September 11 – 20, 2008 – San Francisco, CA to Ocean City, MD

The Scooter Cannonball Run is a coast to coast endurance event for scooters up to 252cc. It is a test of both rider and machine that covers over 3000 miles and takes in some of the best motorcycle roads in the country. It will be run as a time/distance/regularity rally where points are awarded based on miles completed and the ability to maintain the standard pace.

So should I do it? I originally was planning on it, but because the dates got switched around, I figured I couldn’t. But there *is* a way that I can.

Basically, I’d have to do this:
-Ride from the West Coast to Pennsylvania in July. Then at the end of August, I’d ride back to Berkeley, California (in a pretty quick fashion and as cheaply as possible). I’d arrive there around Sept 5ish, get the scooter checked out and then set off for home via the Scooter Cannonball Run on the 11th. I’d probably make it home on Sept 22.

I know it seems pretty crazy to cross the country FOUR times in one summer, but I’d love to do the Run.

Registration closes on July 31, so I have time.

Any thoughts?

So as you know, I survived the night. I’m still cleaning dust out of things, including my eyes. Not a lot of fun. But that’s how it goes.

I shook the dust out of my jacket and thought, “I can see by outfit that I am a cowboy!” You know, the Smothers Brothers version of “Streets of Laredo.” I can’t find a clip of it or the song or anything, but the lyrics are:

And a giggle started my day. Here’s a video of someone else doing their version.

As you might know, I follow a set of directions taped to the headset of the scooter. I don’t just wander around aimlessly. Today’s instructions were made in quite the haste, but I thought they would be right.

The first part of the trip had me going on the Old Oregon Trail. I thought that was odd, since the Oregon Trail was about 10 miles away from where I said it would be. But I tried to follow it anyway.

My mistake was that I didn’t read anything correctly. Googlemaps said that I should turn left onto Old Oregon Trail Highway. I thought (for some reason) that that was the Oregon Trail. It wasn’t. It was Old US 30, here known as “Old Oregon Trail Highway.”

So I followed Old US 30 for about 10 miles thinking that it would connect with I-84. It does not. Looking at the map again, I could have wiggled my way around, followed an old dirt road (which seemed to have been Old, Old Route 30) and have been ok, but I didn’t want to risk it.

I turned around and went back ten miles and took the interstate to where I knew Old US 30 was. It lasted for five miles, but it was nice to be on an old road again. But back to the interstate with me!

However, not for long. While riding the mind-numbing I-84, I spied a sign about the Oregon Trail. Anything is better than this, so I hopped off the super slab and followed the little brown signs down a road and then up a dirt road (yeah, dirt) to a hill.

On the way to the top of the hill, I saw an Oregon Trail marker. And next to the marker was the freaking Oregon Trail! This is a first! The trail, which you could plainly see, was marked! They never do this. They never say “hey, here’s the trail, right HERE!” They always allude in some lofty way that the trail passed near this place that’s close to the newer highway.

But here it was, the trail. Wagon wheel ruts and all!

Was I impressed? Oh certainly I was.

You could see the trail to the horizon in either direction, it was pretty cool. You’re also allowed to follow it however long it goes (or until a sign tells you that you can’t go any farther).

The trail passed over this hill, Bonneville Point. Here is where Mr. Bonneville, while exploring, climbed this hill, saw some trees in the distance and shouted “BOISE!” which means “forest” in French (Bonneville was French).

And if you look to the west, you can certainly see Boise… the city. Not the forest. The forest is gone. Boise replaced BOISE. Sad, really.

Upon returning to the scooter, I met a couple who was checking out this Bonneville place. They asked me about the scooter and the trip. They asked the normal questions, but also some other good ones like “how long will the engine last.” I had no real idea, but figured it could basically go on forever with rebuilds. I really enjoy meeting people. I realize that I spend most of my time alone and have that cowboy thing going on, but I do enjoy talking to folks. I just wish I’d ask more questions about them. I’ll work on that.

This view, however, was spectacular. It overlooked the wide open prairie of Idaho and brought the song “Chant of the Wanderer” into my head.

I rode away and through Boise without giving Boise much thought. I was heading up Idaho Route 55. I had no real idea what it was or where it went. All I knew was that it lead to US 95, which led to some other road which led to another road that took me to Baker City, Oregon, my stop for the night.

I also knew that this was a very zigzaggy way to get there, but I really didn’t care. I didn’t want to resort to the interstate.

Anyway, Route 55 really didn’t impress me at first. It was a busy road that was near a river and so what. But then, all of a sudden, it narrows, the traffic drops off a bit and suddenly there area twists and turns and some amazingly beautiful scenes. Again, Idaho impressed me!

I followed this road for quite a few miles. The going was slow, but very worth it. When a car would come up behind me, I’d pull over, letting it pass so that I wouldn’t be rushed.

Route 55 is Idaho’s answer to California Route 1. It was that great. I was in a thick pine forest, next to white water and old rail road tracks. If you like, you could camp in any of the dozen or so National Forest Campgrounds along the route. Way to go, Idaho!

But, like Route 1, it climbed out of the pines and away from the water and took me to rolling golden hills and a few towns.

The towns were all pretty nice, but I wasn’t feeling in much of a town mood. I wanted to get back to the pines and nature, which is sort of weird for me.

Route 55 ends in the town of New Meadows. From there, I took US 95 South. I was heading north on 55, but now it’s time for the zag, so I headed south.

US 95 was alright, but nothing to really get me going. Actually, at this point, I got pretty fatigued and developed a headache. This is the first time Idaho did such a thing to me. But to get where I had to be, I had to take 95.

Finally, my turn off of 95 was here! Cambridge, Idaho, a weird little run down town that I probably should have explored more, gave me Idaho Route 17 North and that last 30 or so miles of this fair state. Route 95 took me south, Route 17 was taking me north. Another zig-zag.

And what a way to end! Route 71 was nearly as amazing as Route 55.

It gave me curves and views that popped my eyes out. Steep hills rose up on either side of the road as 71 twisted through the Snake River valley that led into Hell’s Canyon. The Snake River in Wyoming was fun to ride along side and the same is true for Idaho. The Snake runs for over 1,000 miles and I bet nearly all of those miles are amazing.

I was getting close to Oxbow and the border of Oregon. It was weird, the whole day, especially riding up 55, I kept thinking that I was in Oregon. I guess Idaho was so pretty that it fooled me!

Crossing into Oregon, I also crossed into the Pacific Time Zone. So, all you eastern friends, I’m once again three hours behind you, ok?

Idaho 71 turned into Oregon 86. This would take me into Baker City, first heading south, then west.

It was a pretty road, but most country than wilderness. That’s alright though. It reminded me of Pennsylvania but with snow peaked mountains on the horizon.

There were some turns and a few hills, but nothing really caught my eye. I was feeling fatigued again, my back was hurting as was my bottom. I wanted today to end and I couldn’t get to Baker City fast enough.

But that’s when I saw “Hole-In-the-Wall Interpretive Site 1/4 mile.” I really didn’t feel like stopping for anything, but I very reluctantly pulled over.

Now, one thing that I almost always notice about a road is whether it’s older or newer. If it’s newer, as this one was, I figure that there much be an older alignment around here somewhere. There was indeed.

Usually, the Department of Transportation wants to replace a road with a bigger one. They build the bigger one and then mother nature reclaims the older one.

In this case, DoT didn’t really want to build a new road. But mother nature seriously wanted to reclaim one.

It was 1984 when a huge landslide covered Oregon Route 86 on the north side of the Powder River. It wasn’t just a few rocks, but the whole side of a mountain just plopped itself down on the road and damming the river. It cut off hundreds of folks from the rest of the world and created quiet a drainage problem since the Power River was completely stopped up.

A new road, the one that I was on, was made a couple of years later. I took a few pictures and noticed that you could still see the old road on the west side of the slide. I figured that you could get to both sides, wouldn’t that be cool if I weren’t so exhausted?

Well, as it turns out, I wasn’t too exhausted for this. How many times do you get to see a landslide up close? Not too many!

I remembered seeing a road not too far back, so I turned around and followed it. It was clearly Old 86 and soon I saw “Road Closed” signs and knew I was getting close.

The road was all chewed up from construction equipment used to dig a new path for the river. And up ahead was the eastern side of the slide.

I took a few pictures that really fail to capture how huge this thing was. I guess it doesn’t seem like a big deal, but it was a cool way to finish out the day.

I tried to get to the western side of the slide, but there was no access to it by car (or scooter). So, feeling even more tired, but happy that I stayed long enough to check things out, I moved on, heading finally into Baker City.

This town is pretty nice. Oddly laid out. It’s a small town with quite a bit of business for its location. I was too beat to take any pictures, but I’ll grab some on my way out.

My home for the night is the Oregon Trail Motel on US Route 30. I can’t seem to get away from this road.

Tomorrow is Portland!

Here are my pics (check them out, the landslide stuff is pretty amazing, as is Route 55).

Miles today: 364
Miles total: 7,093 (wow)

Oh, and listen to this song. It’s one of the song-poems… but just … WEIRD (even for them).

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I wrote most of this as I was writing out the blog entry.

This sucks SO bad. A HUGE dust storm kicked up and the weather people (who didn’t mention ANYTHING about ANYTHING ten minutes ago, now say that there’s a sever thunderstorm coming through right now. No kidding. Thanks, guys.

Later
The tent is blowing over and I’ve had to fashion a new way to keep it in the ground. I’m using my tie down straps to hold up the side that keeps blowing down.

My tent poles are literally held together with cheap duct tape.

There is dust everywhere. I have to keep the windows open or the wind blows the tent over. But with the windows open, the dust comes through the screen.

Little later…
The weather people are now saying it’s partly cloudy with winds at 16mph. They are clearly lying to me. Even the radar shows nothing. I guess this is how they do things in Idaho. Want to know what the weather’s going to be? Just wait… it’s a surprise!

Dust is EVERYWHERE. It’s in my teeth, in my eyes, I’m covered in it. The floor of my tent is covered.

The tent is ripping. I’m not sure that it’s going to make it through this. The poles were broken during the Gallup, NM wind storms and I’ve wrapped them in duct tape. They seem to be holding and that’s really really weird.

My analysis of weather.
Weather hates me when I’m riding. As the long-time readers will know, I’ve had REALLY bad luck with weather, especially in Route 66. But when I was in Albuquerque the first time (not riding), the weather was GREAT. As soon as I left – wind, rain and snow. Oh, but when I got to Berkeley (again, not riding), the weather was amazing!

It then tried to trick me by being pretty good to Salt Lake City. And when I got there and traveled with Sarah (again again not riding), the weather was great! And last night it dipped into the freezing temps and right now I’m sitting with my back to the tent wall, holding it up against 60mph winds.

Seriously, knock it off.

Looking to the west, I can see it getting really dark. If things go bad and start to really rain, I’ll take my act indoors.

More later…
The wind died down for a bit, but now it’s picking up with rain. The neighbor’s tent just blew down. Possibly away. It’s dark now and hard to tell. They’re very unhappy about it.

They’re having a much rougher time than I am. They’ve got several tents and they’re all blowing down. If I were them, I’d go to a motel. But I’m just me and if I have to abaondon ship, I can hide out in the bathroom. The office and recroom are closed, so I can’t do much about that. It seems we’ve been sort of abandoned by the campground manager.

At least it’s not snowing.
I guess.

The neighbors are sticking around. Hats off to the troopers!

Later still
You know how they always tell you that tornadoes sound like freight trains? Well, you know what else sounds like freight trains? Freight trains. And there’s one right by the campsite every 20 minutes or so. I’ll hear this rumbling in the distance, the wind will pick up (because that’s what wind does) and suddenly there’s a rumbling sound like a freight train!

Because it’s a freight train.

Morning edit
All is fine. The storms passed with a little rain and now it’s nearly 7am. People are up and coughing. A lot of people are up. I think there’s only one bathroom for the entire camp. That bathroom includes one toilet and one urinal and two showers. This should be an incredible start to my day.

Here are The Monks with “Hushy Pushy” to get you started on your day.

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