Not one, but two travel journals were lost on this trip.
One had writings from a previous trip as well! On longer trips it's always been valuable for me to write down memorable moments and feelings. It helps solidify the experience which can be lost when I return to my life and I'm swept away and removed from the moment. I wish I'd written more daily journals in my life as quite often insights can only be made upon reflection. Whatever.
I’ve never shared any of my journals, hoepfully it's an exercise worthy of attention? It's worthy of my attention and so it goes. Here's my attempt to catch those memories so I can return to the whiff of the excitement I felt on the road.
I try to write every day during a solo trip for every trip I’ve ever taken. So this is a trip diary written from memory days and weeks after the fact. If I don’t get this shit down soon real life will intrude and make me forget anything I might have learned. I feel like I’ve already forgotten the best of what’s happened, which may or may not be true,
I hope some of those moments come back to me, but even the best memories are fleeting, especially if you have a long string of them. I’ll try not to embellish too much but thats damn near impossible if I’m doing this from memory. Just assume everything here is true for the most part. That's what I'll be doing.
August 17,2020
As a motorcycle enthusiast I’d never worn goggles before this trip. This go around it was a neccessity since my eyes got irritated and fucked up on the ride to Glacier National Park a few weeks prior. I couldn’t tell if they were sunburned or wind blown but it nearly ruined the ride. If I had that same reaction I vowed to just come back home after the first day. As a result this was a goggle test run and it worked out for the best. Every long distance ride I take from now on will include goggles.
However, the added ritual of putting on the goggles somehow confused me the morning I departed as I left my glasses on the back door steps in the process of putting the goggles on my face and didn’t realize they were missing until I got near Troutdale. Had to ride back to pick them up, believing that reading on this trip, which I expected to do, would be a pain in the ass without them. I had a copy of You Can’t Win by Jack Black in tow. Little did I know that in the process of putting the goggles back on hours later at a shitty diner I would again leave my glasses in Condon, Oregon after eating chili cheese fries. When I realized what I'd done I was already too far away to give a shit. So the first casualty of this trip was a pair of eyeglasses. It wouldn't be the last thing I'd lose on this trip.
Took the exit south between The Dalles and Biggs Junction. It’s like driving into dreams every time I discover a new road in this area. It’s farmland mostly but it’s high desert to more of a degree. Cows everywhere. Rolling hills.
The odometer read 16661 miles. Windmills take over the horizon on the plateau rearing up from the Columbia gorge. Forests bordered the high desert near Tygh Valley. Stopped to pay my respects to the national memorial for motorcycle riders, near Shelton, Oregon. Camped near John Day? Shit, can’t remember where I camped.
August 18,2020
There’s not much to John Day town or Prairie City. And thats good. Any more would be too much. Saw a Goth lady all dudded up near Prairie City. Wondered who is less attractive to me, a rural Goth or an urban Goth? Passed through the nothingness which is Unity, Oregon. Their high school looks amazing with a football field that borders on a what looks like a thousand miles of emptiness. It was breathtaking for not being much.
Serious heat began immediately at the Oregon Idaho border. The visitors center just over the border overlooks a river and vast amounts of farmland that must be feeding the world. Not sure why everytime I come through here there is perpetual road construction immediately upon entering Idaho, specifically the point on the interstate that seems to have a huge granite formation that divides the highway. I don’t know if it's granite or what but every time I find myself here this same spot is loaded with construction equipment and the crew appears flummoxed trying to figure out how to deal with the formation. It’s a hell of a rock that seems to be a constant source of nature versus man.
Skirting Boise I pushed through Idaho in an attempt to set up camp in Nevada, outside Mountain City. To no surprise Mountain City is not a city. In fact it barely qualified as a town with a single restaurant and three ramshackle houses. I didn’t eat there. Instead I had to backtrack 15 miles to Duck Creek to get water. Entering Nevada is always an event. Thankfully this entrance was merciful.
I chose to camp outside “City” limits because it was getting near to sunset, also due to impatience I forgot the plans I’d made to camp on water a mere mile down the road. It ended up being a good thing as the campsite I stumbled on was crazily wild despite the fact I was a few steps away from abandoned ruins. Shortly after zipping into my tent I could hear animals scurrying and chattering in all directions, the sounds was insane and spinechilling. Things settled for a while and then in the middle of the night an INCREDIBLY VIOLENT windstorm swept through shaking the tree above my tent to it’s roots. Meteorites mimicked lightning exploding in the atmosphere that night due to the the Persid shower. I fell asleep in the midst of all this. I discovered how close I was to good camping the next morning as I drove south and almost immediately came upon the lake just down the road.
Wacky rock formations dotted the landscape along the road. I made a half hearted attempt for the first of many times this trip, to go down a fucked up dirt road in the middle of nowhere headed to Jarbidge, NV. Gave up after a mile or two and made my way back to the highway. Maybe I’ll return someday.
August 19,2020.
The Owyhee is a long distance river hidden away from most of civilization. Probably why it’s so pristine. Of course civilization is never too far out of reach as the toilet on the banks of the Owyhee would attest. I relieved myself and took a nap under a tree on rough grass.
Saw the Wild Horse Dam which powers Duck Creek reservation. Driving downhill towards the dam it appeared the river was flowing uphill? I’m convinced that’s what I saw?
Breezed through Elko. Made a habit of eating a plum for breakfast nearly everyday of the trip, this idea began in Elko.
Long haul through the wilds of nothingness on the road between Elko and Salt Lake City. A word of advice, Wendover, NV, or more to the point West Wendover, is to be skipped if at all possible if you find yourself in the area. It’s a border town enterprise existing to tempt Salt Lake City folks to drive an hour or so to “live it up” in Nevada. It’s a half baked half assed idea at best, but it’s big enough to make me think there’s enough gamblers in SLC to sustain it, if not maintain it. I shouldn’t judge too harshly considering I didn’t stop to investigate. And yet sometimes you can judge a book by it’s cover. It looks like no money has been put into it’s upkeep since the 80’s. But what do I know? Maybe it’s got more on the ball than Laughlin?
Didn’t see the Great Salt Lake.
Didn’t care. Got to SLC and got a room at a hostel, which was hard to figure out. A friendly black guy and his elderly sidekick checked me in. They talked about dinner to each other, being a smart ass, I enquired about dinner to which they said “Yeah go in the kitchen.” Lo and behold there was half a chicken left on the counter amid pots and pans strewn about. I didn’t trust it, instead opting to grab a piece of cake at the end of the counter which was clearly made at the local Safeway. I went to my room but later slipped out to explore SLC a bit and grab some Olive Garden which was eh, and ended up being somewhat expensive to boot.
In the lobby of the hostel I overheard someone mention how “so and so shouldn’t be cooking food for the rest of us” which led me to believe maybe this was a flop house/half way house for addicts? Or maybe they’re just real friendly communal folks? My room smelled weird. Couldn’t figure out the TV in the room which became a running theme for this trip since I stayed at so many shitty hotels. Ended the night with beer and some awful chocolaty snack. Which also became a habit during this trip.
The neighborhood in which the hostel was located was blandly suburban but impressive. There’s some history in this city, of course. Plenty of old houses and buildings. Large churches. I want to say a university was nearby?
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| Horses on a hill. |
August 20, 2020
Made the mistake of going south from SLC towards Provo at 830am. Rush hour. It was a nightmare of shit heels passing on the left at 90mph, semi-trucks for days. ETC. It was also the first day I became overly concerned with the sun. For good reason. Prior trips have been ruined by the sun as my skin isn’t as accustomed to it’s dangers from living in perpetually overcast Portland these last several years. I stayed in the shadow of a truck in this traffic for a good three minutes, which was a fun game for a minute. When civilization finally broke and I trailed off into open space it was quite dramatic. I got to a pass just east of Provo which led to an interesting canyon with trailer parks outside prehistoric rock formations. It was awe inspiring and tacky in equal measure, kind of like the flair Vegas provides except more rural. This eventually led to an extended ride into the baking heat towards Moab.
My kickstand proved to be a pain in the ass on this trip, sticking incessantly. I fucked up my boots trying to kick the son of a bitch out. After dealing with it on a few stops I got pissed and later concerned it might stay stuck and I’d be unable to park the damn thing. So I stopped in a one horse town to get some WD40 to fix it. The guy at the auto parts store was on the phone and two old codgers were standing in the store chewing the fat about cutting wood on someone’s land or something of that nature. I kindly interrupted and asked if one of the gentlemen would happen to have any grey poupon, just kidding, I asked for some WD. Of course one of them had a can of it in his truck. The WD appeared in a flash. I thanked him profusely. And took off immediately. I wondered later if I should have given him a buck or two. Whatever.
Moab is strange and bordering on counter culture, for Utah. The day I entered town it was Hot. But not desperately so. Not yet anyway. I camped at the site closest to town along a towering rock wall outside Arches and near what looked to be Moab’s dump. The site was empty. Although as day turned to night a group of younger guys set up camp near the entrance. I slept secure in the knowledge I’d be staying another day to see Arches at length. In the morning the heat was unbearable so I got a room at the Moab hostel. A black guy sat on the couch watching TV the whole time I was there.
Took mushrooms and went back to arches at night. It was aight. But it didn’t mellow my mind so I decided I’d lay off the psychedelics for the immediate future.
August 21, 2020
As mentioned went to Arches. Lost one of my shoes which had an expensive orthotic in it. Bought goggles without sunglass protection so I could ride at night if need be. Replaced the spider bungee thing I was using to secure my red backpack to the bike. Found these tension straps that worked great if you cinched them the right way. More on that later.
My initial plan was to go north into Colorado. Instead forest fires blocked that path forcing me to improvise. A stop at the visitor center in Moab proved to be a good thing as a spirited interaction with a volunteer convinced me to cruise east to Telluride, Colorado. Also I put out feelers on Facebook and itinerant wanderer Steve Cox had the same suggestion. A hot redhead park ranger ignored me there. Visitor centers are great for people like me who barely plan ahead. I got free maps for Colorado, Utah, and New Mexico. These would prove to be invaluable as the internet isn’t always helpful in the wild.
August 22, 2020
Ate what I hope will be my last ever order of chili cheese fries (probably not) served by a Trump shirt wearing kid in Utah? Or was this Colorado? Proved to be a bad idea, go figure. One of many bad ideas involving “food” on the road. Stopped at some fancy whole foods type place and had some hot food as well. Even though it was hot as fuck outside.
As the elevation rose the temperature plummeted. In a good way. No in a great way. My insecurity with the sun was mostly paranoia at this point. Telluride is of course beautiful. There's invariably a dark side. Money made the place charming, because it's the only thing that can. Despite blatant evidence of permanent class conflict it’s adorable beyond words. Had a few occasions to interact with the locals. Who all happened to be retail workers, bartenders, or waitresses. The workers of Telluride rarely appeared to be happy or enthusiastic about the goods and services offered. Many attempted to talk me out of spending my money on the overpriced crap they were being paid to hawk. Which I still found to be really cute.
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| Vaguely hippie type on a tight rope. |
Trams free if charge took you up over the nearby mountain to a small village on the other side. They float over amazing scenery, including a cute little mountain bike trail which was peopled with enthusiastic riders. Mostly families.
Cute town. Decent food. Good bud. Very Euro.
Went to the visitors center to get the low down. The lady at the desk mentioned a road just outside of town with ample camping. She neglected to mention it was a dirt road. I went two miles and gave up as the road was fucked. Trying to find something near town I stopped at Sunshine campground. Saw the Campground FULL sign and started to pull away dejected when this guy in the first site flagged me down and said “hey take this site its paid for, I’m getting a hotel my sleeping pad has an air leak.” He had a bad ass road motorcycle and a dual sport. Looked older, but he’s probably younger than me. We chatted briefly as he tore down his camp and loaded his bikes onto the back of his massive truck. He’s a real sportsman. Something I’m working on to a certain degree. Went back into town and had a plate of mexican food. Which was decent and overpriced. Still, I’ll admit on the road you get what you pay for, and if you’re smart you’ll pay extra to keep from getting fucked.
Plenty of elk sit outside Telluride in the field near the entrance to the town. Probably happens every day. It looked amazing. Good old buildings, interesting labor history in this town. And yet the class conflict persists. Took a hike along the river with plaques detailing mining history but I din’t walk the length of it to the waterfalls that were hyped to me. Met an interesting guy on a moto in the parking lot. We talked shop for a bit. He mentioned how Colorado is a great place for motorcycles. I would later find he wasn’t exaggerating.
August 23, 2020
Had such a great campsite I spent another day in Telluride. Worth it.
August 24,2020
That road from Telluride to Ouray to Silverton is spectacular. A light drizzle came and went along the way. The road hikes upward towards plenty of mining history. Ouray is adorable nestled in the canyon right before the climb up a mountain that leads to a plateau revealing Silverton. Beautiful forests and precarious overlooks were along the path to picturesque Silverton. Silverton is the first old timey western town I’ve seen which appears to be a ghost town, since the buildings are so fucking old, but by all appearance it’s still a functioning town. Took photos of the seedy backstreets of Silverton. Probably should have stayed longer but instead stayed in a mediocre hotel in Durango. Once situated in a hotel I stuck out into Durango. Just driving. Exploring. Riding.
Hell of an adventure, man.
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