Sunday, The Last Day

I stopped for breakfast at The Hen House in Cuba, MO. The first thing I saw after walking in the door was a book rack stocked with two kinds of books – bible books and diet books. The second thing I saw was a restaurant full of fat people wearing their best. Make of it what you will.

Today was a grand day. I’d read that Route 19s was a nice motorcycle ride and it was. I then hit 60e for a smidge followed up by 34e which was a lovely surprise. The gray line on the map doesn’t say much – dull, even width, straight-ish. But don’t let that fool you. It’s as fun a ride as any I’ve had on this trip. Crossing the Mississippi River into Illinois, I made my way up Routes 3n, 146e, 51n & 14e until I landed at the KOA in Benton, IL. It’s hot and muggy ’round these parts but the grass is green. Not much else to say. It was a route full of curves and hills, just like I like my women – curvy… with hills… and cows roaming on them.

Tomorrow it’ll be a short ride along 14e where I’ll stop in the town where the theater is I’ll be working at, New Harmony, IN. But apparently there’s nothing much else there, so I’ll make my way farther to Evansville to set up house and get ready to start work the next day.

Clang, Clang, Clang…

For any of you that know football or have watched American Gladiators on the telly, there is a thing in both called The Gauntlet. It usually involves a runner attempting to get from point A to point B. While on his merry way he is met mightily from one or both sides by blows from opposing forces designed to rend his head from atop his ever-lovin’ neck.

This was my journey through Kansas. Keeping my skull attached and my bike from entering oncoming traffic thanks to the breeze coming North from the plains. It whips quite wickedly, especially once the hills start. I happened to latch on to two other riders pretty early and until Topeka I was able to judge when the gusts would hit by watching the lead rider hunch down and lean at almost a 45 degree into the blast. You’d think that having I70 cut down into the hills a bit would be better. And you’d be wrong. It just means that the wind swirls around and hits you from the other side. Gauntlet, baby, at 80 mph.

Last night I gave over to some route alterations. I meant, meant, to go 70e – 75s – 50e to Binder State Park for some camping. Part of the reason for the change is that even before I left I was feeling a little nancy about always staying at KOA campgrounds. They are well maintained, corporate versions of down and dirty camping. And they spell everything with a “k” instead of a “c”. That’s just plain stoopid. The other part of the change is that I had stumbled on a website that mentioned SR 19 as being an incredible motorcycle ride. It’s slightly on the way. I’m in. So, Binder State Park outside of Jefferson City it was.

It wasn’t a problem when I missed 75s. I hooked up with something else and headed west to Lawrence. Lawrence has a fantastic cooperative food store on the scale of a Whole Foods. I see Co-ops like this and it gives me hope for our Reno venture. Especially when I see that those that are most enviable are much older than ours. Lawrence’s is over 30 years old. I picked up some lunch there as well as what I hope to be better mozzie deterrent. Even for ones that speak a foreign language.

I darted down 59s to hook up with 56e and make my way to 50e and straight on to Binder Lake. It was dreamy how well the directions on my iPhone were. Unfortunately, it didn’t tell me that the campground would be full. Stoopid iPhone. That’s why we call for reservations, no? Looking on the map showed a couple of campgrounds on the other side of JC. One has no tent sites, only RV pull throughs (Well, then. You can’t really call yourself a campground, can you?). The other closes it office at 1(WTF?) but they’d meet me at the office in 40 if I wanted it. I did. But I missed the turn. And more often than not, I hate to turn around. So, I stopped in Lipton at the Lipton Motel because I don’t think I can go any farther. But they just switched to apartments and don’t rent rooms for the night.

What is the question that comes to my mind immediately? Where is the nearest KOA? Stanton, MO. Google says it’s 2 hours from where I am at the moment – Lipton, whose prominent feature is, well, featured in the only photo today. Was this a sign? Ask again later. On I go east: route 50. And now the road becomes exquisite. Beautiful country lines the two laner. Cows, horses and green, green, green. I love it. This is what motorcycles are made for. And I see loads of ‘em. All the way to Sullivan, MO I’m grinning. I stop in Sullivan to double check directions, listen to the kids screaming on the rides at the fair 200 yards away and grab a few bites of a snack before jumping on 44e for a few moments to get closer to the KOA.

At the Stanton, MO KOA the campground is noisy with frogs. And they sell local Missouri wine. I’m currently more than half a bottle into a 2005 Cynthiana(?) from St. James Winery in St. James, MO. It’s nice. I’m done.

End of day 22,722. 440 miles today. My arse can usually take only about 320 in that saddle.

I asked the gas station girl what this meant. She said "Try again later."

The Second Time Around

Kansas is lovelier the second time around. Last year it was a low point of the ride. This year, pleasant if windy and flat. Green fields, nice sun, warm.

Nothing to say about the ride but camp is nice. I went for a walk down a mud road and watched three rabbits have a swell time not knowing I was standing there. Or maybe they didn’t care. Cool rabbits. I noticed some skeeters heading into the evening so I went to the office and bought some chemical laden lotion for keeping them away. I’m not a big fan of putting this stuff on my skin, but I was willing to live with it until I could find something better. Slatherd once, twice, three times and not one mosquito was detered. Oh, Reno! Clear and free of mozzies! Oh, how I dig thee!

End of the day: 22282

Ah, Geez

On Tuesday I started the day at 21,398.

A short day of riding as I visit some dear friends who have moved from Reno to Glenwood Springs. Nothing exciting happened and I arrived about 1pm to find Mark Giovanni waving at me from a gas station like a mad man as I enter town.

It’s quite nice to see Nancy, Mark, Josie, Fran, Dennis and Huck. They’ve got a nice little spot by the river and it’s not in a van.

Editor’s Note:

Sometimes technology bites big juicy ones. I left the Giovanni’s on Thursday morning stopping in Georgetown, Co just West of Denver for lunch during which I wrote the best blog post ever. At least the best of the day. When I returned to the saved post to continue after settling in Limon, CO for the evening it had disappeared, left behind in some restaurant in an old silver town mingling with the smells of buffalo tacos and huevos rancheros in the iEther above my lunch table. Then, after writing a similarly fantastic follow-up before dinner at my campsite, it was escorted away again to my chagrin followed quite quickly by words of sailor-like encouragement to go its own way, have a nice day and may we ne’er meet again. I hate doing things twice, but doing things three times just makes me laugh. This will be filed under “recap” or “abridged”. Catch it if you can.

1. Josie turned two as you will plainly see by the photo. She’s the cutest thing on the entire Earth.

2. It’s good to talk art with Mark. We spent several hours in Aspen looking into galleries and such.

3. Visiting the Giovanni’s, it’s like they never left Reno. Or I was never in Reno. At any rate, it was nice.

4. The weather cleared for me on Thursday morning but it was still quite brisk over the passes on 70. Thanks for the winter gloves, Mark.

5. I rode a lot today. Now my bum hurts.

Start of the day: 21,568

End of the day: 21,930

South Central Utah

Is better than South Central L.A. I can tell you that much.

I rode out of Ely on 50 and continued. I like western NV. I’m not sure why it’s not populated but I’m glad it isn’t. This is what I imagine the Great Basin that Reno sits in would be if it were mostly empty.

I stopped at the same place for lunch that I did last year in Salina, UT. It’s a little drive through called Gatorz. I ordered a burger, the Gatorz burger, and asked for it on a bed of lettuce because of my allergy to the gluten monster. While the gals were very nice abou it you would have thought I’d asked for a poop sandwich. First look: shock. Next: disgust. Third: quizzical as if something like that could be done – a burger, no bun? We’re heading into uncharted territory! Circle the wagons! Get the chief on the horn! Up periscope! Red leader, I’m going in!

The lettuce is pre-shredded, so would I like that as a salad? Nope. Just put the whole thing on top. It’d be easier with two slices of tomato as buns, are you allergic to tomato? I’m not, that sounds fine. And on, and on for the entire cooking with questions being relayed from the gal in the kitchen to the gal at the counter.

They offered a reason for the confusion. They don’t usually put vegetables on burgers. Got it.

I sat outside out of sight of the shop in the back grassy area. But as soon as I finished they were both hovering to a) see if I had died from this strange ailment, and 2) if it was any good.

Not dead yet & yes.

From there I made a choice to turn a blind eye to interstate 70 and pick up route 24. As I recall from last time, 70 was a pretty good ride. 24 was also pretty dang good. I passed through Capital Reef National Park and, boy, was it. This part of Utah is mighty impressive.

I made it to Green River, UT, made a lovely camp, and proceeded to lie awake for most of the evening thanks to a giant wind storm.

Back On Two Wheels

I’ve headed east again. I’m taking the same route through Nevada that I rode last year. The Lonliest Road in America has seemed a bit less so today. Austin was fairly bustling. It doesn’t seem that long ago I was riding like this. I forgot a few things. My roll up camp chair is currently the most missed. It’s difficult to do much in a tent laying flat. At least alone.

Just past Fallon are some salt flats. People have written next to the road with round, black stones the names of people that I’m assuming have died there, though it’s hard to say what from. There’s nothing to run into. If you veer off the road you’d continue for miles in dirty salt before hitting a mountain. Maybe they shrivelled up like a snail? Someone did write “SWEET”. But judging from the all caps it probably had less to do with someone dying and more to do with someone being high. At any rate, I made it through. It was kinda sweet.

I went past the Sand Mountain Recreation Area again. It’s a rather large, naturally occuring mound of sand hemmed in by hard mountains. It’s like that spot in the living room behind the chair next to the buffet. Hard to clean. But folks use this one fir recreating. I almost missed it this time. I wonder if it blew over a few feet from last year?

I had lunch in a Mexican restaurant in Eureka, NV listening to hard core music coming out of the kitchen and the next table over converse in Chinese. I think it was a family of tourists. It reminded me that traveling brings to life some of the strange situation that may get overlooked at home.

I hit Ely right when I suspected I would. It’s chilly. It was chilly all the way from Austin, just about. It gives me a little worry as I sold my three season motorcycle gloves and left my heavy winter riding gloves at home. I hope going into Colorado won’t be too cold.

Start of the day: 20653

End of the day: 20986

Stay On Target

It’s getting close to the sitting time. Paint a few strokes. Sit and look for a few minutes. Paint a couple more strokes. Sit and look for 10 minutes. It’s a silly process for me but it is also when things start to really pop and gel, if that’s possible. At this point, as it is a commission, I like to have the clients come into the studio to see it. Even though it isn’t complete, it’s close enough to get a good feel for the finished product.