sending giant rooster tails of water everywhere. Trucks raise the pucker factor exponentially and I discover the joys of high speed motorcycle aquaplaning.
Navigating lane exchanges becomes a nightmare - it is hard to see things like signs - and my soaking radar detector decides everything is a laser hit. Thankfully it just drowns out altogether. The idiotic alerts were driving me crazy. My little AM/FM radio drowns, and I can't reach Al on our FRS communications link. I get fully into my vowels when a young woman in a purple car decides it is my day to die.
Not entirely her fault as I was preoccupied with staying upright and what was ahead of me and I wasn't looking behind me that much - so I didn't see her coming. She cut me off within inches of contact and I instinctively jammed the bars to escape, which I barely did. After gliding across a couple of lanes without hitting anybody I was able to straighten it out into an enormous puddle in the high-speed lane. I still get a sphincter spasm thinking about it. Had I hit that a bit sideways…
Al and I met at a rest stop outside town. He almost got to taste a tire tread chunk as it was thrown up from an 18-wheeler he was passing and his AM/FM radio got washed off his tank bag by some surf produced by another 18 wheeler. 2 very luck guys - enjoying every moment but it cost us a lot of time.
We essentially just drove on through high wind and torrential rain and dealt with lunatic drivers and more trucks that I have ever seen in one place. I notice some car drivers who pass look us over and just shake their heads. I give them thumbs up. Our pace however is slower for safety reasons and the physical downside of the Houston adrenaline rush........and we are eating time.
Somewhere into Louisiana we pull in for some fuel and food. I calculate we have time left to make the 50CC goal and have a rest in Pensacola as planned if we keep up our current pace. Things are still looking good. It is a grand adventure!
A half hour or so back on the freeway after our fuel stop and we stop moving. Everything is jammed up. Pissing rain. Windy. Cold. Stopped. I'm guessing a wreck somewhere ahead. We wait an hour, then another one. I chat with people who are interested in what we are up to and we all wait till the LEOs and the meat wagon drivers sort out the mess. Finally we get diverted around it and get back into the ride, but the weather is nasty and we are almost into a no margin ride as the result.
30 minutes more and we encounter another margin consuming stoppage. I pull over and calculate we cannot make the goal of Jacksonville by 0700 in the morning with two remaining fuel stops if we travel at legal speeds. Going faster in these conditions, in the night when tired, would be too risky. I know Marty very well - if I decided to go for the goaI in spite of the odds I would do anything to make it, so I knew I was on the verge of a very important decision. I had no idea where the weather stopped being an issue as my radio was drowned but it seemed it was headed for Jacksonville too. I reluctantly decided we should quit if the traffic didn't pick up soon. It didn't. I was pissed, and felt a bit cowardly.
On reflection I concluded Al and I might have been in that fatal accident that blocked the freeway for so long if we hadn't stopped for food when we did. The second stop was caused by an elderly couple's car that caught fire and completely burned. We met them at the motel we stopped at. They told us a bearing replacement job had been done poorly and grease had leaked onto the brakes and ignited. After that the brake fluid caught fire and it was game over for them. More of a tragedy than not making it across country in under 50 hours and I ask if we can help them out. The offer is declined.
On the Weather Channel I saw what we had been through. It rained 5.9 inches in Houston and the storm cell was huge and indeed headed for Florida.
Al and I will get it done in another attempt maybe this year in October.
PS. I planned to make another attempt and had vacation for the week of Oct 7, 2002. Damned if hurricane Lillie isn't about to pound on I10 when I want to use it.
Day 7
It is cold and raining and we are a bit tired so decide to head for the Naval Air Station in Pensacola and camp there. It is very windy. We notice several of the other 50CC and 100CCC riders heading West and wave to them. I recognize Yogi's bike and am glad he made the first half of his ride.
The weather relents and we camp in nice conditions. The security of a military installation feels good and people we meet are typically respectful and helpful to us two retired geezers. This is a training facility and it is interesting to listen to Al chat with a young woman of 3 months vintage in uniform. He is former Navy and they talk stuff that is foreign to me. I also feel old - reflecting on my first days in uniform. She is very young but completely stoked about becoming an aircrew member.
We visit the biggest Wal-Mart I have ever seen. Al buys a sleeping bag and a replacement radio. I pick up a car battery operated air pump for $9.00.
The night before I had dried my AM/FM radio on the motel air conditioner. It now only works on one frequency that seems to capture Country and Western music. No offense to those who like it but listening to that stuff just makes me want to pull the bike over and slit my throat. Old as I am I still prefer hard corps thrasher music. It helps to add high-speed miles and lighten my spirit - or make me pissed off for no reason. In grief, and desperate for relief, I'm tempted to replace it but I don't.
I tried my radar detector after I took it apart and toweled the water of the circuitry but it still sees Laser threats that are nowhere about and eventually it performs a self-test then shuts down. Bummer.
Al's FRS isn't working either so we will have to rely on hand signals to indicate where to turn and so on.
We sleep well and awaken early wanting to reach Homestead, FL the next day.
Day 8.
We again start out in cold and windy conditions - guess the front is stalled. It is 50 degrees in Gainesville, FL when we stop for coffee at McDonalds. Once again McDonalds comes through in inefficient grand style. Like my brother Murray, Al cannot get an order delivered correctly at a McDonalds, or has some other McDonalds trauma thrust on him. They decide to reheat coffee they let get cold. I accept it as inevitable and drink my lukewarm beverage. The young woman offers to make Al some fresh (he's cuter than me), but she forgets about him in the rush of 3 new customers. He is a polite and patient man and eventually gets it resolved but we decide to try another place for food when we get gas. Stupidly we select another McDonalds.
We head down I-75 and I note that sometimes the cars in my lane up ahead of me sort of split up and go around both sides of a slower car. Each time the pilot turns out to be an elderly person going quite slow. I decide Florida must have a lot of retired folk who won't give up the wheel so vow to be on the lookout for them. Al asks a bus driver we meet at a KFC which is the best way to get to the Keys. He says go to the Toll Road, and take it to highway 1. I didn't know he meant all the way to the end of I75 and I get us onto the Florida Toll Road instead of the toll part of I75 South of Fort Myers.
The ride was mostly uneventful mile eating and I enjoyed all the scenery. It has now warmed to the 70's and there are rainsqualls reminiscent of Houston. I grooved on heading into them and see what's in there and if I can come out the other side. I think, after the Houston experience, this is akin to counter-phobic behavior. The rest areas have Starbucks, and plenty people to watch. $20 in tolls later we enter Homestead, FL and score an excellent Motel for $31.
Day 9.
I arise early and do a load of laundry - needed to. While cleaning the bugs off my windscreen I'm approached by a bunch of folk interested in why a biker from Washington was about. Turns out they were into Orchids and there had been an Orchid thing in town. I don't know anything about Orchids so it was hard to hold an Orchid conversation for long but, needing to work on my social skills, I tried hard and it paid off. Very interesting people.
After breakfast we headed for Key West. 150 miles of misery for a guy who likes to cover territory. There is a 45 mph speed limit and the locals seem to delight in going 30 mph to hold people up. It is getting hot for the first time in the trip as well and, frankly, the reality of the Keys didn't match my expectation though some things were pretty cool. I liked the 7-mile bridge and took a picture of it as we rolled along. I dared not stop to take it fearing the desperate line of folk trailing behind would never let us back into he stream of traffic some turtle up ahead created.
Finally in Key West we pulled into a Sears automotive store parking lot to get our bearings and locate the stuff we needed to claim Corner number 3. Some scruffy guy on a Harley chopper, wearing shorts and a tank top, and with an excellent blond riding pillion roared in and accused us of being "Real Bikers" as he went past. He launched the Harley into the traffic with his life saving loud pipes and was gone as quick as an eye blink. I wondered how he managed without shoes then wondered if I was just hallucinating, but Al saw it too.
The really odd thing was the traffic in Key West. I guess they are frustrated with the long drive in so drive like crazed people around town - at least it seemed so. Seattle madness in Key West - Go figure, as they say.
We did our thing and mailed our stuff to the 4 Corners coordinator and decided to blast out of Key West instead of enjoying the place - too touristy for us. The trip back to Homestead, FL was faster. The ride across highway 41 through Big Cypress Preserve was superb. I totally enjoyed it as it fit my fantasy about Florida roads. Wonderful birds, trees, all sorts of cool stuff to look at and the smells were unique. Wouldn't get all that in a car. We spent the night in Tampa.
Day 10
This is the day that I was introduced to the Waffle House chain of restaurants by Al. We had breakfast in one next to the freeway about an hour or so north of Tampa. Impressive operation. Try one if you haven't been before.
We covered 745 miles today getting to Clarksville, TN. My daughter and her husband live there and it was great to see them and Alec my 4-year-old grandson. Alec really wanted to know if Al made mud pies and wanted to know why I was so old. I told him he'd have to ask Al, and that he would be old one day too. He, of course, denied it would be so.
Al and I got separated somewhere near Atlanta. He kept on riding and eventually went to the front gate of Fort Campbell and called Laurie to get Kat's phone #. He then called my daughter's residence just as we were about to go look for his bike in the local motel parking lots. Tony, Alec and I went to get him and the 4 Corners duo were reunited. Al later disclosed that it has been a long time since he made any mud pies. Alec hopes it rains tonight so he and Al can make some together in the morning.
Day 11
We spent the day with my daughter Kat and Alec. Al got an oil change and we went in search of a replacement Chatterbox for him so we could communicate. My radar detector finally got well, and my little FM radio recovered an ability to scan in one direction so I was fully electronic again but Al's gear seemed done in. Nobody had what he needed but I did score some earplugs in a Wal-Mart and we had a great dinner with everybody that night.
Day 12
I wished we had more time to spend in Clarksville. I kind of felt like my Dad who used to come visit us for a week and then leave the day after he arrived, but we had a mission for Corner number 4 in Madawaska Maine and a need to get home for work. Alec was cool with the explanation we were in a race and couldn't hang around. He extends an invitation to Al to come back and do the mud pie thing when he has more time.
The trip to Knoxville, TN was unique for me. The citizens around Fort Campbell have planted poppies in the median of the freeway as a living memorial to fallen soldiers. They were in full blossom. This practice is continued along the rest of the Tennessee freeways and the sight was simply glorious. It was soon to be Memorial Day and there were lots of riders, mostly Veterans riding Harleys, headed for Rolling Thunder in DC. It all made me reflect on my past in the service, fallen comrades whose names I've located on the Wall, and of my son-in-law.
For the first time I felt less of a sting when I recalled the insult of being spat upon when I came home in uniform 30 some years ago. I always regretted not kicking that guy's ass but now, I guess, he's fat and middle aged too. I realize I owe a lot to the thoughtful folk of Tennessee and the good fortune to be riding at this time in this place.
We decided on a detour through Deal's Gap, NC. It is a motorcycle Mecca of sorts with a stretch of road containing 318 corners in 11 miles. Motorcycles love corners. What a treat after too many freeway miles! I could have stayed there for days.
We encountered a group of ST riders at the resort. Evidently a bunch of folk from the STOC, an Internet based group for ST1100 and ST1300 riders, had joined in a tour of the local area. There were riders from all over including Ontario, Canada. It was neat to actually make connections with a couple of folk I've chatted with through the Internet. I made connection with Guy Boutin from Prattville, Al. He has a great web site and I've read some of his posts on the MC Touring Forum at Delphi. What a great surprise and pleasure.
One fellow in the group went down causing some minor damage to his black ST. We watched as he replaced the windshield with a +4 Clearview in a smoked color. Looked good on his machine. Glad he wasn't hurt.
After acquiring a T-shirt as a remembrance we split for parts North and for I85. We didn't make it to Roanoke, VA. I hit the wall.
In the motel parking lot a fellow asking if I know how to back up a truck and trailer approaches me. He was relocating his family to Arizona via U-Haul and had the family SUV on a trailer. He had it all out of sorts and partly into the roadway. Figured to give it a try, and actually did a reasonable job. Guy was grateful and I was happy to help him. His wife his children looked exhausted.
Al and I met Norm Lutz who rides a BMW K1200LT. We chatted as riders do and when we mentioned our 50CC attempt he shared that a friend of his on an LT we had seen start the 50CC with Tom and Yogi in San Diego had also dropped out after the Houston deluge. Think he had some electrical stuff related to moisture. Small world.
Day 13
We headed for Mystic, CT. Virginia does not allow the use of radar detectors and I turn mine off in deference to law abiding. The LEOs are crafty and get well hidden - totally a money making scheme in the grand southern tradition of the speed trap. I just ran with the truckers and the occasional guy with New York license plates. Virginia is very pretty but I was glad to be out of there. Saw a big pile-up of bikers headed to DC. Looked like the lead riders went down and some of the pack went down after that. Group rides are not my thing - a good example why. Meat wagons and LEOs all over the place and traffic backed up for miles.
We detoured through the Poconos in PA for some two-lane time and enjoyed the scenery. Definitely not cool was the traffic jam in each small town. The firefighters would be soliciting donations from drivers at a strategic intersection. Being Memorial Day weekend there were lots of folk to solicit. Man what a pain in the clutch hand. Near Darien, CT I was done for the day. The 14-hour 500 - 800 mile days and holiday traffic of the day were taking their toll.
Day 14.
We decided to again get off the freeway for a while and motored through the Connecticut countryside down to I95. I was reminded of the couple of years between immigrating to the U.S. and my entry into the Air Force in 1965. The small towns were like those in Massachusetts where I lived and the narrow roads were the same. I remembered events from High School and learning to drive and so on. I told Laurie, when I called her later, that I felt uneasy here. I never got to the root of that but I did get close to it.
I noticed as my radio scanned for some hard rock station to listen to that there were many stations serving people speaking Russian, Spanish and other languages. In a McDonalds where Al had another moment, I noticed Portuguese being spoken. Still interesting to see so many people from all over the world continuing to view the USA as the place to be. I felt a connection to them remembering the days when my family was new in the country and completely taken in by "America" and all it had for us. Now I am 20 pounds overweight riding a motorbike for fun and there are people in the world starving or at war. I'm neither. I'm glad I live here with these newcomers.
We headed for Mystic, CT and experienced our first major miscommunication. Al and I discussed staying at the New London Navy base and then taking in Mystic Seaport. We also discussed doing the tourist thing first and then heading north so our ride to Madawaska, ME would be shorter. It wasn't firmly decided.
We got separated in traffic and I pulled over to wait for Al but he didn't show so I went on to Mystic figuring he would get there eventually. After a while I went in and toured the Seaport. Very interesting.
Al did show a couple hours later after securing a room at the Navy base. I mentioned I had located a campground at Hanscom AFB. He was up for that and went back to get his gear and money refunded. The folk there stiffed him for half his money. It was still cheaper to pay that and camp than stay overnight in his room but the treatment left a bad taste in Al's mouth - he'd had the room for less than an hour and had touched nothing.
The Air Force treated us well in contrast providing excellent directions and we camped in a great facility. After setting up we headed for the base proper to visit the Base Exchange. needed tooth paste. Getting onto the base was a lot of fun as the security guard wanted to chat about why two motorcycle geezers from Washington were in the area. When I told her she smiles and says "No way! What a neat trip!" and she salutes smartly. I've never returned a salute with a bike helmet on and bash my hand into it. We both laugh.
We dined in style at the Golden Dragon and then returned to the campground and some sleep. Al checked his FRS radio again and discovered it had finally dried out. We could communicate again!
Day 15
The Memorial Day holiday meant the freeway around Boston was virtually unoccupied. We made good progress and decided to get more two-lane time along the Maine coast. Kennebunkport, ME and all that in the area were worth the detour as was Portsmouth. It all smells of the sea and looks like Moby Dick ought to be mounted on a wall somewhere. We discovered the USS Albacore and stopped for a visit. Al explained she was a prototype fast attack submarine and now is on display for the public. Closed for the holiday unfortunately, but took some photos anyway.
The ride north to Madawaska was incredibly beautiful. At least I think so. There are few who live up in Northern Maine and the heavily treed countryside looks as if wild things live there. Once the freeway ends we are onto two-lane roads through towns supported by potato farming and forest based industries.
Everything is clean. No litter. Swept streets. Tidy residences.
We enter Madawaska and head for McDonalds. They get Al's order right. Some old timers there ask if we are on a 4 Corners Tour. We had been told the people here know about the tour and want to help riders out. Absolutely the case! It is also small town Maine and strangers will be encountered and investigated. One gentleman, learning we lived in Tacoma, WA told us he went through Fort Lewis during the Korean War and entertained us with tales of riding the troop train. He returned to Madawaska after the war and worked for the local paper mill for 38 years and then retired. We learned a lot about the local economy from him and chatted wih some of the other retired men who arrived to drink coffee.
We dropped our completed our 4 Corners paperwork into the mail box and headed to one of two motels in town. The proprietor informs us the town wants to erect a memorial to the 4 Corners Ride near the McDonalds because that is where we riders all seem to stop. They figure it would give riders a place to get the obligatory photo proving they were there. These folk seemed to get as much fun out of the ride as the riders do.
We are done - and it feels good to be done. All we have to do now is get back to
Day 16
In an instant of insanity 2 months ago I had planned this to be a 900-mile day with the destination being Sault St Marie. Wasn't going to happen. I set aside two days in the trip plan in case we got behind schedule or had a mechanical problem to resolve. They could now come in handy for poor planning. A 900-mile day early on would be no big deal but after 13 days it becomes a big deal.
We were on a two-lane road headed for the border enjoying the morning. Al dumped his bike in the only intersection of Matawa, ME. The road surface was covered in loose material used to patch potholes. I'm sure all 1200 residents will discuss this for days. A couple of guys helped him get it back up and both Al and his Concourse were unharmed and we split for the border.
The roads got bad after we entered Canada. Al later notes they have long winter and short summer with little time for maintenance. We rode a tough two-lane through lovely countryside up to the TC (Trans Canada) on the south side of the river. The weather was consistent with most of our trip, cold and wet. The wind was strong as well making for a workout keeping the ST on the road. Overall I like this bike but it has a shortcoming in handling gusty side winds. Most machines get moved around but this bike can be downright scary at times. I've messed with the suspension and tire pressure and I hope a change in tire may ease it a little. Not so bad I would part with "Ticket me Elmo" as it has been named by my son-in-law, but today it is getting on my nerves.
Our first gas stop was interesting. French is the official language and that is what people speak. I conjured up enough of what I learned as a kid in Montreal to get by but I regretted not being interested enough as a youth to really apply myself. Never the less I attempted to be other than an ugly American and use my French. It worked and I was pleased with myself though real happy I wasn't asked anything difficult.
My GPS has an auto routing feature and it had us routed through Montreal on major roadways. Somehow I disobeyed a directive it gave me for a turn and misdirected us off route and into foreign traveler mayhem rather quickly. Long story short - we entered downtown and got separated in the convolutions of roadwork and turns but eventually hooked up again. Glad we had radio communications.
I began to obey the GPS as it recalculated, and we began to make things right albeit through the downtown. I really enjoyed seeing things I recall from my youth. My family and I moved there from Scotland and I always have good memories of that time.
I must say the drivers in this city were absolutely considerate. If we turned on a turn signal they made a hole for us. On one mad moment I headed down a one-way street the wrong way. No big deal - they made room for me so I could pull over without all the horn honking and insults I would expect in a large city. One fellow actually waved at me and smiled kindly. Another time we were in a left turn only lane by mistake and the drivers behind us figured that out and indicated we could move over when the light changed. Simply made getting stupid on the other guy's turf acceptable. We had no time to call Jacques Dupuis but I do intend to write to him about our experience - maybe he can let his countrymen know we really appreciated their consideration.
Eventually we made it past Ottawa and to a campground for a shower and a good night's sleep. We covered 540 of our 900-mile goal and discussed the options for the rest of the trip.
The thought of two days recovery before we got back to work was appealing. We originally planned to head for Albert Lea, MN and then through South Dakota on secondary roads to visit the Badlands and maybe stop in Sturgis to see what the attraction was for all the Harley riders. To do that would get us home on Saturday. The option was to head for Duluth, MN and home via US Route 2. That would give us two-lane time and get us home Friday night. It was up to Al to decide how we would end this journey as I have been over both routes. He concluded he would rather have more time in South Dakota on another trip so we would go home through northern Montana.
Day 17
The traveling in Canada has been worth the investment of time. The TC takes us through very pleasant country that reminds us we are in a place populated by few humans. It is clean and the people are very friendly. The bugs are not. The riding is relaxing though and at this time I'm wishing we had more time to stop and investigate so many interesting things we have seen as we whizzed past on a daily mission to get the miles behind us. Ontario and Quebec are two regions we will have to return to.
The crossing into the US is uneventful. The fellow simply looks at me covered in road grime and my rain washed ST covered in miles of bug parts and asks where I'm headed and how long I've been in Canada. He's heard it before I suspect and before I can finish my tale he's walked around the bike and says "Ride safe".
We gas up and head for a McDonalds to see if they can keep up the trend of disserving Al but I blow past the only exit that has any services and before we know it we are on US 28 headed for Marquette, MI. 20 miles down the road we stop at a roadside restaurant and dine. After that we take advantage of the absolutely straight road, US speed limits and no traffic or LEOs, with a high-speed run to Marquette. This is again spectacular lightly populated country and the temperature is right for an evening ride. We stop by a scenic area alongside Lake Superior and take a photo or two and then locate a good Motel.
There is a 24-hour supermarket across from the motel and we buy some fruit and I introduce Al to Ginger Beer. I watch motorcycle racing on the cable while a load of laundry is completed so I don't have to go commando in my leathers any more. I sleep soundly.
Day 18
We head for Duluth through more interesting country. We enter a very pretty community called Wakefield and stop for some photos.
As we motor on I locate an AM radio station in Ironwood that has a talk show discussing the local history. Evidently there was a gold rush of sorts in this region. Locals would set up mining claims in the late 1800's and out of town folk would invest in them making the owners quite wealthy. Unfortunately for the investors the mines didn't produce much gold and things went bust eventually. Some silver was discovered but nothing much in terms of quantity. Lots of accusations of salting the mines but never proven. Any of the gold deposits worth anything seem to have been discovered by this one old fellow who was a lousy woodsman. Evidently he would be found over and over again half frozen or starving by people who would nurse him back to health. They put up with him because he was lucky as a prospector and kept their gold rush scam alive.
We make it to Duluth, MN and spend a couple hours at the Rider's Warehouse evaluating gear. Al orders an Aerostich suit as the brand he is wearing is disintegrating through the ride. It has proven hard to live with ergonomically too - especially in rest rooms - Al has been on the verge of catastrophe more than once.
I get directed to a motorcycle shop as I'm seeking a new helmet. Mine is hurting my ears and it is painful to put on and take off not to mention aggravating to wear. I purchase a flip front HJC Symax. It turns out to be an excellent helmet. Flip fronts are notoriously noisy. I own a German made variety that is considered very quiet but it does not work well with the turbulent air produced by my ST's windscreen. The Symax however seems to be made for this bike and the ride is more quiet that the old Shoei that I've worn on the trip.
We dine at Wendy's and head for Grand Forks AFB, ND and encounter a thunderstorm in Bemidji, MN.
Last summer I went through Bemidji when a tornado tore the place apart. This is less intense but I wonder if there is some topography that produces storms in this place. I discover my wonderful new helmet has a flaw - it leaks like a sieve.
We eventually make it to the base and set up camp before the insects devour us. Another good day.
Day 19
Our destination is Havre, MT about 650 miles away. The wind is furious with sustained 40 mph strength and gusts to 50 mph. It is fine as long as we head into it directly but when the road swings me sideways to it I get blown all over the place. More than once I take a high-speed sweeper with the bike vertical because of the wind. Al notes that he sees me motoring along with the bike listed about 20 degrees into the wind until I get mashed by a gust. It is OK as long as a gust doesn't hit as I can induce corrective pressure on the handlebars to keep the bike straight. Sudden gusts makes for a wild moments though.
The good part is I figure out how to use my knees and body to work like wind brakes or spoilers on an aircraft wing. I have more control but it is fatiguing to flop around like a monkey. We stop to rest a lot. Once through North Dakota we wake up from a nap to discover the wind has abated considerably. We make up a lot of time and get to Havre an hour before we expected to. My fuel economy improves. The wind caused it to drop to 38 mpg. It is up to 43 mpg. We have ridden through an Indian reservation and a wildlife preserve and I imagine the pre-white guy Montana to look something like it. Got a great look at a herd of antelope that must have had an interest in motorcycles - they just looked up as we rode past instead of running off.
I was stationed at an Air Defense Command radar site 50 miles north of Havre in the mid 70s. A lot has changed since the site closed a few years later and now revenue seems to come from Casinos and a railroad maintenance yard. Havre is still a wide-open Montana town though but with fewer saloons. I run into a woman working at the motel who was working as a civilian employee at the radar station when I was there. She fills me in on people she kept up with and some of the guys who retired in Havre. Another surprise of this trip. Felt good to catch up on people I worked with long ago and to chat with Dee again.
Day 20
We had 835 miles to do today to get home and left at 0600 for Shelby, MT and breakfast. We enjoyed clear skies, no wind, and great high speed riding. We hit a construction zone and they had just soaked the dirt part of the roadbed with some water-based goop to keep the dust down. I rode through 2 inches of muddy baby poop junk and covered my ST in a good bit of Montana dirt that dried almost instantly. What a mess!
After breakfast we rode towards Browning, MT and the approach to the Rockies. I stop to take some photos and Al continues.
This observes the farthest West Lewis and Clark got on this tributary outside Browning, MT
We hook up again in Kalispell, MT. A guy we met in Havre suggested we drop south along Flathead Lake and then across to St Regis on I90 via routes 28 and 135. We decide to follow his suggestion.
Incredible scenery. Incredibly good roads just right for a bike ride. Al and I get separated here and I wait for him by a roadside artesian spring with excellent water that I use to wash in, clean bugs off my headlamp, and put into my water bladder. Al doesn't show and I figure he stopped for a rest elsewhere so I continue on alone. I stop at some rest stops along the Interstate, as has been our practice during the trip, but he does not catch up. I quit with that as I still have 450 miles to cover.
Approaching Ritzville, WA I see a bike and sidecar up ahead and fall in behind. A woman is driving it and there are two helmets bobbing in the sidecar. She pulls into the gas station and out jump two kids in leathers and helmets. No mini-van for this gal!
It is cold going through Snoqualmie Pass but warms a tad on the down side approach to North Bend. I'm too late for the Starbucks in North Bend so gut it out till I get home. I pull in about 2200 hours. Laurie makes me some coffee and directs me to a shower - says I need it badly.
10, 857 miles completed in 15 days of riding. Average: 723 miles per day.
Observations:
Bike: The Honda ST1100 is a good tool for this kind of riding. It cruises at 80mph with ease and has lots of power for passing people. I usually got 50 mpg or better except when pressing 75 mph into a 40 mph headwind. The bike does not handle crosswinds well and those I know who say it does must be awesome riders or overly dedicated to their machine. The suspension is good overall but needs some attention for the kind of riding that the LA environment contains. The saddle is Ok, but I will put a custom job on it before the next long trip.
Clothing: I elected to wear leather pants that have built in armor in the knees, hips and thighs. They work well. I like the secure feel of them on the bike. The Aeroflow by BMW is a superb hot weather jacket as it keeps one cool if appropriately hydrated. I didn't use it much on this trip however. I took some Frogg Toggs for rain gear and they work well. I never got wet however stopping to put them on or take them off got to be a pain. They are fairly durable but do show wear marks where wind buffeting caused them to rub against my riding gear. I'll use my Aerostich next time. It is better long distance gear.
Camping: Bike camping is economical and fun and does not add a lot of time to departure activity in the morning. I'll plan on doing more of it next trip and retired military guys should look into the military Fam-Camp system. KOA's tend to be noisy and seem to attract terrorists with intestinal problems or people with a sick sense of humor.
Riding Buddies: I like to ride solo usually but Al and I do well together. He rides his ride and I ride mine with no complaints about not riding together. I would hate to ride with a guy who was glued to me or who depended on me to do the navigating. He does neither and he has stamina - most important.
I would not like to ride in a large group. We watched a couple of ride captains try to get everybody together at the same time to get on with their journey. In Virginia we saw the aftermath of a group ride calamity: Harleys all over the freeway. I guess one went down for some reason and the formation got caught up in it. Traffic backed up for miles. Not for me.
We planned every detail except how to contact each other when out of radio range. We would stop at a rest area to wait for the other but had no way of knowing if the other guy was ahead or behind. We plan on some form of Hobo sign to leave on future trips so if it is there the rider knows his buddy is ahead and waiting for him at the next rest area.
GPS. The Garmin V is excellent with its auto-routing feature. It got lost in North Dakota when the internal map didn't know US 2 had been altered. It recalculated several times and then declared I was lost. Kind of funny. It finally recognized where the internal map and my location coincided to conclude I was no longer lost. Sometimes it would direct us to an Interstate overpass thinking that would lead to an on-ramp. Mostly though it saved my bacon by automatically recalculating a route when I missed a turn in traffic. It is waterproof.
Radar Detector: The Escort 8500 detects LEO radar a long way off. . The audio works well with my AUTOCOM system. It isn't waterproof and drowns easily though. I tried a few things to minimize it getting wet. None worked very well so I have to find a solution.
FRS radios: They are vulnerable to rain despite what the manufacturer's say and the quality of communication is poor after a half a mile of separation. CB would be better and there is value in chatting with truckers. They can warn you of deer or tire alligators or a bad bit of road.
Tires: I decided on a fresh set of Bridgestone Excedra's. They have a few thousand miles left on them and I decided they did well for this trip mileage wise. They handled the wet freeway through Houston quite well. I'm tempted to try ME880s next - I hear they are good.
Stuff: I took too much stuff like clothing I didn't wear and not enough underwear. Air Pump: I procured a 12V-powered air pump in Wal-Mart. We used it a few times to keep tire pressure at optimum levels. A "good thing" as Martha would say.
Tank Bag: Marsee Tank Bags leak badly. Need a rain cover.