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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.