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For those who are interested, all of the pics from the trip, including ones that weren’t in the Trip Report, are located here.

It’s been three weeks since I returned home.

I still can’t believe how much fun I had

…how much I enjoyed riding alone, on the open road, for days at a time

…how much variety I saw in geography and climate

…how many mental blocks and challenges I overcame

…how much I improved as a rider

…how much confidence I gained

…how much I learned about myself

If I could do it all over again, there is almost nothing I would change. Though I don’t like always sticking to a tight schedule, it worked very well for a trip like this.

My only regret is a small one – I was a little too focused on the destinations, and didn’t take enough time to stop and truly enjoy what was around me.

Next time, I’ll make my max days a tiny bit shorter. I really would have liked to spend more then 40 minutes sitting on the beach by the ocean, but my schedule for the day made any more time then that impossible.

For the first time since I started riding three years ago, I feel like a “real” rider. While most people on the forums I frequent have done trips far longer and more difficult then this one, the fact remains that a vast majority of bike riders will never venture out like this.

For better or worse, I feel like this trip legitimized me as a rider, and for that and so much more, it’s an adventure that I will cherish for the rest of my life.

—

My bike, a 2008 Suzuki GSX650F, was an amazing companion throughout the trip. Always firing right up every morning, raring to go, she was comfortable, plenty quick, and a barrel of fun for the entire journey.

A problem with handlebar positioning was the only fly in the ointment, leaving me with a left shoulder problem that is only now beginning to clear up, three weeks later.

I honestly can’t imagine a better bike for this ride. It provided an absolutely perfect balance of touring capabilities, and sporting fun. If you’re looking for a bike that will handle this kind of riding, I can wholeheartedly recommend the GSX650F. She’s a winner and a keeper.

The final day. I’m heading home.

It feels strange. I’ve been on the road for over a week. It’s become routine…

Ride…eat…ride…gas…ride…clean bug guts off face shield…ride…sleep….repeat.

I find myself a little sad to see it end.

I didn’t sleep well last night, and I’m finding it a bit hard to get going. I figure that I’ll make a quick stop at the McDonalds on the way out, since food stops are few and far between once I turn east from 395.

I’m so out of it, that I nearly ride right by the entrance. I see it to late, and hit both brakes too hard. They’re repaving, and there is loose gravel in the shoulder. The rear starts sliding…I’m too rummy to release the brakes, so I end up just riding out the slide. Only my second “stupid” in 1,900 miles. It could have been much worse.

I eat, and head out on a crisp, cool morning. It’s about 55-60 degrees and just a beautiful day.

About 25 miles in, one of my little fears of riding comes into play. Out of nowhere, I see a bug fly right by my neck. I think I’ve missed it, but the next thing I know, there is a very stunned bee laying right on the inside ridge of my chinbar.

In case you’re wondering, no….I really don’t like bees. At all. I’ve only been stung once, but I swelled up badly enough for me to be concerned about what might happen the second time.

Amazingly, I calmly lifted my visor before he regained his senses, and he quickly blew out. Another potentially dicey situation avoided.

Gas in Bishop, then eastbound on Hwy 168 through the White mountains.

On any other day, this section would have been a load of fun. But I was so determined to get home without a single issue on the whole trip, that I really babied it through the canyons. Next time I’ll be more adventurous.

You might notice the lack of pictures. I have to admit, even though the first couple of hours were beautiful, I knew the last 180 miles were going to suck, and I just wanted it over with.

I did take break at the Fish Camp junction long enough for Stomper to straighten out his ears though…

This is a very pretty, calm, serene area. I’d hung out here for awhile and watch the hay trucks go by….the kind of place I’d hang out and eat lunch for awhile if I could. Maybe next time.

Up and over Lido Pass I rode. I noted that these would be the last trees I’d see on this long journey. It was the first moment of the trip that truly made me sad. I live for water and trees, and Vegas has neither. I was really going home.

Back to life…

Back to reality…

With that, the photos come to an end.

Once on US 95, I wicked it up a bit in an effort to get the most awful part of the trip over with as quickly as possible. I passed on lunch in Beatty, knowing that there was a stop in Amargosa Valley with good food.

So much for those plans.

The place had closed, and the only other option was a seedy little gas station with a Brothel behind it. No thanks. Not for me.

The only other lunch stop between Amargosa Valley and home was in Indian Springs, were the State Prison is located. Despite that, I was ready to stop…

…until a big rain cloud opened up on me.

That’s right, 2,200 miles into my trip, I hit my first rain.

In the middle of the Mojave desert.

It’s a good thing I have a sense of humor about life.

At that point, I made the decision to just head straight home, and rolled into the garage after a 337.5 mile day.

Getting off the bike and putting it onto the center stand, I was suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. I’d done it. A trip I wasn’t sure I was capable of making, either physically or mentally, and I was ready to go again.

No mishaps, no major issues.

I’ll remember this trip for the rest of my life. It’s one more thing I can cross off my “I wish I would have done…” list. I want that list to be as short as possible at the end of my life. I’m way behind schedule, so I need to continue to get with it.

Until next time….keep the rubber side up, and take the time to notice what’s around you. You never know if it will be your last pass through.

Planning routes from Reno to Las Vegas is difficult. It’s a bit more then I would want to ride in a day, but there really isn’t a place that’s “halfway” where I would actually want to stay.

So I usually stay in Mammoth and just deal with the “short day / long day” thing. Today was, of course, the short day.

I took advantage of this and slept in a bit. My friends were off to work and school early, so I had the house to myself. After doing a load of laundry, I finally departed at 10am.

I was surprised at how little had changed in Reno and Carson City as I rolled through. The planned I-580 bypass is proceeding much more slowly than anticipated (it was supposed to be done by now, but has been pushed all the way out to 2011 now I believe).

The Galena Creek Bridge is finally starting to take shape though. It’s going to be a thing of beauty when completed. I sure wish I could have stopped for a picture, but I know the dangers of trying to do that while fighting the traffic in Pleasant Valley.

Gassed up in Minden – one of my favorite small towns that I’ve ever been to.

I’m getting a bit bored with 395 I have to admit. As pretty as it is, it’s also increasing in traffic, and I find myself more occupied with passing traffic then admiring the scenery.

I did have a quest in mind however…

Every single time I’ve covered this stretch of road (has to be approaching a dozens times now, I’ve always wanted to stop at Walker Burger (in Walker, CA) for lunch. But every single time I’ve passed through, it’s been closed for one reason or another.

But today was finally my lucky day…

Complete with “Garden Dining”.

They weren’t kidding either! I placed my order and walked behind the building into a place that was damn near the Garden of Eden…

While I consumed an excellent burger and fries (I keep forgetting to take food photos!!) Stomper was busy practicing his Zen meditation at the Koi pond.

After a lunch that managed to be both filling and fulfilling, I hopped back onto 395, and cruised along until Mono Lake appeared in the distance…

This is my first shot a stitching together a panorama. Please excuse the watermark. I didn’t want to pay $70 for software if the end result was poor. But I think this turned out okay, especially for my first attempt. Click on the picture to see it full-size.

Gratuitous bike shot, with Mono Lake in the background.

I continued along 395 and turned off at the June Lake Loop. It looked like it would be a great ride, but it was not meant to be. For the first time in the entire trip, I was trapped with slow cars in front of me, impatient cars behind me, and never a long enough sightline to get myself clear.

Then, just as the last of the slow cars turned off, and I thought I was finally going to have some fun riding in front of me…

Now, see that Black Dodge truck at the front of the line?

He hates motorcyclists.

Or he’s drunk.

Or he’s falling asleep at the wheel.

I’m not sure which it was, but less than 10 minutes later, I had my first unpleasant encounter with a auto in nearly 1,900 miles of riding.

After clearning the loop and returning to the four lane stretch of 395, I attempted to pass the truck. He was in the right-hand lane. Immediately as I signalled and changed to the left hand lane, he began to drift into the left lane by about three feet. I backed off and he returned to his lane.

Now he’s slowing a bit. I decide that getting around him quickly is the best answer here, so this time I don’t signal (we’re alone out here) change lanes, and hit the throttle hard.

As I come up alongside him, he starts drifting again. Pretty soon I’m right up against the double yellow. I’m up to 90 and climbing, and he has it floored, and has me pinned to the double yellow. Finally I clear him and get back into the right lane. He decides to stay on my tail for awhile, but finally gives up.

One asshat in 2,300 miles. I suppose I should consider myself lucky.

A few miles later I turn off onto the Mammoth Scenic Loop, and remember to pull over long enough to grab a quick shot.

I rode right by the Sierra Lodge three time before I finally found it hidden amongst the trees. I walked across the street to Angels for dinner (no food photos again…sigh).

Before calling it a night, I pondered tomorrow’s ride – my last on the road. I wasn’t sure if I was happy or sad about that, but I knew one thing for sure. I definitely wasn’t looking forward to returning to the Mojave desert.

Ever have one of those experiences that is so perfect it defies words?

Such was the case for me during my first hour outside of Burney.

I was on the road bright and early (for me) as I had two people to try and meet up with during this day – Ray (Bandit12) from the Pashnit forum, and my friend and old roommate Mark in Reno.

Several miles up 299, I came to the junction for Hwy 89. 89 was incredible through this stretch. It was straight, but ran through numerous 5,000 foot valley’s with thick green grass, cows grazing, and pine-covered mountains all around me.

Scene after scene like this went by. It was cool, but not cold. There was no other traffic on the road. I had this glorious place all to myself.

In fact, it was so perfect that I didn’t dare to stop for pictures. I feared that doing so would somehow break this perfect spell I was under.

Like all good things however, it eventually came to an end as I reached the turnoff for Hwy 44. At this point I had to make a choice – continue on to Mt. Lassen, which was looming off in the distance…

Or turn down 44 and head directly to Lake Almanor.

The Mt. Lassen route would take at least an additional hour, and I was to meet Ray in Qunicy before noon for lunch.

Much as I hated to do it, I decided to skip Lassen and take the more direct route.

Hwy 44 climbed a bit, then straightened out into a section nearly as beautiful as the one from Hwy 89. Again I had the road nearly to myself, and the temps stayed steady – very cool, but nowhere near cold and/or miserable.

Finally, after a brief cut-off down County Road A21, I found myself on Hwy 147. After a few miles, I thought to myself, “Man, it got colder all of a sudden! I must be near the lake”.

Within 10 seconds of thinking this, the blue water of Lake Almanor appeared before me. I laughed to myself and slowed to take my first break of the day to get some photos.

Lake Almanor was one of my grandfather’s two favorite places to fish (the other being Crowley Lake near Mammoth Lakes, CA during the years when it was classified as a trophy tout lake).

It’s been about 15 years since his last trip here, and he passed away in December 2005. I sat here for awhile, thinking about him, and all that he taught me about fishing and the outdoors.

He owned a Triumph Bonneville for a few years in the late 1960’s. I was somehow comforted by the thought that even though he would worry about me on a bike and on a trip like this, he would secretly smile and approve of it all.

With that, I gathered up my riding companion, who was busy soaking in the scenery and trying to avoid the bees….

…and continued on our way to Qunicy.

I rolled into town right on schedule, and gassed up. As I was finishing, two riders came in behind me, one on an SV650, and the other on a Buell Ulyssess.

We rolled over to a shady area and talked for awhile. I finally had to excuse myself to call Ray, as I was suddenly 30 minutes behind schedule after talking and sharing stories of the road.

I met up with Ray at Stoney Burger, where a fine meal was had and many stories were shared.

Thanks for meeting up with me Ray! Next time I’ll make sure to leave more time to hang around and ride some more.

With that, I left the forest and returned to the desert, and Reno.

I have mixed emotions about Reno. I lived there from 1994-97, and really enjoyed it. I returned in 2004 to buy my first home – got to pick out the model, the lot, the colors, the interior design – everything. It was a dream fulfilled.

Or was it?

3 weeks after we moved in, someone through a vinegar bottle through our front window at 1am. 4 weeks later, my wife was in a nasty auto wreck. 5 months later, she slipped and fell on a sheet of ice in her parking lot at work and shattered her elbow, resulting in a permanent injury.

Four months after that, my beloved cat was diagnosed with cancer, and he died three months later. In April my wife found out her branch office was closing, and her choices were a pink slip or a transfer to Las Vegas.

So 11 months after settling into my dream home, we sold it and moved to Vegas.

Eight months after we sold it, the new owners lost it to foreclosure. 14 months after that, it went though foreclosure for a second time. It’s currently owned, but available to rent and empty. It’s been vacant for two of the last three years since we sold it.

Between that, and all that we went through in the 11 months we lived there, I swear that the house was cursed, or built on ancient Indian burial grounds, or something along those lines. It’s all just too creepy to be a coincidence.

(UPDATE 8/2009: Just did what I said I wouldn’t do – and went by to see the house. Weeds, missing fence boards, and a Sheriff’s lock on the door AGAIN. This makes **3** foreclosures since we sold it in May 2005 – just over 4 years ago. I’m telling you, it’s a bad, bad place!)

Everything I planted is dead, with the exception of one plant. At least the 5 foot tall weeds that covered the place when I last saw it have been removed.

I decided that this visit to the house would be my last. It’s time to move on with my life and let go of the past.

A few minutes later, I arrived at my friend’s house, and had a relaxing evening of catching up. I stayed up late, as I knew the next day’s ride was quite short, and I’d have plenty of time to get there.

A much appreciated shorter day after a long one yesterday.

Sadly, all good things must come to an end, and this good thing definitely came to an end too quickly. It was with a twinge of sadness that I left Gil & Becky’s, and headed out of Eureka.

Gil and I discussed my route for this day. Like him, I seem to derive much more enjoyment from wider, longer sweepers, then I do from the slow, tight technical bits.

Because of this, he recommended that I consider riding Hwy 299 instead of the famed 36. I’ve driven 299 numerous times in the car and enjoyed it, while my one trip on 36 in the car made me carsick – while I was driving!

So off onto 299 I went.

I didn’t regret it a bit.

I had a wonderful ride across the northern section of the state. Temps were a bit warm, so I made tracks and didn’t stop a whole lot.

A gas stop in Willow Creek. This picture is specifically for my wife (an inside joke).

I love you sweetie.

Traveling onward, I was dumbfounded by the amount of damage that the multiple fires of the past decade have done. I seem to have found myself on this route every couple of years since 1988. It looks so different with all the burned acreage, and so truly sad.

This is the only picture I could bear to take, as most of the scenery was far more depressing then this.

The were some happier images to take though…

Lunchtime brought me to Weaverville. The last time I was here in November 2006, it was freezing cold and raining. Today? Nearly 100 degrees. Fortunately I found a little shade for Stomper.

For those who don’t yet know, I am sorry to report that the last tight, twisty section of 299, between Weaverville and Whiskytown Lake, is being replaced/bypassed. The beginnings of the new road can be viewed on eastbound 299 about 10 miles east of Weaverville.

The project appears to be in its very early stages, and will likely take a few years to complete (if in fact they are replacing the entire stretch, which is about 10 miles long). So get out there while you can before this fun piece of highway disappears forever.

(In doing some research for the above, I also learned that one of my favorite pieces of road on planet earth – US 101 through Richardson Grove State Park, is going to be bypassed as well. Construction begins in late-2008. Get out there and experience these roads while you can. The very best ones are rapidly disappearing.)

There are no pictures of Redding (see Palmdale and Twentynine Palms for an explanation).

I slogged my way through the Redding heat, and made my way to Burney.

My butt, which has been pretty good on the new Sargent seat for most of the trip decided to start screaming at me, and so I stopped at a Rest Stop just 15 miles outside of Burney.

A few minutes later, I arrived in Burney, picked up a bite to eat, and settled down at the Sleepy Hollow Lodge, a *very* old single level Motel, but perfectly nice and clean.

Tomorrow is a day of meeting new friends, and visiting with old friends. I’m very much looking forward to it.