After backing my KTM out of his garage the next morning, I asked Ed to pose with his now classic BMW - the same one he'd had when we first met in 2001, and many years before. Now that's commitment. Though of course, the life he and Karen have lived together is a vastly superior example! I've said something to this effect before, but my plan for decades has been to surround myself with great people, in the hope that some of it would eventually rub off on me! Hope they don't feel used.
I'd gotten up at 6:30 Utah time, but didn't get off until almost nine. In my defense, there really was quite a bit to do. I checked and added some engine oil, lubed the drive chain, reinstalled my windscreen, and repacked all the gear I'd jettisoned for the trail to the rim and back. And I still had not decided what route to take home, so that necessitated the two of us pouring over the atlas for a while. Then Ed cooked up a hot breakfast!
On the plus side, 9:00 UT time is only 8:00 OR time, so that's not bad at all. I'd decided to start the day with a road I'd never been on before - hard to go wrong with that, right? This is Utah 21, a lonely and starkly beautiful 76-mile run between Milford and Garrison, on the Nevada border. Never heard of them? That's probably just fine with most of the locals.
After joining US 50, I followed it west to Eureka, NV, a great little Old West mining town, then turned north on 278 for 87 miles of nothing. Interstate 80 then brought me quickly to Winnemucca, where I headed north again, this time on US 95. Thirty one miles from my last fill-up, I turned west onto 140 (which leads to Oregon) and saw this sign. I was shocked! I couldn't remember if there was gas on the border in Denio Junction, when Dad and I passed through, but I was sure there was in Adel, OR. Hmm. One hundred seventy-nine miles plus 31 miles is 210. That's 10 miles over my limit. I still had about 15 miles worth of fuel in my aluminum canister, but that was cutting it close. There was a gas station several miles ago, at the last junction, but I wasn't sure if it was open. If I went back and it was closed, I'd have to go all the way to Winnemucca - a 60 mile round trip! What to do? Take a chance to save some time and daylight, or retreat, resupply, and play it safe?
I absolutely loathe backtracking for any reason, but it had to be done. Running out of gas in the middle of the high desert on a cold night did not sound fun. I turned the bike around and headed south again. Ten miles later, I found that the gas station was indeed open, and topped off my tanks. I was still anxious, however, until I finally reached the sign again, and calm was restored. By now though, it was nearly dark.
Reducing my speed and flipping on the auxiliary lights, I settled in for a long night. It was 110 miles to my next decision point, the old store and motel on the border. The last time I stayed there, the room next to ours caught fire, and the whole building had to evacuate! Much as I wanted a picture of the KTM parked in front of that memorable place, when the time came, I just couldn't do it. It was only 7:00, and the night was clear, and the stars were brilliant. There was no gas station, so there was no reason to stop. According to the map, it was 82 miles to Adel. There might be a place to stay there, I couldn't remember.
There wasn't. This is Adel. Well OK, there is one more gas pump in front of a small store, but both were shut down and dark. And this one only accepts special club cards. Neither my VISA nor MasterCard were recognized.
Very good thing I'd gone back to that last station before dark. I pulled out my trusty Sigg bottle and carefully poured it in. This handy fella has been with me since my first cross country motorcycle trip, way back in 1992! Then, it was strapped to the handlebars of my Yamaha XT600. Several bikes and countless miles later, it's never leaked a drop.
Only 30 more miles to Lakeview, and having already descended several switchbacks, I assumed the coldest part of the night was over. I was wrong. The temperature had remained above freezing so far, though not by much, but then I entered Warner Canyon. The mountains squeezed in, the road shoulders disappeared, and the readout on my dash dropped to 33 degrees, 32, 31, 30! I could feel the moisture in the air, so I knew that frost would be forming eventually. But I also knew that it had been a warm, sunny day, so I surmised that the blacktop was still above freezing. Regardless, I rode slower and slower, until the road finally opened up and straightened out again, near the junction with US 395.
Five more miles put me in Lakeview, OR, a real town of over 2,000 people! For the first time this trip, I actually had a choice of where to stay. The "Interstate 8" looked pretty inviting, with its covered and lighted drive up. Even at 9:00, there were rooms still available, and I could keep the bike parked there in front of the window all night. Where do I sign?
Restaurants were a different matter - all closed. The Safeway was still open for stragglers like myself, however, so I bought a deli sandwich, some chips, a drink, and a candy bar, tied the bag on to the bike, and headed back to the motel.
Oh yes, I left you hanging last time about my bum foot. Well, when I finally took off my boots at Ed and Karen's - after a ravenous late night visit to Arby's - it hadn't looked too bad. It hurt a bit more in the morning, though, and seemed a little swollen, but by now the damage had become even more pronounced. Note the obvious puffiness - you can clearly see all the veins in my left foot, but barely at all in the right. The bruising was also well under way at this point, especially in the middle toes.
The original plan had been to take another long Jeep trail on the way home. With my foot still looking and feeling worse each day, skipping it was obviously the right choice. It would make a good, mid-distance excuse to get my Seattle friend on a bike again in the spring. That's YOU, Jonathan.
I didn't hit the pillow until midnight. Very pleased that I'd covered nearly 800 miles that day, there were now two viable options for the last leg of the trip - 400 miles vs. 500 miles. A lot would depend on the weather in the morning. A heavy frost could delay my departure by hours. Touring in fall rather than summer did involve additional challenges.
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