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.
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:
As I walked out on the streets of Laredo,
As I walked out in Laredo one day,
I spied a young cowboy all wrapped in white linen
Wrapped in white linen as cold as the clay.
I see by your outfit that you are a cowboy;
I see by your outfit you are a cowboy, too;
We see by our outfits that we are both cowboys.
If you get an outfit, you can be a cowboy, too.
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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Ok, sorry for the whine-fest earlier today, but hey, it was REALLY freaking cold! It’s miserable to try to sleep in the cold. Geesh!
The shower was hot though, and that nearly makes up for it. Nearly. But what did actually make up for it was meeting four motorcyclists from Colorado Springs while I was typing my whine-fest. They were doing a six-day run to Yellowstone. It was nice to talk to some folks who also ride. And it was nice to be treated as an equal. Though, one fellow said several times that I was a “crazy man.” I guess I can see where he’s coming from a little bit. It probably seems a bit crazy to do this on a little scooter when I could do it on a larger cycle. But there’s just something about a Vespa…
I waited around for it to warm up, leaving the KOA around 9am. I decided to ride to Jackson to see what all the hubbub was about.
I have to say, I really don’t get it. My description in my rant yesterday basically covers it. It’s all that and basically not much else. I rode around a few blocks hoping to see something that would interest me.
Nothing really did. I guess I just don’t care so much. I bet things are really expensive here too.
One thing that really excited me was a Chinese place called Ocean City. Why it was actually called that, I have no idea. But to me, this place is Ocean City without the ocean.
The ride from Jackson to Teton Summit was pretty amazing. Before reaching the base of the mountain, I was afforded the view of the lower Tetons. Thank you. Tetons is French for Breasts. Sigh. Anyway, I catch a glimpse and they look great.
Just after Wilson, the road climbs higher and higher through several switchbacks and suddenly I’m on the snowy top! I dismounted and took a picture of Jackson from way far away. I was also asked to take a picture of a group of French tourists. I wonder if they got a kick out of Great Tetons. Hm.
Even though the border of Idaho and Wyoming is a straight line and based on absolutely nothing geographical, as soon as I got to the bottom of the mountain, Idaho appeared! Presto! And there I was in Idaho.
I have to admit that I wasn’t really stoked about riding through Idaho. I mean, it’s Idaho. Thanks to my mom, I knew that there was a huge spud on a flat bed truck in front of a drive-in theater near Driggs.
Driggs was a little out of my way, but I didn’t care. I figured that Idaho was going to suck, at least something should be fun, right?
So I saw the spud and it was indeed a bunch of fun! I’m glad someone in Idaho thinks they’re funny.
And I was ready to be bored by Idaho. Bring it on!
Between Driggs and Victor was the valley called Pierre’s Hole. This is where a battle took place between fur trappers and a tribe of natives. As the tribe’s chief extended a peace pipe to the traders, he was shot dead. Oops! Hilarity ensued.
I rode back to Victor and took Idaho Route 31 south to Swan Lake where I picked up US 26 again, but heading west this time, instead of east. As expected, there wasn’t much going on.
I did, however, stumble upon a really great view of a canyon, but in order to really see it, I had to enter an oddly closed down rest area to do it. I’m not really sure why the rest area was closed, but it was a nice view.
The next town was Idaho Falls. Glory be.
I kind of forgot that I used to love riding through towns. As I was about ready to pass it by, I thought of it and turned towards the downtown.
This place was beat. Nobody was out, nothing was open. It was sort of like an old town in Jersey or something.
I took some pictures and stumbled upon Happy.
Happy is a Chinese place and it really did live up to its name. The woman who ran it was pretty happy and the food, Ma Po Tofu, was vegan and delicious. It was actually spicy! That never happens! I was pretty excited.
On the way out, an older lady who was sitting by the window looking at my scooter asked me, “Are you the one who’s traveling on the scooter?” I said that I was and she smiled.
“I’m 70 something, but I used to have one of those when I was 15. We’d zip around North Hollywood and raise some hell.”
She told me that she grew up on North Hollywood and had an old Vespa. I guess you could ride them at any age then. It was great talking to her. I could tell that she wanted to be zipping around on a scooter again. She wasn’t sad and seemed to be pretty content where she was, but who wouldn’t want to zip around on a scooter? Especially since a happy chunk of her childhood was spent “zipping around North Hollywood” on a Vespa.
I hope at 70 that I’m still zipping around.
So, ok. Idaho was boring, but not bad. I met a great gal, had some amazing food and the broken down town of Idaho Falls was actually depressing in a good way. I guess I can say that since I don’t live there.
Speaking of Idaho Falls, where are the falls? Well, I accidentally found them while hooking up with US 20.
They’re certainly not Niagara, but they’re pretty and if I lived here, I’d be happy the falls were here too.
Route 26 took a weird detour to Blackfoot while Route 20 went straight west. I took US 20 and i’m glad that I did.
This is where I found Hell’s Half Acre. Now, there are many Hell’s Half Acres. Ohio, Tennessee, Fort Worth, Texas all have them. There’s even a Hal’s Half Acre across the river from Duncannon.1 But this Hell’s Half Acre is the youngest of the Basaltic Lava Fields in the Snake River Plain.
I rode into the field on a little dirt road. Most of the lava is sort of hard to see. It’s covered by sage grass and random trees. But it’s there. And it’s a pretty huge lava field. 4,000 - 5,000 years ago, the earth cracked open and lava spewed forth over 125 square acres… so a bit more than a half acre. There wasn’t a volcano here, just a vent. I didn’t have time to walk to the vent.
Also, the temperature kept climbing it was in the 90’s now. Crazy.
Because there was a whole lot of lava in this area, there weren’t many towns. And because there weren’t many towns, wouldn’t this make an excellent place to build the world’s first nuclear power plant? It sure would be!
You can even tour it if you’re feeling spunky enough. I wasn’t, so rode on.
Right before Butte City, Routes 20 and 26 rejoined. Idaho wasn’t looking too bad now that I was actually experiencing it. I was seeing a lot and learning a bunch of fun stuff.
But I figured that would be it. Acro, where I stopped for gas, surprised me. They had the top part of a submarine in their park and one of the coolest things I’ve seen on the trip thus far.
Behold: Arco Number Hill.
What would all these numbers stand for? Well it’s tradition in Arco, since 1920, for the graduating senior class to paint their graduating year on the side of the mountain. I’ve never seen such a thing before. Sure, many towns will paint the first letter of the town name on the side of the closest eminence, but for each class, every year to paint their graduating year… well, I’m impressed. Go Idaho!
As I was riding US 20, I kept seeing signs for Craters of the Moon. I knew it was some park or something, probably nothing to see from the highway, no time to see more and no desire to pay $10 to quickly ride through it to see some hole in the ground or something.
Again, Idaho proves how much it rules.
Just after Arco, I started to see more lava. Ok, Idaho used to be a bit hotter than it was now (nearing 100 degrees, by the way). But as I rode, the formations grew in size until, not too far from the road, they were basically small mountains.
I pulled over and took in the sea of blackened lava surrounding me. As late as 2,100 years ago, lava was erupting from the ground and out of mountains. This was one of the most amazing things I have ever seen in my entire life.
You can look at my pictures and read about it here, but, like so many things, it’s something to be experienced. It is huge, 714 acres. There’s a small park with a seven-mile trail. I didn’t do it. No time, really. But I promise you, I’m coming back to see this. Amazing.
So I went from basically dreading Idaho to having plans to return. Weird, isn’t it? I certainly wouldn’t want to live here, but this lava field thing is pretty cool in my book.
A bit farther down the road and it’s lush and green, like nothing ever happened.
For pretty much the entire day, I was following an alignment of the Oregon Trail. Specifically Lander Road, at first and then Goodale’s Cutoff through the lava fields. Why he chose this route, I’m not really sure. Looking at a map, it doesn’t seem to save that much time.
And finally, I arrive in Mountain Home. It’s a small town that used to be called Rattlesnake. That was when it was 10 miles northish of here on the Oregon Trail. When the Trail died out and Union Pacific laid their line through, Rattlesnake, now called Mountain Home because Rattlesnake is a dumb name for a town, moved 10 miles and went from being an Oregon Trail stop to being a Union Pacific stop.
It’s also a stop for me! I checked the weather and all seems clear. So I’m getting a campsite and enjoying not freezing to death.
Can you think of a better way to spend the first night of summer? How about in a teepee in Wyoming where it’s so unbelievably cold that it completely hinders even the concept of sleeping? And how about when you wake up, there’s frost on the ground. You know… that mythical first frost of summer. Ahhh!
That’s pretty much my night. Except that there were obviously moments of sleep. I had dreams such as:
-The dream about a gas heater… warm blue flames.
-The dream about buying thermals at Kmart.
-The dream about hanging out with Cole in warm California.
-The dream about an electric heater.
I’m sure there were more. So I slept at least four times last night.
The scooter was also covered in frost. Right now, it’s 39 degrees. I’ve ridden in colder, but would really rather not. The sun is out and warm (thank god the sun isn’t cold). The temps will rise quickly in the sunny spots.
There are cows bellowing in the background.
Tonight, they’re calling for the possibility of severe thunderstorms with dangerous lightening (as opposed to that safe, cuddly lightening) and microbursts. My tent won’t hold up to that. The fiberglass poles are held together with duct tape. If I find a Gander Mountain type store, I’ll be hitting it to buy aluminum poles. If not, and if the weather goes bad, I’m heading for a motel. I don’t want another night like Gallup. No thanks.
After far too much time away from riding, today I took to the open road! How was it? Well, to be honest, it was yet again wonderful!
I left the Salt Lake City area around 8:30am and took the interstates north and a bit east. Thankfully, that didn’t last too long.
However, I took I-84 east through a mountain pass where the winds, blowing against me, slowed me down to 50mph. Why the wind was blowing west, I have no idea. But it was really strong. Weirdly, it was the only wind I encountered all day.
After I cleared the interstate, I found my way to Utah Route 167. It was a pretty little road and I could see snow-capped mountains around me. This was strange since yesterday it was well into the 90’s. I thought that the snow would have melted by now. It was in the mid 70’s as I rode by.
I rode by Huntsville and then north on Utah Route 39. This road is usually closed in winter, but since it’s really freaking close to summer, it was open. No snow for me!
Route 39 is one of those roads that you pretty much have to ride to experience it yourself. There’s nothing really special about it other than it’s a fun road with a lot of curves and hills, few cars and amazing views.
As I climbed into the mountains, I started to see patches of snow on either side of me. And then I saw about a three foot drift to my left. I rode a bit farther and saw a drift well over five feet high. This wasn’t a pile of snow laid there by a snow plow. This was simply five feet of pure white evil (well, sort of dirty gray evil).
I discovered that I was at 9,000 feet. Pretty impressive. This is the highest altitude I’ve ever ridden in.
That was the peak of the mountains and on the way down, about 15 miles later, I was in what looked like Nevada or New Mexico. Sharp reddish rocks jutted out of the mountains as the road twisted down to Woodruff, the last town in Utah.
Next stop was Wyoming. But just for a bit. However, in Wyoming, I was following both the Oregon Trail and a Union Pacific Line. Could this get any more geekier?
Along the way, I saw an older alignment… with an old steel bridge! Yes, it got geekier. I practically geeked out. The bridge had a wooden floor! I couldn’t find an easy access to it, so I rode on.
That was it for Wyoming, but not for long. US 30 curves left, heads west and slides into Idaho in a weird sort of way. The railroad drips south and the road heads a bit north. I don’t think this was the original alignment of 30 (or the Oregon Trail). This was a newer road.
And hello there, Idaho! I’ve never been to Idaho before. Ever. It’s one of the few states that has not be blessed with my presence. But here we are, together at last!
Idaho was a pretty cool state. Maybe it’s just this corner of it, but whatever, Idaho was great.
First off, it’s pretty. That’s always a plus. Secondly, about five miles into it, Route 30 takes a weird northerly bend. Along the road you can see an earlier road. I thought it was simply an earlier alignment of Route 30. Oh no, it was not.
The road was the McAuley Cutoff. And, like most cutoffs, there’s a fun story behind it. You can read about it here. That’s just cool. Seriously, read it. This is why I love riding through places like this.
US 30 took me into Montpelier, ID. Montpelier was a Oregon Trail town and, like many Route 66 towns, they’re proud of their place in history. There is even a government-run museum in the town.
I stopped at it and was pretty curious as to how they’d set it up. The building itself was divided into several museums and the forestry service. It was pretty confusing.
To make matters wackier, the people who worked there were dressed as cowboys. Even the women. Some had old Colt revolvers. They all talked like they were from Texas. And then they sang a song about a cowpoke.
I wish I were making this up. But it’s true. The head cowboy offered me a tour. I declined. Honestly, how can I trust these people? Ok, if they wanted to do a first person impression of a settler traveling the Oregon Trail, fine. First person impressionists are extremely knowledgeable and fun. But these were just normal folk (or government employees) dressed as fake Texas cowboys standing in a museum that was built in the 1970’s. And they wanted me to pay for this? Come on, now.
I was hoping, as I left Montpelier, that I would also be leaving the hokey cowboy barf behind me. Sadly, that couldn’t be farther from the truth.
The road, now US 89 (again, if you’re paying attention), swung me back into Wyoming. This road was certainly beautiful. Along with the hokeyness, I thought I left the Oregon Trail behind. But no. There was a leg of it called the Lander Cutoff. The cutoff was made to shorten the distance of the Oregon Trail, but this cutoff was much rougher than the original. However, the Lander alignment had food and water, a big plus when trying not to die on your way to California.
This was a pretty neat spot. Idaho, unfortunately, doesn’t really mark where the trail is (or was). They have many historical markers about it, most saying that it was near by or along side of US 89. But if there is evidence of the road itself, I didn’t see it and it went unmarked.
And that somehow lead to the hoke. From here on out, the closer that I got to Jackson, WY, the cheesier it got. And it wasn’t the good cheese like what is offered on Route 66. This was just sad.
Everything revolved around cowboys and settlers. Ok, fine, I don’t have a real problem with that. But why do it in a “if you have WAY too much money and time, blow it here on cowboy crap made in China!” It’s sort of like the Shore. Except instead of the ocean, we have the settlers.
You can spend some time and money on a dude ranch where you can hang out with real fake cowboys! You can grab a Miller Lite at a real fake saloon! You can go on real fake covered wagons where real fake settlers will tell you real fake stories about what it was like to live way back in the good ol’ days where one in 17 settlers died en route to what they were told was a better life.
I hate places like this. Why can’t we just have kitsch? Why do we insist upon cheapening (and then overpricing) such important and tragic events? In 100 years, we’ll have a 9/11 rollercoaster, I promise you.
Ok, sorry for ranting.
At least the mountains and the Snake River were beautiful. It was Friday, so everybody and their insane grandma were on the road. After a long stretch through a valley, US 26 joined US 89 and I rolled east towards the unfortunately named town of “Hoback.” Yick!
Slipping north, about ten miles from Jackson, I saw a KOA. I thought it was weird since my stop for the night, a KOA on the other side of Jackson, wasn’t all that far away. I rode on.
To get to my KOA, I didn’t have to enter Jackson. I’m actually still debating whether I should even go there. What if it brings me to uncontrollable fits of ranting? We’ll see. Anyway, I didn’t have to go into it. It was five miles down the road and another two miles north on Moose Wilson Road (one of the coolest road names ever).
I rode up Moose Wilson and back down. No KOA. I called Sarah for directions. After several long minutes of trying to connect to an incredibly crappy dial up connection, she told me that the KOA was 12 miles south of Jackson. Yes, the KOA I passed nearly 20 miles ago was my KOA. Guess who was not thrilled? This one.
I rode the 20 miles back to the KOA. While there, they informed me that they didn’t really have anything… and something about a party last night and they’ll get back to me. I was to have a seat “over there.”
I sat “over there” for about 20 minutes. They were swamped. Three people were working the counter and none of them had even a second to take a breather.
So I left.
There wasn’t much that I could do except hop on the scooter and head back to Hoback, where I fueled up and called Sarah so that she could check on motels in Jackson.
She checked on a few, but they were either booked or $100 a night. No thanks. I had her check on ones nearly an hour away. Nothing. Same story. It’s the weekend in touristland. I was screwed.
What did I do? Well, I resigned myself to riding until I found something. Anything. And as I found myself in front of that same KOA, I pulled in and crossed my fingers.
They were still swamped and people were not happy. I’m not one to get upset, so I waited my turn and asked if they had anything for the night. The lady behind the counter apologized for before and checked.
There were some spots by the river, “but they might be flooded.” And I’d have to park my scooter and walk a pretty long way. I wasn’t jumping for joy. At least I tried.
“We do have a couple of Teepees open.”
Huh?
I asked what she meant. And, like she had said, she meant teepees. For some reason, this KOA has three teepees. One was being used, but I was welcome to stay in either of the others. She sent me down to pick one out.
Upon further inspection, I discovered that these were canvas teepees with a plank wood floor next to the river all by their lonesome. I thought for exactly one second before running back to the office to tell the woman “I’ll take the teepee!” in a very delighted voice.
I forked over my 36 bucks and unloaded my gear inside a real fake teepee! Look at me! I’m an Indian!
Ranting again, sorry. I do really like the teepee. It’s much roomier than my tent and it’s cheaper than a motel. I think this is the coolest place I’ve stayed so far. Maybe. Well, it’s the weirdest place I’ve stayed so far.
11:30am (MDT) - I need rear brakes. Mine are nearly shot. Scooter Lounge in Orem told me they were bad, but they couldn’t get any in because Vespa (who is incredibly impossible to deal with) couldn’t get them to them in time.
This might be a reoccurring theme, and as much as I love the modern Vespa, an easy to work on vintage might be the way to go (if you’re not crossing the country).
I called two shops in Portland, but neither can help me. I called Vespa Seattle, but they can’t help me either. I’ve got two shops, one in Seattle and one in Portland that I’m about to call. I emailed Big People Scooters in Seattle and they said that they could fit me in for a tire change, but I need to make sure they can do a break change too.
I’ll be calling them when they open.
12noon (MDT) - Called Big People Scooters and they are fitting me in at 4pm on July 2. So it’s looking like I’ll be in Seattle till at least the 3rd. That’s weird, since I was supposed to be home on the 4th.
It’s not that I’m behind schedule though. If you’ve been following me, I’ve added a bunch of stuff, including Seattle, to my trip.
So Big People will be doing a rear tire change and a break change. As for the oil change, which I won’t need by then, I can do that myself in any parking lot, so no big deal. It’s just nicer if someone else does it for me.
Let’s have a song, ok?
How about… “I Lost My Girl to an Argentinian Cowboy.”
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Later
For those interested, here are the routes I’m taking to Portland…
Day 51 - SLC to Jackson, WY
-201 E to 215 N
-214 N to exit 324 US 89
-US 89 (10mi)
-I-84 E to Exit 92
-UT 167 North (12mi)
-RIGHT on UT 39 (50mi)
-LEFT on UT 16 (19mi)
-RIGHT on UT 30 (4mi)
-Turns into WY 89 (4mi)
-LEFT on US 30 (50mi)
-RIGHT on US 89 (80mi)
-RIGHT US 26/89 (36mi)
-LEFT on WY 22 (5mi)
-RIGHT on Moose-Wilson RD
KOA - Two miles
Day 52 - Jackson, WY to Mountain Home, ID
-WY 22 West (17mi)
-Turns into ID 33 (5mi)
-LEFT on ID 31 (20mi)
-RIGHT on US 26 (43mi)
-RIGHT on Broadway ST in Idaho Falls (5mi)
-Straight on US 20 (61mi to Arco)
-44 miles to Carey
-100 miles to Mountain Home
Cross I-84
-Straight on ID 51
-Right on N 2nd ST
-Straight on Main (1/4mi)
-RIGHT on 10N ST
KOA
Day 53 - Mountain Home, ID to Baker City, OR
-Main Street N out of town
Before I-84
-LEFT on Old Oregon Tr (16mi to exit 74)
Cross I-84
-LEFT on Old Hwy 30 (5mi)
I-84 (21mi)
-EXIT 46 / ID-55 (112mi)
-Straight on US 95 (45mi)
-RIGHT on ID 71 (29mi)
Turns into OR 71 (11mi)
-LEFT on OR 86 (67mi into Baker City)
Follow 86 to Clark ST
-RIGHT on Auburn
-LEFT on US 30/Bridge Street
Day 54 - Baker City to Portland, OR
-Auburn to ID 7 S/W (50mi to Austin)
-RIGHT on US 26 (140mi - 25mi to John Day)
-LEFT on OR 126 (46mi to Sisters)
-RIGHT on Santiam Hwy (31mi)
-RIGHT on Cascades Scenic (44mi)
-LEFT on OR 224 (43mi)
-North on I-205?
Need directions from Ashley
Later Still
Here are some maps.
Even Later Still
It’s just occurred to me that this is the 50th day of my trip. I’m well over half-way, but it feels like I just started. Not in a “time sure does fly” sort of way, but in a “I have no idea what I’m doing” sort of way.
I think I’ll be on the road for another month. That’s 30 more days. Maybe I’ll go out after that. Maybe I’ll make it an even 100 days. Or I could make it auspicious and make it 108 days.
Though it seems like I’ve been stagnant, driving in a PT Cruiser or staying with friends in ABQ, SLC, PDX and SEA (ha! airport codes are fun!), I’ll definitely be putting on some miles real soon. It’ll be over 1,000 to Portland, another 250 to Seattle and at least 3,000 to Pennsylvania. You’ve got upwards of 5,000 miles of writing to look forward to! Lucky you!
Let’s have another song, shall we? Here’s “Convertibles and Headbands,” another song-poem. The music isn’t much to write home about, but the spoken part at the end is worth it, trust me.
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Much Later
I decided to go for a ride and get some Chinese food from Long Life Vegi House. What a wonderful place!
I got the Sweet & Sour Chicken sans onions and peppers with nearly raw broccoli on the side. YUM. I love when places will substitute crappy vegetables for broccoli. Love it. Thanks!
Since this is my last night, I thought I’d treat myself, you know?
Mandy and Earl were at a wedding reception, so I milled about and didn’t really do much. I collected my thoughts and loaded up the bike a little bit. Oh, I did some laundry. Fun.
I’m ready to go. Mandy and Earl have been really fun and great - but it’s time to ride, Sally, ride!
It’s been a long time since I’ve really been riding. I’m ready to hit the road. I’m excited! I don’t really know what I’ll be seeing, but I feel like a cowboy! Yeehaw!
And to sing me on my way, here’s a travelin’ song. “Lola” by The Raincoats.
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Mandy makes her own pasta. She uses an attachment for her avocado green KitchenAid mixer. It’s pretty spectacular. And today, I was the pasta maker! Well, I helped. A little.
Yes, folks, today was another day off in sunny Salt Lake City! But the pasta was fun. I’m not sure if this is how big companies make their pasta, but it was pretty great. The attachments for the mixer are sort of pricey, so I can’t really imagine myself doing this, but Rati has this kind of mixer, so I wonder if she’ll be jumping to do it.
We found out that with nonegg pasta (which is what most pasta is, but Mandy mostly made fettuccine, which is eggy) all you have to do to cook it is dip it in the boiling water for a few seconds. Not for a few minutes. No no.
In other news…
A few days ago, I had a new MP3 player sent to Mandy’s. I was in ABQ when I ordered it. It’s the Cowon iAudio D2. First, I had to overlook the iAudio thing. I’m come to hate almost anything that starts with “i,” iPod especially.
I learned about the Cowon D2 via Anything But iPod. I was looking for an MP3 player that would be treated as an external drive by my computer.
See, I run Ubuntu and finding an MP3 player that doesn’t require incredibly crappy software to load songs onto it is a tough job. The iPod has iTunes and it’s iAnnoying and iCrappy and only available for iMac and iWindows. I could load stuff onto it using a program made for Linux, but then I wouldn’t be able to load stuff from other peoples’ computers.
So I got the D2 and love it. It’s holds 4GB and allows for SD cards. I have a 16GB card in it, bringing the total storage to 20GB. Not bad. I’ll be picking up a 36GB card when they’re cheaper. It’s supposedly got 52 hours of battery life. Seriously, skip the iPod thing.
I loaded all the music I had on it and even some of the new stuff.
And yesterday I said that I’d post some more music. Here you go.
Let’s hear from the Monks again! “Boys are Boys”! This is from their demo. On the demos they used a church-sounding organ (get it - the Monks?).
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Hey, how would you like another Monks song? This is also a demo. Here’s Space Age!
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And again from Mrs. Miller doing the smash hit “Downtown.” A reviewer at allmusic.com said about her: “Her renditions … exist somewhere between opera, yodeling, and the blood-curdling screams of Guantanamo torture victims. It’s still better than your average Toby Keith record, but not by much.”
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And another Song-Poem, here’s “Jimmy Carter Says ‘Yes’” Listen to the amazing lyrics.
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Oh heck, how about another one, my favorite, “Beat of the Traps”.
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I’m feeling pretty giving today. Here’s a track from Flight of the Conchords. “Bowie” - It’s basically amazing if you’re into Bowie. Otherwise, you won’t care. Oh, and a bunch of fun on the end.
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Yet another day off. I know it seems like I’ve had more days off than on lately, and it’s true, I have. But that’s a very important part of traveling, I think.
However, much of yesterday was spent mapping out my upcoming route through Wyoming, Idaho, Oregon and Washington. I leave on Friday. My stops will be:
Jackson, WY
Mountain Home, ID
Baker City, OR
Portland, OR
Seattle, WA
I’ll be camping in Jackson and Mountain Home, staying in a motel in Baker City, with Ashley in Portland and with Jeff, Ryan and Jaime in Seattle.
The route looks like a good one and I’m really excited to ride it.
I am a little worried about the back breaks. The folks at Scooter Lounge couldn’t find any in time (Vespa seems to be out of a lot of rather important parts). So I’m hoping that my next stop - Big People Scooters in Seattle - can be as helpful. I emailed them yesterday and it seems doubtful, but I hope that they can fit me in.
Like I said yesterday, The Scooter Lounge in Orem, UT was great, especially for fitting me in with such late notice. If every scooter shop could be run like that, scootering would be a much better thing, and it’s already pretty amazing.
Oh, and about eating. We ate at Addicted Cafe, which is a mostly Vegan (all vegetarian) cafe in SLC. I ate there last year and it was delightful. This year, it was every bit as good. I got an Italian Sub. Hooray for Addicted!
For those wondering, Sarah made it safely back to the desolate lands of central Pennsylvania. She seemed to have a good enough time, PT Cruiser considered. Thanks, Sarah!
The PT Cruiser was returned. Thank god. I won’t rant on about how much I hated the evil that it was, but I’m glad to be rid of it. Fox Rent a Car, the folks from whence it came, seem to only have HUGE cars. I don’t get it. People who rent usually want small, economic cars, not portly gas guzzlers. It’s sad the the PT Cruiser seems to get the best mileage out of their SLC fleet. Lame, Fox, I’ll never use you again!
I should have taken some pictures today. But no, I did not. Mostly I hung out with Earl and talked about music. Earl is an electronic musician and produces some pretty cool stuff. We were up late watching videos on YouTube. Like this:
Enjoy!
A few days ago, I promised to upload some of the new stuff.
First, here are the Monks with “Higgle-Dy-Piggle-Dy”
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And how about some Mrs. Miller doing “These Boots Were Made for Walking” - Mrs. Miller was born in the Route 66 town of Joplin, Missouri!
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And about the Song-Poems, here’s “Do You Know the Difference Between Big Wood and Brush?” Listen to the amazing lyrics.
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I’ll definitely be posting some of the song-poems again, but I thought I’d post a song by Flight of the Conchords. Lyrically, they seem to be really influenced by people who have no business writing lyrics. Here’s “I’m Not Crying,” one of the finest examples of such things.
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It was a sad time saying goodbye to Sabra and Cortney in ABQ. They’re great folks, great hosts and I can’t possibly thank them enough for putting us up. Thanks!!
Though our destination was north of Albuquerque, we had to head west for about 100 miles. Heading west from ABQ means one thing: Route 66. That’s right, I was back on the Mother Road.
We left the city on the interstate, but as soon as we got to Mesita, I turned off on 66. It was a long journey of 650ish miles ahead of us, but there’s always some time for Route 66.
This bit of it was Dead Man’s Curve! Ouuu, scary! But it’s one of my favorite stretches, so I was glad to be able to do it again… even if we were PT Losers.
We took Route 66 when we could from there to Gallup, NM, covering the route in about two and a half hours. It’s really weird that it took me all day to do it on a scooter. Of course, I really explored it - here, we were just doing a drive-by.
Once in Gallup, we took US 491 north, all the way to Cortez, Colorado, where we stayed nearly a week ago.
Along the way, we passed Shiprock, New Mexico, where the Ship Rock can be seen from miles away, almost hovering over the high desert horizon. The landscape was a nice way to end our time in the Four Corners area.
After a quick fill up in Cortez, we headed north west, still on US 491 to Monticello, Utah. We were back in Utah!
I know Utah gets a pretty bad rap, mostly because of the Mormon thing, but it really is a beautiful state. And now that I’ve been pretty much all over it in 2004, 2006, 2007 and now in 2008, I think I can speak with a bit of authority on this subject. Utah, though I wouldn’t want to live here (except maybe in SLC), is a really pretty state. If you haven’t visited it, you really should.
I’ve been across Utah enough to where I’m accidentally backtracking!
We grabbed US 191 North in Monticello and suddenly things started to look familiar. That’s not too uncommon when you’re traveling in the desert areas, a lot of desert looks the same. We then passed a really colorful cafe.
“I’ve been here before!” I exclaimed a bit too excitedly. It must have been in 2006 with Nikki and her brother and sister. I immediately doubted this because nothing else looked at all familiar.
The landscape was mostly flat, but was chucking huge rocks at us! Church Rock, for example. This looks sort of like a bee hive. More like a bee hive than a church, but who cares, it’s a really amazingly cool rock that I don’t remember seeing before.
Moab was next up on our travels. But before that, we passed “Hole in the Rock.” Well, we didn’t pass it, we stopped. Just like I stopped in 2006. Somehow or another, we must have came through here then. How? I’m not sure. We were traveling from Flagstaff to somewhere in Colorado, so this must have been along the way.
Hole in the Rock is a tourist trap, plain and simple. At any rate, it’s a pretty cool place. Some guy, a few decades ago, built his house into a rock (thus the name). You can tour his house for $5 a pop and maybe we should have. I didn’t in ‘06 and I didn’t in ‘08.
What does it say about me that I’ll drop $200 on comic books and won’t let go of a $5 note to see a cool house inside a rock? No idea.
But around the grounds of Hole in the Rock, there’s enough free stuff to keep you busy for the better part of an hour.
They’ve even got a Hebe statue just like my grandmothers. Ok, a lot of folks do, but I’m always happy to see dear Hebe again. Hebe is the daughter of Zeus (who isn’t?) and the goddess of youth. Go, Hebe, go!
In my family, her name was always pronounced “Hee-bai,” but actually it’s Hebe. Sorry, mom.
By now, I was convinced that I had been over this road before. As we entered Moab, I remembered the town. It’s a crappy tourist town, but I remembered it!
I think it was here in 2006 that we took some other road to I-70. Or maybe we took the same one that I was taking today. Anyway, in ‘06, we headed east on I-70, in ‘08, I was heading west.
Thankfully, we weren’t on I-70 for long. US 6 broke away from it, heading northwest to the Salt Lake area and we took it.
Route 6, again, delivered. It was a great road, winding through mountain passes and along some pretty busy Union Pacific lines.
I even got lucky and caught a picture of a north-bound exiting a tunnel. You know you’re jealous.
I take a lot of train pictures. I think I might collect them into one big train photo album. But would anyone really care? I don’t know. But I would dig it. So I’ll do that sometime.
US 6 takes us to Spanish Fork, so we stopped in at the HK temple for a quick hello and then drove to Orem, where my scooter was being worked on.
Thankfully, they were still open, so guess what? Yeah, I got my scooter back! Woo! I was thrilled.
The Scooter Lounge seems to be made up entirely of super helpful and awesome guys. They treated me really well and I’m glad that I got to meet them. If you’re ever riding through the SLC area, check them out.
So far I’ve had good luck with shops. Vespa OKC was great, Vespa ABQ was really great and The Scooter Lounge was just as great. All the shops are busy this time of year, so for any shop to fit me in basically thrills me.
Sarah drove the PT Evil and I got to ride all the way to Long Life Vegi House! And even though it was crappy I-15, I loved it!
I have said this before, but I don’t think I could possibly say it enough. I now hate cars. I don’t want one and wherever I choose to end up, it will be where I do not need a car. You have no idea how much this excites me.
After a bite to eat, we drove/rode to Mandy and Earl’s, where I’ll be staying for a handful of days before heading on up to Portland, OR to visit Ashley, who I traveled with in 2004 and a bit in 2006.
