Keep Laughing!: 2020

I realize the following posts may be confusing. The two dozen posts added here as "Summer Vacay" detail a motorcycle ride I made in August and September of 2020. I'm recounting the journey here, however I've posted it in reverse order and can't be bothered to fix it. You can read it backwards or forwards and probably get the same amount of entertainment value. If that confuses you then blow it out your ass.

September 20, 2020

I’ve taken that series of roads from Ukiah to Hepner to Condon etc. many many times. It’s great country. Surreal. Spiritual even, and as with the rest of this trip it was desolate as well. I took a few liberties and saw some backroads in the area I hadn’t yet seen. It was scenic. Of course. I had a gas scare on my way to Fossil which forced me to go south to Mitchell in search of fuel. Mitchell seems like a small town forced into the crack of a rock but it’s not as bad as I describe. Although I’m always heartbroken when I think of the black bear which was captured and caged as a tourist gimmick for the Mitchell gas station back in the 50’s. So in that regard fuck Mitchell.

I hoped to move through Condon but being that I was made to drift south to get gas the remainder of this days ride was made less than ideal in terms of scenery.

The sun started to edge down on the horizon as I entered Madras. Madras is an odd duck. High desert Oregon town. It’s cute on the outside but probably not much to write home about. I had to decide to get a hotel here or try to make Portland tonight. I had a feeling the last hour or more would be brutal if I didn’t stop here, but I really wanted to be home and save myself from having to get a room in Madras. I was fucking starved. More than once on this trip the addition of food gave me strength to continue. This was again the case in Madras.

It was decided I would set out to make it to Portland. I stopped briefly for a mediocre burrito at a sit down restaurant watching the sunset just beginning to form.

This was a terrible idea.

I ate and began to haul ass knowing how hard the road ahead was going to be. I think I made a wrong turn as my GPS became less useful. I made my way through Mount Hood which led me to the Columbia River gorge. Not something I had planned as I expected to make my way through Government Camp and return to Portland via Gresham. Instead I found myself coming into the Dalles as night began to fall.

Riding full bore at 80 mph, at night, as car headlights blindingly pierce your eyes with semi trucks barreling past at 90mph is a terrible sensation, especially at the end of a long days journey. The headlights trailed off and swirled around in my vision as my perspective alternated from total darkness to complete illumination from one second to the next over and over for the next 45 minutes to an hour. It’s disorienting, terrifying, among the stupidest things I’ve ever fucking done. I cursed at my bad judgement. What’s worse, I’ve put myself through this meat grinder before on this same fucking road! It was torture before and now I subject myself to this again to save $50 on a hotel room? So fucking stupid. So fucking stupid. So fucking stupid. So fucking stupid. What the fuck. God fucking damned motherfucking. I deserve to die. I’m going to die. My god am I going to die? What the fuck. So fucking stupid.

I was repeatedly forcing down searing heartburn with every swallow. It was a nightmare of self preservation. I was inching along at a snails pace despite looking down at 80mph, 90mph. This was fucking suicide. What a fool I was to push myself. So fucking stupid. This turned into a 350 mile day. So fucking insane. What the fuck? I could feel every dip and crack on this shitty road like fucking mad shuddering through my whole body. I can’t fucking see. Jesus Christ! Still 20 miles to go?

My whole being became a mantra cursing myself.

I thanked fucking god as I saw signs denoting my return to the metropolitan area and an end to the Columbia Gorge. The heartburn worked it’s way to the base of my mouth. I came to the end of the highway and turned on to the exit for Marine Drive. I could feel the heartburn pushing down on me. I pulled just off to the shoulder and began projectile vomiting all over my jacket, my bike, my pants. I’ll never be able to understand how I got my body to hold out until I was free from the immediate danger of the highway before losing all capacity. Drenched in vomit, delirious, shaken, once again on the verge of tears. I was home.

Summer Vaca 22• Lewiston can go piss up a rope.

September 19,2020

It rained all night. I was nervous expecting rain to follow me on this day. It was as overcast as it was yesterday but still warm. I could sense it was rainclouds overhead and not smoke blotting out the sky. I tried to ride out to another scenic overlook of Hells canyon near the hotel I stayed at, however I was warned about how slick this particular road gets under wet conditions so I gave in after 4 miles of sliding around. I smoked a joint and got back on the highway. Oregon bound.

A slow drizzle broke way to a full downpour shortly after I got underway. The first and only time I got caught in rain this whole trip. I could see the rain off in the distance miles before I rode into it. The goggles made it bearable plus the fact the weather wasn’t too cold.

The rain would wane and then return over and over as the miles clicked by. Soon the rain slowed and eventually stopped all together. As the drizzle subsided I could see a dark ominous cloud dead ahead. Within seconds I was closing in on the cloud and could see it wasn’t just hanging over the road it was on the road. A delicious sense of calm overcame me and yet butterflies fluttered in my stomach in the most comfortable way. It was dark as night suddenly but strangely the next few seconds were the driest patch I experienced all morning. I was inside the cloud as it hung over the road. Dry as a bone surrounded by humidity. Without warning I broke through to the other side of the cloud and was greeted with dazzling bright sunshine which I couldn’t see at all before entering the cloud. In fact this was the first sunlight I saw this day. How was such a thing possible?! It was a glorious moment that brought tears streaming down my face. Grateful to have lived through this cliche metaphor so corny even I couldn’t have made it up. It didn’t last long as I found myself back in the rain moments later. That too would dissipate and within 10 minutes my clothes were completely dry. Windswept winding my way along what I think was the Payette River although it could have been the Salmon River? Screaming my head off. The most memorable and life affirming moment of the whole trip.

Pretty much every experience I’ve ever had in Lewiston, Idaho has been bad. What a shit hole. Either I’m honked at and flanked by punk asses in jeeps or I end up eating a diarrhea inducing shit sandwich. I was starved by the time I reached Lewiston so against my better judgement I stopped for food and drink opting for a corporate sandwich joint which seemed the least threatening option I could find from the highway. On the way out of town I spied a sign touting huckleberry shakes from the local burger dive which I couldn’t pass up. It was the first good experience I can recall from Lewiston, so I beat it the hell out of there as fast as I could before the citizenry could fuck it up. I will say this, all roads leading out of Lewiston are majestic. I love that road to Enterprise. It’s volcanic, mountainous, and motivating. There’s a odd road just as you’re leaving Lewiston which follows the river along high desert foliage. It’s trashy looking like the kind of river you’d think would run through Las Vegas if such a thing were possible. Even a sight like that is wonderfully relaxing, watching people engaging in recreation of every sort on the water in these last days of Summer so soon after being caught in the rain That climb from Lewiston taking you up to Oregon is something special every single fucking time. I love it so much. Another great reason to pas through Lewiston. So I shouldn’t talk so much shit about the place. Maybe I’ll end up living in that shithole knowing it’s got so many places worth seeing right next to it.

There’s only so many roads leading to Portland, so you tend to see the same places over and over riding in the NW. Thankfully, most of these places are stunning to behold. At this point it’s clear the trip is winding down. I’m a bit sad but also weary from the road. I hoped to eat at Haines Steakhouse which has become a bit of tradition for me as I ride through these parts. Instead I got a room in La Grande.

Summer Vacay 21• Hell Ain't a Bad Place To Be

September 18, 2020

A passable pancake breakfast in a greasy spoon seemed to settle my stomach a bit, but I was still on edge. I heard talk of fires, smoke, and road closures to the north. None of which I encountered although a dark haze was apparent. I thought it was overcast when I awoke which made me feel I was that much closer to home, but the smell made it clear it was smoke. Ambled through Boise, stopped to get more chapstick, then followed the Payette river out of the metro area through resort towns and hunting lodges. Got some grapes and other fruit at some Whole Foods knock off. I’m glad in a way that this yuppie cultural artifact, the upscale artisinal supermarket seems to have spread nationwide. As I’ve gotten older and more infirm I’ve found I’m more willing to pay for good food than suffer through bad. And yet I crave shit food just as often if not more.

The eastern part of Hells canyon is as beautiful as the western part found in Oregon. I heard talk of it being way more impressive than I found it. It was still worth the time and effort. I would have seen more if the scenic places weren’t mostly via dirt road. Stayed in Riggins? Maybe it was White Bird? Can’t remember the name of the place. Got some ribs at a spot with a fancy bar that dated back to the 1800’s. A wild bridge spanned over the town and the hotel I stayed at was up on a hill overlooking the highway. It rained like crazy while I sat in my room sipping a beer. Made me feel cozy. I was able to pull my bike under the awning to keep it dry. I slept comfortably to sound of rain. I’ll admit I stayed in hotels a lot more than I camped on this trip.

Friday, December 25, 2020

Summer Vacay 20• Re-entering Oregon, and leaving again.

September 17, 2020

The empty spaces of northern Nevada only break into more emptiness in southern Oregon and Idaho. On the way up north I went off the beaten path to investigate Paradise Valley, NV. The map I had seemed to indicate this road as a scenic route promising views worth exploring in the desert. It’s not much more scenic than what I saw coming in to Winnemucca, still it was worth an hour of my life. I probably won’t ever go there again, but I said shit like that before. Paradise Valley is a cute used-to-be town. If you want to call it that. Rustic. Visions of the old west permeate. They got a post office for the time being so I suppose that makes it still a town? Got back on the 95. Oregon bound.

The phenomenon of the border town is weird and wonderfully pointless. The sometimes arbitrary drawing of lines on a map are the only reason these places exist. Their charm or lack thereof is always at least curious. Border towns in Nevada are the most curious, and pointless. The town of Mcdermitt is as weird and out of the way as any I’ve seen. I’ve been through a few times. It’s equal parts Texas Chainsaw Massacre and The Maxim Hotel Casino. As with most of Nevada this settlement landed in a place where people probably shouldn’t have stay too long, and yet a cluster of people decided to live here to make it a town. Not nearly as well financed, or as well traveled as Wendover, Nevada but I’d call Mcdermitt overwhelmingly it’s equal in the glitz/trash ratio. Love it. Every time I enter a creepy spot like this my first reaction is almost always one of wanting to move there. These flights of fancy are always fleeting. I’m sure I’d love it to pieces for about two months then I’d tear it to pieces and flee. No question.

I thought I’d make my way through the Alford desert or pass near the Steens Mountains. I was lost in thought or I must have read the map wrong because I didn’t see either. Got to the crossroads and had to make a decision. Taking a left meant I’d be home within a day, maybe two. I didn’t want to go home just yet so instead of camping that night at Crystal Crane Hot SpringsI headed east. I made for Boise in the hopes I could see the eastern side of Hells canyon in Idaho.

Stayed as the Boise Inn in Boise. They required a $50 CASH deposit. I only had $30 on me which they accepted. The second I gave them the cash I knew this was a part of their business model. Sure enough in a rush to get to a pancake house the next morning I forgot about the deposit. Fucking bastards. Ate at a Japanese benihana style restaurant that night. It wasn’t bad, just dated.

Monday, December 21, 2020

Summer Vacay 19• Winnesucka

September 16, 2020

Got a greasy breakfast in Elko, it was divine. The road to Winnemucca from Elko is desolate, and welcoming. The solitude of the desert means so much to me. Growing up in southern Nevada I spent plenty of time walking in arid out of the way places alone with my thoughts. The hermetic lifestyle has never left me for long. Don’t get me wrong, I like to socialize. It’s fun. It’s necessary. But I need to be away from that at length. I treasure isolation. Although I wonder if it’s proven to be detrimental to my relationships in some ways. A lone wolf don’t seem to understand much about other people. I’ve proven that to be true more often than not. Sometimes I hate myself for not wanting to be a part of the pack. I’m sure my future will be worse for not having more bonds. I’m trying to make those bonds. But I’m failing because I expect too much and support too little.

In the future I expect it will not be so easy to distance myself. Maybe I’ll be dead before such measures are mandatory for survival. I must sound like a fool to most people, or a coward. I feel like both whether I’m alone or not. No matter what the future will become apparent soon enough.

I hope in the future there’s more people who are willing to open up than those who want to hold up. Maybe less people like me will make for a better world? I hope I can grow a pair and be able to share before it’s too late. Being obsessive about music has made me forever lyrical. I once wrote a song called “I haven’t got the courage to care.” I think it was about the futility of nihilism. It’s not as clever as I thought it was. I don’t think I’m filled with nihilism. Not at the moment anyway. But I know I’ve given up hope dozens of times in my life. Maybe that’s why so many of my relationships have fallen apart?

Winnemucca is a great place to feel sorry for yourself.

Tried to get fireworks in Battle Mountain. They were closed due to the pandemic. At the time I was thinking ahead towards throwing fireworks at fascists when I get home to Portland.

Winnemucca is Winnemucca. I hope it never changes. It likely never will. I respect that kind of consistency. I stayed at an incredible hotel built in the 20’s. Scott’s Shady Court. There's ancient electric signs placed strategically throughout town touting this hotel. On past trips through Winnemucca, because most of the time I pass through Winnemucca, I remember thinking next time I needed to stay at Scott’s no matter how shady it seems. Glad I can finally cross it off the list. I lounged in my room hiding from the sun. I forgot to jump in their indoor pool. I wonder if the pool is also from the 20's? It’s on my list for next time.

Sunday, December 20, 2020

Summer Vacay 18• Ruby Valley

September 15,2020

Went to Ruby Valley. Yet another Shangri-La moment among many I encountered on this journey to nowhere. Sartre said Hell is other people, I think he was right. I guess it also could be said that paradise is a deficiency of people. I suspected there was a place like this in Nevada; a natural oasis of forests, ponds, flowers and the like. I was hoping to make my way to Jarbidge, Nevada expecting that to be the promise land, and maybe it is but I didn’t get to see it on this trip. Anyone who's found themselves in Ruby Valley would likely agree it's as close to paradise as you could find in a wasteland.

I tried going south through Jiggs before hitting Ruby Valley thinking I could enter the valley from the South. I found out later I was mistaken, but who can resist visiting a town called Jiggs? I breezed through a construction area headed down but soon realized I was short on gas and had to double back. As luck would have it on my way back to Lamoille I got caught behind a pilot car detour which took up a good amount of time. Back at Lamoille I gassed up and changed my mind, fuck Jiggs, I’d just go into Ruby Valley proper and hopefully camp.

The place is gorgeous so campsites were filled even at this early hour. I drove to where the road ended in Ruby Valley and made for a brisk hike. Every part of this place is easy on the eyes. It was here I came to realize the extent to which my body was out of shape from sitting on a motorcycle for days on end and lounging in my parents house watching hockey. I trudged uphill huffing and puffing which forced me to stop every 10 minutes to catch my breath. Fortunately this proved to be an excellent way of taking in my surroundings. It afforded me ample opportunity to ponder the beauty several times over until I finally reached the first few lakes one would encounter up near the top. I wish I could have continued on as the trail went on for another four or five miles but my physique just couldn’t make it happen on this day. I made my way down to the bike, thankful to have seen such an exquisite view of nature.

It can’t be overstated what a special place Ruby Valley is. I am forever thankful I had my camera with me to capture these images.

I went back to Elko and got a room. I was surprised how quickly the day had passed. Worth every second.