A great ride!

I received an email from my good buddy Chris a couple of weeks ago, and after reading it early this morning, I asked if I could use it on the CSC blog.  Chris said sure, so here it is.  By way of background information, Marty (you’ll meet him in a second) has been one of my riding buddies for the last 10 years or so…we’ve ridden together in three countries now.  But that’s enough from me….let’s get on with the story from Chris!

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Utah Ride, Oct. 2012

A fabulous five-day ride in Utah with great company! The riders – My brother, Martin, who just turned 77, retired two years ago after 37 years as a judge in San Bernardino County…he says he wants to ride to Washingon, DC when he is 100 years old!   Great, I will be 92 then and will probably ride with him!  Gary, turned 72 this last July, who lived four houses away when we were growing up in Downey, retired as Chief of Police for the City of Upland, about 20 years ago after 30 years on the force. Bob, also just turned 77, was a policeman with Gary in Upland and then became an attorney, has been retired for a number of years, who did a great job of organizing this ride. And, myself, 68 now, but only for a couple more months, retired 4 years ago.

Bob lives in St. George, Utah, so the first day, three of us left Marty’s house in Upland about 5:30 am to meet up with Bob. However, we stopped for a “pit stop” at the Barstow Outlet Center and Gary’s bike would not start, it would not turn over, the security system would not allow access. I must say, Gary was calm and cool about the situation, I guess after 30 years on the police force he has had to deal with much much worse things.

 After reading the owner’s manual, Gary called the national help line for Harley riders. Twenty minutes later, as he was holding his cell phone and trying to follow their instructions, he dropped his phone. The battery fell out, which disconnected the call. He put it back together, called again and while they were doing the procedure again the security lights turned off and he was able to start it up. Gary said he was ready to go, but, not taking chances, we followed him back to Victorville to a Harley dealer, who just opened up as we got there. Turned out all that was needed was a $2 battery for his security key fob, and we were back on the road in five minutes.

We had dinner with Bob and Gail Reever in St. George, Utah, that night. If you look at the photos, note the size of my beer. Only 3.2 alcohol, was not enough to even feel it. The next night we stayed in Blanding, no beer available, Mormon country you know!

 On our way to Blanding, first we went through Zion Nat’l Park (see photo of us waiting to ride through the Zion tunnel), after which we dipped down into Arizona crossing the Colorado River at the bottom end of Lake Powell and then rode up through Monument Valley in the late afternoon with the sun to our backs.

Quite breath taking, especially looking back at the shadow side with all the stone outcroppings being black silhouettes against the sun. Dinner (or, is it supper?) in Blanding was the “special,” an open face turkey sandwich and mashed potatoes, which was good. The hot homemade biscuits and raspberry jam were to die for, but, no end of day beer!

Breakfast in Blanding and we were to come back to Blanding that afternoon after riding over to Telluride, Colorado. Telluride is an expensive winter ski resort high up in the Rockies and it got down to 39 degrees as we rode over a 10,222 ft. pass to get there. Hot chocolate and apple pie for me in Telluride, but, we kept our jackets on (see photo). Before we left Colorado, Gary bought and carried in his Harley trunk a six-pack for our “end of day” beer. Very important!

In the high altitudes, the Aspen tree leaves had already turned color and fallen off. But, in the lower altitudes, the Cottonwood tree leaves had turned a bright yellow, providing a feast for our eyes. The yellow Cottonwoods gave a dramatic contrast to the dark green pines. Even in the comparative lower altitudes, along creeks and stream beds, the yellow leaves may have given us a somewhat limited color palette, but, extremely pleasing against the pure azure blue sky and the red sandstone cliffs and plateaus.

Before leaving Colorado on our way back to Blanding, we stopped for a map check and noted that we should buy our beer right there. We had parked parallel to a curb, where the crown of the road was the steepest. A nonmoving fall! Marty was at the back of his bike, folding up his map, as it fell over, putting an unforgiving crack in the right side hardbag luggage, popped off a side mirror and put some scratches in the fairing paint.

Usually a motorcycle fall involves some sort hurt and skin abrasions, but, in this case only pride was hurt. Marty’s bike, with over 130,000 miles on it and looking like it just came off the showroom floor, had never been down! A little duct-tape, along with not finding any functional problems, Marty’s pride rebounded with the statement, “When I get back home, I’ll have the shop make it new again!”

 Leaving Blanding the next morning, we traveled west by northwest on Highway 95 through Fry Canyon and White Canyon. For me, watching the red cliffs and outcroppings move by, this highway is magical. At times while riding, it is as if I am stationery and it is the landscape that is moving. One red butte seems to move pass you while it exposes a more distant red butte in the background and then a closer butte rushes into view to obscure the distant one. The scenery is fluid and constantly changing! I have stopped along this road before to take pictures, but, they never could show the magic. Next time, I should take a video camera to do it justice.

We crossed the Colorado River again, only this time at the very northern end of Lake Powell. I say the northern end, but, the lake water is so low you only see the river and silt mud flats and marshes. Still a beautiful view. Marty made a comment that it is expected that in 50 to 100 years the lake will be filled with silt. Humm … might make good farmland!

A good lunch at the Capitol Reef Cafe, at the very west end of Torrey. It now is Thursday and we are making our way back to St. George before going home on Friday. The four of us ride four very different motorcycles and get four different levels of gas milage. But, we were always in synch when stopping to fuel up, not going more than 150 miles. The last stop we made only had regular gas and Gary’s bike only takes premium. I think he was sweating bullets before we got to the edge of Cedar City with his reserve warning light on and over 200 miles on this tank. He figured he had maybe 4/10ths of a gallon left, which was plenty. As Gary said, “I could have made it to the other side of town!”

Bob’s wife, Gail, tried to reserve us rooms in St. George, but, the Senior Olympics were in town and no rooms available. You know … sometimes all those old retired people just get in the way! So, we said our adieu and thanks to Bob and motored on to Mesquite, NV for the night.

Below St. George, Interstate 15 drops down through a gorge into the desert. On the map, the highway is dotted as scenic and it is. However, at this time of day we are usually settled in at a motel. As we came out of the shadows of the gorge, we were facing directly into the low western sun. Gary was in front and it was all I could do to track his tail lights and he later said it was all he could do but to track the tail lights of a car in front of him. We went right past the first off ramp for Mesquite because we could not see that it was the one we wanted.

Planning to stay at one of the two casinos, we found parking a ways from the entry of one, went in and got in line for rooms. Fortunately, Gary stepped out of line and asked if rooms were available. Nope, both casinos were full. The economy can’t be too bad if both were fully booked on a Thursday night! But, they suggested the Best Western across the freeway.

As we walked back to the bikes, both Gary and I noticed a truck pull up next to them, a passenger get out and when he saw us approaching, he got right back in and drove away. We were pretty confident that with two more minutes waiting in that line we would have at least lost our seat bags, Gary’s jacket that was strapped down and maybe our locked helmets that had our gloves in them. Who knows, thieves are quick, he might have gotten one of the bikes. Probably Gary’s Harley!

Might have been interesting if we were just a few seconds later … both a retired Police Chief and a Judge who are licensed to carry firearms. I am not saying they were packing, I am just saying … 😉

Friday morning we satisfied our hunger needs with the continental breakfast the motel offered. We packed up our stuff and were ready to roll when … errr err —- … my bike would not start, tried again … err … nothing, waited a few moments and then … hummm! We were just going a block to fill up our tanks, Marty said don’t turn it off. Well, I didn’t have a choice, I needed the key to open up the tank and of course it would not start again.

Marty and Gary tried pushing me, which works with a bike that has a carburetor but not on a fuel injected one. Wound up in the parking lot next to the gas station, which was an auto parts store that was already open … and they had motorcycle batteries! Marty reminded me that my battery was about five years old and I probably needed a new one. After some help from the store clerk, it started right up and we were ready to go.

At the last fuel stop in Barstow, we said our goodbyes and rode on home. About 1,900 miles for me (I had a little further to go than Gary and Marty). No problems for Bob, a $2 battery for Gary, an $87 one for me and for Marty … well let’s not talk about that cost. A great ride with great company! Old guys rule!

Chris
October, 2012

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Chris, that’s a great ride report, and thanks for allowing me to share it with our readers here on the CSC blog.  And I agree…old guys do rule!

Joe