In Oct. ‘09, we set off on a weeklong motorcycle trip thru Vegas, Zion, Bryce Canyon on Honda ST1300's. In ‘10, we trekked thru Yosemite on KTM 990's. In ‘11, we rode thru torrential rains in Quebec on our own BMW’s. In '12, we rented BMW R1200GS and 650GS' and headed into the Colorado Rockies. In April, '13 we explored the Grand Canyon, Capital Reef and Monument Nat'l Valley on 1200GS's. In Sept '13, we will take 800GS' and 1200GS' to the Grand Tetons, Yellowstone and beyond.
It's Monday night. We are eating at the cafe at the San Juan Trading Post motel in Mexican Hat
, Utah near the middle of Monument Valley. (See http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=81KNYpftWWw ) I'm having a salad with grilled chicken. Eric is having the trout. I'm also having one of the local beers. Check it out.
It's one of the more interesting labels you'll ever see. The brew isn't bad either.
There are a couple of cowboys at the table next to us who are in the area for a few weeks working on some sort of electric substation down the road. They are lining up shots of vodka and having a jolly good time. One of them is trying to help a German family learn to play pool. I don't think he realizes that his assistance is unwanted and that his inebriation is affecting his aim. The family is very patient and polite, as all of these European families tend to be. He told us that he lives in Arizona while his wife and kids live in Colorado. Ah, the life of a nomad worker in America these days. You got to get work where you can get it. I just wish he would drink a little less of his paycheck and send more of it home.
We got here around 5p.m. after riding a couple of hundred miles from the South Rim of the Grand Canyon. The going was a little slower, mostly because of the intense winds. There is nothing like going 65 mph on a canyon road while getting buffeted side to side by 15-20 mph cross winds. It's something that I will never get comfortable with, though Eric doesn't seem to mind it.
Tuesday Breakfast;
It's 9:15. I've been waiting for four hours for Eric to wake up. That boy sure can sleep. I've been nursing my coffee. Joey, my server, has refilled my cup many times, too many for me to remember. Joey is a Native American (Navajo) about my age, who looks many years older. He's had a very tough life and it shows.
I asked Joey a few questions not expecting the detailed answers that I got. My booth felt like a confessional as Joey sat across from me and shared his life story. He has been on his own since he was six. He has lived in orphanages, foster homes, sententious centers, shacks, tents, under bridges... anywhere he could lay his head. Joey moved up from Albuquerque three years ago.
He hated it there. It just couldn't stand living amongst Mexicans. He hated them. He said. "They think their sh*t don't stink." Harsh, i know. Joey's bigotry was difficult to listen to. He explains it off as too much exposure to Mexican gangs in prison. 16 of his prison years were attempted murder.
If you are interested in hearing more about Joey in his own words, see the two links below. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=24Bv7jlbdcI http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IVJYYe7jV7I
Have a great day.
-g.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
This is now our fifth trip and it is great to be back near Utah. I shouldn't be confident, but we are starting to get this down. George is not afraid of the freeway and rides confidentally on it when necessary. We don't overpack and there is actually room in our saddlebags. We have the right bikes -- new R1200GS BMW's and they just purr along. We stopped in Kingman AZ last night after a trip to the Hoover Dam. What impresses me about the people we have met is just how hard off people are around here. Arizona has eliminated health care for adults who are poor and don't have children. Kingman is very poor. I talked to a woman in K Mart who showed me where to find George's deodorant and back brace. Two jobs; take home income of about 17k; she doesn't have a doctor and would not know what to do if she had a medical problem. The bright, friendly motel clerk. Four kids; cannot afford them and sleeping on her manager's coach. There may be another story here, but it was not obvious. It seems so clear and apparent to me on this trip how many people there are who just aren't making it and how many of them are working hard. Fifty million Americans who are "food insecure" -- they don't know where they are going to eat tomorrow; or if they are. But these issues are not discussed out here. The airways are flooded with anti gun control ads -- those background checks are a clear violation of the Second Amendment. The billboards -- get an advance (at 25 percent interest) on your next pay check. This horrific inequality is about to catch up with us. It is simply "unsustainable." Sorry for the diversion. I am really enjoying this trip. I was last at the Grand Canyon in 1987 when a client who ran a school for emotionally disturbed kids took me on a parent child trip down the Colorado river for seven days. Great trip -- when the kids were not trying to throw their parents into the 45 degree water. I never thought I would like seeing it all from above but I could stay here for days. There is a terrific walk around the canyon rim and I caught it as the sun was setting. Lots of good times with George as always, including jokes about our deteriorating bodies. We did a video work out at the work out room of the Quality Inn. I discovered I could not do jumping jacks! Knees are in really bad shape and hurt so much I sometimes feel like I am 80. I am going to have to look at surgery when I get back as the PT just is not doing it. I hear so many people who are happy with their new knees. I want two!! But I can't see putting Celia through a double knee replacement. It may so sound strange, but I am not the best patient. So we are off into the really remote areas of Northeast AZ and then back into Utah, where we will end up retracing some of the routes from our first grand excursion. We have come far. - Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
I'm sitting in the dining room of the Bright Angel Lodge, having the El Tovar's Pancake Trio served with Honey Pine Nut Butter and Prickly Pear Soup, a cup of coffee and a glass of water and overlooking
the South Rim. Life is so good. I just came in after spending 20 minutes on the ridge, braving the 21 degree temperature and the gailing winds to see one of earth's most spectacular sights, the sun rising over the Grand Canyon. My goodness, life does have its splendid rewards.
There were others out there too, regaling me with a concert of German, Finish, French and English accents. I have no idea what they were saying but ill bet you a million bucks it was poles apart from the bellyaching of the New York family. If you dislike the cold so much, go back home and watch your Yankees. Don't lace my time hear in heaven. Yesterday I finally woke up Eric up at 8:30. Too much to do, too much to see. We went to the fitness room of the Quality Inn. We started with a 20 minus workout using a routine that I had saved to the iPad. From there we wanted to lift a few weights. However, the weight options were limited (see photo)
. So we went to have breakfast instead. We got on the road about 10 a.m. The riding yesterday was great; some manageable 10-15 mph wind gusts but nothing bad enough to interfere with our steady 65-70 mph speeds down fabled Rte. 66, the original coast to coast road made famous by the early 60's tv show and the accompanying theme song by the same name
. A couple of times I put on the helmut cam that Colin lent me. Hopefully I can get some good footage from it. On the open roads Eric constantly needles me to follow his bursts to 100+ mph. It's not happening. I prepared myself for this pestering and purposely do the opposite when he starts in. It's a ying and yang thing, a mutual state that is with us most of the time. Our readers have surely picked up on this over the years. Eric had requested that I plan out the itinerary for this trip. I was happy to do so since he had dome the bulk of this pre-work in years past. My plan called for us to make our way from Vegas to the Gand Canyon and spend much of the time along the way making detours, doing off-road trips and hiking. When we picked up the bikes, Eric talked at length with the motorcycle dealer. Coming away from that conversation he wanted to rip up my plans and head north to Mexican Hat, Moab and Capital Reef and then come back through western Utah (where we went on our first trip) to Vegas. His plan, that he is pushing for, adds nearly 1,000 miles of riding and goes through daily temperatures 40-50 degrees colder that what I had packed for. I am reluctant to make the change but his desire to go north outweighs mine to go south. He wins. We're fueling up and heading for rte. 160 north (a desolate 100 mile stretch of road) in a little while. Who knows where we will stay tonight. We, and you, will find out later. Have a great day. -George - Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
It's 5 a.m., Sunday, March 31st. I'm sitting in the lobby of the Kingman, Arizona Quality Inn
. Breakfast starts at 6:30. Tina, the desk attendant, thankfully has already made the coffee. I'm on my second cup. Against her bosses orders, she has allowed me to have a banana before the dining room opens. Tina's customer-first attitude is greatly appreciated. She is the best.
Tina is a middle aged woman, who, after spending her entire life in Salt Lake City, just relocated to Kingman. Like LouAnn, the attendant from last night, she is struggling to make her rent payments. Arizona is still economically depressed. "Space for Lease" signs litter the windows downtown. I'm amazed how how resilient and spirited Tina and LouAnn are. They say they are biding their time and that good times are around the corner. May they be especially blessed on this Easter Sunday.
Arizona, Tina tells me, does not recognize Daylight Savings Time. It messes her up when she's watching tv. For the next six months she is on California time and has to watch the news an hour earlier. Life has its inconveniences. Tina just told me about a spot on the hill to watch the sunrise. I'm there...
I just returned from seeing the sunrise. Gorgeous. I wish Margot and the kids were here to see it too. Just as the sun began to peak over the mountains, a train emerged from the pass just in front of me (see http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uWupJPoOc1M ). Im told that trains rumble through this town every 30 minutes or so. The trains are extraordinary; tractor trailers, many double-stacked, rolling on for as long as the eye can see. Last night, as I waited at the local Mexican restaurant for a Eric who was making a KMart run, I asked the waitress where the trains were going. The young server, maybe seven months pregnant, emptily responded, "I have no idea". It could have been mars as far as she was concerned. Wherever it was going, whatever it was carrying, she had no dreams of ever enjoying them. She would benefit from some time with Tina and LouAnn.
We didn't ride for as much as we had hoped yesterday, 130 miles tops. We had a slow morning. We got up early, 7 a.m., and went to the fitness center. We figured on a Saturday morning at a Vegas hotel that we would have the place to ourselves. No such luck. Dozens of people riding stationary bikes and elipticals, lifting weights, stretching, etc. We stayed for 30 minutes or so trying to get our blood going and hopefully burning a few calories. Eric has impressively lost 10 pounds in the last month and hopes to lose more. Maybe I can learn a few things from him.
Last week I started a new physical therapy regiment at the NE Baptist Spine Center. I should have waited until after the trip; lots of discomfort and stiffness over the past few days. Eric has been helping me tie my boots
and thankfully, I have a low suspension bike that allows me to easily get my leg up and over chassis.
Speaking of bikes, we both have brand new 2012 dual-sport BMW R1200GS's. Best bike I have ever ridden; 500 pounds, 105 horsepower, ABS brakes, heated grips and much more. Riding on the freeways, even in the gusty winds, feels much more comfortable.
After spending a couple of hours at the dealer, getting directions, signing paperwork, getting dressed and packing we set off on highway 215 towards Boulder City and Hoover Dam. The sky's were clear and the temperatures in the low 80's. Beautiful. We got to Hoover Dam about an hour later. Surprisingly, the tourist traffic was heavy. To get past security and to park our bikes took nearly another hour. By then the temperatures had climbed to near 90. That can be tough when you are in all of that bike gear and you're not moving.
The dam itself was stunning. As impressive an engineering marvel as you will ever see. We opted out of a tour but stayed long enough to soak in the awe-inspiring site.
We plan to make it to the Grand Canyon by mid afternoon. I can't wait.
Some words from Eric; http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dUzIabXqr74
Later.
G.
It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. OMG! Eric arrived in Vegas late, way past my bedtime (he came from Denver where he and Celia have been for the last month). Yet, he was "starving" so I sucked it up and went out in search of his dinner. The streets were packed, shoulder-to-shoulder. There were birthday celebrators, wedding elopers, bachelors party attendees, March Madness watchers, end of Lent recognizers and general crazies. I commented on how much fun everyone was having and how generally happy they seemed. Eric let loose, shrieking at me about decadence, exploitation, waste and the low life population amongst us. I took a deep breath... It was an evening of Light, it was the evening of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair." It's good to see Eric again. It really is.
I had an easy flight from Boston. Margot dropped me off at Logan at 6:45 a.m. and I waited a couple of hours for my shuttle to Newark. It was worth the early arrival. There were no lines and I was able to sweet talk the attendant into giving me a bulkhead seat for the second leg to Vegas without having to pay the upgrade fee. Thank goodness. A seat in the back of a full 727 for five hours would have really sucked.
Across the isle on the Newark to Vegas leg, three women, probably in their late thirties (see photo.
), were readying for a big girl's weekend away. Moments after takeoff they ordered their first of many Bloody Mary's. Pace yourself girls. It's going to be a long three days.
With their loud abrasive New York accents, they discussed their plans for the weekend. Def Leppard (can you believe they still exist), playing at the Hard Rock, was the centerpiece of their plans. Apparently this is some one time special event for Def's most "special fans". Whatever.
Beyond the concert, there were plenty of other things on their docket. They spent a lot of time reviewing their rules of engagement for the weekend; be each other's wingman; no one was to leave a club with a strange guy. Also, don't let your drink out of your sight. If you're suspicious, don't drink it. "When in in doubt, throw it out". Be sure to tri-text, so we can be in contact as a team. Keep your antennae high. There a lot of creeps out there. The bad ones tend to be by themselves. Lean towards guys that are with friends." All good advice. I was impressed.
I killed some time on the plane by watching "Life of Pi". Heart warming. Terrific special effects. Two hours well spent.
The flight arrived 20 minutes early. Yay. After being taken on a long detour by the cab driver (his English seemed to get a lot worse when I protested), I checked into Treasure Island, me and a hundred others. Because of the long wait, The desk clerk said he was giving me a "Deluxe" room. I think "deluxe" is the new "No frills". It was ordinary at best. Oh we'll, at least there were two beds and a ceiling.
I went down and and hung out by the pool for an hour (see video. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NVUcMvd_R0g ). It wasn't a place for solitude and a new paperback. It was fun nonetheless. There is no place like Vegas.
I had dinner and then watched most of the Michigan - Kansas game at the Vanitian. With three minutes left and Kansas leading by 13, I decided to head to Caesars Palace to catch the Duke game. When I arrived, Kansas had blown its lead. The game was heading into overtime. What? Are you serious? The overtime was a thriller (see video. http://youtu.be/htPGgXB4t-0 ). March Madness at its best. I can't believe Michigan won! Brian, that one was for you. By the way Brian, I have my "Heaven can wait" T-shirt with me. I'll take a picture with it at some cool place and post it on your Facebook
We pick up the bikes late morning. I think we will head to Hoover Dam and then towards Flagstaff. I'm not sure we will make it the whole way. It doesn't matter. We're going to take it slow, exploring some off road trails and probably do a little hiking. I can't wait to get going. I've been looking forward to this for quite awhile.
Over and out.
George
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Buena Vista, 4.45 am outside the Topaz Motel. ( I lasted about 5 minutes; it was 40 degrees.
I did not do a blog entry last night for various reasons and I woke up early wanting to write. Several years ago, I started writing almost every day and then I got lazy and basically stopped. One of the realizations that I have during these trips is how important it is to write and I am going to makes renewed commitment. And to make some other changes in areas that I know I am capable of.
I am not sure why these trips provide an opportunity for reflection, but they do. Perhaps it is because of my time with George. We are both "candid" with each other about each other. Perhaps it is because of the Intense focus necessary to ride a motorcycle safely. There is a decided meditative quality when you ride. That may sound bizarre given the loudness of the machines and the speeds they travel; this would appear to be the antithesis of spending a week at a retreat at a spiritual center, but in many ways it is not. In both settings it is possible (and necessary) to rid your mind of the the thoughts that are so often destructive. Your mind becomes more quiet during theses rides and that brings about a healthy dose of awareness.
George will think this is all a bunch of hogwash.
We started yesterday in Crested Butte, a mining town turned ski resort and watering hole for the one percent. We had a great time and healthy discussions about Lance Armstrong who was there for a bike race. But it is not the type of town we wanted to spend a lot of time in, so we got on the machines and took off. There had been a disagreement about the route (not uncommon). The previous day I had wanted to take a longer and more ambitious adventure; the next day I felt that I had taken too strident a position ("George, I am NOT going on route 50"), and apologized. George then said that he wanted to go the longer way.
We headed off over a 30 mile dirt road to take the shortest route to Aspen. Unlike the other "dirt" we have enjoyed, we did not have the place to ourselves and it was filled with dust and other cars. We had another brief encounter with cattle blocking the road ( the larger ones stare menacingly at you when you are near the calves).
We then headed east on a two lane road along the Gunnison canyon and eventually over to Aspen. We stayed about half an hour after briefly taking in the usual wine festival and international rugby tournament. As noted, these towns are not for me unless they have a foot of powder.
We went over Independence pass at 12 thousand feet, going up and down the most narrow twisting roads of the trip. Great fun. I usually go first, updating George on hairpin turns and oncoming traffic, but I must say that he is now so Incredibly competent on his bike that he does not need much help. He is irrationally still scared of interstate highways, but on challenging back roads his improvement has been amazing. And by amazing, I don't mean excessively fast; he really knows how to handle the bike now. In the past, it seemed at times he was fighting it and sometimes struggling with the machine. He was safe because he went so slow and would stop constantly to let other cars past; no longer. There is no doubt that this "sport" is dangerous, but George is now incredibly competent and shows good judgment. I am proud of him.
We stopped in Twin Lakes, a very small town dominated by two 14 thousand twin peaks (yes there are also two lakes of very different sizes so I am not sure why they call it Twin Lakes). This is one of my favorite places in Colorado. I realized that this is now my fifth trip to Colorado in the past year and I love it more each time.
I am sure that George has already described our great night in Buena Vista and the Kelsey Hunt concert which I had earlier made emphatically clear I would not attend. She brought the house ( maybe 50 people) down; the next day she was off to play in front of ten thousand in a sold out concert (with other artists) in Telluride. I bought an autographed CD (for Celia),
I realize that we had too many long days on the bikes, not enough rest, and did no hiking. That should change in the future. Going off road was fantastic but I am returning home with many aching bones and feeling pretty tired. A fantastic trip, an ever evolving relationship with George, but we should change some things in the future.
It's been almost two weeks since I have seen Celia because she went away with some friends to one of the "Thousand Islands" on the St. Lawrence. I have really missed her.
-Eric
--------------
On Saturday we got a late start so that we could watch the Alpine Odyssey 100 K in Crested Butte. The town was buzzing Friday night that Lance Armstrong would be racing. I knew from reading his biography that he would show up one minute before race time and go right to the front of the pack. So, I positioned myself accordingly. Not to disappoint, he arrived exactly as the PA announcer declared "60 seconds to start time".
Fame has its privileges.
Around 11 a.m. we departed Crested Butte and headed to Kebler Pass Road.
This is a beautiful forest road that connects highway 135 with Paonia Reservoir and highway 133. It was an easy drive, suitable for any vehicles. If you have your own car and like aspens, mountains, and lots of photos ops, take this road. The next time you are in town. You won't be disappointed.
We stopped for lunch at a Subway in Carbondale. I had a vegetarian sub, six inches. Tastes just like back home. Yum!
From Carbondale we headed east for about 45 miles and stopped in Aspen.
It was cool to arrive in the middle of a huge rugby torunament. Lots of beer tents, music, and big hulking guys who were ready to do battle.
Unfortunately, aI could not convince Eric to stick around and watch. I couldn't help but recall my short career playing in college. I broke my nose in the fourth game. I went to the hospital where they reset it by wrapping gauze around some forceps, sticking it my nose and jerking it back into place. As unpleasant an experience as I can ever remember.
Aspen itself was disappointing. Lots of upscale restaurants and shops. Like Crested Butte, it didn't have any of the authenticity of the mining towns like Silverton and Ouray.
East of Aspen, we steadily climbed Highway 82 next to the Roaring Fork River towards the Sawatch Range and reached a high point of 12K plus feet at Independence Pass,
then descended into the even more beautiful valley of Lake Creek, eventually joining US 24 approx. fifteen miles south of Leadville. The scenery at the pass and all along the 44 mile route was some of the most spectacular we've seen. The road ran right beneath many great mountains including the highest in the state (14K plus foot Mount Elbert), and rose well above the treeline into the stark Alpine tundra zone, while also passing lakes, rivers, steep-sided valleys, thick forests of fir and extensive aspen groves. This time of year the yellowing leaves made the landscape incredibly colorful and photogenic.
From Lake Creek
we booked it to Buena Vista. We were pretty wiped out but needed to get within striking distance of Denver so that we could finish the trip by 11 a.m. this morning. We had a decent meal at a local Asian restaurant. It seems you can now call a Chinese restaurant an Asian restaurant and charge twice as much. Afterwards, we went into the local "theatre" to watch/listen to some blues music. We were told that the lead act, Kelley Hunt,
was a national star. We hadn't heard of her but she sure played like she was. The concert was a fundraiser for the local library. We felt good about paying the $25. The good music was a bonus.
We are now in the airport waiting for our flight. Goskowski just missed a 40 yd. kick at the end of the game. Pats lose. Ouch.
A wonderful trip. A big thank you to Bill Smith, the bike store (Colorado Tourbike Rentals) owner who rented us the BMW's. A great guy and great bikes. And of course, thank you Eric for the exhausting, but exhilarating ride.
That's it for now. Thanks for following.
Until next year....
- George
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Saturday morning
We're having breakfast at the Grand Lodge Buffett in Crested Butte, the first upscale hotel we've stayed at. The bill reflects it. Check it out.
There are two sales taxes, a lodging tax, a town center tax and a resort fee. Give me a break.
I'm not wild about this kind of town. It's far from the genuine mining towns we've been at the past few nights. It caters to the wealthy skiing crowd. Downtown, an artificial strip where we ate last night, looks much Breckenridge, or Telluride. Not my cup of tea. The pizza; sausage and jalopena was good as was the Czar Imperial Stout. I nursed the stout slowly as Eric and I argued about which route to take today. It's our last full day or riding and we are trying to balance beauty vs arrival time near Denver. Beauty won out. It will be a long, but surely panoramic trip today.
Yesterday started auspiciously but ended up being what I thought was the best ride yet. Shortly after leaving Silverton, about five miles down the steep windy switchback towards Ohrey, we encountered a group of bikers on the side of the road tending to one of its own. The large man was on the ground next to his Harley Fat Boy. He seem to shaken, but ok. At lest we hope so. We think the tight turns had someone traveling in the opposite direction come into his lane and cut him off. Thankfully he went down on the mountain side. Going off the road on the open side would have been a whole different story. The biker down was a another reminder for us to remain diligent. We have been very cautious, continually minding ourselves through the intercoms to remain focused.
Outside of Ridgeway we turned off on Owl Creek Pass Road, a 40 mile beautiful pass through forest and pastoral landscapes.
What made it so compelling was the fact that the is particularly aspens are turning. Brilliant yellows everywhere. Great views of high and jagged Cimarron Ridge, the 12,152-foot monolith of Courthouse Mountain and 11,781-foot Chimney Rock. Owl Creek Pass is 10,114 feet.
We encountered a few hunting vehicles along the way but otherwise had the road to ourselves. One of Eric's suitcases fell off along the way. That took about a hour to repair and reattach. Other than that little mishap, the trip was a dream cruise that I hope to repeat some day in the future.
After a late lunch in Gunnison we leisurely headed up the final 30 miles to Crested Butte.
The BMW's have treated us well. If you are interested in seeing and hearing more about them, below is a little tutorial from Eric....
