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MotoGP Qualifying in Condon
"... a couple cattle guards and a herd of deer..."Reverend Bill:
On the final day home, we awoke to sunshine at the Condon Motel. I was up early to watch the MotoGP qualifying live in Mugello, and soon Reverend Chuck wandered over. He watched a few minutes of the penultimate motorcycle race class, then said, "Let's put a few cattle guards and a herd of deer on the track and see how these boys do."
The wheat lands of North Central Oregon are now growing a new crop: wind energy generation towers. Complete with an underground transmission grid, these towers offer a remarkable co-existence between agriculture and clean energy production. While a pocket of recreational property owners complain about the visual aesthetics, and some environmentalists have concerns about bird impacts, these wind farms are a big part of our future. Standing at the base of a tower, hearing the slow rhythmic swoosh of the blades, it was mesmerizing and beautiful. These towers are going up as fast as the industry can build them, and in fact tower parts were being transported by truck as we rode through the area.
A mediocre breakfast was consumed in Goldendale, and we were soon traversing the Yakima Indian Reservation northward to Yakima.
It was
Motel Rules
Don't clean your birds! 94F in Naches where we stopped for a cool beverage, and soon we were posing for the obligatory "Last Pass Portrait" at Chinook, our route satisfying the goal of slab avoidance.
The heavy traffic into Auburn was depressing, as we had enjoyed two-weeks of open roads. A final swapping of photo files in the Auburn Starbucks, and it was each rider off on his own. There was a certain oddness the last final miles home to ride alone after the routine of a constant riding partner.
The lawn at home was shaggy, the squeeze of my wife and daughter delicious, and the satisfaction of a safe and fantastic vacation is hard to describe.
The Dos Padres concept turned out to be more than a blogging theme. We would address each other regularly as Reverend, including in public. It affected how others sometimes viewed us, occasionally questioning us on our religious affiliation, etc. Reverend Chuck, whose belief system is more defined than mine, would field these questions in a thoughtful and friendly manner, opening doors and warming hearts. It became an avenue for others to open up to us.
No one asked about the fuzzy dice hanging from my
Prayer Flags
Reverend Chuck's room. top-box. Only a handful of people on the road asked about the plunger. Many noticed, few asked. Only one blog reader asked, and only after we cited it in a photo caption. As a perception test on the blog, you all failed. Either that or you found nothing unusual about a gaily pointed plumbing tool on such an outing. The story: the plunger was an accessory for the burning-man style bicycle I painted and took (and left) to Laguna Seca for the MotoGP race in 2005. We brought it along for fun, for whimsy, so we could say we'd brought everything except the kitchen sink, and when we found it, we would unclog the SOB. Actually, in the RV Park in Torrey, there was an opportunity to use it. No way, it was for ceremonial/decorative use only!
One of our riding routines that merits mention was our special hand signal. As it turned out, the mounting position of our respective GPS units obscured the dashboard indicators of our turn signals. Consequently, we would often neglect to turn them off after signaling. The one-finger salute, hand held to the helmet top was the cue: turn signal left on! This was
a regular activity for us both.
We did not earn any performance awards on this trip. In fact, the law enforcement officers we encountered were exceptionally helpful and friendly. (We hope to meet Detective Mile in SE Oregon someday for a little dual-sporting. Bruce too.) We generally rode within a reasonable margin of the speed limit, and passing through small towns, we always rode exactly at the posted limit. Chucks big GS and my smaller V-Strom are not the mileage monsters of my previous Honda ST1300 or Chucks BMW R1200RT. Both in cruising velocity and daily range, because these dual-sport have minimal fairings and windshields, the wind beats you up a little and makes you work for the distance. While 500 miles days on the road bikes are the norm, on these bikes a 250 to 300 miles day is plenty. And. of course, the ability to select campsite or roads off the pavement is the big pay-off. The bikes ran flawlessly.
The camping kit worked great. The woodsman pal, the parawing, the aeropress, the prayer flags, everything we needed was at hand. Hell, we had duct tape and zip ties. What couldn't we do?
Traveling with
Chuck Swesey was a delight, the degree of which I had no possible pre-conception. When you stumble upon a traveling companion with whom you have compatible tastes and sensibilities, you are fortunate. As to the riding, we have a similar sense of judgment as to risk taking, pace, riding speed, skill capability (nearly). Chuck's work as a riding instructor gives him an excellent framework to share pointers and make suggestions. I was able to learn to ride my dual-sport bike very comfortably off the pavement (even though we didn't challenge ourselves as much as we had expected in the dirt), as well as advance my road riding technique. Thanks, Chuck.
But beyond the riding, we shared tastes in humor, food, campsite selection, route flexibility, the entire pacing of a day's activity on the road. Chuck is a wise, compassionate person and our campfire talks were stimulating, insightful, and reflecting. I am fortunate and grateful to have Chuck in my life. Together, we had an incredible adventure. Thanks again, Reverend.
Reverend Chuck:
The day started with crappy coffee ( a first of the trip) and a shower at the friendly Condon Hotel. Out the door and down a few short
steps had me at Reverend Bills room. The feeling of sadness was as palatable as the steam in the restroom after my shower. We spent a few minutes watching MotoGP before we resumed the chore of packing up for the final leg home. It was weird this morning awaking without the familiar smell and crackle of the campfire. Without Reverend Bill offering the much needed cup of excellent coffee, the day was just off. I am not saying that sleeping in a room, alone, in clean sheets with a flushing toilet attached and electric lights is a bad thing, it was just different from what I had grown accustomed to, and it was, well, a bit lonely.
Soon we were on our way. the first turn was banked nicely, how ever it was about 60 feet from the rooms and in the middle of town and a 30 MPH zone (that we always respected… the town speed limits). The rest of the morning Blasting up 206 and 97 we passed the ever growing fields of HUGE windmills. Stopping for a photo op at these mammoths I was alone again. Reverend Bill was feeling as I was, we didn’t want
this adventure to end. He was hiding in the waving fields of wheat. After playing a round of ‘Marco Polo’ I let on that I had spied him. The road was wide open to Biggs Junction and Reverend Bill graciously waved me on to some wonderful high speed twistys. Far too soon we arrived for gas in Biggs. Next stop was breakfast in Goldendale. We declined an offer to enjoy a ‘pancake feed’ at the Bluegrass Festal. Thank you, maybe if it was Beardo and Spinner…
Soon we were approaching Chinook Pass and the snow packed fields around Mt Rainer. Motorcycles were certainly out in abundance today as we saw all manner of two wheel vehicles, including one Suzuki Burgman 650 festooned with Harley Davidson stickers… a final stop at Starbucks for a few words and a last cup then down I5 to where Reverend Chuck peeled off to home in Des Moines..and it was over.
A few final words about this trip. First some kudos to Reverend Bill for almost all the blog cast. Truly without the wit and wisdom he has you all would have been sleeping to this blog. Also he had the humility and
tolerance to listen and accept a few. very few suggestions from Reverend Chuck. Also to route planning: Reverend Bill was a master of small back, almost deserted roads, and occasionally having the patience to wait for Reverend Chuck to realize he had taken the wrong road and come back. There was some take away when Reverend Bill decided to stop along a section of twistys, just after a car passed Reverend Chuck.. causing more grey hair… But truth be known, without him, I might still be out there, maybe in Mexico by now.. Hummm.
I want to tell you all that this trip was conceived, planned for and set off upon with hopes that two men who were really just casual motorcycle friends, OK semi-related to each other, could get along for more than a couple days. I had my faith and hopes. What transpired is I grew to very much respect and enjoy Reverend Bill. I found his company very enjoyable, even when soaking wet and disappointed (I regret that I did not turn in to Kava Coffee) Reverend Bill's skill in the twistys and with the AreoPress was always right on time. He brought wonderful music (Thanks
also to Beardo and Spinner) and about 1/3 of the coffee we needed. Always present with a kind word and allowed me to really relax. I knew with his map skill we would never be too lost (it helped that my gas tank was larger as well). I was grateful to learn more of who the man is, and am deeply honored to call him a very good friend. I look forward to our next adventure in the saddle .. or the tattoo shop. I hope you have enjoyed our trip. I know we did!
Thanks to Dana for the loan.
Blessings to you all,
Reverend Chuck
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Brian T
non-member comment
Thanks for sharing!
Thanks guys for sharing this adventure with us. It was great traveling vicariously with you for the past 2 weeks! Congratulations on a safe and memorable journey.