Up just after 6:00, I dressed, packed, and headed downstairs. Surprised to find complimentary donuts in the lobby, I joined a few fellow lodgers, and took two for myself. The topic of conversation was Alaska, and I couldn't resist pointing to my bike, right outside the window, and interjecting in a matter of fact way, "I've been to Alaska on that."
After the gasps and questions died down, I was able to turn the focus to the weather, and asked the woman behind the desk if she could look up pass conditions for me on her computer. The most direct route home was via Willamette Pass at 5,128 feet. It had been clear on my way over, but frigidly winter-like. I was actually hoping she'd say it was snow packed and icy, so I could take the longer, southern route, and have a good excuse for riding in some new territory. But the report came back - open and dry.
Of course, it was hardly a nice, clear day, I thought, as I went out to check over the bike. It could easily be snowing up there by the time I arrived.
All looked well - just as I left it the night before. The engine oil was finally a bit low, however, so I extracted my full-synthetic 5W50 reserves from the rear of the right pannier, and topped it off. Super tough looking bottle holders from the adventure motorcycle websites cost over $100. That blue plastic one is from the bicycle section of Target. It's held my oil for six trans-continental passes now. But even more impressive was that most recent 52 miles of Jeep trail to the rim of the Grand Canyon and back. I still can't believe nothing fell off!
I left Lakeview, still not knowing which route I would take home. I had almost 100 miles to decide - all the way west to Klamath Falls. And for that entire time, the sun hid behind varying thicknesses of cloud, and the temperature hovered around the freezing point. Fortunately the roads were all dry - no frost, but the weather was making up my mind for me. The thought of heading farther north, and higher in elevation, was not at all a pleasant one.
I continued west at Klamath Falls, and within 10 miles of committing to that longer route, the sky turned blue and the sun came out! I believe this is the Klamath River, just before entering Keno on Highway 66. This was new territory for me, and I was loving it already!
From Keno, the climb began, and while I checked carefully for ice around each corner, this was obviously a dryer forest than the one around Willamette Pass. And traffic was largely nonexistent!
There are multiple passes along this route. Parker is not quite the highest, but it is more scenic. The fact that it's hundreds of feet lower than Willamette, and about 100 miles farther south, certainly made a difference this time of year in the pleasantness factor.
It was still quite cold, however, and as I returned to the bike, the couple in that SUV came over to ask if I wanted any coffee. Despite my disdain for the taste, I almost took them up on it!
Relieved at having dodged any bad weather or road conditions, I got out my new MP3 player, to enjoy some tunes on my way down the mountain. But it was dead! Fear not! One of the advantages this unit has over my last one, is that I can plug it in to the dash, running it off of the bike's electrical system. The other advantage, obviously, is that it's bright KTM orange!
The road through Cascade-Siskiyou National Monument was a delightfully twisty romp through the forest, but when the vegetation opened up near Ashland, things got even more technical. The curves were surprisingly tight and steep, as I threw the bike back and forth to keep it between the rocks and the drops. This one had been on my list for years, and I was elated to finally be trying it out.
While that looks like a lot of clouds, the sun was squarely on my back for most of the way. It felt so good, after being so cold for so long!
A few minutes later, I stopped for gas, before merging onto I5. Twenty miles farther, on the other side of Medford, a sign for Portland prompted a quick mental calculation. I could still make it home before dark!
The rain held off all the way through the race track of a freeway, between Grants Pass and Roseburg. At least that's what it feels like, when you're on a 100 horse power bike, and the vast majority of the traffic is slow-moving trucks. I'd forgotten how much the road snakes around through all the passes. It really is one of the most enjoyable Interstate rides in the country.
But when I crossed the Tillamook County line - yes, nearly exactly on the line - the rains came down. I stopped to put the cover on my tank bag, but decided to soldier through, without donning my complete set of rain gear. Just didn't want to take the time. I had a hot shower waiting for me, so I'd survive.
It never got that bad, and I pulled into my garage well before dark. That was a first! My spare front tire was still securely strapped around my tool box and gas can. Two thousand five hundred miles on it now, and it still looks brand new! Oh well, better safe than sorry, right?
After my shower, I took another look at my foot - and showed my wife. While it felt considerably better, the toes were looking considerably worse.
And there was a new bruise above my arch, which I hadn't seen at all before.
As I write this now, however, all is pretty much back to normal - though it did take a while. As for the bike, several of my luggage stickers are all scratched up. I had to reattach my battery charger leads, and clean out my front fork seals again. But otherwise, the bike is in good shape as well. Pretty amazing really - for both of us!
Oh yes, the gas smell out on the rim. It never turned up again. My best guess is that all the tough, slow going, on a fairly warm day, kept engine temps up - and therefore gas tank temps up. This caused a more than normal amount of fumes to be forced out the valves in the filler caps - that were designed for that very reason. A similar thing happens with the Kawasaki, when I park it in the sun all day at work. Without the relief valves, the pressure in the tank would build up to dangerous levels - not something you want between your knees.
Funny how the slightest irregularity can seem so dire when you're all alone and far from home. Of course, it could have been a major issue, along with any number of the other things I feared would happen, but didn't. What I scrawled in my notebook, out there on the rim, could very well be true. Perhaps, I should not have gone. But I'm sure glad I did.
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