A weekend away, a weekend to play...
Jul. 8th, 2002 12:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tugrikOn long, single-day trips, I prefer to be in motion and a viable distance from the start-point when the sun comes up. There's just this really feel to being on the road, making good progress, as the sky goes through those amazing blues-into-reds of dawn. As it gets brighter, and most people are just starting their day, I've already got a good percentage of my trip over with. It makes longer distances easier to bear, and the side benefit is I can escape the congested bay-area traffic before it starts. I was just south of Oakland when the GPS beeped and said "Sunrise -- switching to day mode" and changed color. Twenty minutes later, while on the Richmond bridge, the first rays of the sun made it over the hills and hit the waters of the bay.
A nice image, to be sure. But drat, was I tired. By the time I'd done laundry, packed the bike, finished work-stuff, got the new GPS bracket mounted, and all the other fiddly little things I wanted to do first... it was 1am. I'd napped the afternoon before, from 6p to 10p... so with the additional three hours of sleep, that was a split 7. Enough that I was awake and drive-ready, but yawn-prone nonetheless. I took the coastal route up, which is about 1.5 hours longer than the central valley route. The logic was that any long-scenic-routes should be taken on the first day when I'm tired, and the fast-boring route should be for the way home when all I want to do is get back.
The temperature stayed between 58 and 64 degrees the entire way up the coastline, which is perfect for the riding gear I have. I had to stop for gas every 125 miles or so, and due to the way the goldwing's seat pinches I sometimes had to stop and stretch once between gas-stops. This was the longest single-day ride I've ever done (530 miles), and the distance let me discover that I really do need to look into aftermarket seats for the bike. While doing my best to not give TMI, the part that gets me is the forward edge, where legs join to backside. That edge needs to have a little padding removed or reshaped. Corbin or Hartco make seats that do exactly that; time to research. Save for the sore hindside, the rest of the ergos did their job great. No tiredness in feet, hands, shoulders or head... and the windshield + earplugs combo kept the windnoise to tolerable levels. The combo of XM satellite and MP3 player turned out to be a good idea, as the moment I got into the redwoods the XM birds were nowhere within sight, leaving a big NO SIGNAL on the radio display. Most of the coast was ridden under the influence of my own MP3 collection as a result.
One neat bit: In the little town of Willits, the so-called "gateway to the redwoods", I saw a huge contingent of harleys pulled over in a fast-food parking lot. I needed a butt-break anyway, so I pulled in to say hi and peek at their overly chromed machines. They were quite friendly and chatted for a bit. As it was the 4th, they were getting ready to ride in the parade through Willits with all their flags and extra adornments. Their group used to have a member with a goldwing, and that person had moved away, so in a weird replacement kind of way they were glad to see me. Much to my surprise they asked me to stay and ride in the parade with them. I would have if it wasn't for the fact the parade wouldn't start for another 2 hours. That would have been cool.
Up in Humbolt, I turned off Highway 101 to follow the 30-mile jaunt known as the "Avenue of the Giants"... a scenic bypass through various groves of redwoods, including some of the record-setters. The music off, visor open, I purposefully made this the slowest part of the trip; it was just too pretty to zoom on by. One of these days I'll have to hook a camcorder with a wide-angle lens to the bike and ride that path again... or maybe convince a friend to come along as a passenger. It's just too nice a route to miss. I gassed up at a little roadside store, complete with a corncob-pipe chewin' elder rocking out front, who was glad to chat a bit and talk bikes; he used to ride an Indian motorcycle, a long time ago. I also met a teenage local on a dualsport who, while describing a set of offroad paths that you had to be one of the Native Americans to have access to, educated me on a whole new set of racial epithets I'd rather not have learned. It appears that 'angry white boy' vs. Native American tensions are still the norm up here. Wheee.
The rest of the trip was pretty normal. Once I crossed the oregon border the temperature shot up from 64 to 85 in a matter of a few miles. I behaved myself a little better on the speed and motorist-behavior fronts; Oregon doesn't allow many of the little extras that California bikers get. I got up to the parents' place around 3:30pm. I wouldn't have recognized the house if I didn't know where the lot was... their remodelling has changed so much of the look it's downright silly. It's also about half-again as big as it was before, with an asphalt driveway where there used to be dirt. My dad has this thing about stuffing improvements into any place he goes. Unfortunately these improvements are usually followed by having to move. Here's to hoping he gets to keep and live in his vastly improved house for a while this time.
The weekend was pretty straightforwards, as kid-visiting-parents visits go. I took a bunch of pictures at my mom's request, so she can show her sisters all the changes they've done to the house. Prompted by my own recent garage/tool upgrades, my dad and I went out to the local Sears to get him a few things for his. As a belated father's day/birthday gift I bought him the air compressor he wanted for his shop. My sister and bro-in-law had kicked in some of the money earlier on, which helped. He was nicely surprised. I'm envious of his garage now. It's a perfect blank-slate. Newly built from the ground up, 2.5+ car sized, with an extra workshop behind it (the previous carport, now covered and part of the house). Everything I have in my 'work area' could fit in the extra workshop, leaving the huge garage as space for a car, two bikes, and still tons of room left over. He's also got a whole slew of woodworking tools, and now the compressor that he's going to hardpipe outlets for all over the garage. As much as I like my own workspace, it felt all tiny and confining in comparison. Oh, here's the silly compressor:
All of the photos of that weekend (not many, admittedly) can be found here. Just because it came out way too cute, the other one I'll put in this entry (as many of my LJ-friends are quite the cat-lovers) is of my mom's cat, Sunny:
I really liked the way the full-sized pic of Sunny came out. As with all my linked images, just click on it to get the web-sized version, and then click on that to get the original (huge) file, if y'want.
I finally headed home at 1pm on Sunday. I slept in just for the heck of it. The route home was to be the long haul on I-5, which is rather boring but efficient. Traffic was light, until a big stoppage just south of Ashland. As I was still in Oregon I couldn't lane-split... so I paddled through at 3mph for a halfhour just like everybody else had to. Traffic was smooth again until down in Lake Shasta... but now I was back in the Land of Lanesplitting and I happily engaged in the time-saving challenge. As it turns out, the road was backed up nearly 20 miles! Some of the cars were in for a 3 hour wait just to get through this tiny spot where CalTrans had seen fit to screw up the road on one of the busiest holiday driving weekends. I don't know if their timing just sucks or if they're actively malicious. The number of times I've seen this happen would suggest the latter. I made it through in an easy half-hour (about 45 mph), slipping between the lines of cars. Interstate 5 is good for that, as the lanes are hugely wide. I can fit safely between side-by-side semis, even with my huge saddlebags and wide front signals on the 'wing. Some of the stuck car drivers didn't appreciate my mobility nor that of the other motorcyclists that had gone ahead of me (I'd seen a bunch pass by ahead when I was in the rest-stop just before this traffic nightmare). They were ready and kids were throwing ice from their drinks, adults giving the single-finger salute, and other various nonsense. Thanks to years of laws and enforcement the 1970's problem of cars opening their doors to knock over lane-splitting cyclists is now far gone, thank goodness. I just smiled and happily endured the role of Target of Their Aggression. Hey, someone had to. I was out of there quick enough.
The central valley from Redding down to Interstate 80 was the worst part of the entire weekend. Traffic was light, but the temperatures were 96 and somewhat humid. Few things suck more than whole-body overheating. I had to stop about 6 times during this 250 mile stretch, just to dunk my head in water and soak down the denim jacket (which I'd swapped with the leather the first chance I got... yay for being prepared). At 90mph the jacket evaporatively-cooled me nicely even with the higher humidity. Below that speed, life sucked. Luckily ambient traffic flow was around 85. I got pretty fast there a few times, to be sure... but twice I slowed myself down to normal traffic speeds as I saw the CHP airplane swoop down and parallel the highway. Nearly invisible to cars, they're blatantly obvious to motorcyclists. I just shook my head as some dweeb in a Civic passed me doing 105 or so, right under the planes. I tried to warn him, but most car drivers don't clue in to what it means when a motorcyclist points up at the sky when someone speeds past. If you see a biker point overhead, it usually means 'police aircraft; watch your speed'. The road was lined every 5 miles with "Speed Patrolled by Aircraft" signs, too. As expected, I saw him on the side of the road with one of California's Finest writing him a ticket, a mere 10 miles down.
Sun set as I was bypassing Vallejo, and the GPS beeped "night mode" and changed color just as I got into Walnut Creek for my last gas fill. I made it in the door by 9:45, only to be floored by the fact that I had a completely clean house. Beautifully clean, in fact. I knew![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
revar was gone for the weekend, too... and my other roomate had a houseguest and was to be busy all weekend, so they couldn't have done it. The mystery was solved when I saw the 'Happy Birthday!' cards stuck to my door, with amusing scribblings by my sisters tacked all over.
This weekend, while up in Oregon, I'd talked to my sister on the phone. My birthday isn't until next weekend (the 14th), during which time I'll be at the WSB races at Laguna Seca.sassinak (the aforementioned sister) had asked what gift I wanted, and I off-handedly remarked "To come home to a clean house". It appears she took it seriously, teaming up with her husband and my little sister to get the job done. They spent all of Sunday afternoon detailing the place and sneaking back out before octantis got home, Stealth Cleaning Ninja-style. Let it be said: My Sisters Rock.
The trip totals, according to the GPS log: 1100 miles, including some driveabouts up in Grants Pass while there. 7h:56m in motion on the way up, 7h:40m rolling on the way down. Due to the high temps, high traffic, and large number of stops required I would have probably done a lot better going back down the scenic route. I'll remember that next time I do this trip during the summerdays. Time to file the 'wing up against the front of the garage for a little while, and start commuting on the GS again. I try to balance the bikes out, so neither one feels neglected. :) Here's to hoping the workweek will be pretty relaxed. So far, this Monday is going nice and smooth, which is why I'm able to tap up a journal entry while idling at my desk.
Next time I head up to the redwoods, I'll take the camera out, I promise!
A nice image, to be sure. But drat, was I tired. By the time I'd done laundry, packed the bike, finished work-stuff, got the new GPS bracket mounted, and all the other fiddly little things I wanted to do first... it was 1am. I'd napped the afternoon before, from 6p to 10p... so with the additional three hours of sleep, that was a split 7. Enough that I was awake and drive-ready, but yawn-prone nonetheless. I took the coastal route up, which is about 1.5 hours longer than the central valley route. The logic was that any long-scenic-routes should be taken on the first day when I'm tired, and the fast-boring route should be for the way home when all I want to do is get back.
The temperature stayed between 58 and 64 degrees the entire way up the coastline, which is perfect for the riding gear I have. I had to stop for gas every 125 miles or so, and due to the way the goldwing's seat pinches I sometimes had to stop and stretch once between gas-stops. This was the longest single-day ride I've ever done (530 miles), and the distance let me discover that I really do need to look into aftermarket seats for the bike. While doing my best to not give TMI, the part that gets me is the forward edge, where legs join to backside. That edge needs to have a little padding removed or reshaped. Corbin or Hartco make seats that do exactly that; time to research. Save for the sore hindside, the rest of the ergos did their job great. No tiredness in feet, hands, shoulders or head... and the windshield + earplugs combo kept the windnoise to tolerable levels. The combo of XM satellite and MP3 player turned out to be a good idea, as the moment I got into the redwoods the XM birds were nowhere within sight, leaving a big NO SIGNAL on the radio display. Most of the coast was ridden under the influence of my own MP3 collection as a result.
One neat bit: In the little town of Willits, the so-called "gateway to the redwoods", I saw a huge contingent of harleys pulled over in a fast-food parking lot. I needed a butt-break anyway, so I pulled in to say hi and peek at their overly chromed machines. They were quite friendly and chatted for a bit. As it was the 4th, they were getting ready to ride in the parade through Willits with all their flags and extra adornments. Their group used to have a member with a goldwing, and that person had moved away, so in a weird replacement kind of way they were glad to see me. Much to my surprise they asked me to stay and ride in the parade with them. I would have if it wasn't for the fact the parade wouldn't start for another 2 hours. That would have been cool.
Up in Humbolt, I turned off Highway 101 to follow the 30-mile jaunt known as the "Avenue of the Giants"... a scenic bypass through various groves of redwoods, including some of the record-setters. The music off, visor open, I purposefully made this the slowest part of the trip; it was just too pretty to zoom on by. One of these days I'll have to hook a camcorder with a wide-angle lens to the bike and ride that path again... or maybe convince a friend to come along as a passenger. It's just too nice a route to miss. I gassed up at a little roadside store, complete with a corncob-pipe chewin' elder rocking out front, who was glad to chat a bit and talk bikes; he used to ride an Indian motorcycle, a long time ago. I also met a teenage local on a dualsport who, while describing a set of offroad paths that you had to be one of the Native Americans to have access to, educated me on a whole new set of racial epithets I'd rather not have learned. It appears that 'angry white boy' vs. Native American tensions are still the norm up here. Wheee.
The rest of the trip was pretty normal. Once I crossed the oregon border the temperature shot up from 64 to 85 in a matter of a few miles. I behaved myself a little better on the speed and motorist-behavior fronts; Oregon doesn't allow many of the little extras that California bikers get. I got up to the parents' place around 3:30pm. I wouldn't have recognized the house if I didn't know where the lot was... their remodelling has changed so much of the look it's downright silly. It's also about half-again as big as it was before, with an asphalt driveway where there used to be dirt. My dad has this thing about stuffing improvements into any place he goes. Unfortunately these improvements are usually followed by having to move. Here's to hoping he gets to keep and live in his vastly improved house for a while this time.
The weekend was pretty straightforwards, as kid-visiting-parents visits go. I took a bunch of pictures at my mom's request, so she can show her sisters all the changes they've done to the house. Prompted by my own recent garage/tool upgrades, my dad and I went out to the local Sears to get him a few things for his. As a belated father's day/birthday gift I bought him the air compressor he wanted for his shop. My sister and bro-in-law had kicked in some of the money earlier on, which helped. He was nicely surprised. I'm envious of his garage now. It's a perfect blank-slate. Newly built from the ground up, 2.5+ car sized, with an extra workshop behind it (the previous carport, now covered and part of the house). Everything I have in my 'work area' could fit in the extra workshop, leaving the huge garage as space for a car, two bikes, and still tons of room left over. He's also got a whole slew of woodworking tools, and now the compressor that he's going to hardpipe outlets for all over the garage. As much as I like my own workspace, it felt all tiny and confining in comparison. Oh, here's the silly compressor:
All of the photos of that weekend (not many, admittedly) can be found here. Just because it came out way too cute, the other one I'll put in this entry (as many of my LJ-friends are quite the cat-lovers) is of my mom's cat, Sunny:
I really liked the way the full-sized pic of Sunny came out. As with all my linked images, just click on it to get the web-sized version, and then click on that to get the original (huge) file, if y'want.
I finally headed home at 1pm on Sunday. I slept in just for the heck of it. The route home was to be the long haul on I-5, which is rather boring but efficient. Traffic was light, until a big stoppage just south of Ashland. As I was still in Oregon I couldn't lane-split... so I paddled through at 3mph for a halfhour just like everybody else had to. Traffic was smooth again until down in Lake Shasta... but now I was back in the Land of Lanesplitting and I happily engaged in the time-saving challenge. As it turns out, the road was backed up nearly 20 miles! Some of the cars were in for a 3 hour wait just to get through this tiny spot where CalTrans had seen fit to screw up the road on one of the busiest holiday driving weekends. I don't know if their timing just sucks or if they're actively malicious. The number of times I've seen this happen would suggest the latter. I made it through in an easy half-hour (about 45 mph), slipping between the lines of cars. Interstate 5 is good for that, as the lanes are hugely wide. I can fit safely between side-by-side semis, even with my huge saddlebags and wide front signals on the 'wing. Some of the stuck car drivers didn't appreciate my mobility nor that of the other motorcyclists that had gone ahead of me (I'd seen a bunch pass by ahead when I was in the rest-stop just before this traffic nightmare). They were ready and kids were throwing ice from their drinks, adults giving the single-finger salute, and other various nonsense. Thanks to years of laws and enforcement the 1970's problem of cars opening their doors to knock over lane-splitting cyclists is now far gone, thank goodness. I just smiled and happily endured the role of Target of Their Aggression. Hey, someone had to. I was out of there quick enough.
The central valley from Redding down to Interstate 80 was the worst part of the entire weekend. Traffic was light, but the temperatures were 96 and somewhat humid. Few things suck more than whole-body overheating. I had to stop about 6 times during this 250 mile stretch, just to dunk my head in water and soak down the denim jacket (which I'd swapped with the leather the first chance I got... yay for being prepared). At 90mph the jacket evaporatively-cooled me nicely even with the higher humidity. Below that speed, life sucked. Luckily ambient traffic flow was around 85. I got pretty fast there a few times, to be sure... but twice I slowed myself down to normal traffic speeds as I saw the CHP airplane swoop down and parallel the highway. Nearly invisible to cars, they're blatantly obvious to motorcyclists. I just shook my head as some dweeb in a Civic passed me doing 105 or so, right under the planes. I tried to warn him, but most car drivers don't clue in to what it means when a motorcyclist points up at the sky when someone speeds past. If you see a biker point overhead, it usually means 'police aircraft; watch your speed'. The road was lined every 5 miles with "Speed Patrolled by Aircraft" signs, too. As expected, I saw him on the side of the road with one of California's Finest writing him a ticket, a mere 10 miles down.
Sun set as I was bypassing Vallejo, and the GPS beeped "night mode" and changed color just as I got into Walnut Creek for my last gas fill. I made it in the door by 9:45, only to be floored by the fact that I had a completely clean house. Beautifully clean, in fact. I knew
revar was gone for the weekend, too... and my other roomate had a houseguest and was to be busy all weekend, so they couldn't have done it. The mystery was solved when I saw the 'Happy Birthday!' cards stuck to my door, with amusing scribblings by my sisters tacked all over.This weekend, while up in Oregon, I'd talked to my sister on the phone. My birthday isn't until next weekend (the 14th), during which time I'll be at the WSB races at Laguna Seca.
sassinak (the aforementioned sister) had asked what gift I wanted, and I off-handedly remarked "To come home to a clean house". It appears she took it seriously, teaming up with her husband and my little sister to get the job done. They spent all of Sunday afternoon detailing the place and sneaking back out before octantis got home, Stealth Cleaning Ninja-style. Let it be said: My Sisters Rock.The trip totals, according to the GPS log: 1100 miles, including some driveabouts up in Grants Pass while there. 7h:56m in motion on the way up, 7h:40m rolling on the way down. Due to the high temps, high traffic, and large number of stops required I would have probably done a lot better going back down the scenic route. I'll remember that next time I do this trip during the summerdays. Time to file the 'wing up against the front of the garage for a little while, and start commuting on the GS again. I try to balance the bikes out, so neither one feels neglected. :) Here's to hoping the workweek will be pretty relaxed. So far, this Monday is going nice and smooth, which is why I'm able to tap up a journal entry while idling at my desk.
Next time I head up to the redwoods, I'll take the camera out, I promise!
