June 18, 1997 Cave Junction, OR

Port Townsend, WA is a fabulous sea town. The motel where we stayed appears to have been used as barracks in a previous time. Each room equipped with two twin beds and a bathroom. That's all, nothing else. After having ridden for twelve hours yesterday, it was all we needed. We treated ourselves by sleeping till 8am, and then hit the road for destinations south. Today is hump day! The eleventh day of a twenty one day trip. We've traveled 4113 miles in ten days, including the 1/2 day down time each in Kansas City and Denver. As usual we decided to ride a few hours then eat breakfast. We headed out towards Rt. 101 to take a scenic ride down the coast. Dave, for some reason, decided to take center stage. Riding along in a one lane construction zone, we went the wrong way at a Y in the road. Instead of proceeding with traffic, Dave darts into a parking lot, turns around and rides along the shoulder towards oncoming traffic until we make it back to the split. I'm speechless and simply follow. One of the flag ladies gives chase and would like to speak to him. Dave obliges until she's about ten feet away then hammers it in the direction that we wanted to go. Of course having no mind of my own, I just shake my head and follow. I really didn't think a lot of it, until we reached the next construction zone. We sit and wait patiently until it's our turn to proceed. As we pass the last flag lady, Dave sticks out his leg and knocks over a cone!! DAVE!! Once again I'm left with having to deal with the stares and mouthed words that I can't hear over my helmet speakers. Dave is a hooligan....period. We are now fugitives on the run. Wanted by the Washington State DOT for crimes against the cones. We've received notice that Alan Walsh has visited our families to obtain photos for America's Most Wanted.

Without fail it seems that cities and states roll out they're best for us. In Kansas City it was prime rib, St. Louis potholes and this morning Seattle bestows upon us a very generous offering of it's number one export.....RAIN!! Apples, you say? We've not seen one orchard, one tree or one apple since we gotten here! It's a hoax! There are no apples on Washington! Either that or Granny Smith herself is hoarding them on a farm near Yakima. What kind of a name is "Yakima" for a town anyway? Yes sir, RAIN!! Not just a few showers like we've seen in other states. A cold, windy, constant downpour! Seems that in all our riding, we forgot to check the weather channel. We found out later that a typhoon had taken land. We clicked our heels together, said a few "Aunty 'Ems", and made a bee line for I-5. We knew refuge was just a couple hundred miles away in Vancouver, WA in the name of Mike and Kerry O'leary. The O'learys are old friends of ours from Greensboro and we were happy to see them. The weather had cleared somewhat by the time we pulled into the driveway. Soapy rags and fresh Mobil 1 awaited our bikes, while a micro brewery and restaurant awaited our appetites. Life is good and we are recharged. Tomorrow it's on to the red woods, Crater Lake, and other sites of Oregon and northern California.

Our next rendevous with friends is to occur in Davis, CA.; about 570 miles as the crow flies. We decide to break this into two parts in order to see some of the beautiful sights that Oregon has to offer. We depart Vancouver, WA at 8am and head out Rt. 14 to The Bridge of the Gods. This steel truss bridge crosses the Columbia river and joins Washington with Oregon. As we ride east on I-84 along this river, we are joined by a vintage WWII B-29 bomber flying slowly alongside. Dave and I are awe struck as we try to keep up. The flying fortress seemed to float effortlessly in the sky as it traced the curves of the river. Our first stop this morning is Mt. Hood. Is it possible to get tired of seeing beautiful mountain peaks? Not if you're on a motorcycle! But we have seen many this week and Mt. Hood is up there with the best....so to speak. We ride up and down the passes, going from 80 degrees in the valleys to 35 in the mountains. Our Aerostitches handle the variances with aplomb and we only stop for pictures. At our first gas stop, we fuel up and receive the usual number of stares from the locals. Some nod with approval while others glare in disgust. If you're a motorcyclist, you've seen these looks. Murder-cycles I believe is one phrase they like to pop on us. But this phrase couldn't be farther from what motorcycling really is. You see, murder is the taking of a life and my friends motorcycling is "life giving!" Very few things matche the exhileration that a motorcycle can provide. I laugh at their misunderstanding and continue on with my day knowing that nothing they experience will match the fun I will have on my motorcycle.

Our next destination is Crater Lake. An incredibly large lake measuring almost 2,000 feet deep that formed in the crater of Mount Mazama; a once active volcano that subsided 4,000 years ago. The view is amazing and the water is deep deep blue. Twenty foot snow drifts line the rim as winter slowly loosens it's grip on the terrain.

I can always tell when Dave's nearing his day's riding limits. Today's clue was when he exited a Port-a-John with toilet paper sticking out of the waist of his Aerostitch pants. I'm laughing about it still! He was good enough to let me snap a picture of it. The day concludes as we ride down the range to the town of Cave Junction, OR near Grant's Pass. Day 12 of 21 comes to an end in the town's Mexican restaurant. Bellys full, we retire to a nearby hotel.