The Big Ride 2014  

     Prior to the beginning or getting ready to be ready

I started this winter with high hopes and high expectations.  Eugene and I had finished a wonderful trip in June through the US Northwest and Western Canada and ending in Yellowstone National Park before heading back to Reno.  I had stayed put the rest of the summer but Euge had invited me to join he and his friend Billy for a ride from Dublin down to the Pyrenees Mountains for a bike tour of the scenic back mountain roads of southern France and Northern Spain.  He even thought he would be able to borrow a bike for me so that shipping mine or buying a new one in Europe would not be necessary. I thought, wow!, there's a trip you don't get to do every day.  I was pretty confident about my health since I had done fairly well on the June ride even though I had a lot of pre-start anxiety over my breathing. 

I know.  Most of you are sick and tired of hearing about my health challenges, and many told me more than once that I must quit smoking.  My difficulties are all of my own making but unfortunately they are now the things that most fundamentally define my world and to simply ignore their challenges is unrealistic.  I promise I will try to make this blog more about the experience of the trip and not a chronicle of my efforts to breathe.

One of the things that made me hopeful about the Pyrenees trip was that I had taken a steroid on the last ride and it had helped quite a lot.  However I normally experience a worsening of my condition over the winter and this year was not an exception.  By the time the New Year had arrived, I was seriously questioning my ability to make the Europe trip.  I obviously did not want to have an emergency while over there but more importantly to me was that I did not want to be cause of ruining the trip for Euge and Billy.

Billy, Eugene and I at Druid's Glen
during a trip to Ireland in 2011

After fretting about this for most of January, I decided to take a short ride here in the US as soon as the weather improved enough to allow it in order to see how well I got along.  As soon as the temperature hit 50 (10 C), I called my friend George at his ranch outside of Benson, AZ and asked if I could visit him for a couple of days.  George was his usual welcoming self and I soon headed south taking as direct a route as possible.  The ride is just about a thousand miles each way so it should be a pretty good test of how well I am currently capable of handling a long ride.

The test ride down to Tucson

The Test Ride to Arizona was fun but a struggle

I failed the test.  I had trouble most of the time on this ride but the first and last days were perhaps the worst.  It took me several days to recover from a ride of just over 450 miles (725K).  On the ride into Colorado in 2010 I had done this distance several times but it is one of the longer daily stretches.  In any case, I did not think it should take days to recover and it did.  I pretty quickly decided to just call it quits and sell the bike.

I put it in the classified ads and listed it both on Cycle Trader.com and Craig's List.  Within a week I had an offer for the full amount I was asking and was standing in my driveway watching my beautiful  Triumph Tiger 1050 being ridden away by a complete stranger. Clutching a handful of $100 bills was little consolation.  A few minutes later I walked into the house and called Eugene.  I told him I just did not think that I was going to be able to join him on the Pyrenees ride.  Major bummer for me but I think Eugene was a bit relived. 

I think he shared some of my doubts about my ability to make it without incident but of course he was too much of a friend to try to discourage me.  

I put the money in the bank but what followed was a couple of very bad weeks.  I was quite depressed.. just could not come to grips with the fact that I had made my last ride and owned my last bike.  I generally avoid self-pity and do not have much tolerance for it in others.  The, "woe is me", finally got so bad that it even got me disgusted with myself.  Now I was feeling bad and feeling bad about feeling bad.  Not a good place to be in so I got on the computer and distracted myself by

On the 2012 ride to The Grand Tetons, Wyoming

looking to decide what new bike I would buy if my health would have allowed me to own another.  I started the search with the assumption that the "dream" bike would be the BMW 1200 GS.  The GS has been generally acknowledged as the outstanding leader among motorcycle makers in the Adventure Category.  I had looked at the GS for some years now and was convinced it lived up to its reputation as the leading bike.  I got this from articles as well as discussions with GS owners that I ran into over the years of wandering around the country.  Almost all were full of praise about the bike.  Granted almost all also commented about the high price and the unconscionable service charges but most ended up with the sentiment that if you wanted to own the best, you bought the BMW.  In recent years a couple of things have happened that have somewhat modified this adage.  One the number and quality of competing bikes targeted at the Adventure Touring segment have increased dramatically with Triumph making the most direct challenge to the 1200GS, even copying the styling so that the two bikes even look alike from a distance.  Triumph has not however walked away from its biggest strength and that is the power, reliability and performance of their 3 cylinder (triple) engine design.  For the new Tiger they stepped up to a full 1200cc size but kept the triple's high revving and smoothly powered heritage.

So even though I had the BMW in my sights for a long while, in the end it came down to a choice between the big GS and the new Triumph Explorer.  I rode both bikes and the final decision turned on the subjective quality of the experience not the objective performance.  I still think the BMW is the superior bike in terms of engineering and handling but the Tiger has a lot more power and the triple engine revs quickly to deliver it 'right now'.  The Triumph is just more fun to ride and that's what I bought.  At 135 horse power and 570 pounds, the bike just goes like hell.

I got a deal from the local dealer on last year's model which included the two hard-sided traveling bags which I wanted.  However, I would have to wait for a few weeks for them to be ordered and delivered from the Triumph factory in England.  So I had plenty of time to think about another big trip.  Even when I wrote the check for the bike, I was not completely sure I would be able to make another long-distance trip but in the end I decided I would be happier just knowing I had a bike in the garage rather than admitting that I was really, finally finished riding.  That uncertainty kept me from calling Eugene back and trying to rejoin his Pyrenees ride.  But while I was not going along, I was looking forward to following their progress via the blogs that Eugene was planning on posting along the way.

As the date for their departure got closer I got fairly excited about their prospects for a truly memorable experience.  Eugene's friend Billy knew a guy who had guided bicycle tours of Southern France for many years and he had planned the route for the ride so the guys were sure to see some really spectacular scenery and historic sites.  Eugene called me the day before their departure to let me know they were taking the ferry from Ireland to France and then heading south to the mountains.  Every following morning, I looked for an email or Google+ posting.  Nothing.  I was becoming concerned that they might have had some trouble or an accident of some sort.  This was troubling since I would have had a hard time not taking some of the blame if Eugene had been badly injured.  He most likely would not have started biking if not for my urging.  But he is a big boy and has always shown me lots of determination and courage so I thought he would be all right and he was.  After a couple of days of no communications I received a video email from the boys.

Video greeting from the boys

A Greeting Email from the road

I was so pleased the guys were doing well and enjoying themselves.  Eugene had called me to give me a heads-up on the video and explained that the Internet connections in France we simply awful so he was having to forgo attempting to blog the trip.  He did promise to keep me posted as best he could.  After talking with him I was pretty down, particularly after receiving the next picture of their stop at one of the Cathar Castles which are scattered on cliff tops and hilltops throughout this central section of southern France.

Spectacular view of the town of Rocamadour in the background

The guys were obviously having a ball and I was jealous.  At the same time, I had to admit that I most likely would not have been able to keep up with their pace and was glad I had not detracted from their enjoyment of the adventure by insisting that I go along.  I have always been interested in history and while I knew a little bit a bout the region of France's history as a result of visiting the old restored Medieval Town of Carcassone.

A walking tour of the ancient city of Carcassone

When Eugene and I were there in 2011, we only got a couple of pretty poor snapshots but the video is a professional job of showing the town.  Some people have complained that the town has been too well restored and that the fading or ruined glory feeling that the cracked mortal and split and weathered stones provide is missing.  I did not agree.  I think it is a wonderful experience to see just how the town would have looked in its prime and experience it in much the same way as residents in the Twelfth Century would have.

The Keep inside Carcassone City

Eugene's note prompted me to do some research into the Cathars.  I will not bore you with all the data but they left some very interesting castles and fortifications that even today challenged the tourist to reach in the same way it challenged the Catholic armies that were sent against them by the Popes of the time.

For you who are interested in a bit of history of the Cathars, the following link is informative.

History of the Cathar Crusades

I next heard from the boys when they were in Collioure at Eugene's beautiful vacation home.  They were taking a break from the bikes and enjoying the opportunity to play a little golf as well.  I visited Collioure with Eugene in 2011 and the great views of the southern French countryside and the sweeping Mediterranean coast are fond memories for me.

A view of Collioure Harbour from surrounding hillside 

When I was visiting, Eugene's youngest son Bevan was also in France and captured this shot of Euge and I on a bench overlooking the old Medieval Harbor of Collioure.  We were in France for only about one week but the visit is still fresh in my recollection.  

The view out of my bedroom window was also spectacular and you could just see one of the old semaphore towers that were constructed during the reign of Napoleon.  These towers covered much of France and allowed important messages to be sent from tower to tower using a sophisticated code spelled out by large wooden arms that made the signal tower look a bit like windmills perched atop the highest hills in each region.  Even though I sat patiently awaiting by the phone for another message from my friends, my desire went unrequited.  Many days after abandoning hope of hearing from the adventurers and suffered from my anxiety over their safety, I received a message from an unexpected source; the US Mail.  The following postcard came from one of their stops at the many picturesque alpine lakes in the Pyrenees.  This one "Le Lac d'Estaing" on the Spanish side of the border.  

I was very happy to hear from them and know that all was well however my pleasure was tinged with a bit of regret that I was not there to accompany them on their great adventure.

The Great Pyrenees Expedition 2014

The Great Pyrenees Expedition

In the beginning
     Day One June 25, 2014
     Day Two
     Day Three

The Day Before

Now that I had the adventurers safely back in Ireland I could begin to think about my next trip.  As I was waiting for the bikes luggage to arrive from the dealer, I had some time to sit at home and contemplate things.   I have to admit, I had some real trepidation about making this trip. However, it would be really stupid to have just purchased a new bike and then let it sit there gathering dust.  I tried to capture some of my doubts on a selfie. Here is the link: First daily entry. Before leaving 25 June, 2014 

When I was reviewing this entry from my diary, I was shocked at how much I reminded myself of my father in both mannerisms and speech patterns.  Perhaps we are all destined to become our fathers in

 our old age.  I am also shocked at how close to actual whining I sound.  Bitching and complaining is something I have despised my entire life.  I simply could not accept that I had become the type of person I so dislike.  I will have to be on my guard to avoid any sense of self-serving from now on.

Day One 25 June, 2014  Reno, Nevada to Eureka, NV  248 Miles  400 Kilometers

I finally got a start although I was later than I had hoped.  I really did not want to be making the trip in late July or August since the heat can be very uncomfortable.  The last time I went riding at the height of the summer was nearly 10 years ago when i went down to Southern California to visit my friend Mike Holmstrom.  The heat got so unbearable that I had to end up riding at night which kind of limits the scenic experience.  This time I would be farther north but I was still wary.

Day 1 Reno, NV - Eureka, NV 

I started with what I thought would be an fairly easy route on Highway 50 going east.  I had covered this route many times and knew there would not be much to see and the road surface would be good.  There is one section that runs from outside Fallon to just before Austin that parallels the main highway which I had not been on and I decided to take this on today.  I was a bit surprised at the amount of the trees along some sections of this road and ran by some old cabins and homesteads.  As I recalled the main route was mostly without and tree cover at all.

I would have taken this shot shown on the left, if I was up to stopping but I grabbed it off the web instead.

I was struggling when I dragged myself into the hotel room in Eureka.  I was not up to going out to dinner so I settled for a couple of candy bars which I bought at the convenience store and gas station next door.  I then settled down for my first diary entry of the trip.  Not a very upbeat one.

Day Two 26 June, 2014 Eureka, NV to Caliente, NV via Pinoche  299 miles

I was feeling a bit better in the morning when I pulled out into the street in front of the hotel.  This shot gives you a little bit of an idea of Eureka.  The County Seat and only significant town (population 600) in Eureka County.

I have complained about Highway 50 many times before and in order to avoid as much of it as possible, I am going to take a partially paved and partially gravel road that heads south beginning about 10 miles east of Eureka and goes through the Duckwater Indian Reservation.  This reservation is another of several Paiute Tribe locations scattered across Nevada and is centered on the small

village of Duckwater.  After crossing the reservation I will connect to US Highway 6 and continue on to Caliente, Nevada located in the Southeast part of the State where I am planning on spending the night.  I have stayed in Caliente several times before on other trips and might take this opportunity to go a bit further and spend the night in the town of Pionoche, located about 25 miles north of Caliente.  As it turned out I did press on but found the additional 2,000 feet of elevation in Pioche really aggravated my difficulties so I turned around and rode the same path back to Caliente.  I was pretty tired and when I rode up to the motel office to check for a room, I did not put the kick stand all the way down before I let go the the bike and dumped it on the spot.  Mangling my leg in the process and breaking a few bits off of the left side.  Fortunately there was a big strong guy working close by and he hurried to my rescue and was able to get the bike up and on its stand.  I thanked him profusely once I was able to get my breath back.  Dumping the bike after only two days was not the kind of start I was hoping for.

I started to rain just after I turned off the main highway and got much heavier right after the payment ended.  I was entering some twisty bits and hoping that the gravel did not get so wet that I would

have to deal with muddy conditions.  I stopped once to get a number of videos shots and pictures but somehow screwed up the camera so that I only ended up with one and that one included a wonderful shot of my finger creeping in at the top of the lens.

Stop by the side of the road in the middle of nowhere.

Day Two Commentary

Day Three 27 June, 2014 Caliente, NV to St George, Utah

I woke up on day three realizing that it was probably the make or break day of the trip.  I had experienced some struggles with my health on the way from Reno but had not really had an emergency.  Is spite of that, I was still a bit apprehensive.  I was planning on much more rural roads and possible some pretty poorly maintained gravel or dirt on the route I had chosen to get to St George, Utah.   However before I get started I need to fuel up with a big breakfast at the Brandin Iron in Caliente.

The Branding Iron in Caliente

 I wanted to see Beaver Dam Nevada State Park.  Not so much because it had a reputation for extraordinary scenery but more because it was the state's remotest, most difficult to reach and least visited Park.  I was also aware that this day would be the real test of wether or not I really got any benefit from the new bike.  I had justified the purchase by claiming that I wanted to be able to do back roads and specifically gravel surfaces with more safety and comfort than was possible with the old Tiger.  This was really the only reason for the new bike since the Tiger had performed truly wonderfully for me on all the paved and highway miles that I had put on it.  Nearly 20,000 miles of flawless performance which had included quite a large amount of gravel in Nevada on two different trips.  I had made those roads without serious incident but I was never really comfortable off the pavement so it the new Explorer handled the back-roads better I would be happy with the its purchase.  Butt having made the purchase and then been shy of testing its capabilities seemed pretty stupid to me.  However, I was anxious enough to be prepared to be stupid, something I have always been reluctant to admit even though having all too often experienced.  So, as so often in my past, I did not let prudence dictate and headed out of Caliente on the way to St George.

Day 3 Caliente NV - St George UT

A short while after I had gained the gravel, I stopped to take a short video and commented how lonely the ride had been.  On this particular day I did not encounter more than a handful of people and while I enjoyed the solitude, I was aware of the nagging doubt in the back of my mind that I could be in real trouble if something happen to the bike or I got into terrain that I was unable to handle.  The temperature was in the high 90's and threatening to go above 100.  I had some water with me but would not have been able to walk very far in that heat with very little shade to be found.  Here is that video clip

Lonely road

Just where I had pulled off the road there were some wildflower growing.  
                                       

It was only a few more miles when I came to a sign that indicated the Beaver Dam State Park was another 17 miles south.  This was quite a bit farther than I had thought and the map showed that I would have to ride the same road back to where I was in order to get to St George.  I was not too concerned about road conditions since the surface had been good so far but I was just not sure I wanted to ride another couple of hours just to get back to where I started.  In spite of how wonderful the Park might be, I decided to keep heading east into Utah and give the Beaver Dam a miss this time around.

The state line was marked and it was only a couple of miles into Utah that I unexpectedly picked up pavement again.  I had thought that all these roads would be dirt or gravel.  However, it was pretty poor pavement and I still needed to be a bit careful.  I passed a couple of small ranch houses and some corals so my guess was that the state had paved out to the last ranch and then stopped.  My GPS map application was not much use in this rural an area and while it showed me my location it did not show any of the roads in the area.  I knew I was going to have to guess on the right route if I encountered a road junction.  I wasn't very worried however since I have a good sense of direction and could just continue to head east and south and would either encounter a major road or find St George itself.  The next junction was marked as heading south to someplace called Enterprise Reservoir which sounded good to me and I started down a small picturesque canyon that ran along a small stream.  Once again the pavement stopped but the road was still pretty good so I continued on to the reservoir.  I was shocked as I came around a corner and saw that I was at the bottom of a dam that obviously had created the reservoir.  Shocked because of the manner in which the dam had been built.  It was constructed entirely of small native rocks that had been placed in some kind of mortar and built in an arch shape to hold back the waters.  It look very old and very fragile.  You can bet that I would not have ridden below it if I had known the condition of the dam and I sped as quickly as possible to get out of the canyon and up to the top of the dam.  On reflection, the dam had obviously been there a very long time without collapsing but that realization did not quite still the initial racing of my heart.  Here are a couple of picture of the dam.

100 Year Old Enterprize Reservoir Dam

Here is the video.   Enterprise Reservoir Utah

As I rode up the road and along another reservoir with is directly above, I thought I had lost the road completely.  There was a very narrow dirt track that continued along the ridges and ran generally south but I thought this was just a ATV trail and not the only way out other than the one I had come in.  Wrong!  That's the thing about exploring, you never really know what you are going to get and in this case I got a road that was much worse than the one I had avoided back in Nevada.  Rather than return with my tail between my legs, I decided to give the track a try with the conviction that if it got much worse I would turn back.  The only problem with the plan is that when the road gets worse, it is sometimes nearly impossible to turn around without running a serious risk of dumping the bike.  That danger, notwithstanding, I pushed on.  It did get worse but not so bad that I could not handle the surface.  Very narrow and the dirt surface was deeply rutted from where the road had been flooded at some point in the past.  Sometimes these ruts are so rough and so deep that they can throw your tire around to the point that you can't really control the bike but I was lucky that was not the case and I was glad it was dry.  I would never have been able to negotiate the mud if water had been present.  I saw no one except for two ATVs who I came up behind.  The track was narrow enough that I was unable to pass them until they reached a spot that was more level and a bit wider.  They pulled off to one side and I was able to get by with a quick wave of thanks.  I was very pleased to have them behind me since if I ran into trouble it was likely they would eventually come upon the difficulty and might be able to help.

There was more water available in this area and the trail ran along steep-sided and small but fairly deep canyons that were sporadically covered with Scrub Oak and Pinion Pine.  The modest shade these provided was appreciated since the temperature had been climbing all day and was now at or above 100℉ (38℃).  I carry water on the bike but with this heat it wouldn't be long before I would be in real trouble if something happened to the bike.  After a few more mile, the landscape changed again and I entered an area of rolling hills.  It was also much dryer and the desert condition returned so that I was constantly in the direct sunlight.  While very warm, as long as I was moving the temperature was bearable but I certainly wouldn't have wanted to spend a long time exposed.  With the ground more level, the track conditions improved and widened which allowed me to stop the bike for a moment to take some bearings and assess where I might be.  I shot a quick video of the area.

I also tried to capture the damage I had done to the bike when I had dropped it at the motel the night before.  It was not extensive and except for a shorter clutch lever and a bent bracket holding the left rear bag, the bike was still working well.  The wind had picked up pretty briskly, making things seem even drier.  Only a few miles further on I once again was on a paved road and quickened my pace so I could reach St George and get out of the heat for a while.

I stopped at the first Starbucks I encountered in town and enjoyed the air-conditioning while I check on my tablet for an available hotel.  I was surprised to find that nearly all were fully booked.  I decided to ride on though the middle of town and take the first room where there was a vacancy.  It was even hotter now I was surrounded by concrete and the temperature was showing as almost 110℉ so I was really ready to get off the bike and out of the heat.  The Best Western showed a vacancy but when I got to the front desk I was told that all that was available was the bridal suite.  Fearing that the entire town might be booked and not wanting to dare much more heat exposure, I took the suite.  I tried to remember if I had taken a bridal suite before and vaguely recalled one previous time years ago when I was in the same predicament but even if the room was a bit frilly for my taste it was 40 degrees cooler than outside.

The St George Bridal Suite

I took a quick video of the room, ordered room service and did not leave until the next morning.  I was beat.

In hindsight, this was the most dangerous day of the trip.  I realized that I would've been in desperate trouble due to the remoteness of the area and the heat of the day if I had an accident or a mechanical failure of some sort.  I do not believe that I could have walked out and I might have had real trouble with heat stroke, if I had waited, perhaps vainly for someone to come along who might be able to help.  Most people take long distance rides like mine with a group or at least with one other companion.  I would like to as well but my unstructured wanderings and uncertain schedule and difficult for another to accommodate.  I really enjoyed the last two big rides that I took with my friend Eugene Murray and that experience showed how much a trip can be improved with a companion along.  Most of the time I am comfortable with spending quite some time alone with my own thoughts and other than the safety issues I am quite happy as solitary rider.  However, at times it is a bit scary.

Starting to get comfortable
     Day Four June 28, 2014
     Day Five
     Day Six

Day Four 28 June, 2014 St George, Utah to East Entrance Zion National Park 66 miles

I was really ready to the ride this morning.  I awoke realizing that I had only planned for a very short ride and one that would take me though some of the most spectacular landscape in the world.

Day Four Zion National Park

I think in some ways Zion National Park might be the most picturesque scenery I have ever seen.  Different landscapes evoke different emotions and it is difficult to compare ocean, alpine and desert scenes but Zion is awesome by any measure.  Here is a Bing calendar page showing Zion.

Bing Wallpaper shot of Zion National Park Trail

I really enjoyed sharing in Eugene's initial reaction of disbelief when we visited the Park a couple of years earlier.  That visit was made even better by our choice of a spectacular hotel with an amazing view.

This time I would not be staying in the Park but just riding though.  I never stop enjoying the majesty of the rough canyon walls and their startling red color.  A tunnel drilled though the eastern side of the canyon, separates the east and west sides of the Park.  The tunnel was built in the 1920's but vehicles have become so much larger since then that in 1989 the tunnel was converted into a one-way traffic only so you normally get to enjoy the scenery while you wait your turn for travel in your direction.

The ride through the Park was spectacular, if uneventful.  I was feeling pretty good about the bike and  my health and really enjoying the day.  The weather was perfect and not quite as day as the day before.  No matter how many times you see this place the scenery never stops being arresting.  One think I saw was a first for me in the US and that was a desert sheep standing right beside the road munching on a bush and seemingly without a care in the world about the constant traffic streaming by.  This is very unusual and wild sheep are normally only seen at a great distance.  The only other time I can remember seeing any this close was when I had to stop the car and wait for a flock of them to cross the road in Banff Springs National Park in Canada.

Big Horn Desert Sheep from the web

It was only a short ride today so I reached the East Entrance to the Park and the hotel where I planned t spend the night early in the afternoon.  The temperature had now climbed quite high and I was happy to spend some time in the room with the air conditioner on full.  As I was pulling into the small congregation of building that is strung along this section of Utah Highway 89, I realized that I had ridden though here several years ago on the old BMW R1200 during a ride to Taos, New Mexico.    I recalled that on that ride it was just a bit chilly and I had bought a long-sleeve tee shirt that had a logo of Brice Canyon National Park of the front.  It was one of my favorite shirts and I had nearly worn it out so I looked to see if I could find another but, alas, no luck.  I guess I will still have to keep darning the old one instead.  Or Nancy will throw it out when I am not looking.

Thunderbird Lodge Zion Park Entrance
Home of the "Home Made Pies"

I tried the pie but think mine are actually better so I don't think they are quite worth the billing.  The clean room and functioning air conditioner were well appreciated however.

I did a diary entry in my room that night

Day Five 29 June, 2014 Carmel Valley Junction, UT to Green River, Utah 250 Miles

I had a very nice and leisurely breakfast at the hotel coffee shop and got off to a mid-morning start.  I was feeling fairly good after a short day yesterday but still had some trepidation about being able to have enough stamina for a trip all the way to Quebec and back.  I took Highway 89 north which was a section of road I had been on numerous times in the last few years, the last time being on the ride in 2012 with Eugene Murray.  On previous trips, I have taken the turnoff to Utah Highway 12 which is a wonderful road that twists through the mountains and leads to Bryce Canyon and then into the small town of Escalante which is surrounded by Grand Staircase Escalante National Monument.  If you stay on the road past the mountain village of Boulder, you will reach a turning for Green River in the north or Natural Bridges National Monument in the south.  It has been several years since I was on the part of 89 that runs north of the turnoff and ultimately all the way to the Idaho border but I think I remember it fairly well as a gently twisting two-lane blacktop that runs along the bottom of a number of shallow tree-lined canyons and a though a series of leafy little hamlets that may not be quite "quaint" but certainly picturesque.  Wrong!  Instead of my remembered landscape the highway climbs up to a high, treeless plateau where even higher mountain ridges run parallel off to both sides.  So much for my vaunted memory.

At the same time as I am wondering about the quality of my memory I am still going through the internal debate about continuing the trip or heading back to Reno.  This is the last section of road which is not taking me directly East which means that if I don't head back now, the ride back is going to be quite long.  I figure that I am now about 500 miles from Reno but once I hit Interstate 70 and head toward Colorado, every mile will add to the return distance.  I am actually doing OK with the breathing but still having to huff and puff a bit to get enough oxygen to not constantly feel that nagging sensation of shortness of breath.  In any case, weather from suborned or from conviction, when I reach the Interstate I turn away from Reno instead of the other direction.  However as I am filling up with gas at the first station along the freeway I realize that I will be facing another challenge as well and that is the intense heat.  The temperature has been building most of the day but as long as I have been up at a bit higher elevations or in the mountains themselves, I have been fairly comfortable.  This next section of road however is going to drop out the lightly pine forested hills and into the real desert.  I am expecting temperatures to be above 100F or 40C.  I will not be able to spend a lot of time out in the direct sun at those temps without risking some real difficulties.  However, there is not much of an alternative since there are really no towns anywhere along this stretch of highway.  It is at least 100 miles of road without available help if some difficulty arises.  I was able to handle the heat much better when I was younger and before my COPD had developed.  I can remember making a lot of rides in the summer at temps above 100 with some discomfort but no sense of danger.  But that was then and now is now.  The only way for me to deal with the very high temps now is to stay well hydrated and keep my clothes as wet as possible.  Pouring a little water on your shirt will mean that as it evaporates at highway speed, you will be an fairly intense cooling.  The problem is that the shirt will completely dry in only a few minutes at desert humidity levels that are close to 10% or less.
One way to handle this is to use a tightly rolled bandana that you thoroughly soak and then tie around your neck.  Even the cooling from this small area is generally enough to make things bearable.  And the tightness of the wrapping means that the evaporation is slowed enough that one wetting will generally last about 20 minutes even at highway speeds.  I carry a couple of quarts of water (about 2 liters) in the bag on the back of the bike so I will stop several times along this lonely section and wet down.  I am pretty confident this will get me thought to Green River and I continue heading down out of the mountains and into the inferno like desert of Eastern Utah.
I am hoping that I can get a room at the Green River Inn which I have stay at several times previously.  The place is run by the owners and is clean and has a small, well-shaded pool that sits on the bluff beside the Green River.  This is a great place to relax and cool off.  Eugene and I stayed there on our trip the previous year.  This time however I am don't think I am going to be able to get a room.  I normally do not try to get reservations in advance since I like to keep my options for where to stop as flexible as possible.  But here with so few towns around i have checked the Internet for availability and it showed that the Inn was full.  Joseph and I are sharing a fate.  However in this case I am surprised when I stop at the hotel to check in person and find that cancellations have opened a room up and I quickly sign the register and head for the pool.

This is the breakfast deck of the Green River Inn

Humming Birds all around.

A most pleasant break from the road.

Day 5 Commentary

Day Six 30 June, 2014 Green River, UT to Alamosa, Colo 347 Miles

The road out of Green River heading East is particularly uninteresting with almost nothing to see.  It is quite shocking when you realize that only a few miles in any direction from the Interstate lies some of the most interesting and arresting terrain in the world and both Arches and Canyonlands National Parks are only a stones throw away, however along this stretch of tarmac there is almost nothing to distract the eye from the unending and unchanging high desert plains until you are well into Colorado and almost to Grand Junction.  Eugene and I were hit by a cold hailstorm along this stretch in 2012.  I stopped at the same spot and shot another panorama of 'not much'.

 At least this time the weather was much warmer if not a bit too hot!

Big Ride Day 6 Map

Day Six.  To get the interactive map click on link above

A view of Grand Mesa from Grand Junction

Once you finally get into Grand Junction, Colorado the landscape is dominated by the huge mesa that hovers over the town.  It is the only thing that is interesting.  It is propertied to be the largest flat-top mountain in the world, encompasses hundreds of square miles and is at an altitude above 10,000 feet, 3.050 Meters. It is a bit early for lunch and I decide to push on to Gunnison, CO.  This will take me though the

Grand Canyon of the Gunnison River which has some really spectacular scenery and a deep canyon that has been cut by the river though the dark rock.  It is hard to get a good shot of the canyon from the road but following is a picture from the National Park Service.

By the time I get to the town of Gunnison, it is getting late and I am quite hungry.  I pull over to the side of the road and check my Nexus 7 map for a Mexican Restaurant.  The data base shows one just up ahead and I quickly park the bike and scurry inside to make a quick order.  There are a group of three Harleys with Quebec plates also parked out front and after I have sat down I notice the three young men speaking French at the next table.  I speculate if they are from anywhere close to where I am heading but decide to let them enjoy their food and peace and only say a quick hello and wish them good luck and safe riding as they leave.  I tell them I am headed for their homeland but they don't express much interest and I let it go at that.  As is often the case when you are hungry, the food tastes great.  However, I cannot help but think that Eugene would be unhappy with the menu choices which are exclusively dishes from South of the border.

After lunch I turn off onto a road that I had not travelled before.  I try to avoid taking the same routes multiple times and like to explore new places however the main road such as Highway 50 from Canyon City to Gunnison and then to Grand Junction follow the main mountain valleys and there really are few alternative routes so the roads do become familiar.  There is nothing wrong with that of course but there is always a bit of a kick up in the adrenaline when you are heading into a bit of the unknown and I like that.  Exploring has always been a favorite activity for me since my boyhood days.  

As I leave Highway 50 with a full stomach and an anticipation for what this new route will reveal, I again think of how much I wish I knew more about almost everything.  Throughout my life, the more I have learned about things, the less I realize I actually understand.  One of those things is natural history.  I have never made a serious or formal study of geology or plant biology and that ignorance comes to awareness as I contemplate the lack of trees along the bottom of the valleys through which these mountain highways wend there way along.  

Why is that?  I speculate that it must be the lack of some nutrients in the soil since the hillsides on both sides of the valley are covered with fairly dense forests.  These are nearly all pine trees of some sort or another and the few trees you do encounter along the valley roads are nearly all deciduous.  Some right along the river and creek-sides are Cottonwoods but I simply do not know the other species.  Since you only find Cottonwoods right at the sides of waterways, I guess they need more water than other types of trees that can survive in less wet conditions, but again, I just don't know.  Whatever the reasons, I soon leave the brush covered fields and climb into the pine forests that line both sides of the road and climb the ridge lines to the tops of the valleys.  Shortly however I come across a disturbing sight.  This is a hillside covered with dead and dying trees.  You can tell by the sickly brown color that is so clearly evident against the otherwise dark green of the pines.  The same scenes are repeated thoughout the American West and I have been told are the result of a combination of continuing drought conditions in most Western States and an infestation of beetles.

Apparently the lack of normal moisture from rain and snow stresses the trees somehow and results in weaknesses in their ouster bark.  This in turn allows the beetles to burrow into the pulp of the tree where they lay their eggs and breed unimmaginable number of larvae which suck even more moisture out of the plants, ultimately causing their death.  But before they die, they turn this sickly, dull brown that is a blight upon our wilderness.  As far as I know there is really nothing that can be done to counteract this plague and all we can hope for is that the weather will return naturally to a wetter normality and provide some protection for the remaining trees.  It breaks your heart to see the scale of the destruction but I guess it is a natural process and one which we simply have to accept.

We are headed for the small mountain town of Saguache, Colorado.  I have never been there before although I have been close by when driving down US 285 which runs from Northern Colorada The Saguache Crescent Newspaper

through the San Luis Valley and then on into New Mexico.  Saguache caught my imagination when it was featured on a 60 Minutes segment a couple of years ago.  The story was about a family in town that had been continuously publishing the local newspaper for nearly 100 years using the same printing press.  It seems to be the last one in operation anywhere in the US and perhaps anywhere in the world.  Here is a link to the story.

I never did find the offices of the Crescent or the small diner that is mentioned in the video but I did stop at the town square and took a few shots just to get a sense of the place

Saguache sits at about 7,800 feet and while this is a good deal lower than the pass I just came through my breathing is still a bit labored.  It is also a small enough place that if there are any motels available, I did not see them and I decide to push on down the road to the much larger town of Alamosa.  I have to ride though a late afternoon rain shower to get there and the elevation is only a couple on hundred feet lower. This has been to longest ride of the trip so far and I pull into the first motel that looks decent and with a dinner consisting of a few candy bars from the lobby machine, do not leave the motel.

A pretty tired video diary tonight

Day Six Commentary

Heading East
     Day Seven 1 July, 2014
     Day Eight 
     Day Nine
     Day Ten (Kansas City)

Day Seven 1 July, 2014 Alamosa, Colorado to Lamar, CO 262 miles

I had such a great ride this day that I am going to start off with the commentary instead of holding it to the end.  This was the kind of experience that draws you into biking in the first place.

Day Seven Commentary

The Big Ride 2014 Day Seven

As I was heading East out of Alamosa I was eyeing the clouds hanging over the Sangre de Christo Mountains with some trepidation.  While I was not really afraid of the rain, we had experienced a lot of lightening the night before and I did not want to be riding into a thunderstorm.  But first a little breakfast.  I had been in this area lots of times in the past few years and knew that the population was almost exclusively Hispanic.  That means lots of good, and fairly cheap, Mexican food.  I was looking for a place to have a breakfast burrito in honor of Eugene Murray.  I remember the horrified look on Eugene's face when he was served his very first breakfast burrito.  He never really warmed to Mexican food of any sort but he is such a good sport that he soldiered on and nearly finished it.  I on the other hand love them.  My stomach got the better of me as I drove by the turnoff for the Fort Garland Museum.  I had driven by this State historical site three different times in the last few years and was determined that I would stop in to see the exhibits: the very next time I was in town.  I missed it again.  Normally this would not be unusual but this Fort was a base for Kit Carson at times during his career as a scout and guide for the US Army during the Indian Wars of the mid to late 1800's.  My Mother always claimed we were related to Kit in some convoluted way.  I have never been able to confirm this but she knew her relations out to the firth or sixth cousins twice or three times removed so her claim had credibility with me.  However at the time the Del's Diner held more appeal to me than an old Indian Fort.  They served a marvelous burrito and afterwards I was on my way to the La Veta Pass which you can just see as the snow covered peaks in the picture below.

Del's Diner Fort Garland Colorado

The run up the pass was picturesque but uneventful.  I did encounter a few road construction delays but these are expected in the mountains during the Summer months.  So far, no rain and it looks like the worst of the clouds have moved off to the South and away from the main highway.

Just a couple of miles beyond the top of the pass is the turnoff for the village of La Veta which is snuggled into the high mountains which surround it.  I pull off the road for a couple of shots which do not turn out to show much of the grander of the place but at least indicate where I am headed.  The South is masked in clouds but I decide to go ahead since I have never been in this area before and look forward to the exploration. 

As I pass through La Veta and head up the canyon beyond, I am impressed with the scenery and taken aback by the pastoral beauty of a herd of horses grazing in a grassy meadow with gigantic red cliffs towering in the distance.

 

I went online to check the Google Maps to see if there was a street-view of some of these rock formations.  The pictures I took really do not capture their visual impact.  What I found was a nearly exact replica of one of my shots which I thought I would include as interest.  I also was quite surprised at how populated this area was.  Not in terms of any real settlement density but for a location that is so remote from any major urban areas, there were a surprising number of vacation cabins and cottages and a few very nice resorts as well.  I guess it is not surprising given the scenery and seclusion.

Google Street view Screen Capture Google Maps

Along parts of the road there were a number of vacation cottages and some very nice lodges as well but as we approached the pass I re-entered the clouds and the temperature dropped dramatically.  I was unsure how mush higher or farther I would need to go in order to cross over to the Eastern slope and begin to descend.  Fortunately it turned out to be a fairly steep pass and I was quickly over the summit and out of the clouds on the other side.  Later I tried to map the elevation of the road over the pass from the village of La Veta to the foothills town of Trinidad, Colorado.

It is easy to see the steepness of the pass and how quickly it drops on the East side, followed by a much more slow and gradual descent to the town of Trinidad situated on the plains below.  The pass is just below 10,000 feet in altitude but fortunately I do not have to stay up that high for long and the weather continues to warm the lower I drop.  The other major change on the East side is that there are almost no homes or ranches.  The development seems to stop right at the pass.  I speculate that the land on this side must still be public lands and not open to development.  I also thought it might be part of the old Spanish Land Grant that became the Trinchera ranch.  The ranch was owned by the Forbes family for many years but was recently sold to undisclosed buyers. 

The original grant was of over a million acres and was given by the Spanish King to a subject that at that time was a resident of Mexico.  The land was annexed into the United States after the invasion of Mexico during the Mexican War of 1846-1847 when the US occupied Mexico City and much of central Mexico.  The peace treaty stipulated that legal Land Grants would be respected and recognized by the US but most were ignored or overturned by US courts that demanded exceptionally stringent documentation of the grants that was impossible for most owners to produce.  The Trinchera was an exception and the land from the crest of the Sange de Christo Moutains to the crest of the San Juan Mountains and comprising most of the Southern part of the San Luis Valley formed the ranch.  Since the land I was riding through was on the Eastern Slope of the Sange de Christo's, I realize that this was not part of that land grant.  Whatever the reason, the land remains wild and untamed until you are well down into the valley on the road that runs along the mid-sized Pergatorie River

As you head down the valley you come across a number of dusty, decaying, largely adobe brick hamlets huddled along the road. Most appear to be on the verge of desertion but have a few residents remaining.  Most feature a small and disused church in their center.  There seems to be a series of them that are startling similar and spaced about 4 to 5 miles apart.  I wonder about the origin of these strange little villages and then realize that this valley was most likely settled by Mexican colonist long before the introduction of cars and well maintained roads.  Hamlets would've had to be located within easy walking distance to the surrounding fields in order to the residents to reach them and return each

night with enough time to spend on tending and harvesting the crops.  The churches would have to have tended the pheasants where they lived and the Catholic church must have constructed a entire network of small parishes throughout the valley.  I took a screenshot from Google Maps of a typical church. 
There is no longer any really sustainable economic base for these communities and its likely they will soon so the way of the church buildings themselves, shuttered and largely forgotten.  At the foot of the valley lies the small, approximately 9,000 population, town of Trinidad.  Unlike the earlier community this place seems to be thriving which is undoubtably due to its location on Interstate 25, the main North-South route in Colorado which has brough both people and business activity to the town.  Many of the older buildings have been preserved and instead of presenting a fading present the communitiy gives off a rather quaint and rather appealing impression.

I am starting to get hungry when I reach Trinidad and I am on the outlook for a place to eat but one does not strike my fancy so I decide to push on to the next town of La Junta, Colorado which lies about 80 miles Northeast along US Highway 350.  The scenery goes from extremely interesting to the 

opposite extreme with miles of endless plains on every side. The only thing that breaks the monotony is a sign that informs me that this is the original route of the Santa Fe Trail which was one of the major migration and wagon train routes during the exploration of the American West in the early-mid nineteenth century.

I speculate that those early settlers probably found the country just as uninteresting as I do today.

The modern road follows alongside a rail line which was probably sited because of the Trail as well.  There must have been much more traffic in the past than there is today since I meet almost no one on the road.  In fact there are a number of decaying roadside businesses that obviously closed long ago and which stand monument to the fact that at some time in this early 1900's this must have been a major auto and truck route with the required service stations, restaurants and motels along the way.  All gone now and without the ties that being raised in a location create in people, they stand abandoned and along with on stragglers holding onto memories of this being a better place.

Google screenshot of abandoned US 350 business

One thing that does engage my interest is the telephone pole line that runs along the railroad tracks.  The wires are only set about 8 or 9 feet, 2.5 - 3 Meters, above the ground.  I can not imagine why they would have been placed so low.  There are really no crossroads in the part of the county so I guess they do not have to be high enough for large vehicles to be able to pass below them.  Maybe they were constructed long ago and the need to raise them has never developed as it has in other more developed parts of the county.  In any case I can't think of a good reason why they are the way they are.  When I subsequently mentioned this to my friend Sam Sanderson, he speculated that when the lines were originally placed, it would have been done all by hand without any power tools or vehicles and that it was probably just too difficult to get larger poles in place and erect them into necessarily deeper and hand-dug holes.  I think he has hit the nail on the head.

Once I arrive in La Junta I ask direction at the gas station to the best Mexican resturant in town which turns out to be Felicia's.  The food lives up to it recommendation and I get to enjoy a wonderful lunch of tacos and enchiladas before getting back on the road for a short ride to the next town of Lamar where I decide to spend the night.

Day Eight 2 July, 2014 Lamar, Colorado to Newton, Kansas 306 miles

Today was another great day of riding, but for a very different reason.  Yesterday was all about the excitement of exploring and discovery, today was about the sheer joy of riding a fist bike in the open air.  The lower altitudes of the Great Plains meant that my breathing was less challenged and the resulting relaxation allowed me to once again get in touch with the pure fun of riding a good motorcycle.  What a treat.  The feeling puts you directly in touch with the pure feelings of your youth, un-reflected and un-analysied.  Just fun.

The Big Ride 2014 Day Eight

When I have a day like this, I just let the mind wonder and muse on anything that might catch its attention.  Farming, water towers, harvesters, tractors rain, oil  cotton, corn, insects and sunlight are all fodder for contemplation. Mostly a gently musing but sometimes something different.  A thought intrude that is then hard or nearly impossible to remove.  It seems to me that you can control the direction of the mind in some respects but not others.  I can almost always decide what I want to think about but it does not seem that I can firmly choose what not to think.  Often thoughts come to consciousness, unbidden.

Day Eight Commentary

Unfortunately I have such a thought just outside Garden City Kansas and it stayed with me for much of the day and for many days following as well.  One of the things you notice when riding the back roads rather than the Interstates is just how big trucks have become over the years.  Everyone recalls the one-piece trucks for prohibition day movies when the gangsters where running bootleg whisky around.  These were trucks with a human scale, something perhaps four or five times as big as a passenger car.   But as the size of passenger cars has shrunk over the years, trucks have become behemouths, 10 or 15 or 20 times the size of a typical car and often pulling one or two or sometimes today, even three gigantic trailers.  It is bad enough when you have to ride in proxcimity with these creatures on the Interstates, but when you meet them on the backroads such as US 50, they rush toward you head-on with a combined speed approaching 150 miles per hours.  Unfortunately during one such encounter, I think, Ohmygosh, what would it fell like if I had a blown tire and was to be thrown into the part of the monster?  Would you live long enough to know you were dying or would your horror blot out the inevitable end of your existence?  Not the kind of thought you really want to contemplate every time you encunter a truck but one that I have yet to learn how to deny ideation.

One good think is that trucks have become streamlined enough so that when you meet one screaming down at you on a two-lane road it is no longer quite like being battered into the sand by a breaking ocean wave but mostly just a gentle buffeting.  A big improvement over the old days of riding, that's for sure.

Approaching Garden City, Kansas reminds me of the last time I was there.  Doing the math, I can hardly beleive it has been over 50 years ago.  50 years just seems like such a very long time.  For most of my life, 50 years-olds were just that: old.  It takes a moment for my consciousess to acknowledge that I myself am now old enough to have done and remembered things from 50 years ago.  It was 1959 and I was with my Mother diving the family car from our home in East Lansing, Michigan where my father was a Dean of the College of Education at Michigan State University to our new home in Denver.  My Dad was flying out and would join us in Colorado.  The car broke down just outside Garden City and we have to spend a couple of days there while it was being repaired.  I do not remember anything about the town but at first recollection, I wonder why we had taken the Highway 50 route instead of the much more direct Interstate 70 that runs fairly directly from Kansas City to Denver.  Then I realize that the Interstate were not yet built in the 1950's.  Eisenhower had promoted the idea and got it approved but he was still President at the time and the construction had not been completed.  Thinking of Eisenhower and the Interstate recalls the time I stopped at his museum and library and boyhood home in Abilene.  As I remember, Abilene is located just off  Interstate 70 so I won't be making that detour on this trip.

Garden City has some history with me but the real star of this section of the country is Dodge City.  No one of my generation can have missed the television and movie references to this famous outlaw town.  The place really came into its own in the last part of the ninetieth century when it was the westernmost terminus of the Nation's railroad lines.  Cattle from the plains for hundreds of mile around were driven to Dodge City where they were either processed by local stockyards or shipped back East to feed a hungry and dynamically growing country.  The place catered to the raw-bonded cowboys, cattle drivers and herd owners who were anxious to have a place to spend their new found money after weeks or months on the trail.  The criminal element was also anxious to releive the drovers of their wealth and Dodge City had the reputation both as one of the wildest and most lawless places in the Old West.  All of this was running though my mind when I suddenly came upon today's Dodge City reality.  Stockyards.  The rail lines may have spread throughout the country and into every corner but the stockyards that grew up and thrived in the 1880's are still operating today.  They dramatically announce their presence on a gust of wind from the East which carries the distinctve smell of the excrement of thousands and thousands of animals.  It is not by any means the worst smell on earth but it takes me by surprise after hundreds of miles on riding through the open West where the worst smell one is likely to encounter is a dead skunk in the middle of the road and the more common are of a fresh pine forest, a sagebrush meadow or the clean scent that comes right after a gentle rain.  Dodge City had none of those.  Fortunately the stockyards odors seem not to have penetrated into the middle of town and I stop on Main Street for a very nice Italian lunch.

Afterwards I need to speed through the stockyards on the city's East side and then it is a very enjoyable and quite relaxing ride to the Kansas town of Newton where I will be spending the night.

Day Nine 3 July, 2014 Newton, Kansas to Overland Park, KS (Kansas City) 172 miles

I am going to lead with he commentary once again.  Another really enjoyable day of easy riding and just reveling in the sense of freedom that comes with a good bike in open country.  I have been exceptionally lucky with the weather on most of the trip.  Not only have I avoided rain for the most part but now that I am in the Midwest I was really worried about oppressive humidity and very high temperatures.  When I get to Kansas City I have neither and the weather is actually better than I ever can remember it being in the few years that I lived here.

Day Nine Commentary

A very quick and short ride today.  The only stop I made was when I reached the small town of Ottawa, Kansas.  The name intrigued me since it was shared with the National Capital of Canada so many miles to the Northeast.  What was surprising was that I did not think that there were any Indian Tribes that had an original range that was large enough to account for both towns being named after Indian groups and I was sure that would have been the etymology of the name.  I subsequently learned that "Ottawa" is an Algonquin Native Language Group name for "traders" and I suspect that the local european settlers were attempting to name their towns after local Indian tribes but were simply confused about what the Native Peoples called themselves.  I was still a bit surprised that the Algonquin group would be so widespread but on reflection realized that it was not that unusual.  I had known that some Native Language families could cover very large areas and that some of the Athabaskan Tribes located in Northern Alberta had a language that was closely related and at least somewhat intelligible with that of the Navajo Tribes from the American Southwest, notablly Arizona. This makes sense if the migration route for humans into North America was across a Bearing Straits land bridge and then down the interior of the continent, leaving behind small populations in their wake.

The only thing that I thought was worth capturing in Ottawa was a sign advertising a local Tractor

Pull Event.  I commented on Tractor Pulls in the next day's video diary from Kansas City.  I stayed at the Marriott in Overland Park Kansas which was a bit of a splurge but I was upgraded to a very nice room by the front desk staff who was also a biker.

Day Ten 4 July, 2014 Kansas City Area 0 miles

Day 10 Commentary

I spent all day catching up with friends and family.  It was great to see my cousin James Sommers who I last had met 49 years ago.  Jim is the son of my Mother's sister who lived in the Kansas City area for many, many years and who we visited often when I was a boy.  I also got to spend some time with my cousin Carol who was the daughter of another of Mom's sisters and who with her husband were long-time Kansas City residents.  Jim brought his entire family with him so it was a treat to get acquainted with the entire clan.  I got some snaps of that get together.

After a very enjoyable lunch, Jim invited me to stop by his home where he has some historical family items.  He had some portraits of our joint ancestors and a wood cameo carving of our Grandmother, Lexie Ozell Bennett Gilliam.  He had a likeness of our Great Grandfather Francis Asbury Garrett (Frank) Bennett over the mantle.  FAG Bennett was born in Georgia in 1827 and was named after Francis Asbury, the first Methodist Bishop in the Americas.  Frank's son, Alfonzo Dobson (Dob) Bennett, our Grandfather would donate the land from his farm for the construction of a small wooden Methodist church near Peace Valley, Missouri where my Mother grew up.  This church would become known as Bennett's Chapel and is still standing but only infrequently used today.

Since it was the Fourth of July, many restaurants in the area were not open but I was just in time to take my cousin Carol and her husband, Jim Smith, a very successful retired businessman, to dinner at my all-time favorite place in Kansas City.  This is Stroud's Restruant the "Home of the Pan Fried Chicken".  Stroud's other famous phrase is, "We Choke Our Own Chickens",  They sell tee-shirts with that printed on the back and on one visit I bought a number of them as gifts to friends.  I wear mine fairly regularly but I suspect the friend's are used primarily for polishing the car or wiping up particularly nasty spills.

The next day I will be heading out of town and back on the bike.  The high point of the visit was catching up with some dear friends and seeing family again.  My visit did not make me want to move back to the Midwest, but it did temper my somewhat harsh judgements about the place.  Having nearly perfect weather certainly helped.  A high of 98° F and a low of 97° with humidity of 100% might have just confirmed my opinions.