Sunday, June 8, 2008
We departed Bend, Oregon at 0900 hours this morning headed north for the Columbia River Gorge. The weather was perfect, about sixty degrees, absolutely clear with light winds out of the northeast. Our destination was Seattle, Washington, some 400 miles and ten hours away through rolling farm lands punctuated by towering snow capped (hopefully) extinct volcanic mountain tops.
We discovered a minor electrical problem with Lane’s Ultra Glide, no taillights. A little trouble shooting narrowed the problem to the lighting wires in the Tourpack trunk, but it was going to take a volt/ammeter and some tools we didn’t have to specifically locate and repair the short. So, we scheduled a visit with Seattle Harley-Davidson for first thing Monday morning.
The highlight of our journey today was the 70 mile ride along the Columbia River through the Columbia River Gorge separating Oregon and Washington State. It was a beautiful scenic ride with shear rock cliffs on one side and towering evergreens on the other side, long river barges pushed by tug boats laboring against a persistently strong headwind, and an occasional waterfall cascading down the mountain sides to the river below.
We departed Bend, Oregon at 0900 hours this morning headed north for the Columbia River Gorge. The weather was perfect, about sixty degrees, absolutely clear with light winds out of the northeast. Our destination was Seattle, Washington, some 400 miles and ten hours away through rolling farm lands punctuated by towering snow capped (hopefully) extinct volcanic mountain tops.
We discovered a minor electrical problem with Lane’s Ultra Glide, no taillights. A little trouble shooting narrowed the problem to the lighting wires in the Tourpack trunk, but it was going to take a volt/ammeter and some tools we didn’t have to specifically locate and repair the short. So, we scheduled a visit with Seattle Harley-Davidson for first thing Monday morning.
The highlight of our journey today was the 70 mile ride along the Columbia River through the Columbia River Gorge separating Oregon and Washington State. It was a beautiful scenic ride with shear rock cliffs on one side and towering evergreens on the other side, long river barges pushed by tug boats laboring against a persistently strong headwind, and an occasional waterfall cascading down the mountain sides to the river below.
Of particular interest in the Gorge was the Bonniville Dam, locks, fish ladder, powerhouse and fish counting station. Yes, they actually count the fish migrating up the river as they swim by a viewing window. And, they found the perfect person to do it, a dedicated lady fish counter with absolutely no personality, but she knew her fish. She could even tell the natural fish from the hatchery fish at a glance. Could you? Hint: hatchery raised fish have the small dorsal fin just in front of the tail clipped off as fingerlings at the hatchery. Didn’t know that did you?
Before leaving the dam, we asked a chap setting up a tripod and camera to take our photograph with our motorcycles. He scoffed and said that he was a professional photographer and didn’t know how to work a simple automatic digital camera. We ultimately prevailed and he took a photo after extensive instruction by Tim on how to point and shoot the picture. He managed to completely miss us all together, but got a nice shot of the blue sky above the river. Professional photographer, yeah sure! Fortunately, a nearby non-professional photographer volunteered and we got our picture.
We finally ran out of the Gorge and intersected Interstate 5 in Portland, Oregon, and headed north toward Seattle, crossing the Washington state line in the process. We stopped for a late lunch at Jollies, a 24 hour truck stop, restaurant and lounge, in keeping with our pledge to avoid fast food chains. After a somewhat scenic drive through Centralia, the capitol city of Olympia, and Tacoma, we finally arrived in Seattle, our destination. We stayed at the Day’s Inn, directly across the street from Seattle Harley-Davidson. The usual late supper and cocktails prevailed to top off another successful day of riding.
We did make an interesting observation about western Washington state today. Their rivers, and they have a lot of them, actually have water flowing in them, unlike Southern California where the rivers are just sand and rocks.
Before leaving the dam, we asked a chap setting up a tripod and camera to take our photograph with our motorcycles. He scoffed and said that he was a professional photographer and didn’t know how to work a simple automatic digital camera. We ultimately prevailed and he took a photo after extensive instruction by Tim on how to point and shoot the picture. He managed to completely miss us all together, but got a nice shot of the blue sky above the river. Professional photographer, yeah sure! Fortunately, a nearby non-professional photographer volunteered and we got our picture.
We finally ran out of the Gorge and intersected Interstate 5 in Portland, Oregon, and headed north toward Seattle, crossing the Washington state line in the process. We stopped for a late lunch at Jollies, a 24 hour truck stop, restaurant and lounge, in keeping with our pledge to avoid fast food chains. After a somewhat scenic drive through Centralia, the capitol city of Olympia, and Tacoma, we finally arrived in Seattle, our destination. We stayed at the Day’s Inn, directly across the street from Seattle Harley-Davidson. The usual late supper and cocktails prevailed to top off another successful day of riding.
We did make an interesting observation about western Washington state today. Their rivers, and they have a lot of them, actually have water flowing in them, unlike Southern California where the rivers are just sand and rocks.
Monday, June 9, 2008
We woke up this morning to a sample of Seattle’s finest, no not a cup of Starbucks coffee, rain, and lots of it! Got Lane’s bike in the shop first thing this morning to have the taillight problem looked at and didn’t get on the road until 1230, attired head to toe in our rain gear. We headed north on Interstate 5 through Everett, and Bellingham and crossed the Canadian border in Sumas, Washington at about 1430 hours (2:30 PM).
We had a very pleasant surprise crossing the boarder. We had heard from several people that Canadian Customs were difficult to deal with and didn’t like motorcyclists in particular, oftentimes making them remove all of their belongings and searching them. A biker staying at our hotel recounted a story of being searched and spending four hours to get across the border. So, we were prepared for the worst.
I timed my experience at the crossing. It took me exactly 60 seconds to cross the border. I was asked if I was a US citizen, what the license number of my bike was, whether or not I was transporting anything across the border for any person, what my destination was, how long I would be in Canada, and if I was carrying any firearms. After which, I was told to proceed. It took Lane about 20 minutes longer while he declared the shotgun he was carrying as a defense against bears. Lane had researched the process and had the proper paperwork completed before crossing. Customs collected a $25.00 fee.
Fifty yards in Canada we met our first real challenge, a speed limit sign, 50 kph. We all looked at each other, scratched our respective helmets, and determined that none of us had the slightest idea how fast 50 kph was. Finally, we met a Canuck who informed us that 100 kph was approximately 60 mph. Later, Tim figured out that his GPS could convert kph to mph and we learned that 100 kph was actually 62 mph. After that, it was a matter of best-guess extrapolation. But we did get a little nervous every time we saw a Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) car working radar.
The 120 mile ride from Hope, BC, to Cache Creek, BC, through the Frasier Canyon follows the Frasier River, and is one of the most scenic rides imaginable. The lushness of the trees and vegetation is unbelievable with dozens of waterfalls cascading over shear rock cliffs a thousand feet to the river below. We stopped for a quick picture at Hell’s Gate Tramway.
We pulled into Cache Creek, BC, at 2030 hours, that’s 8:30 PM to you civilians. It was still raining, and not even starting to get dark yet, evidence that we must be getting farther north. We only made 295 miles today with the late start. It took us eight and a half hours in the rain. But, we agreed it was still a great day of motorcycle riding.
It’s been interesting and entertaining meeting people on the road and seeing their reaction when we tell them we’re from Los Angeles, California and we’re riding our motorcycles to Fairbanks, Alaska. Some laugh, some are amazed, and others just turn and walk away, confident in the knowledge that we are probably just some of those crazy people that California is known for.
We crashed for the night, not literally, in Cache Creek, BC. in the midst of another rain storm. The lcals tell us that Cache Creek is now the hot desert movie local for all of the new Desert Storm and Iraq war movies, who knew?
We had a very pleasant surprise crossing the boarder. We had heard from several people that Canadian Customs were difficult to deal with and didn’t like motorcyclists in particular, oftentimes making them remove all of their belongings and searching them. A biker staying at our hotel recounted a story of being searched and spending four hours to get across the border. So, we were prepared for the worst.
I timed my experience at the crossing. It took me exactly 60 seconds to cross the border. I was asked if I was a US citizen, what the license number of my bike was, whether or not I was transporting anything across the border for any person, what my destination was, how long I would be in Canada, and if I was carrying any firearms. After which, I was told to proceed. It took Lane about 20 minutes longer while he declared the shotgun he was carrying as a defense against bears. Lane had researched the process and had the proper paperwork completed before crossing. Customs collected a $25.00 fee.
Fifty yards in Canada we met our first real challenge, a speed limit sign, 50 kph. We all looked at each other, scratched our respective helmets, and determined that none of us had the slightest idea how fast 50 kph was. Finally, we met a Canuck who informed us that 100 kph was approximately 60 mph. Later, Tim figured out that his GPS could convert kph to mph and we learned that 100 kph was actually 62 mph. After that, it was a matter of best-guess extrapolation. But we did get a little nervous every time we saw a Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) car working radar.
The 120 mile ride from Hope, BC, to Cache Creek, BC, through the Frasier Canyon follows the Frasier River, and is one of the most scenic rides imaginable. The lushness of the trees and vegetation is unbelievable with dozens of waterfalls cascading over shear rock cliffs a thousand feet to the river below. We stopped for a quick picture at Hell’s Gate Tramway.
We pulled into Cache Creek, BC, at 2030 hours, that’s 8:30 PM to you civilians. It was still raining, and not even starting to get dark yet, evidence that we must be getting farther north. We only made 295 miles today with the late start. It took us eight and a half hours in the rain. But, we agreed it was still a great day of motorcycle riding.
It’s been interesting and entertaining meeting people on the road and seeing their reaction when we tell them we’re from Los Angeles, California and we’re riding our motorcycles to Fairbanks, Alaska. Some laugh, some are amazed, and others just turn and walk away, confident in the knowledge that we are probably just some of those crazy people that California is known for.
We crashed for the night, not literally, in Cache Creek, BC. in the midst of another rain storm. The lcals tell us that Cache Creek is now the hot desert movie local for all of the new Desert Storm and Iraq war movies, who knew?
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