Vancouver bound August 2015

After five days and four nights of enjoying Yellowstone's back country, a hot shower and a real bed was a welcome relief.

Waking up after that rest, there was frost on the bike and the thermometer outside my room registered 30 degrees.  I decided to have a leisurely breakfast and spent some time re-packing everything for the ride toward Vancouver.

A  mid-morning departure was in order and my route took me Northwest on US 287 across the lower part of Montana.  Stopping at the Big Hole National Battlefield, I learned about the demise of the Nez Perce Indians.  A nomadic tribe from Oregon, these people had been ordered by the US military to settle on a reservation in Idaho, (b/c gold had been discovered on their reservation and the settlers wanted the gold).  

Running from the soldiers, the tribe had hoped to escape to Canada.  They were surprised at dawn by the 7th Infantry and many were killed, including the women and children.  Many soldiers were also killed in a counter-attack, but as usual the military prevailed and the Nez Perce tribe was put out of existance.

Crossing the Bitterroot mountain range that separates Idaho and Montana, I turned west on the Lolo highway, a scenic highway that many motorcyclists enjoy each summer.  Testing my patience, I had to turn around, however, due to the many forest fires in the area.  I back-tracked to Missoula, MT where I spent the night.  The sky was gray and everything smelled like smoke.

The bike packed and ready to leave for Vancouver after a restful night in West Yellowstone, MT

The day started early as I had a 6am conference call.  With today's technology, business can be transacted on the road almost as easily as at home.  After taking care of business, and knowing that the fires were worsening, I decided to go north and try to ride around the problem.  Riding up I-90 toward Spokane, I took a break and stopped at a small town, Mullen, MT.  A coffee shop had advertised on the interstate their specialty of Huckleberry milkshakes.  Having had one before years earlier when in Montana, I decided to try it again.  While waiting, a man in the shop asked where i was from, and having said Arlington, TX, he surprisingly noted that he lived in Dallas.  He introduced himself, and Patrick and I had a great time talking.  He had been born in Mullen, and had decided to come back for the summer to take care of family property.  He is a massage therapist, and splits his time between Montana and Texas, enjoying the best seasons of both.

Learning more about the fires, I exited the interstate at Couer d'Alene, Idaho and continued north toward the Canadian border.  Just before  crossing into Washington, I stopped for lunch in Spirit Lake, Idaho.  A small lake town with four bars on the one block main street, a local suggested the the "Linger Longer Lounge" had the best food.  He was not wrong, the sandwich and tater tots, washed down with a local beer hit the spot.  Two locals, having whiskey for lunch, gave me all the local weather and hunting news, largely complaining about the drought and heat, and the fact that the elk population had been decimated by wolves.  According to them, the re-introduction of the wolf to Yellowstone several years ago had gone wrong, with the wolves migrating north and multiplying much as the wild hogs have done in Texas.  In Idaho, it is now open season for wolves 9 months of the year, only requiring a $11 wolf tag to hunt them.  They gave me more local fire info, and I again re-routed my trip further north, deciding to bypass my western route across Washington state.

As I got closer to the Canadian border, I stopped at the information general store in Ione Washington, 20 miles from the border.  The nice lady there (who winters in San Antonio) suggested that I stop for the night in Metaline Falls, a small former mining and cement town 12 miles from the border.  This little town deserves a post all its' own, so stay tuned.

Apparently, a favorite locals hangout.  One of four bars on the block.

Time to catch up from Summer 2015

Having good intentions of blogging about my 2015 Summer adventures, I only was able to complete the pre-adventure preamble in August 2015, before departure.

Now, almost a year later, and planning another bike trip (again to the West), my lingering self imposed disappointment of not blogging about the trip has set in, and I have decided to recap the memories of the trip.

Primarily, the reason for doing so is a request (perhaps stated before) that my children made of me a few years ago.  They wanted Vickie and me to start writing about our lives and memories.  I've recently realized how important this can be to future generations.

Last year (2015) I decided to finish a genealogy project my dad had started decades ago.  With help from a friend, and the genius of www.ancestry.com I was able to trace the ancestry of Vickie and me back to when our people first landed in the USA.  Along with DNA tests for the two of us, we discovered our lineage was different than we had been told through the years.  Otts being a German name, I was always told we came from Germany.  Nope, my first people in the USA were from Northern Ireland, named Oates, and the DNA test proved the same.  With other ancestors from Britian, and Vickie's ancestors both British and French, we were able to fill in the gaps and provide a family tree that is both interesting and surprising.  But, I digress.  Writing this will allow the future generations of our family to have a bit of insight into our lives, just as my ancestor tracking discovered a relative who was one of the few female spies for the Confederacy.  Her life did not end well!!

OK, back to more recent times.  A summary and some pictures of my Summer Adventure of 2015.

Arriving in Denver, I Uber'ed to the place I had stored my BMW, packed and adjusted my gear and started north on I25 towards Wyoming.  Several hours later, I met my hiking buddies, Dan and Sam in West Yellowstone.  After a good night's rest, re-configuring my gear, and loading up my pack, we departed the next morning for the back country permit office in Yellowstone. 

Hiking in Yellowstone back country requires a permit, and a 45 minute video tutorial of the dangers of the park; particularly the Grizzlies. Also required is a LARGE canister of bear spray (which you can rent), lots of warnings from the park rangers, good maps and a sense of adventure.  As the week before, a hiker had been killed by a grizzly, we were on high alert for the possible encounter.  The Rangers assured us that hiker had broken all the rules; off the trail, listening to music with earbuds, hiking alone, no bear spray, etc.  None the less, we blew our whistles, attached bells on our packs, and generally felt like idiots as we walked through blind areas singing and talking loud to "scare" the Grizzlies away.

Yellowstone is over 2 million acres and has over 1000 miles of trails, yet most of the millions of visitors each year don't leave the pavement.  Just a little advice, if you go, leave your car and see the beauty that our Creator has made.

We spent five days and four nights hiking and camping in the wilderness. We saw no Grizzlies, only a few other people, and many incredible sights, sounds, and stars.

 As has been said, a picture is worth a thousand words, so see a few thousand words in these images.





The obligatory beginning picture

Beware of narrow shoulders and wildlife. 

I used a Dixon rollerpack instead of the traditional back pack.  Great for us older folks.

Making sure the Grizzlies didn't get our food. 

All the comforts of home.

I prefer hammock camping instead of a tent, much more comfortable and light weight.  The rain fly worked well the one time we had rain.

We had several water crossings.  August is the best time to go; earlier in the summer and the water crossings are much deeper and harder.

This water crossing required a little more effort; it was about thigh deep.  Had to convert the roller pack to a back pack. That's me on the far side working up my courage to get across.  

Purifying our water along the way

A cold beer was a welcome treat at the finish line.

Ride West 2015 version

  For my dozens of readers who graced these pages back in 2013 when I wrote about my Africa adventure and ride West, I have decided to either bore you or entertain you with more ride stories and hopefully an interesting adventure.
I'm preparing to fly to Denver, where my slightly used and dirty motorcycle has been sitting in storage since mid June.  I have gone over to the dark side some would say by switching from a Harley to a BMW.  The Harley still resides in my garage gathering dust, and the new 1200 GS dual sport bike has been broken in quite well during a trip in June to New Mexico and Colorado.  The GS offers the best of both worlds of motorcycling, being a great touring bike and able to take on most of the non-paved roads on this planet.

Not having ridden dirt since college, I availed myself of an off road training course offered by Rawhyde Adventures.  After three days in the mountains of Colorado, riding mud, dirt, hills, and sand, I felt pretty confident that I could hold my own with what would come.  After testing my skills riding the trails around Ouray and Telluride with a friend, I rode to Denver, parked the bike and flew home.

That brings me back to the present, packed and ready to fly to Denver, where I start an adventure of multiple parts.  Here's a preview of what's about to happen, and I will fill in the blanks as the trip unfolds.

Part one.  Ride from Denver to Yellowstone where I meet some friends for several days of backpacking the trails of America's most visited National Park.  I was 8 or 9 years old the last and only time I was in Yellowstone, so this is high on my to do list.

After that, I ride the bike to Vancouver, BC, where I meet Vickie who will fly in from DFW.  After a couple of days exploring Vancouver, we depart on an Alaska cruise for seven days to Anchorage.  After flying back to Vancouver from Anchorage, we will spend a few days enjoying Victoria, BC, and Vickie will fly home.

The third leg will be my ride from Vancouver back to Arlington, route undecided at this time.

Stay tuned for updates as the adventure unfolds.

Rawhyde Adventures training school June 2015 

Getting the new bike dirty after learning how to navigate water crossings.

Better to drop the bike than go over the cliff.  Unlike the Harley, no chrome to damage.

Final Days of Ride West

Day 18

Realizing that this ride was soon coming to an end, and that I had achieved my loosely planned objectives, I pointed the bike south towards Ouray, Silverton, Durango and points south after the sun had warmed things up a bit.

Riding through Ouray brought back fond memories of a family trip here years ago, when the girls were small, and the boys were yet to be born.  We had rented a jeep and asked for an easy trail from the person at the rental shop, and was told to try Owl Creek Pass over to Lake City.  Vickie, being pregnant with Brad, and Staci and Brooke both under six years old meant that a rugged, bumpy ride was not at the top of their list.  But, that is what we had.  The jeep trail, one lane, blind curves, and steep drop offs was an adventure.  We made the trip safely with these fond memories to show for it .

Next stop on the Million Dollar Highway was Silverton.  The origin of the name Million Dollar Highway is disputed. There are several legends, though, including that it cost a million dollars a mile to build in the 1920s, and that its fill dirt contains a million dollars in gold ore.  Silverton also holds memories of family trips and bike trips with several members of the CPAP Riders.  Particularly, Dennis' famed wheel failure at the top of Molas Pass, and the day spent waiting on a tow truck, which never showed.  Some friendly guys with a trailer finally loaded his broken bike and took him south to the Harley shop in Durango.

Durango was another trip down memory lane, with past ski trips, train rides, and the annual Four Corner's bike rally that several of us attended for many years.  Unknown to me, the Four Corner's Rally had been resurrected after a few years hiatus, and Durango was filled with bikers as I rolled into town.  Turning east and riding toward Pagosa Springs, I had the opportunity to make the Harley wave to hundreds of bikes heading west to Ignacio and Durango.

Arriving in Chama, NM, a small town I had ridden through numerous times, but never stopped  at, I decided to stop for the evening.  Chama is the western terminus for the Cumbres and Toltec Railroad. A scenic narrow gauge trail similar to the one that runs from Durango to Silverton, this attraction had filled most of the motel rooms in this small town.  Getting the last room at a log cabin type tourist court, I settled in to watch an amazing sunset for the second night in a row, this time with a double rainbow.

Day 19

Telling Vickie that I would be home on Sunday, a day early, I decided to get an early start and see where I made it for the day.  Knowing that I was facing 100+ heat as soon as I reached very far into Texas, I was not too excited about the last few hundred miles.  

Arriving in Santa Fe around mid morning, I decided to go to the Plaza and enjoy the Saturday morning.  With Labor Day weekend festivities in full swing, the Plaza was hopping with its' annual arts and crafts fair. I met some interesting people, particularly a couple from San Antonio there for the weekend.  As we talked, we found out that she was a client of ReCept Pharmacy in San Antonio.  Small world indeed.

Looking at the map, I had a decision to make as to which way and how far I would go for the rest of the day.  I decided to ride as far as Cline's Corner and make my decision. Wanting to get one last dose of mountain air before getting back to Texas, I decided to drop down due south to Ruidoso, instead of heading east to Clovis and points east.  Having made the first day's ride to Ruidoso, I knew it would be a fairly easy last day dash home from Ruidoso.

Big mistake.................Ruidoso was jam packed with people, and the "No Vacancy" signs were all I could see.  Traffic was backed up for blocks on the Main Street, and the highway leading into town was jammed with race track spectators.  I realized, too late, that the All American Futurity horse race was in progress, there was another arts and crafts show here, and apparently everyone in West Texas and New Mexico decided to come here for the holiday weekend.  Stopping at the only motel that had a vacancy sign, the desk clerk said he had one room left.  I asked, "What's the damage?".  He said in broken English, "No damage, you can inspect first."  Since this looked like a weekly stay place, I explained I was asking the price, and he said "two hundred dollars, but I'll let you have it for $169."  When I realized this was for one night, not a week, I decided to move on.  After a few more stops, moving on meant riding to Roswell, seventy miles away.  I broke my hotel rule in Roswell, spending the night at a Marriott Fairfield Inn and Suites, for half the price of the dump in Ruidoso.

Day 20

The last day of riding was pretty much uneventful and HOT.  I lost a lens from my sunglasses somewhere in eastern NM, it having fell out of the frame and landing on the highway while cruising along at 70mph.  Back tracking and looking for it proved to be unsuccessful, so I changed glasses and kept sweating and moving.

Windmills, eighteen wheelers, and dove hunters' headed back to the Metroplex were the scenic highlights of the last day.  However, I must say, as I pulled into my neighborhood, it felt great to be home.

I'm told the average Harley rider puts less than 2,000 miles per year on his bike.  With this trip, I Iogged nearly 6,000 miles in three weeks, I'm going to raise that average a bit.

Thanks to all who have traveled along with me by reading this blog; I hope you have enjoyed reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it.

Double rainbow at Chama, NM

Sign at the Primo Cigar Shop in Santa Fe

Decision time; which way to go?

Ahhh, Texas and 100+ day of riding ahead of me.

Evidence of a enjoyable and memorable adventure.

Day 17 of Ride West

This was a day of contrasts and remembrances.  Contrasts in weather and terrain, and remembrances of childhood and my dad.

At breakfast in Blanding, Utah, I listened to the locals complain about the state of health care, the evils of their health insurance, and the impending doom of Obamacare.  He has few friends out here in the hinterlands of Utah, at least in this diner.  And the IRS is hated even more.  

I received a welcome respite when I stopped at "Hole N the Wall" outside Moab.  Google it if you have time.  An amazing accomplishment by an amazing couple, who are actually buried on the site.Taking the tour of this unusual and inspiring place caused me to reminisce about my parents.  For one the cavern house is preserved as it was when the creators and owners died in the 50's.  So, a lot of the furnishings  and decorations reminded me of my childhood home.  Also, Edward Abbey and his many talents reminded me of my dad.  While he didn't carve a home out of rock, he did build the house my parents lived in for almost thirty years, after I left home.  My dad was a carpenter and all around handy man, and there wasn't much he couldn't do, if he put his mind to it.

He finished high school in the 30's, was a WWII veteran, a farmer, a postman, a carpenter, a gardener, an avid reader, a husband of 60+ years, a quiet but always present father, and a friend to many.  His creativity in wood working furnished many people's houses with the small pieces of furniture, and picture frames that he made.  The other eccentric items at the Hole N the Wall also reminded me of him and his creativity.

Arriving at Arches NP, and taking the scenic drive reinforced in me the wonder and majesty of my Creator.  Even with the explanations of how all of these majestic rock formations may have come to be, by the scientists and geologists, I am still inspired by the beauty of God's creation.  Looking at the Milky Way a couple of nights ago, again caused me to marvel and wonder about all of the other galaxies, planets, and solar systems.  I bet there are similar scenic wonders out there like I have seen the last few days.

After a great lunch including a local beer, I back tracked a bit, and started my journey in the opposite direction toward Texas, now traveling only south and east for the remainder of the time I have on the road.  Riding east into Colorado, my luck with only dry riding ran out.  Near Norwood, CO, just west of Telluride, I donned the rain suit, and watched the clouds all around me, as a steady light rain began to fall.  The beginning's of a rainbow came and went and the rain continued to fall.  As I neared a highway junction, I had to decide on Telluride or Ridgway as my destination for the night.  Since I knew that the annual Telluride Film Festival was in full swing, and rooms might be hard to find, I rode toward Ridgway.  As I pulled into town, the rainbow fully appeared just as the sun was setting.  

Now, the contrasts of the day became fully apparent, in several ways.  I started the day listening to locals discussing their conservative views, even observing a parking spot reserved for "patriots".  I'm guessing those views would be hard to find at the Telluride Film Festival.  Moab was hot, dry, and dusty.  Ridgway was wet, cold, and in view of 13,000 ft peaks.  Fifty miles away in Telluride, the cool folks from LA and NY were gathered to watch and discuss the latest media, while across from my hotel in the rodeo arena, a tractor pull with actual souped up farm tractors was the local attraction.  

From talking to a couple in the hotel parking lot from Switzerland riding rented Harley's, to discussing the latest news from Arlington with the hotel clerk who had moved there from Arlington, this day ended with my thought that I live in an amazing country, full of contrasts.  And it is an treasured blessing to be able to experience a trip like this.  One that I will never forget.

Sign at my first gas stop this morning; chicken place and gas station in Monticello, UT.

Lunch in Moab

Rainbow at sunset in Ridgway, CO.

Day 16 of Ride West

Many of my readers (I'm being generous to myself using plural) are not old enough to have used a View Master.  If you fall into that category,  you  can get more info on wikipedia.  Developed by a fellow pharmacist, this device would allow you to view 3d images on a small reel, that you would click through on the device.

Growing up when I did, we were limited as to where we could see pictures of far away places; usually either the encyclopedia ( who still has those) or other books, or in my case a View Master.  I recall sitting in my room and looking at 3d images of all of the national parks of the West.  Yellowstone, Yosemite, Rocky Mountains, Zion, Arches, and others.  Of all those, the only one I was able to see growing up was Yellowstone.  The others remained simply visions in my head, until this week.

I will digress here and share a memory of Yellowstone.  For many summers growing up, we would take a two week vacation to Colorado.  Usually with an aunt and uncle or a couple that were my parent's close friends, the Fox's.  On this trip to Colorado, we also went up to Wyoming to visit Yellowstone.  We were traveling in two cars, with my uncle Hobert and aunt Clare and their daughter in one car, and our family in another.  My uncle Hobert was known as the prankster and he was definitely my favorite uncle.  He owned horses, drank beer, and had a color TV. They lived in Ft Worth, on a large piece of land in River Oaks.  He had a barn and horses, and for several summers I would get to spend a week with them.  In my mind he was the greatest.  

For this trip, he was driving a 1957 Chevy four door.  Somewhere in Wyoming, he decided to see how fast that car would go (I was riding with him).  At about the same time, he saw a train in the distance that would cross the highway in front of us, and he said that we would have plenty of time to beat it.  As he continued to speed up, it appeared we would have plenty of room to spare.  However, in Wyoming, they had something that he was not familiar with in Texas, the cross arms that lowered when a train was approaching.  Just as we were approaching the crossing with plenty of room, the cross arms began to lower, much to his surprise.  I recall a few cuss words, a squeal of brakes, and a sharp right turn that sent us into an empty field.   My parents were in the car behind us, panicked I'm sure.   All was OK, except something was broken with the suspension, and he traded that car away as soon as we got back to Texas.  And, my parents would not let me ride with him again.

Having the opportunity to visit the other parks I recall from the View Master this week, drink beer, and ride an Iron Horse would make my uncle Hobert proud, I'm sure.

One of Sam's favorite things, a tree growing out of a rock at Capitol Reef NP

My picnic lunch spot today

Thought I was gonna get wet, but didn't.

Late afternoon stop

One of three natural bridges in the park

Day 15 of Ride West

Rising early to catch the sun rising over the red cliffs of Zion NP, I was greeted by a gray cloudy sky after a night of rain.  As I finished my coffee and loaded up the bike, the clouds began to disperse, and by the time I rode again into the south entrance of the park, the clouds were thinning out to reveal a bright blue sky.

Riding east out of the park on the Zion-Mt Carmel highway, a twelve mile road of incredible twists, turns, and elevation changes, I encountered the aftermath of the previous rains.  Much of the road was covered with gravel and sand from runoff of the previous night's rains.  Taking it slow and easy, I arrived at the entrance of the Zion-Mt Carmel tunnel.  This 1.1 mile engineering marvel, built in the 1930's winds and curves through the mountain.  On the west side of the tunnel, the terrain is very rocky and bare, with minimal vegetation.  Upon exiting, it's as if I'm in another park.  I have entered a forest of evergreens and various types on pine and cedar.  The cliffs are shimmering in the sunlight due to the seeping water from the heavy rains.  The Virgin River below is still running with brown muddy water.  As I round a curve, I notice several cars are stopped and soon I see why.  Three big horn sheep are standing alongside the road, nibbling on some green sage.  After snapping a few pictures, I continue on my way, soon exiting the park, and arriving at the Mt Carmel junction of Hwy 89.  This small town is a popular stopping point for buses (full of Japanese tourists), entering the east entrance of the park.

A few miles down the road is the town of Orderville.  Now this would just be another 40mph slow down, if I hadn't seen the Flintstone looking building with an Espresso sign out front.  Not to mention there was a waterfall on top of the building, and a Flintstones car parked out front.  I had to stop for a picture, and the owner was very talkative.  This was previously a dinosaur museum, with the previous owner making life size dinosaurs from fiberglass.  According to "Don" the state of Utah bought all of the dinosaurs and made a park to house them, somewhere in eastern Utah.  The new owner turned it into a "rock shop" (there are 4 others in this town), and sells coffee to bring in the Europeans driving on their way to Zion. 

After coffee with the Flintstones, I soon arrived on Scenic Utah Byway 12.  Bryce Canyon NP was my first stop.  Beginning to rain and foggy as I entered, the park ranger said that b/c of the weather, I wouldn't be able to see much.  I stopped at the visitor center for a bio break and to get the details of the park.  After watching a 20minute video of the park and its' history, I walked out to my bike under clearing skies.  Truly amazing how God has been answering prayers on this trip.  The next two hours were spent viewing sights that seemed other worldly in many apsects.  My friend, Kevin Sturm, told me that Bryce was his favorite of the Utah parks and now I see why.  I must come back and hike the trails that go lower in the canyons.  

Just  a side note here for other bikers and car riders to these parks.  Grand Canyon is seen only from the rim when you are driving or riding looking down.  In Zion, you are really down in the canyon looking up,  In Bryce, you stop and walk to the edge or hike down into the canyons.  All three are totally different experiences.  

Continuing along Scenic 12, I encounter Grand Staicase-Escalante National Monument.  A one million + acre wild landscape mainly devoted to back country hiking and camping, the Highway skirts along the edge, until I come to a part called Hell's Backbone.  The road rides along the ridge with sharp drop offs on either side, and views that are breathtaking for miles.

As I come off this ridge, I see a sign for Boulder Mountain Lodge and Hell's Backbone Grill.  This is a very remote place and to find a great stop for the night and a gourmet meal is a nice surprise.  Found out this is an award winning Zagat rated restaurant and the food did not disappoint.

Big Horn sheep encounter in Zion

The Flintstone's coffee stop in Orderville, Utah

Amazing Bryce Canyon

Hell's Backbone Highway

One view from Hell's Backbone

Surprising stop for the evening