Oh deer, crashing sucks.

Yesterday started off as a beautiful day with sunny, clear weather and a slight breeze. I packed up my bike and departed between 9:30 and 10am from Jeff & Kimberlee's home. My route was going to take me eastward through the Columbia River Gorge to The Dalles, then southward in order to loop back past Mt. Hood and then across the Columbia to come back on the Washington side of the river.

I arrived in Troutdale and exited to take the historic highway 30 route. This was a lot slower and more scenic than the interstate, which was fine with me. I rode along for a while before arriving at Crown Point, which had a magnificent view of the river valley. There was a cool looking building there at Crown Point which was hexagonal, or octagonal in structure that served as the visitor's center for the park. The next stop was the first of many waterfalls - Latourell Falls. These falls were in a really beautiful setting which allowed one to see the different layers of volcanic basalt that makes up most of the terrain in the gorge. Much like the grain in wood, you can see different alignments of it that correspond with different eras of geological activity. As I hiked around these falls, I followed the trail toward the river and came out near a really old, dilapidated looking house. I never saw the biopic about the crazy hoarders of the Kennedy Family, but this house reminded me of the photos I had seen when that story had been advertised. It looked like a strong gust of wind would cave it in.

I stopped next at Wahkeena Falls and took a few photos. Rather than go for another hike, I saddled back up and headed for Multnomah Falls which is apparently the second-highest continually running waterfall in the continental U.S. Multnomah falls was pretty big, that's for sure. When I caught my first glimpse of them, I could see a bridge in front of them that visitors could stand on for a closer, better look. It also helps give scale for the falls when viewing them from a distance. I hiked up the short trail to the bridge to snap a few photos and then went down to the gift shop to see if there was anything worth buying or if it was just the usual touristy crap. I bought a postcard.

I then headed eastward toward the Dalles getting on highway 84 for a while, then back onto the historic highway at Mosier. 6 miles east of Mosier was where everything went awry. I was heading toward a left handed turn at about 35 miles an hour when I saw something move out of the corner of my left eye. In the next instant, Bambi's stupid mom was right in front of my bike. I had about enough time to shout an expletive before I heard the loud BANG and I collided with her. The handlebars whipped back and forth momentarily and the bike went down on its left side. I felt my left knee and the toe of my left boot slam into the tarmac and began to slide with the bike. I vaguely remember more profanities uttered as I began to tumble several times before coming to a stop. I was lying on my back with my legs dangling over a short embankment. I sat up and gravity started working against me, so rather than try to fight it, I slid about 10 feet down the bank to the driveway that was there and started to hobble back toward my bike. It was pretty hot out there, and I was sweating like a hog, panting as I hiked to my broken steed. To make things worse, the wheels were uphill of the seat and handlebars, making picking it up even more difficult. Fortunately a man was driving down the road and stopped to help me lift the bike and move it to the side of the road. Picking it up, I could see that the left side of the radiator had been compromised and the left footpeg had broken off completely. The mirrors were tweaked and scraped and the front fender had been broken off ahead of the forks. There were (are) bits of fur here and there in the cracks on the plastics verifying the impact with the deer. One of the residents named Gwynn (who's driveway I had slid down to) was arriving home and offered to take me to her home so I could call for assistance since I had no cell reception out there.

In the house it was thankfully cooler with fans blowing and a large, cold glass of water was offered to me. Their big, dopey black labs seemed happy to have a guest as I patted their heads and made some calls to Kimberlee to see if she could come out and pick me up. About 10 minutes after the calls were made, I was sitting on the couch watching Bonanza (ironic, since I was thinking about it several days prior) when the adrenaline dump hit me. Tunnel vision, ears ringing like cymbals and very lightheaded. I tried to check my radial pulse and carotid pulse without much success. Gwynn's brother Ed had a pretty concerned look on his face and asked "Are you sure you don't want me to call an ambulance?" Deciding I shouldn't try to be a hero, I suggested that he did. Of course, by the time the fire medic showed up I was feeling pretty lucid and even more so when the paramedics arrived. My vitals were good at that point and they asked what hurt and I indicated my left knee thinking that I had an abrasion there. Fortunately, my pants had zippers along the outside of each leg to make dressing over clothes easier. When they exposed my knee, I realized I had a bit more than an abrasion as I saw the 1.5 to 2 inch hole medial to my kneecap. The decision was made - it was off to the hospital for me.

On the ride to the hospital, I was able to see Mt Adams out of the back of the ambulance and wished that I had been able to complete my ride out to Mt Hood and see the surrounding countryside. After arrival at the hospital, I was whisked off to X-ray and commented on how jealous our Rad Techs would have been at the setup they had. Fortunately, nothing was broken - just a lot of soft tissue trauma and eventual bruising to be had. My physician was a cool guy who was originally from the Czech Republic and had moved to Canada when he was in high school. He too, is not a fan of deer, as one had jumped out in front of him on his bicycle in the not-too-distant past. After many irrigations of the wound, he debrided it and stitched it back together, placed a dressing and I was on my way. I was very pleased with the care I received at Hood River hospital, and would easily recommend them to anyone passing through there that needs care.

After several more hours, Jeff arrived with a truck and some lumber for ramps so that we could load the bike and bring it back to Portland. Now begins the process of healing and deciding what to do with the bike. My insurer thinks that it may be a total, but unfortunately they won't likely be able to assess it until Tuesday or Wednesday of next week. Looks like I'll be having a pretty mellow next few days here while I recouperate and wait to see what the next step is. I'm in the process of uploading photos from yesterday to the picasa site, save the ones I took of my knee in the E.R. They asked that I not post them online for privacy reasons, so I'll have to show them to people in person when I get back.

More later...

The Oregon coast, Tillamook forest, and Portland.

After leaving the cozy little motel that I crashed in the night before, I continued my journey up the coast. It started out sunny, but soon began to grow cooler and greyer. The first sign of this was when I stopped to take some photos of the Heceta Head lighthouse. What a spectacular vista this was, with the lighthouse out on the point and this beautiful cottage just inland from out where the keeper must have lived. The fog hung over the little cove like traces of smoke, almost imperceptible at first glance. I'm sure my phone's camera won't do it justice.
Further north, the fog would continue to thicken until the road got downright wet. I didn't mind though, as the bike soldiered along without any sign of losing it's surefootedness. As I neared Tillamook, I stopped for fuel in the town of Beaver. If only there was a sign at the edge of town saying ” now entering Beaver”. That would have definitely been an opportunity for a thumbs-up photo. Yes, I am sophomoric. No, I don't intend to change :-)
At Tillamook, I hung a right and headed eastward toward the mountains on highway 6. Massive trees soon lined the roadway again as the topography became more three dimensional. I savored this section of road, knowing that out would flatten and straighten as I entered the Willamette valley.
Portland really snuck up on me, since you have to pass through a tunnel on the western side to get there. It also has a lot of bridges (which thankfully are toll-free unlike the ones around S.F.) Crisscrossing the Columbia and Willamette rivers.
After getting lost briefly, I found my way to Jeff and Kimberlee's home in SE Portland. Going around to the back to let myself in, I was awestruck by the amazing garden they had planted back there. Huge tomatos, eggplant, beans, cauliflower, sunflowers and more.
Jeff and Kim arrived home a bit later and after some initial catching up, we headed over to one of the local pubs for a light meal and a pint. After more visiting there, we decided to take a bicycle ride over to the bank of the river and along the many paths that Portland had to offer. After heading over Steel Bridge, I was given a brief tour of SW Portland's riverfront area before crossing the river again via the Morrison Bridge.
We stopped at a'biker bar' called Apex, which had numerous beers on tap. I had a delicious, dark Belgian style ale and listened to Jeff and Kim reminisce about some of the adventures they've had at Apex before riding home and calling it a night.
Today I kept with the cycling theme and pedaled my way along a similar route as that night prior. After checking out a couple of neighborhoods and picking up some stamps at the post office, I headed back over to SW Portland to meet Jeff for lunch. We grabbed some tasty gyros from one of the many food carts in the city. SW Portland seems a bit more Cosmopolitan than the other neighborhoods I had visited. More shopping and corporate buildings than residences. Tomorrow, I think I'll head out toward the Dalles and check out the Columbia River Gorge.
Rather than upload the lower quality photos directly to the blog, I'll put a link here to the better ones I've uploaded to Picasa.

Chico to Florence. 472 miles. Yep, I'm tired.

Woke up just after 5am, so I decided to pack up, grab a bite at the Denny's next door and head out before it started to get hot again. The ride to Red Bluff was boring, typical San Joaquin highway. Fortunately, there was a treat waiting for me once I got there.
Highway 36 has a sign near the beginning of it indicating twists and turns for the next 140 miles. It did not disappoint. In fact, I'll say it is most certainly the most amazing road I've had the pleasure to ride on. Seriously. If you own a motorcycle and enjoy a scenic, twisty, challenging road, highway 36 should be on your bucket list of "must rides".
The eastern end is like a rollercoaster weaving through the Ponderosa-like landscape. There were a few turns where I would have liked some kind of signage, as they happened just over a rise and were blind. For once, I was riding conservatively and had plenty of time to adjust my line. This continued for about 20 miles before the road opened up into some faster sweepers and straightaways. I kept thinking of the theme from Bonanza every time I took a moment to take in the scenery. Climbing higher, the temp dropped and the pines were joined by firs and redwoods. The road tightened up and had many sections with steep drop-offs. The occasional, oncoming logging truck also was a bit unsettling. I was still mesmerized by this road though; I need to write a thank you letter to whoever signed off on the building of highway 36 to the coast. Toward the western end of 36 the road takes you through the giant redwoods. They are so dense, it almost feels like night under their canopy. The road is smooth and sinuous, and it makes you feel like Luke Skywalker darting though the trees of Endor. Fortunately, there are no Ewoks here.
Then, it was over. Like a torrid summer romance; it was hard to leave behind but would fuel fond memories for years to come. Unlike most summer flings however, highway 36 can (and will) be revisited :-)
I headed up 101 to Arcata, the little college town next to Humboldt university. Before getting there though, I stopped in at Pacific Powersports where they let me borrow a rear-stand to facilitate lubricating my chain (not a euphemism). Nice guys there, and good of them to lend me a hand. Arcata was a cool little town, and was a nice stop to eat and collect my thoughts after having my mind blown on 36. Onward.
101 between Arcata and Crescent City is what I imagine the autobahn must net like in Germany. Fast, smooth, and surrounded by gorgeous forest. I originally planned to camp in the redwoods near Crescent City, but I felt like I could keep going, so I decided to head into Oregon and shorten my ride to Portland the following day. Funny, how the Pacific Northwest is often portrayed as gray and dreary, as the sun appeared when I entered Oregon. Maybe it was just opposite day.
I rode all the way to Florence, Oregon. There were more details I wanted to add, but I just woke up with my phone on my chest. I think that's my cue to sign off on the blog for the night.

Grey pines, sunny grapes, and orchards in an inferno.

Ok, 'inferno' is exaggerating a bit, but it was bloody hot when I rolled into Chico today.
I got an early start today, leaving San Mateo just after 7am to try to beat traffic through S.F. Unfortunately, I didn't see any chesticles as I passed through (apparently today is national topless day) but with my luck I'd have crashed with the distraction.
After crossing the Golden Gate, I headed toward Muir Beach and Mt. Tamalpais. The fog was incredibly thick and the road wet, making progress slow. I kept thinking of Rick Riordan's novels where Mt. Tam it's the new location of Mount Orthrys (the stronghold of the titans) and the fog keeps the mortals from finding it. Rolling past Muir Beach, Axl Rose began singing about the ” cold November rain” but all I could think about was the cold August fog.
Finally, when I made it past Point Reyes, the visibility improved and I was greeted with fresh tarmac. I opened the throttle to the stop and listened to the engine's growl through the intake butterflies. Two clutchless upshifts and I was back up to freeway speeds... until the first 20mph corner suddenly appeared. Clutch in, two snicks on the shifter, and I was tipped into the turn grinning to myself that I seemingly was the only one on this road. This lasted almost until Bodega Bay, where I started to encounter traffic.
I continued up the coast, marveling at it's beauty and puzzled by the small hamlets that were sprinkled along the way. They seemed like very peaceful and romantic places to live, although highly inconvenient. I stopped at Stewart's Point to stretch my legs and take a short break before heading inland on Skaggs Springs Rd. It started off more like a 1-lane goat trail, with dodgy pavement, dirt, pine and redwood needles everywhere. When the sun finally came out, I stopped to snap a photo of an old 1-lane bridge and the huge redwood I had parked next to. ~ 20 miles in, the road finally became smooth and I experienced what Jamie had been raving about for years. Turn after turn of smooth, flowing, constant-radius corners. Good times.
Emerging from Skaggs, I headed to Geyserville and Calistoga (and I thought we had a lot of grapes in S.B. county) where the roads began to become busier with people. I stopped for lunch in Calistoga at Prima Pizza and had a tasty pie with jalapenos, linguica, sweet onions, pepperoni and pesto sauce. While I was finishing up lunch, I noticed this sawed-off, Vanilla Ice looking guy smoking like a chimney and ogling my bike. His buddies that soon after came to pick him up looked like alumni from a cops episode. That's when I remembered what Tara told me when I had visited her in Hopland years ago... Lake County is full of white trash and other degenerates - and that's where I was headed.
Highway 26 reminded me a lot of Palomar Mtn near Temecula. Lots of tight hairpin turns, but with brand new pavement and what's this? Passing lanes! Once over the grade, the road opened up and the temp rose a good 10-15 degrees. Along one of the straights, I saw my second sign of Lake County culture - a ”yard sale”. Only this yard sale consisted of some guy dumping all of his belongings out the back of his box-van and putting up a cardboard sign advertising his ”yard sale”. Classy.
Fighting through the heat, I blitzed up I-5 and headed to Chico. I didn't know there were so many orchards up here. Once settled, I headed over to the Sierra Nevada brewery for a couple of cold beers and a tasty salad. Time to get some shuteye before my date with highway 36 tomorrow.

Day 1 in the bag.

Well, this will be a bit different using my phone to post, but here goes. I started the day with a tasty breakfast burrito at The Daily Grind with Gabe and Marck to see me off. Setting out at about 8:15, I could tell it was going to be a pretty grey day up the coast. I was surprised how moist the tarmac was in places along highway 1. Fortunately, I didn't have any problems with traction. Traffic was light, so I settled into a brisk pace and didn't stop for photos until I arrived at the Bixby Bridge north of Big Sur. It's pretty incredible that it was built back in 1932 and still in pretty good shape. Standing at the edge of the vista there reminded me that for much of the drive, I was several hundred feet above the beach. In the second photo, you can barely make out some people that were down on the beach, giving one an idea if the scale we're talking about.
After the stop at the bridge, I rode a bit further until I came upon a sign that had given Kitty the giggles a month prior on our trip to Monterey. The woman who was tinkering with her truck's battery said that the people who put the sign out actually sell Redwood trees. Allrightythen.
I motored onward through Monterey up to Santa Cruz where I took a break and topped up the tank. If
America is a melting pot, Santa Cruz is like Jackson Pollack dipped his brush in that pot and went apeshit. So much people watching, so little time.
I decided against my original plan to ride up highway 9, thinking there would be a lot of weekend traffic. Instead, I soldiered on up highway 1 and headed inland at Pescadero. I'm glad I did, as Pescadero Creek Road was nearly traffic free and very scenic. I stopped about halfway to Skyline Blvd to snap some photos of an old bridge and the redwoods that lined either side of the road. So pretty - I wish we had forests like this in SoCal. Weaving further up 84, I finally came to the intersection at Skyline and saw Alice's restaurant. Alice's is to the S.F. peninsula what The Rock Store is to the Santa Monica mtns. It's a motorcyclist's mecca, where they all stop to take a break and a meal after riding the amazing roads that surround and lead to Alice's. Of course I had to stop for a bite.  After my tasty chicken sandwich, I bought my first souvenir of the trip: a t-shirt with Steve McQueen on the back - totally badass. The only bike there that really caught my eye (other than the Norton Commando that sped away before I could get a photo) was the little trail 70 like my friend Justin used to have when we were kids. Fond memories riding around on that little bike. It seemed out of place among all the sportbikes, but cool none the less.

Test packing

Well, I received a couple of items in the mail today that should prove to be pretty useful on my trip which begins two weeks from now. In the above photo, the first is a cable that connects to my motorcycle's battery on one end via SAE connector and at the other is a cigarette-outlet which I can plug in my cell phone's car charger. This will help keep my phone charged while on the road - useful for the nights where I expect to be camping and won't have an outlet to charge the phone overnight with.

The green item on the right is an ultra light and fast drying camping towel from REI. Again, on the nights that I'm camping I'm sure that I'll want to shower off. Having a towel that packs small and dries quickly will save me space and (hopefully) keep the rest of my clothes/gear from getting swampy.

Here's a photo of the cable running into the tank bag that I'll be using. This bag is supposed to have a capacity of 18 liters and has a pouch to hold a hydration bladder to keep me from drying out while on the road. I had taken a photo of it on the bike earlier, but for some reason the photo(s) didn't save onto my phone's memory card.

One thing that I discovered when packing the clothes is that my shoes take up an awful lot of space in my saddlebags since they only have ~17 liter volumes each. Depending on the rest of the gear that I want to take, I might opt to take 1 pair of shoes and buy another pair once I'm in Portland. Then I can mail that pair back as I prepare to head back to Santa Barbara. Fortunately the trunk that I have holds approximately the same volume (46liters) that a standard carry-on bag does, allowing me to have enough clothes for 5-6 days on the road at a time. The red bottle is a camp fuel bottle which I intend to put gasoline in, just in case I find myself running out of gas before I can get to a station.

Finally, here are some photos of the trunk mounted and the camping gear on the passenger seat. I already know the saddlebags fit from my trip a couple of weeks ago with Kitty to USGP :-)
Thank you Marck for lending your dry bag to me, it's able to hold the tent, sleeping bag, tent footprint and my camp pillow in there! Hm... with all that weight out back, this bike will be even more wheelie-prone...