Hello me, it's me again.... *queue Sweating Bullets by Megadeth*
Just returned from Northern Idaho. Before I get to it I need to apologize for being completely horrific at doing anything resembling a ride report. I know I'm not abnormal in being this way, but when I'm out riding... The ride is primary and taking a metric shit ton of pictures with a crappy, dated digital camera is beyond secondary. I think about the only way I could ever go out and come back with a ton of pictures to share is if I had a Go-Pro mounted on the bike set to take pictures every 10 minutes or something.
In my last update I mentioned the only picture I took on the journey up to Post Falls, ID. Here it is, in all its shitty glory! I had thought there was enough light but apparently not. Do I need to mention my camera sucks, again? I didn't thinks so.
Location was somewhere on Hwy 62 north of Prospect, OR. The rain that I enjoyed for the next two hours began around this point. I believe it was about 6am.
I wasn't completely full of failure on my trip. I did snap a few pictures of some of my riding around in the C-D'Alene area. In fact, it was CD'A Lake!
Had a great ride along the lake. There was some beauty....
...as well as some truly ghastly sights:
That's all the pics from that days ride. The next day I went over to Thompson Falls, Montana via Thompson Pass. Didn't get any pictures because I forgot to bring my camera. I also have a confession to make... I was in a car that time because I was out clowning around with my Uncle. Stuff like that happens when you are visiting family and you're squatting at their house. You also have to put up with awful things like your Aunt making excellent meals to eat. Even worse is having to relax on their back porch with a craft beer in your hand. I don't know how I could stomach it considering this is what I had to stare at:
This silly dog kept wanting me to throw sticks for her. What exactly did she think she is? A Labrador Retriever or something?
When I finally said "OK SARAH, NO MORE STICKS!!!" What does she do? Runs off and brings me a pine cone.
So I threw that for her too. She's good at catching things out of mid air.
Meanwhile, the other doggie just stood there and watched. He's old and can't be bothered with such trivial things anymore.
When I was talking to myself in a previous post, I mentioned that my trip up was a 13 hour marathon ride where I didn't stop to smell the roses much. Well, on the ride back home I decided to split the trip into two days so I could take my time and maybe stop more often. On Day 1, Sunday the 30th of June, I stopped at one rest area to take a leak. I think I was not far from Moscow, ID at the time. All my other stops were to get gas.... The former truck driver in me has some kind of disposition for just...going...
I did have one amusing moment that day, however. Idaho is a "helmet optional" state. Not that I gave a shit about that, because I wear my helmet always. I don't like bugs in my teeth. Anyway, Washington is a "helmet, you better be fuckin' wearing it" state. I think a rider on a Harley forgot that he'd crossed a state line. It was easy to notice his lidless head because he thought it would be AWESOME to ride 10 feet behind me. Hey, fuckwit-- I don't recall asking to ride in formation with you. See, we were going through a small, sleepy town. Out of all the places I NEVER speed, it's in small, sleepy towns. I've learned that LEO's seem to love to hang out in places like that. Good places for speed traps. I guess Mr. Harley didn't like the fact that I was respecting the 25mph speed limit. No matter though, because we rolled by a Colombia County Sheriff. You can guess what happened to my lidless parasite. Mr. Sheriff was kind enough to pluck that tick off of my ass for me.
The rest of the ride was uneventful. I did remember, though, how much I hate riding on the Interstate. My route included about an hour's worth of time on I-84. How fuckin' boring. Just droning along listening to the buzz of my single cylinder engine. Probably the only part of my ride where at one point, inside my helmet, I yelled out something that sounded like "GRRRAAARRRRRRGGGGHHH!" Nothing to break up the monotony. *barf*
Oh, that reminds me. Speaking of listening to the buzz of an engine. I have a confession to make. My bike has a "drag pipe" on it. Now, before you crucify me, it does have a baffle in it so it's not ludicrously loud. Even so, I got to thinking about something while I was going insane on the slab. How in the name of all that is right in this world do the folks who have REALLY STUPID LOUD exhausts stomach traveling for any period of time? I ask this because when I pulled into a rest stop during the second leg of my journey, a group of (you guessed it) Harley riders were there. When they fired up their machines my ears were greeted by a cacophony of idiotically loud exhausts. As they RRROOOOAAAAARRRED away, I couldn't help but wonder how they could handle hearing that shit for more than about 15 minutes at a time. Before anyone thinks I'm biased I also thought about obnoxiously loud exhausts on Sport Bikes, too.
Ok. Enough brain droppings and back to the less-lame stuff. My stop for the evening was Biggs Junction. Got a room at one of the motels there and it had an OK view from the window.
Got settled into the room, flopped down with a turkey sandwich, a Mikes Hard Lemonade and a bottle of Vanilla Coke. Gave the wife a call and chatted for a bit, took a shower then went to sleep. Got up at around 9:30 in the morning and was out the door by 9:45. While I was putting my tail-bag back on my bike, I said to myself "Self, don't leave anything in the room". Well, I left my cell phone charger in the room. Oh well, good thing I have a spare.
Rode for awhile and decided it was time to hydrate and eat a can of kippers. Took a picture of a big rock. Why? Because it's volcanic rock and I like volcanic rocks.
Northern Oregon is definitely different than the SW part where I live. Has its own type of beauty though.
Didn't stop to grab any pictures until I got out of the high desert. Stopped at a little overlook where you could sneak a peek of Mt. Mazama in the distance. Didn't stay long there because mosquitos the size of helicopters were trying to carry me away. Here's what I snagged:
Hey, I know that bike.
Hopped back on my faithful little thumper and took off to get away from the swarming blood suckers. Enjoyed riding through the pine trees and catching glimpses of the pumice soil that my route took me through. Took one more break at Lost Creek Lake before starting my last hurrah to the house.
As you can see, the place where I parked was busy. There's something to be said for traveling on a Monday.
That's it for the pictures I took. I told you I was bad at this.
All in all I had a great trip. It was nice to visit some family I hadn't seen in awhile, especially the evening I spent with my grandmother, who turns 90 in August. Like all good things my week away was over all too quickly. My little thumpy-mobile performed admirably, despite the fact that the seat murdered my butt. Tried to improve it with a memory foam seat cushion I bought at Wal-Mart, but as far as fixes go... It was pretty half-assed.