Photos Photos Photos

I've created a slide show of about 150 or so of the best images taken along the way from NY to LA. Click the link below if you want to have a look:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/djeldon/sets/72157594538807545/show

(Until the other shoe drops) I'm staying in LA

I haven't posted in a while because I've been making plans and trying to get all this to work out, but now that I have an idea of what's going on myself I can write a little about what's happening. I have made arrangements to remain in Los Angeles through the winter. Some of you may recall that I have attempted this feat before and ran back to NYC after only a month (I was screaming a little while running it's true, but that was 10 years ago).

Then I had wanted to try one last-ditch effort to make it as an actor (actually I wanted to be a movie star). The town was so full of people who were so full of shit I went back to NYC where when people don't like you they tell you so (unlike LA where they smile if they like you, smile if they don't - to them it's all the same).

Now the difference is that I am here to write my second novel (missed the first one? That's because it's not published yet, but I've got an agent who is very interested in representing it so I'm hoping to see that book hit the shelves sometime before I turn 50). And writing a novel in LA is great because no one cares, and no one here can do anything for me, so they make no promises, and they have no reason to lie to me, and even if they do, it doesn't matter because I don't need them for anything anyway.

This second book is set in Los Angeles, and so given the choice of riding back to NYC for the winter or staying in warm, sunny LA and writing my next book - well which would you choose? Exactly.

So I get to live out yet another dream I've had for years, living in LA (actually, this is more about having the courage to leave NYC and find out just who I am without the comforts of the city I grew up in, my family, my friends, all the things I've come to know and depend on to feel secure).

I was briefly in NYC last week. I saw some of you and not others, I'm sorry I didn't have more time or I would have seen everyone. I plan on flying back to NYC at least once before the end of 2006, so I'll let people know about that trip ahead of time and will try to see more people when I'm in town again.

The plan now is to write the initial draft of this second novel and ride back to NYC in the spring. As always the plan changes regularly, so for now, I'm here in LA writing and enjoying myself greatly - the rest will unfold with time.

Sorry I haven't taken any photos so there's none to post (I know they've been a big hit).

Last thing - I'm thinking about writing another blog (I think this one should go on hold until I'm on the road again as the idea here was to write about my road trip and though I'm on a trip, it no longer involves the road). I don't know if it would be of interest to people to read a blog about writing a book (though I know other writers do it). And also, I'm fairly guarded about my writing when it's in the early draft stages - I don't want to be influenced or anything by stray comments on the work. Perhaps I could blog about the process itself, but would anyone care to read that? Let me know.

If nothing else this blog has been fun and I'm sure another would be a blast as well (I just think these things can be a bit self-indulgent - and I'm already self-indulgent enough these days, don't'cha think?).

Till then ...

Not to worry

Yes - it's true, I am still in Los Angeles. The plan (which evolves daily) is to stay through the end of September and complete the re-write of my novel (and so far the writing is going very well, I must say).

There are a number of obvious questions that arise from this and if I had all the answers, I'd tell you. But for now, I'm safe and sound, writing everyday and enjoying the weather (though they say it may rain a week from Wednesday, but that's a long way off).

I have a photo (because I know how much everyone loves the photos) - don't know that it compares with the others from this trip, but it's what I've got.


Last thing - I received an anonymous comment the other day (I've gotten a few of them, but can usually tell from whom by the comment itself, this appears to be from someone I don't know).

They asked what I was searching for. I thought this was an interesting question, though the answer seems fairly obvious to me.

I'm searching for what every lonely, wandering, biker on a trip across America is searching for - myself.

Staying put in Los Angeles (for now)

Hey - I'm still here in sunny LA, loving the down time and resting up for the trip home. The bike will be spending some quality time with a local mechanic most of tomorrow, getting fixed up and checked out before we take to the road again for the 4,000 mile trip home. I've not posted because I'm not riding, but I've heard from a few people who wanted to know what was going on and figured I'd throw this info up here.

So, I've caught fire rewriting my novel over the past 2 days and I've decided to stick around here and complete the rewrite. Also, after 4 weeks, 7,000 miles, and 2 mechanical breakdowns, I think it's a good idea for me to take an extended break from the road for now. And honestly, I'm not looking forward to the road right now - it's a long lonely stretch from LA to North Carolina, where I won't see anyone I know for probably 2 weeks or so.

There is Sedona, AZ and Austin, TX which I'm looking forward to seeing, but if I've learned anything on this trip it's that the road can be a lonely place (and I'm usually a stranger in a strange land out there). So it's good for now to stay in a place where I know people and my way around town.

I'll head home at some point in the next few weeks (don't worry, I'm not staying out here forever), and, of course, I'll be blogging again once I'm back on the road (with photos and everything!). Until then everyone, take care of yourselves.

Later

San Francisco to LA in a Day

So here's a few shots I took while in SF (I've finally got a good enough internet connection so I can get these up here).

Also - a little bit of a post on my ride from SF to LA. The coast was foggy yesterday, but still dramatic. I've finally gotten the hang of those corkscrew turns (man it wasn't easy cornering that bike with all my gear, but I think I've figured out the outside/inside/outside maneuver of cornering).

One small incident, while parking in Big Sir for lunch, I dumped the bike over. Not good, but not really all that bad either. I have a slight bruise on my leg and the bike got fairly dinged up. Nothing that can't be fixed, but I'm not happy about how the bike is faring overall on this trip. I made it down to LA and am taking her in to a shop here to have her looked over and make sure she's OK before pushing on.

But right now I'm warm and happy in the LeShay house (great good friends here in LA), and not thinking much about the last leg of the trip back to NYC.

And here are those San Francisco pictures:

The Long and Winding Road

The ride down to SF began with the weather a bit warmer than the past few days, but I still put on the longjohns, turtleneck, leather jacket, and full-fingered gloves. The sun was shining bright as I rolled out of Fort Bragg.

Here's the thing about riding the CA coast, which is very different from the OR coast. First, whoever laid out the coast highway in CA was either a motorcycle rider himself, or he was high on something and couldn't see straight.

These roads have so many curves I was almost never entirely upright. It's just left and right, left and right, the whole way down the coast. The other major difference between the two states is the CA coast ride h as a lot less trees, and those that are there are generally on the other side of the road, so the coastline, the wonderfully jagged, wily coast is there for all to see. Maybe it has to do with Californians love of the automobile that the drivers are given the advantage of the fabulous view. In Oregon the view is mostly hidden from the road, you have to want to hike to it to really see it. Not so in CA.


These photos give you a little idea of what I mean as far as the view. All these shots were taken either from the road or from a little drive to an offshoot of the main road (because this boy is a lazy tourist).

After rolling along for a 100 miles or so, stopping of course to take a few pictures, I pulled into a small deli called the Bodega Bay Deli (Bodega Bay being the name of the town). Purely by coincidence, this was the town where Hitchcock apparently shot exteriors for The Birds. The spot where this deli is was used in the film though the original building was razed and a newer one (though not all that new anymore) was built. It was on CA-1 off Taylor Street.

Anyway, I only learned this while I was waiting for the guy to make my sandwich. There's a photo of what the place used to look like along with an ad of the film, torn from a newspaper, where you can see the deli down the street.

I ate my sandwich in the parking lot and kept my eye on those pesky birds, but they didn't get out of hand. While munching my sandwich, a woman came over to me and said, "you didn't really ride that thing all the way from New York, did you?" I wanted to say, no I carried the fucker on my back, of course I rode it ya dope. Instead I just said, Yeah ... I did. To which she said, "I always wanted to do something like that." We talked for a bit, I told her how I'd come out, and she asked if I'd seen much rain. Another guy came over a minute later and asked about my ride and had I seen any rain. People in California are very concerned with precipitation it seems.

Later, as I was rolling further south and enjoying the view, while dealing with the corkscrew roadway, the temperature got warmer, reaching into the 80's. It was hot, but then there was some shade and a breeze was fairly constant off the ocean. When the coastline dropped away as the road turned inland, the temperature went even higher. At one point I saw a sign that said it was 94 degrees. I was sweating then. But I kept the gear on as I didn't feel like stopping again before getting to SF. I was only about 40 miles away or less at the time and thought, let's just get there and be done with it.

Somewhere about 20 miles or so before San Francisco I lost sight of CA-1. I'm not sure if they stopped posting signs, or if I missed a turn, but I knew I was heading south and would eventually pick up CA-1 or US-101 again, or at the very least see signs for the Golden Gate Bridge. I saw a sign for US-101 South and got on that. By now it was well into the upper 90's, and I was thinking, man ... people are always complaining about how cold SF is and they are nuts.

I've never seen anything like this before in my life. I could see the city and the famous bridge while sweating my ass off, but as I turned the corner on the approach to the bridge, the temperature dropped from the 90's to about 65 degrees and windy, BAM! ... just like that. It was as amazing as the view itself.

I, of course did not get a photo of the bridge as I was too busy riding it and taking in all the sights. Besides, if you haven't seen the thing you can always google an image of it, I'm sure there are more than a few out there for free.

Now the bridge is spectacular to drive over, especially with the abrupt change in the weather. Also, all the people suddenly appear as does the city itself. And I have to say it is a pretty fabulous view of the city from the bridge.

Of course, I'm a New Yorker, and only a little bias, so I thought the bridge was great, but not as good as the Brooklyn Bridge (or the Charles Bridge in Prague - that was awesome as well). And it's red, I always thought it was painted gold (it is called the Golden Gate Bridge, after all ...). I guess that's just a figure of speech.

OK so now I'm in the city and I get the complaint about the weather. It's damn cold for August, and only moments outside the city it's hot as hell. So that's what it's like to build a city right on the ocean. Also, the thing about the fog, I saw none of it yesterday and only a little fog today, but none of it in the city itself, so I either lucked out on the fog front or these people are just whinners.

I settled right in and found my way around, but I have to say for a city, finding food after 10 pm was a little problematic the first night. I'm either missing the right late-night hood or these people go to bed way too early for city folk.

I had a great day on Thursday wandering around the city. The day started off with a phone conversation with a big literary agent who read my novel (I recently wrote a novel - for those who didn't know). This guy came from a connection through my great good friend, Melanie, who is determined to get this book published. So after talking with the agent this morning for about half-an-hour (he liked the writing, thinks there are a few things that need to be clarified, gave me specific notes, and we'll be talking again after he reads the next draft), I floated around the city, sort of in a daze, as the gravity of the situation with my book sunk in.

Lunch was had in this terrific little cafe, a place that has been with the same owners since it opened in 1956, Cafe Trieste. There were great old photos on the wall of famous people who'd been there (Bill Cosby was in a few, Francis Ford Coppola and others). The place reminded me a little of Cafe Reggio on MacDougal street in the Village.

Shortly after I left the cafe, by absolute chance I stumbled upon City Lights Books. This is the famous bookstore and publisher who published and promoted the Beat writers (Kerouac, Ginsberg, Burroughs, etc.). As I'm a fan of Jack Kerouac it was a perfect moment, given what had transpired only a few hours earlier (I know having an agent say they think the book would sell if I worked on it more isn't actually getting it published, but it's a lot further along then it was last week - actually, he said it was a 7 on a scale of 1 to 10, but it could easily be a 10 if I worked on it a little more.)

I spent an hour or more just browsing (and yes I bought 2 books, even though I have no room for them - but I'll make it work). It was a great way to spend the afternoon. I wanted to stay and get a job there and rework my novel and start on the next one, and be like Jack Kerouac living off my writing and dying broke and a drunk in Northport, Long Island (ok ... all but the last bit about dying and being broke on Long Island).

I took close to 100 pictures of the city (and if my damn lousy internet connection will cooperate, I'll get them up here). This is a fun town, the architecture reminds me a lot of Brooklyn, NY actually (funny ... Seattle reminded me of Tribeca, architecturally speaking, lots of warehouse/loft type structures with large windows).

So that's my report from beautiful San Francisco. I'll be heading down to LA on Friday and then hanging there for 4 or 5 days. I think I need to be somewhere I know, with people I know and stop driving so much for a little while. I need to go for a run and to the gym, eat some decent food and just relax. Then I can figure out how the hell I'm going to get back to NYC.

I'll probably not post again for at least a few days. If I get any good shots along the rest of the coast ride Friday, I'll post those, but look for a post from me sometime 5 days out or so for certain.

Last thing - the weather in SF is strange, I see why people complain about it. Today I was dressed for low 70's and while walking up these hills, in the sun I was sweating, then I'd hit a shady street and a cold wind would blow and I'd get a chill. This went on all damn day. It's goofy. Oh, yeah ... these hills, damn my knees are killing me. This is one hilly place, I swear I almost scraped my nose on the sidewalk a few times and I was just walking straight up. Here when they say, I'm going to walk up the street, they really mean UP the street.

Take care.

California, Here I Am!

There's something about making it to California today that made me feel like this trip is already half over. I've surpassed the 6,000 mile mark and I would think this is probably the half-way or further point.

Let's start with last night. I had a dream that I was suddenly back in NYC. I had flown back for some unknown emergency, thinking at first I could complete the second half of the trip later, but then I realized that I was back on the east coast and would have to drive back to the west coast to finish off the second part of the trip. In the dream I was disappointed that I hadn't thought of that before returning to NYC.

Needless to say I was happy to wake up in Oregon and find that I hadn't miraculously transported back to New York. And here's what I found when I hit the road this morning. Lots of cloud cover, but the air wasn't quite as cold as Monday morning, in fact I was a bit overdressed and had to shed my jean jacket (which I was wearing under my leather). I kept the full fingered gloves and turtleneck on all day though, as it wasn't warm enough to drop all my gear just yet.



Rolling along the Oregon coast on US-101 goes something like this: two lane blacktop stretched out through a corridor of tall pine trees with a canopy of clouds overhead. The road twists and turns as it climbs to elevations of 1,000 feet or so. The trees give way to cliffs and a view of the beach. Huge rocks sit just along the coast line.

Giant pieces of driftwood litter the beaches. The wood bleached white from the sun or saltwater or both, so that they look like the bones of Mastodons. Something like this photo below:

After the peak you drive down the elevation, almost to sea level. Then the corridor of trees returns and you glimpse only snatches of water and rocks through the trucks of pines. Occasionally the clouds break apart and allow the sun to bring a little warmth to the day.

This goes on for about 300 miles, with small breaks in between when the coast line gives way to towns. The largest town I went through in OR today was called North Bend. It's one of the few towns where the logging industry still holds stronger than the tourist trade. I could smell the clean, clear odor of fresh chipped wood as I approached the southern end of town. Most of the other towns now rely on tourists more than anything else to survive. They are littered with RV parks and boast hunting and fishing to keep from going under entirely. It looked as if most were doing a fairly good business.
I left Oregon and entered California with little fanfare. There wasn't even a "Welcome to California" sign. There was a "Welcome to Crescent City", that and the fact that my potato salad had olives in it was how I knew I'd made it to the final state on the west coast leg of my trip.

After lunch I made my way further south on US-101. The trees suddenly turned from regular thin trunked pines to the more massive Redwoods. The sun had came out and the temperature reached close to 70's degrees for the first time in days.


Now I had heard about these Redwood trees for the past few weeks from just about anyone who I told about this trip. "Oh you'll love the Redwoods," everyone would say. The Redwoods, the Redwoods, the Redwoods. Nothing is ever how you think it will be. I remember thinking the Oregon coast ride would be spectacular, and I have to say I was a little disappointed with it overall. I think the cold weather was a surprise and I was a bit cranky for much of the OR coast ride, so didn't enjoy it as much as I thought I would.

As for the Redwoods, I thought at first they were a bit overhyped. Big trees, yes ... but they didn't really knock me out. Of course, I was not looking very well. First, I thought the area of Redwoods was larger, so when I reached the end of the Redwood Park, I thought something must be off. I pulled in at the southern end of the ranger station and found I'd just about drove the entire length of the park. So I decided to turn around, even though I hate to backtrack.

I drove back a few miles to the Lady Bird Johnson site and got off the bike. I didn't go too far into the site because there was a sign at the parking lot that said to take your valuables with you and lock your car door. As I can't do either of those things, I hoped for the best and walked a bit into the area to see the big trees up close.

Well, I can say this about the big trees ... they are big. But more importantly I noticed how very still and quiet the area was (when I stopped walking and chomping on my gum). I stood there and felt the silence for a few minutes which was very nice. I popped a few photos and got back to the bike. I did get a shot of the famed Banana Slug, almost on a fluke. I had seen the little guy while taking other photos, then read what it was and went back to take his picture. Ugly, slimy little sucker, isn't it?

OK - so that was my first foray into the Redwood Forest. Next up I drove a few more towns south and finally found one of those "Drive through a Redwood" attractions. I pulled into the parking lot and found a little sign that said $1.50 per person, drop your money in the slot. So I dropped 2 bucks in the slot ('cause I'm a big spender) and drove to the driveway the arrow pointed me to. I drove through this falling over redwood stump held up with guy wire. I wanted my 2 bucks back, but there was no one to complain to about it, so I got back on the highway and forgot about it.

I thought that was it for the Redwoods and felt a little cheated. Little did I know that there were many more Redwoods waiting for me further down the road. Some 75 miles later I came across the Avenue of the Giants, a road that runs parallel to US-101 with huge Redwoods to the left and right as you ride along on a narrow 2-lane road. This is what I thought Redwoods should be. I pulled over at a couple of points and popped some shots. Here's one with me underneath one of these big bastards. Nice tree ... big tree.

It wasn't as quite by these trees, since the highway was fairly close by, but it was a good ride just the same.

Now for the fun part. Here's where I've still not learned to just settle down when the motel room getting is good. I got back on US-101 after about 25 miles of the Avenue of the Giants. At the small town of Leggett, I pulled onto California-1, the Coast Highway. I quickly drove off Highway-1 into Leggett to find the drive-through a tree bit again that was supposed to be much better than the last one I tried. Unfortunately they were shut for the night, so I went back to Highway-1. Heading south on 1 at 7:15 pm with the sun hanging low in the sky, I saw a sign that basically said curvey road, 35 mph, next 22 miles. So with half-a-tank of gas and little daylight left, I forged on ahead like Ralph Kramden on the "$64,000 Question".

The road was a great exercise in motorcycle maneuvering. There were turns suggested at 10 mph (and after the first time I scrapped my floorboard on the pavement, I paid better attention to the suggested speed limits). I thought of it as practice for the upcoming Tail of the Dragon road in Tennessee (318 curves in 11 miles).

Doing that kind of driving as evening approached, with 150 pounds of gear is no way to ride, but I figured it was better then turning around (Leggett didn't have a motel, so I would have had to go back some 50 miles or more ... and did I mention I hate to backtrack?). I got the hang of it quickly and enjoyed the ride for the most part, until it got dark. I was a little worried because earlier in the day I noticed that my passing lamps (the smaller white side lights that are not required, but help give more light then just the standard headlight) had lost their ground connection and were no longer coming on (this happens after a while with these lamps apparently).

So I had only the standard headlight that most bikes have. Though I have to say, once the sun went down, I was the only idiot biker out there. But stupidity sometimes pays off ... this time in spades. First, the full moon popped out at me as I came up a rise, beautiful and majestic. Then I could feel the dampness and smell the sea before I actually got around the curve and up over the rise, but once the trees gave way to the vista, I had a great view of the ocean cliffs at twilight. Then the full moon peaked out from the mountains to the east and I was loving every moment of that ride. Evening coast line to my right, full moon on the left.

Of course, I passed through 2 towns with one motel each and they were both booked. I pinned my hopes on the town of Fort Bragg. As it was completely dark out now and I was trying to stick to the road, I prayed that Fort Bragg was a town of thousands with big comfy, warm motels and lots of vacancies. It turns out to be a town of about 6,000.

The first place I saw that had a vacancy sign lit, I pulled in. It was an Ocean View resort and the guy at the desk said the only room he had left was $180 for the night. The girl at the counter said if I went into town (oh - there's more to this burg than just these few resorts lining the beach?) I'd find something with a lower price.

Lo-and-behold, I arrived in the town proper and there was not only a motel, with a vacancy, but there was an adjoining restaurant that was still serving for the next hour. I got me a room, took me a long, hot shower and dropped myself into that restaurant booth for a dinner of fish and chips with a little salad even.

Fort Bragg, my savior town is within spitting distance of San Francisco (I've already booked me 2 nights in a motel in SF), but I'll be taking the slow route on Highway-1 along the coast tomorrow, just for the fun of it. My only regret was that I didn't get to see about 50 miles of the coast line in the daytime, but I'm sure there's still plenty of it to be had.

Well, this turned into a long day (and a long post - which I hope was better than yesterday's, that was a little lame as I was cranky and lazy after the cold ride). But it was certainly a good day and tomorrow promises to be even better.

Last thing - road signs in the past few states have been funny. Yellow quadrangular signs that have one word, "Deer", "Elk", "Trucks", "Congestion" (should I cough?), or my favorite, "Rocks". At least there's been no major road work (I've seen some, but it's been fairly easy to get around, no pilot cars and long wades through piles of dirt. I've been on pavement all day, thank goodness).

See you in San Francisco!

It's Really Cold Out Here

The high for the day was like 64 degrees ... fahrenheit. This morning I rolled out early to try to make up a bit for yesterday. I was on the road by 9:30 am, but it was only about 55 degrees, cloudy and damp. I hate that. Like the dope I am I didn't bring along a pair of cold weather gloves, so my fingers and knees were cold all day. But at least it wasn't raining. Cold is one thing, but cold and wet is the worst way to ride. So I am thankful for no rain.

After a few hours the clouds moved over and let some sunshine down on me, which was nice while it lasted. Most of the day was cloudy with spots where the sun shone. I grabbed a few photos of the coast which is pretty, even with the goofball weather. But seriously, whose dumbass idea was it to come to a place so cold in August?

I crossed the 45th parallel again today, but didn't stop to take a picture as I have one already, so you'll just have to take my word for it this time (and really, why would I lie?).

One of the great things about traveling along the coast is the food. I had fish and chips for lunch which was very good, fresh cod.

Just before lunch I had a little freak thing happen. I was cold and a little tired and hungry (I'd gone a bit too far again, should have stopped for lunch 3 towns back), and my right leg had been achy all day. So when I got off the bike to gas up, my knee hit the key (which I had taken out of the ignition and put in the gas cap lock on the top of the tank). I didn't realize what I'd done until I tried to fit the key into the ignition again. The damn thing was BENT. I bent the ignition key when I bumped it with my knee. What a silly thing to do.

And here's the ironic part of all this: Before leaving NYC, I had a whole long debate with myself and a conversation with Lauren about leaving my spare keys with her, so I wouldn't loose them and she could FedEx me any of them I might need. Thankfully she said to just take them and I followed that advice. So I got the spare key out and started the bike up and moved it away from the gas pumps. By monkeying around with the original key I was able to straighten it out enough to get it to work again in the ignition, so short term problem solved.

Oh yeah - I hate gassing up in Oregon. They are the only other state (NJ being the other one) in the country that doesn't allow self-service gas pumps. It's some workers rights thing, but with a bike I'm not about to let some monkey pump gas all over my paint job. They didn't argue with me about pumping the gas, but I had to hand the kid my credit card so he could slide it through the slot to activate the pump, like I can't do that myself. Why don't they just go fill up a Hummer and leave the bikers to themselves?

It's the cold, I know it makes me irritable. I should just relax, but I'm from New York and don't know how.

OK - enough on that. Here's something I liked today. I rode through a town called Yachats and they had these little flags on the lampposts throughout the town that read, "la de da" and then had Yachats on the bottom. I guess that's the town motto, "la de da". It made me smile.
Of course, I should have stopped in Yachats for the night, but I waited too long to find a motel room, I don't know why I get into this thing where I think I can make the next town before packing it in for the day. Today, the next town turned into 2 towns and the last one was 25 miles away, and took 40 minutes to reach. But I found a good motel, had a bath to soak my cold, damp, achy bones, then found a place across the street for dinner (they were just closing up at 9 pm, but let me order anyway). Baked salmon and rice, not bad.

So that was basically my day. Tomorrow looks to be about the same as far as the weather goes. I'm looking forward to more great scenery along the coast and am excited about seeing the Redwoods as well. But I don't know how people come out here to the OR coast for summer vacation. It's too damn cold for me. Any idea when it gets warm again on this route? Let me know.

Last thing - I have been meaning to answer a question Guthrie asked in a comment he made back when I was stuck in Wyoming. It was about people's reaction to my being from NYC. Most people are interested that I've come all this way from NYC. It seems the further west I am, the more fascinated people are that I've driven out here on a motorcycle. I don't know that they like me, but they sure are intrigued by the idea of the trip.

See you in California.

Seattle Stories

Posting from the Fog Belt town of Forks, WA. along the 101 highway. I was hoping to make it through the entire Washington state coastline today, but I got started later then usual and when the temperature dropped in the Olympic National Park, I figured it was time to pack it in for the day and get me a room.

The earlier part of the day was spent in Seattle, but let's go back even further to Saturday. After my last post (if you've not read Saturday's post below, you should), I walked the streets of Seattle, and took more photos (here's a few of them now):

Later, I met up with my friend Lance who took me over to Georgetown, a cool little industrial neighborhood where many of Seattle's artists are apparently moving to these days (though none of these images aree of Georgetown, they're all from the downtown and immediate surrounding areas).

Seattle is a great city, and a great city to photograph. I had such great fun trying to capture images of this town. It was a little difficult to get what I wanted given the limitations of my camera, but I got a few shots I'm happy with.



So in Georgetown, Lance and I met up with Robin (his wife) their 2 daughters and a friend named Tim. We had pizza, the first time I've even attempted pizza since leaving NYC. I have to say it was pretty good. But more importantly, it was great fun just hanging around a pizza shop, talking tattoos, addiction, the pressures of growing up, and life in general, while listening to a fantastic jukebox that didn't hit one bad song all night.
Afterwards, Lance gave me a ride back to my hotel and we had a great talk about events in our lives, and how we're dealing with things in general. It's always good for me to have a little one-on-one time with someone who grapples with some of the same issues I do. I always find something of myself in the struggle of others, which is why it helps when I listen as much as I talk. Lance gave me a terrific quote, which I think goes like this ... "never miss an opportunity to keep your mouth shut." I should get that tattooed on the inside of my eyelid.

My Seattle adventures didn't end there. Sunday morning I hooked up with my great good friend Melanie's cousin Chris and his wife Sarah and their two young kids. We met at Glo's (I was told I had to eat breakfast at Glo's by Lance's daughter, McKenzie. She works there, though not this Sunday, but she said I had to go there and have the eggs benedict - when in a new town, I do as I'm told by the locals. I can report the eggs benedict at Glo's on Olive Way is damn tasty, if you're ever in Seattle ...).

After the wait for a table, the eating of the food and the talking in between, Sarah said we should ride over to West Seattle so I could check out where they live. I followed them on the bike over the bridge and in 10 minutes we went from the middle of the city to a nicely done lakeside town. This city is great for this kind of thing. It's large enough to have the right energy of a city, yet small enough that you can get to a wide range of landscapes quickly. In NYC you'd have to drive an hour or more to get to the kind of beach we walked along today so quickly. I suppose I might get a little bored with the smallness of the city after a while, but on a visit it seemed like a damn good place to hang around and there's enough diversity to keep things interesting for at least a while. If I ever voluntarily disappear, you can check Seattle if you want to find me ... I might hide out there.

OK - so now it's mid-afternoon and I say my goodbyes and jump back on the bike, shoot back to the hotel and collect my gear (they were nice enough to hold my stuff for me so I didn't have to worry about parking the bike somewhere and having my gear ripped off).

I rolled out of town around 2:30 or so and headed south on I-5, down to Olympia, WA, then onto US-101 North to go up to Port Angeles, a pilgrimage of sorts as Raymond Carver, the great short story writer lived there. I am a big fan of his stories and thought if I'm this close to where the man lived and wrote, I might as well drive through to get a sense of place. Besides, US-101 is going to be my road for the next week and I thought I might as well take it from the very beginning.

The ride through lake towns and mountains was just beautiful. The temperature dipped from 80 degrees to down around 65 at one point. Luckily, I had on my new woolen long johns (though I was a bit overdressed in the earlier part of the day, I was glad to have them on throughout the late afternoon and into the evening).

For the next week or so I'll be in cool weather, probably the coolest of the entire trip with daily highs along the coast of WA, OR and northern CA only getting into the mid-60's (which means I'll be riding along with some 50's earlier in the day and then again later on in the early evenings). But this promises to be some of the most beautiful scenery of my whole trip. The Oregon coast, down into California should be awesome. Then in CA, I'll go through the Redwoods (which I've not seen) as well as San Francisco (which I've also not seen before), so I'm looking forward to the next few days of riding.

That's about it for now. Be sure to check out the below post if you haven't already, it recounts my last day in Montana, my days in Spokane, the trip into Seattle and my first few hours there, as well as some more photos.

Last thing - I took this shot today in the town of Eldon, WA. A while back I was in a town called Douglas and saw a similar sign, I regretted not taking a picture then, so I turned around when I saw this one and figured it was a must have. And for those who may not know this, the D in DJ stands for Douglas, while the last name of Eldon, stands for Eldon. A few minutes up the road from here I stopped for gas and took a leak, so I took something from there and left something else behind (I know you didn't need to know that ... but it's done).

The next post will be from somewhere along the Oregon coast. Til then ...

The Overdue Post From The Coast

I'm posting from a Starbucks in Seattle, WA (it seemed like the thing to do, given the history of coffee places, Seattle, blogging, wifi, and all). This means I have made it across the country, from east to west coast in under 3 weeks! (with a few north / south detours, not to mention those few days where I had to recover ground in Wyoming ... but we'll not talk of those days again). I've also gone more than 5,000 miles in my journey thus far. If the bike keeps running all the way back to NYC, I may clock closer to 12,000 miles on this trip (the original estimate was 9,000 to 10,000 - best laid plans of mice and men).

Montana to Spokane, WA

As it has been a few days since my last post, let's catch up by going back to Montana ... briefly. My ride from Columbia Falls, MT to Spokane, WA was easy, even a bit relaxing. As it was only about 250 miles I took my time and enjoyed a little more of Montana. The weather has been holding out so well on this trip it's almost criminal (some might think I made a deal with someone, but as I've no soul to sell, it would be a very one-sided deal).

Riding US-2 west, I stumbled across a great little place for lunch in Marion, MT. Of course, this made me think of my aunt Marion (because I'm a simple minded dolt that way). After lunch I headed west again and found a great place to sit, enjoy the sun and have a cigar. The Kootenai Falls is a great little spot. While there I snapped a few shots (here's one now).

A little less than an hour later I passed quietly out of Big Sky country into the northern panhandle of Idaho. I was surprised at how beautiful Idaho is. At the mention of Idaho, I only ever think of potatoes, and though I love french fried potatoes, I've never thought of them or where they come from as beautiful. US-2 in Idaho is lined with trees and frequented by logging trucks, so there appears to be more than one industry there anyway.

Idaho quickly gave way to Washington state and the western terminus for my ride across (or rather around) the continental U.S.A. I was so very happy to see signs to Spokane, as it meant I'd see friends again after such a long time alone on the road (I'd not seen a familiar face since Michigan, though I was beginning to think of Terry and Joe from the Gillette, WY Suzuki shop as familiar).

I made Spokane shortly after crossing the state line, and was overjoyed to see my great good friends, Dana and Carmen. Part of the reason I haven't posted since hitting Spokane was because I was so happy to see people I could have real conversation with, I wouldn't shut up. Too much blabbing left no time for blogging. That, and I'm lazy.

Kidding aside it was great to see Dana and Carmen, to talk about the trip a little, but also to talk politics (office and world), as well as events in general, and just be myself. They have a great house, a bird that spends much of her time on Dana's shoulder, and a cute-as-hell puppy with the funniest disposition for a dog. Here we are hanging together, Lelo and me (photo credit:DB).

I stayed in Spokane for a day-and-a-half and really recharged and relaxed. It was the best way to end this leg of the trip. Thanks to Dana and Carmen for taking the time to show me around and opening up their home. I even stopped by the AP elections center, met some of the staff, and watched them kick-off the Tennessee primary this past Thursday. It was fun and a bit weird to be in an AP office again (sometimes it seems I'm destined to be around the AP my whole life, some way or another).

I did do a little wandering around downtown Spokane and popped a few shots off. Here's one of a random building I liked.


Seattle, WA
(or Coffee Cups and Tattooed Ladies)

With Carmen, Dana and Lelo waving goodbye from the front porch, I rolled out of Spokane, back on US-2 headed for Seattle, land of coffee, grunge music, and apparently tattooed girls. I swear, every woman I see here has at least one tattoo. And not a rose, or unicorn, I'm talking about lavish, large needle work, on their arms, backs, necks, and legs (and probably one or two places I've not had the privilege to see). As a lover of body ink myself, I'm fascinated by the amount of ink in this town. It rivals LA, especially among the women. In LA you see guys covered (as you do in Seattle), but it seems to me more women have visible ink here than in LA. But maybe it's because I've been in cow country too long, where a lot of people don't even have all their teeth, so aren't worried much about body adornment.

I did notice back in Montana that the women started looking better then they had in the past few states. It's either that or it's last call for me and everyone looks good at 4 am when you've been drinking all night and you're desperate not to go home alone ... again. (So much for my barroom philosophy).

Someday someone can maybe explain what it is about cities that attracts me to them. Is it the tall buildings clustered together, the people walking around, the ability to buy an egg sandwich at 3 am, functional mass transit (that the masses actually use, not just the poor slobs that can't afford a car), the ability to be anonymous without begin lonely, or simply the fact that the size of my beltbuckle isn't inadequate in comparison (those cowboys like their beltbuckles big like championship boxing belts - whew).

As I glimpsed Seattle for the first time (still 35 miles away), it made me feel warm and a bit squishy inside (the fact that it was after sunset and the buildings were twinkling in the twilight helped to remind me a little of NYC, I'm sure). I had made a reservation at a chic boutique hotel with a small room, but it's really, really clean and smells nice and the staff is helpful (they even carried my gear up to the room for me - that don't happen at the Comfort Inn).

I've not been here 24 hours yet, but my first impression of Seattle is that it's a great city (and maybe the first real city I've seen since leaving NYC). I had a late-night bite at The Hurricane, a 24 hr diner a short walk from the hotel (where I also went for breakfast). I've walked through the Market, Downtown and Pioneer Square areas and photographed a few things (I've already taken more pictures than I did in Montana, and I recall writing in an earlier post that Montana was the state I'd photographed more than any other). Much of what I've seen reminds me of Tribeca, lots of short brick buildings with big windows, many of them built around the turn of the last century but recently restored and probably more than a few converted to other-than their originally intended use.

So far I'm having a fabulous time in Seattle and I plan on having more fun before rolling out of town tomorrow afternoon. I'll leave you with this image I captured in an alley this morning. To me, this is what a city looks like; all brick walls, narrow passageways and slashes of shadow and light.

I wonder what the weather is like in winter ...?

Last thing - I'm being kicked out of Starbucks and it's only 6 pm. The one thing about this city (and most others) is things close early. I noticed a few places aren't open on Sundays. Perhaps it's because I'm staying in the Downtown area and this is more about weekday business. I guess you can't have everything all the time.

My Kind Of Town, Montana Is ...

This morning the Helena, MT sky was blue and sunny. The temperature was comfortable, but a leather jacket was definitely in order. It's true that the sky really is bigger out here. I don't know why, but I do know it's beautiful. Though I imagine the winters must be harsh. This shot here was taken just outside of a small town called Augusta, MT, northwest of Helena.

What a great day of riding. I rolled out and did a little time on interstate, which was actually quite nice, with a view of the mountains on either side. Then I dropped off the interstate and took route-287. This was a fabulous motorcycle road with long stretches of rolling hills, followed by great little left and right twisties and a good number of S curves.

I had lunch at a cafe on the Blackfeet Indian Reservation, just a cheeseburger and fries, they didn't have any Native American fare on the menu (or maybe they invented the cheeseburger and we ripped them off of that as well). At lunch I sat with the map for a long time, trying to figure out how best to approach Glacier NP. I decided to stay in a town west of the park, but was trying to figure out if I should enter the park from the east or the west. There is only one main road (about 55 miles long) through the park, and US-2 runs along the outside rim of the southern V of the park (here's a crude map http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=336477 ). What I wanted to do was find a way to see the park without backtracking too much. I finally decided to take US-2 along the southern rim, get a room near the park entrance and go back and do the interior road, then figure out which would be more scenic to revisit (and what I had time for).

Plans are always changing on this trip, fortunately today they were for the best. I had seen a town called Hungry Horse on the map, not far from the west entrance to the park and I thought the name had good literary qualities. Well everyone else must think that as well because the motels were all booked. I had to go to Columbia Falls, about 15 miles from the park entrance, to get a room. I got the last room in the joint, dropped my gear, grabbed my camera and rainsuit, then headed back out toward the park. If the ride along the southern tip of the park was an indication, this was going to be a good ride.

And here's what I saw today when I entered Glacier NP. What a difference from yesterday in Yellowstone. This is what a park should be.

There were people, but not so many as to make you roll along at 5 mph. Also, though there was a sign that road work was on, it happened to be at the other end of the park (at the east entrance - stay away from east entrances to national parks, Yellowstone was a mess as well). But the construction didn't matter because there was a fire in the park today and they were not letting anyone in that section of the park. So I was able to use about 35 miles or so of the park road, which was all stunning. This is one great park.

I rode up into the mountains and took about 50 photos (usually I take about 8 or 10 a day total). This is such a great park, the road runs right along the mountains, you drive past waterfalls, and up inclines with nice twisties. I swear I've seen some of this road in car commercials, it was that pretty.

The best thing about Glacier as opposed to Yellowstone is there isn't one central thing everyone comes to gawk at. The park is just all there and you ride along and take it in, there's no need to park, walk through crowds, stand around and wait, get pitched bad, overpriced food, and t-shirts to commemorate your visit. When you see something you like, you pull over, take in the view, pop a few pictures and get back on your bike.

I don't know how many of you recall this, but originally I wasn't even going to ride Wyoming at all. The plan was to ride south from North Dakota to South Dakota, see the Black Hills of SD and head north again and ride the width of Montana on US-2. When the plan changed and I ended up riding much of ND across US-2 and then headed south on US-85 instead of US-83, it seemed foolish to ride up US-85 again and it would have been sillier still to ride back east again to head north on US-83, so I put Wyoming into the trip. I would have broken down anyway, but irrational as it may be, I still connect the breakdown with the state of Wyoming. Shaking the dust of that state off my boots has made me feel a whole lot better. Though I have to say the people of Wyoming treated me very well. The whole thing put a bit of a bad shade on my Yellowstone trip. Also, I apparently missed out on the Beartooth Highway, which is the ride to take in Yellowstone (I heard about this after the fact), so I guess I missed the whole point of the place. Anyway, enough of my complaints on Yellowstone and Wyoming.


After about 35 miles I decided to head back down the road as I figured they would turn us all around soon anyway. Going back down was just as lovely as going up. When I reached the bottom of the mountain, I got off the bike and just watched the light change as the sun dipped behind the mountains, the sky still filled with light. I watched clouds move slowly across the sky and wondered why I could be so patient sometimes and not others. Of course, I know the answer is I can be "patient" when it's my choice to stand around and watch the colors change, knowing I could leave at anytime, as opposed to standing around watching the sky change color because the bike won't start. It's easy to be magnanimous when you can roll out at will. And I thought I would wait for the sky to blaze red again like last night and I'd catch a great shot of the mountains. I waited for over an hour and the sky was still filled with light.

Then I realized I was much further north then last night and the sky wouldn't fully change until 9:30 or even 10 pm. I still hadn't gotten dinner and I knew I wasn't going to find anything open past 10 pm in any of these towns (I didn't see any fast food joints, so no late night menu would be on offer). I snapped a few last shots and mounted the bike again and headed for the park exit.

I saw a big deer chomping a little grass on the side of the road and she reminded me to slow down and take my time. I got to a cafe that was closing, but they made me a chicken sandwich to go (which was still warm when I got back to my room 2 towns over).


Here's the last shot I took this evening before leaving the park. I think it was worth the wait.

Tomorrow I head for Spokane, WA to see my great good friends Dana and Carmen. It's been too long without friends. I'll be very glad to be with them for the next couple of days.

Last thing - There are always things I'm forgetting when I sit to write these pages. Like the animals I saw, yesterday in Yellowstone I saw Elk grazing, today I saw something that looked like a big French poodle walking on the park road, maybe it was a Llama(?). 1000 things go through my mind while I'm driving, and they all seem so good and so smart at the time - then I either forget them or I think they were only interesting when I thought them.

Long, but good (with pictures, even)

Cody Rodeo -

Sunday night I had dinner at the Hotel Irma, built in 1902 by Buffalo Bill Cody (oh yeah, he founded the town and named it after himself as well). I ordered the Buffalo Ribeye. Not bad, but not as good as a steak. A little too lean, if that's possible. But it didn't taste like chicken. After dinner I had a cigar and watched the sunset while sitting outside my motel room (they had lovely wooden benches in front of each room).

After sunset, I walked over to the Cody Rodeo Show (we were told that Cody is the rodeo capitol of the world). I've never seen a real rodeo, but it looked pretty good to me. No one was seriously injured, or at least I didn't see any blood and everyone walked off after their event. I thought the speed horse riding around the big barrels was fun, as was the bull riding. The roping calves looked a bit cruel and unnecessary to me, but I wouldn't protest against it. They did have all the under-twelves come out of the stands and chase a couple of calves around to get a ribbon off them for a prize. That was cute and funny.

In the end, I probably won't be needing to see another rodeo, but it was interesting to finally see one. Oh, and the rodeo clown was miked and did banter with the announcer all night, told lots of bad jokes. The one I remember of course is, "Why do Harley riders wave with only 2 fingers and Honda riders wave with an open hand? Because if the Harley riders opened their hand all the way they'd drop their wrenches." Ha, ha, ha ...

Enough on that.

Monday's Ride -

I got up early Monday morning, loaded the gear onto the bike and checked out of the motel. The temperature had dropped and though sunny, it was only about 69 degrees. When I went to start the bike, she didn't catch the first or second time. On the third try she turned over weakly, ran for a moment, then sputtered out. I spat a couple of curses out and grabbed the cell phone to call the bike shop. Then I remembered that Joe the mechanic had said that the bikes are set to run lean especially when they start-up cold and with the recently added ethanol to fuel it was making the bikes hesitate and sometimes sputter out. Revving the engine usually helps. So I sat there a minute weighing my options. I figured, I'd come this far, let's see how she does today and if I get stuck somewhere then I'll just ship the bitch home and we'll call it done.

I cranked her over, revved the engine a little and pulled out of the parking lot. I drove her down the road to get gas, then started her up again. I rolled out of town after stopping at the tobacco store for a few more cigars (I figured if I was going to get stuck, I'd have something to comfort me while waiting for a tow). The bike started up a little better each time and I was quickly on my way toward Yellowstone NP.

There's a little town, Wapiti, just before the east entrance to the park and in that town there this place, the Yellowstone Valley Inn. They have a restaurant, gift shop and motel. It looked like a good place to get some breakfast (and I had decided I would get a hearty breakfast this morning in case something did go wrong, I'd at least not go hungry).

At first I thought this place was going to be like every other restaurant I've been in the past few states. You walk in and no one greets you. You ask a waitress if you can sit and they say, "She'll be right with you," referring, I have learned by now, to the absent hostess. This morning an old guy with wet eyes asked what I needed. When I told him I'd like to eat he said he could help me. He walked me to a table and said, "She'll be out in a minute." I figured he meant the waitress. He left me with a menu. I decided on steak and eggs because I love steak and eggs. She came out, all 87 years of her. I ordered and even got a decent cup of tea. This place might turn out to be OK, I thought. And in fact it was one of the better meals I've had since leaving NYC (at least at a restaurant). I have to say I am spoiled living in NYC ... I've not even tried eating Italian or Chinese food while on this trip. Two days ago, in some diner or other, the waitress said the lunch special was spaghetti with meat sauce. I ordered a grilled cheese and fries.

After breakfast, the temperature was still pretty cool, so I rummaged through my saddle bags and put on a thermal shirt under my leather jacket. I had my warmer gloves on as well. The bike started OK and I rolled out to the park. The ride leading to the park entrance was very pretty, all lakes and fields and mountains in the background.

After the park entrance there was 7 miles of road construction. Everyday it seems I have to go through at least one stretch of road that isn't all there. This was annoying because the line of cars was long and people kept stopping. There's nothing worse on a rutted road covered with gravel then fluctuating your speed on a bike. It's best to just drive along at a steady 20 mph or so. At least it wasn't 15 miles long and ending in loose dirt like the other day, but it also wasn't the last bit of road construction I would see today.

Once inside the park, I was struck by the number of dead trees. I recall hearing about a fire a while back and there are still miles of trees that are charred and bare. I have to say that overall I was not blown away by Yellowstone. It was nice, and I'm glad I went through, but there are just too many people around to enjoy much of it. Everywhere I went there were crowds.

Here's a shot of me as I crossed the Continental Divide (actually this is the second time I crossed it, the first time I crossed there were too many people for me to get close enough for a shot).

I got to Old Faithful and had to hang around for 75 minutes or so to see it blow and take a few pictures (like this one). Then it was time to walk back to the bike and roll on out.

I swear, I must have gassed up three times just riding to and through the park. I didn't want to run low while in the park, so wherever there was a gas station, I filled up. It was overkill, but I'm a little overzealous after my breakdown adventures.

The sky was overcast all though the park and it was a chilly day. I could have done with a pair of chaps, but I left those home (the one thing I didn't bring with me). For tomorrow I'll wear some thermals under my jeans, that should greatly improve my comfort level.

In the end it just didn't thrill me, I was too concerned that the bike would breakdown again somewhere, I was chilled, the sky was crap and again, too many people. I've not seen traffic like that since leaving NYC (OK I'm exaggerating, but only a little).

I'm hoping Glacier NP isn't going to be more of the same. It was almost as bad as that damn Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center.

After leaving the park through the north gate, I was in Montana (even though, oddly enough, there was no sign saying Welcome to Montana - I have to say that's the first time I've seen that on this or any other trip). Actually the north gate is an arch made of stone with mountains behind it, I couldn't help but be reminded of the Paramount Pictures logo. Still, it looked great.

There were fires in the mountains, I could see the smoke for miles, but I wasn't in any danger. I stopped for gas in Livingston, took a gander at the map and decided to try for Helena by nightfall. The sky was looking clearer to the west and of course being Montana, it was looking bigger as well.

Bozeman was beautiful, just as Terry and Joe (from the Wyoming bike shop) had promised (see photo at right). The sun was shining and the temperature warmed up a bit, even though it was near the end of the day.

As I made Helena by 8 pm I was able to check into a motel room and grab this last image of the day. Hopefully tomorrow will be just as beautiful.

Last thing - I'm still saying a little prayer each time I crank the engine over. So far it's working. Oh and I'll leave you with this from the small oddities column, the people in the room next to mine at the Big Bear Motel in Cody, WY had a minivan with a license plate from Florida, but they spoke French to each other and their young daughter.

I Am John Denver

Today makes two weeks I'm on the road ... and I've finally made it to Cody, WY, at the foot of the Rocky Mountains! Here's the view from my motel room window (not bad, huh?).

I'm going to my very first rodeo show tonight, which the owner of the Big Bear Motel (where I'm posting from) says is the real deal. I'll report back on that.

Today's ride began earlier than most. I rolled out before 10 this morning. The temperature in Gillette when I left was already in the 90's.

Now I've started my day in Gillette before, and if you'll recall, all this bike business began in a small town called Ucross, where I had pulled over to make a decision about taking US-14 or US-16. I had decided that day to take US-14 because it seemed the faster of the 2 roads to Cody, and I had been slowed down that day by road construction (more like road removal) just west of Gillette on US-14 through the town of Spotted Horse. Then the bike wouldn't start and I found myself a ride to Buffalo and a room for the night. The next day, after the tow and the shop, I took the Interstate from Gillette to Buffalo (to get my gear from the motel) and decided to take US-16. I got as far as Ten Sleep when the bike wouldn't start again.

So today, I spent an hour or so on the Interstate getting to Ranchester (west of Gillette and north of Buffalo) and then dropping onto US-14 to ride through Big Horn Mountains. So now I've have gone both routes, US-16 and US-14. I guess the bike wanted to see them both, which is why she kept breaking down. Now that she got what she wanted, we can proceed with the rest of the trip, I hope.

Big Horn was beautiful, much cooler, but unfortunately overcast (thankfully though there was no precipitation). The temp went down into the 70's as I drove up the mountain. When I pulled over to get my leather jacket on, I heard a twig snap and looked through the trees and saw a big black animal, which I thought might be a bear. It turned out to be the biggest cow I've ever seen. There were two of them just inside the treeline about 30 feet from me.

After driving up the mountain, with it's steep incline and twisty curves (glad for those new Metzler tires, they really grip the road on turns), I had to drive down it. That was even more fun. I prefer having the power of gravity on my side rather than trying to fight it up steep hills. Once I got to the other side of the mountain, I stopped in a very small town, called Lovell, for lunch (the diner is only open from 6 am - 2 pm, and I arrived at about 1:30, just in time, as it looked to be about the only place open for a decent meal).

The sun came out again after lunch and it warmed up, but not as much as it had been back in Gillette (they were expecting another 105 degree high for the day, which I fortunately missed out on).

Apparently there was some big Hells Angel Rally in Cody over this past weekend. As I rolled through town, there were still a few HA around, but things appeared to be pretty quiet. My motel is on the western edge of Cody, right at the foot of the mountains (or so it looks from here).

The motel owner and his wife are from Summit NJ of all places. They came out here and bought this place a couple of years ago. It was funny to hear someone talk as fast this far west.

Last thing - I forgot to mention this from yesterday ... while driving back from Worland to Ten Sleep with the maid's son, I asked him if he grew up in the area (I've been quizzing people about where they're from and if they moved from somewhere else, why and do they prefer it where they are now ... that kind of thing. Mostly it's a conversation starter.). He got cagey and said he sort of grew up in Wyoming, after a pause he said he was from Mexico. When I asked when did he come here, he said, "I was like nine years old and suddenly I just remember being here." So I believe I had a brush with the ubiquitous undocumented worker out here. I didn't press the conversation after he gave me that line. By the by, he was a little bored and wanted to move to a bigger town (but as anyone here who wants to move has said to me, "nowhere near as big as New York.").

I Am Willie Nelson

After much waiting around and watching the sun shine (and feeling the heat of 105 degrees today), I think the bike problems are fixed. It went like this -

This morning I called the shop that had looked at it yesterday. Joe, the mechanic, answered and I explained that the bike ran well for about 130 miles, but was now dead and waiting on the side of the road in Ten Sleep. He said he felt really bad that I'd broken down again. He said there was a bike shop in Worland, the next town west of Ten Sleep. But the owner of the motel I was staying at in Worland (you may recall from my earlier post, that there were two motels in Ten Sleep, one was booked up and the other was out of business) told me that the bike shop had gone out of business.

So Joe said he would check a few things and call me back. I called my insurance company to arrange for a tow when Joe called back. He said his father, Terry (the shop owner) would come out with parts that they would strip off Joe's bike (he and his father both ride Suzuki Boulevard C90's just like mine). I said that would be more than I could ask of them.

There was a little confusion about when Terry would arrive in Ten Sleep, but I knew I'd have to arrange a ride from Worland to Ten Sleep to meet up with Terry. I asked at the front desk and the manger got one of the maids to call her son and give me a lift into Ten Sleep (for which I threw him a couple of dollars). I waited in Ten Sleep for a couple of hours, feeling a little directionless (and a bit homeless). I guess it must have shown on my face because the waitress at the restaurant stopped by my table and asked, with concern, "is everything alright with you, sir?" To which I explained that it was just that my bike was broken down and I was waiting for a mechanic, but right then I was feeling a long way from home ... but that I'd be OK.

By Noon, I still hadn't heard from Joe or Terry and I was beginning to worry they weren't coming for me today. So I called the shop and Joe said his father had left around 10:30 and was supposed to have called me to let me know he was on his way. Joe said he would find out where Terry was and call me back. At 12:30 I hadn't heard back from Joe, so I called again and was told Joe was busy with a customer and that he would call me back when he was finished.

10 minutes later Terry pulled into the gas station in Ten Sleep. I was glad to see him. He smiled and said, "So how do you like the west?" I laughed and said I was getting to see it about 150 miles at a time. As it turned out Terry had decided it was best to trailer the bike back to the shop and work on it there. That sounded fine to me. It put me back east about 150 miles, but I'd rather know that whatever parts or tools we'd need to get the job done would be there. There's nothing worse than starting a job and half-way through realizing you don't have something you need to finish. You end up putting the thing back together and dragging it back to the shop anyway.

So we put the bike on the trailer and drove back to Gillette, WY. We got to the shop about 3:00 pm and Joe, Terry and their guy Chris started tearing the bike down. As the shop was only open until 1 pm on Saturdays I thought this was another extraordinary example of the dedication these guys had to getting me back on the road. They ended up working on it until about 6 pm. I also had them put on a new set of tires because I figured I'd have to replace them at some point on this trip and I might as well do it now with these guys, then try to find another shop while on the road (and the new tires make a noticeable difference in the way the bike handles turns).

I have to say, though they didn't get it exactly right the first time, they went out of their way to make it right today. Driving over 4 hours roundtrip to come get the bike (without charging me for the tow), taking parts off their own bikes (Joe won't be riding his bike again, until he gets a new Stater Assembly from Suzuki - in about a week), and in the end Terry gave me his cell phone number if I had any other problems. That's what I call damn good service.

So I'm confident that the bike will make it through the rest of the trip now. For tonight, I'm staying in Gillette. Tomorrow I'll ride to Cody, WY, just outside Yellowstone NP. The weather looks good (other than the heat). After Yellowstone I'm headed north again to Montana and Glacier NP, then later in the week I'll be in Spokane, WA with my good friends Dana and Carmen. It will be very nice to see friends again.

Last thing - when I got a ride from Ten Sleep to Worland yesterday with my man Willard, I had put my favorite riding gloves, a bandana and a bottle of water in a leather bag on the back of his bike. Of course, I didn't remember I'd done that until about an hour later when I was thirsty and looking for that bottle of ... DAMN, MY GLOVES, MY FAVORITE GLOVES ... I was pissed, but let it go because what the hell else can you do. They're just a pair of gloves. I can buy another pair.

Well don't you know that, this morning, just as I was climbing into the car of the kid who was giving me a ride back to Ten Sleep, Willard rolled into the parking lot with a big grin and his face. And I said to him I know why you are here, you came back to give me my favorite gloves, and he smiled and laughed and nodded his head. He is definitely a good old boy of the best kind.

Learning Patience

So today went a lot like yesterday. After I left the bike shop, I drove some 130 miles, shut her off at a gas station in Ten Sleep, WY. and she wouldn't start again. I had shut her down at least twice, once to get some lunch and again to gas up a little while later. She kicked right over both times with no problem. But the third time, she wouldn't.

Now, this could have been worse because I happened to be up a mountain, in between towns, 20 minutes earlier. I stopped to take a few photos, but left her running for 4 or 5 minutes while I snapped some shots and rolled out again. I was a little leery of shutting her down in the middle of nowhere again.

I only shut her down when I was at a gas station with a motel across the street. Unfortunately, the motel was booked solid and there isn't another one in Ten Sleep, WY. But another biker had pulled into the station and he and I tried to push start the bike. We tried three or four times with no luck. Willard (my biker friend) offered me a ride to the next town which is larger and has more motels.

I got myself one of the last few rooms in Worland, WY. Fortunately, there's internet and cell phone service here, so I feel connected to the world, even though, at the same time, I feel very far away from it. It seems I'm destined to remain in Wyoming for at least the weekend. I can get another tow in the morning and try to get this problem resolved, but most bike shops close early on Saturday and are closed Sunday. So here I am.

Now - for the good news. I've been carrying about 5 books with me since I left NYC, and have been thinking of shipping them home because they are a lot to carry around (one of them is even a hardcover book). I had packed them in case I ran into a few days of rain and decided to hole up somewhere ... like here.

So it isn't the weather that stopped my, but something I didn't expect. But what's the difference? I'm here and I can't ride. Once I get the bike fixed I'll be back on the road and I'll finish out the trip. Until then, my traveling library will come in handy.

Though it's not how I thought this trip would go, I'm still glad to be out here. I've had some absolutely fabulous days of riding, and I'll have more ahead of me. For now, I'm learning to be patient, which is a lesson I obviously need (or at least that's the lesson being taught this weekend, so I might as well pay attention).

Last thing - when I first got to Wyoming, I noticed the color of the earth was different, the soil is darker than anywhere else I've been ... it looks like burnt toast. I don't know why. But it is interesting.

I'll post again tomorrow when I know more.

On The Road Again

OK - so the bike is all fixed up and I'm back on the road again. Headed for Cody, WY and will post again when I get there tonight, unless I can't get a room with internet access, in which case I'll post over the weekend.

Thanks to everyone for your comments, phone calls and support.

Breaking News on the Breakdown

I've arranged for a tow truck and they're so nice out here that the driver is going to stop by the motel and pick me up (otherwise I would have had to pay $100 for a cab to come from another town and get me). I've also spoken with a bike shop in Gillette WY (about 70 miles from here) that says they think they can get me rolling again today.

I'll post again when I can, hopefully from outside Yellowstone NP.

Brokedown Wyoming (pop 1)

You see that smile ... that's not what you should be looking at. What really tells today's story is the look in my eyes. That's what I look like when I'm scared - that's fear trying to hide behind a smile.

OK so here I am safe and sound in downtown Buffalo, WY, which is not Cody, WY where I should be tonight. The bike, she's in a town, about 16 miles away, called Ucross (pop. 25, that's right twenty-five). I guess she kind of likes it there because I told her I'd leave her there for the night if she didn't start the last time I tried to crank her over and she didn't start, so I left her there and I hitched a ride to Buffalo (pop 4,200). I'm told the big business here is methane gas, apparently there's been a boom for the past 5 or 6 years in methane finds here - who knew?

To go back a bit, I started today at the gravesite of Wild Bill Hickock and Calamity Jane in Deadwood cemetery. With a cigar clenched firmly in my teeth (because strong odors arouse the spirits), I hung around for a few minutes then bailed when the tour bus showed up. I rolled out of Deadwood and headed to Wyoming. The sun was shining and the day ahead promised to be another great day of riding.

A little after lunch, I was motoring along US-14 when I came across some road work. Now I have to say, I've seen lots of road work over the past few weeks, mostly because I've been to places with harsh winters, so road work can only take place during the summer months. But today's work was unbelievable. Normally they shut one lane of the two lane road down and stop traffic and allow east-bounders to go, then west-bounders, and like that. Today though there was the added bonus of actually riding on many different types of terrain. First was torn-up and rutted pavement, then torn-up and rutted pavement with gravel, then there was compacted dirt, then rutted compacted dirt, then rutted, compacted dirt with gravel, then loose dirt, and finally loose dirt with gravel. I kept thinking that it had to end, but each hill we crested, each curve we took, it just seemed to go one, endlessly. At one point we went up a steep hill and when we reached the top, I couldn't even see any roadway at all. There was just a big clearing of dirt and large Tonka-looking trucks, but nothing that could in anyway be called road. By the time we got through the 5 miles or so of this (which took about 25 minutes to drive), I would not have been surprised if it ended in sand.

It was a nerve-racking jaunt, to say the least. But who knew that wouldn't be the best adventure of the day. After finally reaching real pavement without any rutting, or gravel, or dirt ... just regular blacktop, I was humming along again. I found a town with a gas station and filled the tank and drank a liter of water because it was hot and dusty on that long ride through the biggest road construction project since Boston's Big Dig (OK I'm exaggerating greatly, but it was the biggest road job I'd ever seen where they hadn't just closed the road).

10 minutes after gassing up, at the juncture where US-14 and US-16 divide, I pulled over and shut the bike off. I had been thinking all day about whether to take the long scenic route (US-16) or the shorter scenic route (US-14) to Cody, WY. At the town of Ucross I had to make my decision. I looked at the map and decided that due to the late hour I would take the shorter route.

Well the bike had other ideas. She decided we would stay right where we were (or at least she would). I tried cranking the engine and got only a small sound, like half a rotation and nothing else. After trying a few more times, I thought she must be overheated and I should wait until she cools down. So I did just that. I couldn't get a cell phone signal (I tried calling my friend Paul, just to hear a familiar voice, but no dice. After a little while I tried the bike again, but that wasn't working either. I walked up the road about 1/4 of a mile and talked with 2 locals who were having a beer at the side of the road. We stood at the back of one of their pickup trucks and talked a little. I told them my troubles and we talked about New York City and they talked about growing up in a small town (one of them said Sheridan, WY was too big a town for him and they've got like 1600 people. I told them you would see 1600 people on the subway on your way to work in NYC.

They left and I waited around a little longer to see if the bike would cool off. I waited until sunset (luckily, I had stopped the bike, unknowingly, under the only 3 lamposts in a 20 mile radius. I guess they're there because it's where the roadway divides). I knew the road would be busy, the local guys told me the methane business goes 24/7 in these towns, so there's always someone around.

I had water (as warm as tea, but still wet), food (Nature Valley bars), two flashlights, a tent, a sleeping bag, warm weather clothing and rain gear - so I knew I would not die. As my good friend Stan said to me when telling an adventure he and Barb went through years ago, "this is survivable". I kept that thought in my head as I began to get worried. I kept thinking I would easily survive this.

But I was still scared. Mostly I was scared of what I didn't know. Would the bike start or would I have to get a tow, and if I get a tow, to where would we go? It's amazing how resourceful I can be when I'm home. I remember once telling a co-worker that all I need to get anything done was a phone and e-mail. Once, when my desk phone wasn't working, he commented that I wouldn't be getting much done, and I said I still had e-mail. My phone was working again within 15 minutes.

Now I'm out here in the middle of Wyoming, and I've neither phone nor e-mail. I can't tell you the urge I felt to talk to someone who knew me, someone I could say hello to and tell them I was stuck, just to feel connected to the world again. I pulled out a note book and a pen and wrote a little about what I was feeling. For a minute my eyes watered up and I let the feeling run through me, but not run me over.

The writing helped. I wrote about the food and water and shelter (again, something I got from Stan - who was with me in spirit out there). The biggest problem I faced was I couldn't seem to make a decision, should I stay with the bike, or get a ride to the nearest town and get a motel room? I kept hoping the bike would start, so I stayed. I tried one more time to call out to a friendly voice. By holding the phone above my head and walking west, I was able to get enough of a connection to get a call through to Lauren. I felt terrible to call and say, I'm stuck and there's nothing you can do, but I just needed to talk to someone I know ... but I really just needed to hear a familiar voice. Unfortunately she couldn't hear me very well and I was sort of loosing it at that point, so I felt even worse about it, but I was able to explain my dilemma and Lauren said leave the bike and get somewhere for the night. It was the right thing to do, I just couldn't see it. Thankfully she could (and I knew she would that's why I reached out). Perspective, it's all about perspective.

Once the sun went down and the temperature had dropped enough that the bike should have started, (and she still didn't) I hitched a ride with the next passing pickup. I waved him down with my trusty flashlight and explained my situation and asked for a ride (another thing I have trouble with, asking people I don't know for something - I can ask my friends and family for just about anything, and I have, but asking someone I don't know for directions, much less a ride ... forget it).

Jim, a very nice guy, gave me a lift into Buffalo (about 16 miles from Ucross) and waited to make sure I got a room. I offered him gas money, but he refused.

I've been in touch with my insurance company (I have roadside assistance with them as well). They will have a truck out there in the morning to pick the bike up and trailer her to the nearest Suzuki dealer (in Gillette - pop 22,685), about 70 miles or so from where the bike is now.

Hopefully the dealer will be able to get me back on the road quickly. Otherwise, I'm hanging in nowhere Wyoming for a while. But it could be worse ... it could be a hell of a lot worse.


Last thing - here's another picture of me at the breakdown site (I was trying to entertain myself while I pretended the bike would start at some point in the future and I'd roll out of there and laugh about the while thing). There's fear in my eyes here, but I'm hiding it a bit better. But I included the photo here because it's a better representation of how oddly my face has colored over the past few weeks - just look at that nose, what a freakish looking thing I've become. It's another reason I waited for the sun to set before trying to get a ride (just kidding).

I'll post again tomorrow from wherever I am (hopefully back on the road and headed to Yellowstone NP).

Weather is not a constant

So today was a day of touring, no forward motion. I spent the day dodging rain and trying to see the sights in South Dakota. Here I am with Washington's profile in the background. I did drive past the full-frontal of Mount Rushmore, but they wanted 8 bucks to park (and there was no where to stop and snap a photo from the road without getting my ass run over). When I rounded the turn though there was a pullover for free where you can see Washington's profile. Hey - I'm a kid from Queens, who spent hours at Laguardia Airport watching planes come and go when I was young, I don't mind the cheap seats for a photo op. Besides if you want to see a picture of Mount Rushmore, you can Google a hundred images (it looks pretty much the same everyday, I'm sure).


Ok - Here's a shot of the Badlands, and I have to say they are bad (in the bad is good kind of way). More on this below.


As I've finally figured out how to post more than one photo at a time (hey I only spent 15 years working in Technology - this shouldn't be so difficult for me, but I'm getting old in my old age) ... here's another shot I took at the Badlands NP. This place is good for the stark scenery.

Now for the actual posting - this morning it was raining, but fortunately for me I wasn't out in it. I was involved in a long conversation with a slow talker who works at the motel. He was very interested in the motorcycle and we had a talk about different bikes as he's thinking of buying one. I always like talking bikes, and I was munching on my toaster waffle (which if you put enough fake grape jelly on, almost anything would be edible, besides it was included in the price of my room and again, I don't mind being cheap ... as long as no one notices).

After our chat about bikes, I made the mistake of asking for directions out to Badlands NP, and explaining my idea for seeing the park, Mount Rushmore and Crazy Horse, all in one day (as an aside I have to correct my earlier post where I mentioned the Sitting Bull monument - that's a few hundred miles north of here and I'm not going that far just to see one monument - I meant to say Crazy Horse, the in-progress monument, all along, I just got confused - OK, enough on that).

Mr. Slow-Talker says I can't see the park, and the monuments all in one day because the park is 2 hours ride from Deadwood and then a 90 minute ride from the park to Rushmore and 20 minutes to Crazy Horse and it's already 10:30 am. He starts to say how I'll need half an hour at each monument and I stop him to explain my idea of tourism.

Basically, it's roadside tourism. You see whatever from the road, slow down, maybe stop and take a photo or two, and you are back to 65 mph in under 10 minutes. That's how it's done. This trip isn't about stopping here, there and everywhere and waiting with a bunch of other people and their screaming kids to see something I can see from the road. This is about the road.

It's great to see Rushmore, and given that I'm all the way out here, I might as well go, but paying 8 bucks, so they can hawk t-shirts and postcards and crap at me while I wait for granny and grandpa to get out of my way for a photo ... that's for the birds. I'm happiest when I'm moving.

Slow-Talker insists I can't do it all in one day and that given the threat of rain, I ought to see the monuments today and do Badlands NP tomorrow. And another thing he tells me is this road I suggest taking from Badlands to Rushmore (State Route 44), he says it's not paved all the way and there are Indians out there (whatever racist bullshit that means). He further explains that when you hear of an accident it's usually on 44. I'm skeptical and then he admits that it's been 10 years since he was out that way, so maybe the road is better now (no shit Jack). As I don't want to ride the park with 200 lbs. of gear, I thank him for his opinion, but I'll work it out. I had been debating about staying in Deadwood another night so I could do the park tomorrow without my gear, but once my buddy S.T. said the magic words (you can't), well I sort of had to do it all today because, actually ... I can.

And so I did. I packed my maps, raingear and camera in a waterproof bag, strapped it and my fullface helmet to the bike and rolled out around 11 am. The sky was cloudy, but the rain had stopped and I looked forward to Badlands NP. I hit the interstate for about 90 minutes to get out there, all the while watching ominous dark clouds and lightening in the distance. I could smell the ozone heavy in the air, like spring rain. I stopped in the town of Wall, which is sort of required as there's a sign for it every 10 feet along the 100 miles or so of interstate 90, as it started to rain. I grabbed lunch there and tried to find a place to buy a cigar (I've been hankering for one since I saw a guy chewing on one the first night I was in Deadwood). There was nothing close to a decent cigar to be had in Wall, but the light rain had quit, so I gassed up and rolled out to the park.

More lightening and darker clouds loomed over the park proper. I couldn't see rain, but it's scent was strong on the wind. I debated about putting on the raingear, but decided to wait it out. I got into the park with my trusty pass and began the windy trip down through the center of the northern sector (there's a southern portion of the park, but the roads there are mostly unpaved and not suitable for motorcycling, especially in wet weather).

On and off the rain threatened. There were moments when big drops fell, but it never lasted, never really became move than just brief precipitation. Nothing like real rain materialized while I was in the park.

At the end of the road I came upon a visitor center and went in to relive myself before the long trip out to Rushmore. Now I have to explain something here. I generally take 2 or 3 pairs of sunglasses and / or goggles on a long trip, in case I lose or break a pair I always have at least 2 spare and I carry a clear pair of glasses for night riding. Today of course, I left most of my gear back at the motel, so I just had the one pair of sunglasses for the day. I didn't even bring the clear ones because I had the fullface helmet and if it got dark, I could always wear that for eye protection.

Now I'm at the pissor with my rain pants on (because I put those on at one point when it looked like it might actually rain), so I have to dig through the waistband of the rainpants then undo my belt and fly of my jeans. OK now I'm wrapping it up and as I dig around under the rainpants to do up my belt, my left arm lifts the sunglasses up out of my outer breast pocket of my leather jacket (where I stupidly only stuck one arm of the sunglasses and let them dangle instead of putting the glasses all the way in the pocket), and the glasses go right into the unflushed urinal.

And I cursed, then laughed. They're my only pair of eyewear, not to mention less than 24 hours new. The damn sun is coming out and I need tinted eyewear or my poor light blue eyes are going to be in pain the rest of the afternoon. So I fished them out and ran hot water and soap over them then rubbed them long and hard with a paper towel. Then I stuck them on my face and walked outside to saddle up again. How gross is that? I guess there are worse things in the world, but damn that was dumb.

If you're still with me - I rolled out of the park and found the infamous 44 with it's supposedly gravel sections and Indians. The sun came out strong (thankfully I cleaned those shades) and I ripped down 44 like a crazy-assed white man from back east. I didn't see a car, a bike, a truck, not a single person, for the first 20 or 25 minutes of the ride. It was glorious. I had the bike humming at about 80 mph on a long straight road with nothing and no one around for as far as I could see (which out there is pretty fucking far). I didn't see any Indians (and the road was well paved the entire way), but after a while a few cars and some bikes ripped past me going in the other direction. I felt free from the oppression of the dark clouds and the sun was warm on my face once again.

I made Rushmore (as described above) and set out for Crazy Horse. At Crazy Horse I did pay 5 bucks to park and take a picture, but I rolled in and out in under 10 minutes to meet my goal. Now I just had to make it back to Deadwood and all would be right.

Except the darkest of clouds were rolling in and lightening flashed repeatedly out over the hills. It was quite beautiful, but for the fact that it looked like I was headed right for the eye of the storm. I had some 75 miles or so to Deadwood and thought my luck might hold (as it had all day) and I wouldn't see more then a few drops here and there.

Well come the turnoff for 385 North, the road was wet as it had just rained hard and I pulled over to don the rainpants again (I had removed all the raingear just before leaving Badlands NP), to keep the spray from the road off my jeans (that stuff will quickly build to an uncomfortable wetness and your shins will get cold in the wind). I tooled down the road until I got stuck behind this broad with Florida plates on her RAV4. The spray from her tires was fogging up my faceshield and at the first safe place, I pulled past here only to see she had a map open on her steering wheel and she was trying to drive in the rain and read a map at the same time. People are a wonder sometimes.

With less than 30 miles to Deadwood the skies finally opened up and the rain really did come down. I pulled over, got the rain jacket and little booties out of the bag and put them on. This took about 10 minutes and by then the rain had slowed a little, but it was still raining. Normally I wouldn't care all that much about staying dry with such a short ride ahead of me, but as I only have one leather jacket and one pair of boots with me on this trip, I didn't want to get them soaked and have to ride in damp gear the next day (leather is great, but it takes forever to dry out).

By the time I got to my motel the rain had stopped the clouds had departed and the temperature had dropped some 10 degrees. But I was home (relatively speaking) and dry enough. The raingear got it's first real run and it performed very well.

The skies are clear and starlit this evening and tomorrow promises clear skies all the way to Cody Wyoming. I'll post from there and then Friday I'm on to Yellowstone NP.

Last thing - I want to say how much it means to me that people are reading and commenting on these posts. I'm having a lot of fun out here and only capturing about half of it in the postings, but I hope this is somewhat interesting to read (I, of course find it all fascinating, but I'm self-centered and egotistical enough to not only think that, but to say it).

Till next time.