21-aug-2022
In the last 10 days I have ridden in Ontario, Michigan, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Ontario again, Manitoba, Saskatchewan, Alberta, British Columbia mainland and Vancouver Island, Washington, Oregon and now California. I’ve got so many insects on the front of the bike that I probably need a livestock import license.
Note: If you have heard reports of a Silver Sasquatch in those locations, there is no need for alarm.
I must say I continue to be impressed with this bike. I’ve got crap stuffed in all three bags, tools in a tool box inboard of the left bag, and a 30 pound tent, mattress and sleeping bag combo on the back seat. It has yet to lack for power, even in the amateur F1 passing lane fiasco qualifying race I mentioned in an earlier post. It doesn’t care if its hot or cold out, doesn’t care if its raining, and doesn’t care if I’m on smooth asphalt or the roughest road you’ve ever seen. It’s a workhorse that can run with the thoroughbreds.
Ralph and I left Gold Beach today headed to his place in Arcata. It was pretty cool when we left, at around 14C/52F. The mesh silver sasquatch suit sure does ventilate well at those temps. Days like this make you really appreciate the heated grips. As is typical when riding along the coast, the temperature and the weather change every 12 minutes, so pulling over to dress warmer or cooler is a lost cause.
As we were approaching Crescent City we passed a bike in a roadside pull off area and something didn’t look right. At that same moment the rider made a “Hey.. Help” kind of motion with his hands so we did a quick U-turn and went back. The couple was riding a Valkyrie and there was fuel pouring out of it from an unknown cause. That is when we met David and Miriam from Washington State, who had ingeniously used a random piece of bark as a fuel diverter, to keep the fuel from igniting on the hot exhaust pipe. If I ever end up on a version of the Survivor TV show, I want Miriam in my camp.
A quick assessment of the situation determined that the best course of action was to let the fuel finish draining out, then move the bike out of the puddle and work on it elsewhere. The idea of using tools around a leaking bike, while standing in a pool of gasoline, isn’t high up on my bucket list, although I bet it would be a blast.
While we stood around waiting for the fuel to finish draining we had one of those “it’s a small world” moments when Miriam mentioned that she had family in Toronto, which is where I live.
We were able to determine that the petcock had become unthreaded from the tank, so two bolts later the tank was off and we reattached the petcock. Ralph had a liter of gasoline in an MSR bottle in his saddle bag so we poured that in, fired it up, and followed them to the nearest gas station. It’s a good feeling to be able to help another rider who is in need. David was on the phone with roadside assistance when we stopped, and was facing the end of his vacation and renting a Uhaul to get the bike home.
The rest of the ride was pretty uneventful, and as we got closer to Ralphs place we went up a hill with a tight left hand turn and I admired a large giraffe statue in someones living room window. Two days later I discovered that one of Ralphs riding buddies lives there. Again, a small world moment.
We finally pulled into the driveway, got the bikes into the garage and settled in.
Ralph and Mona have a beautiful home with a great view of Arcata Bay and the Pacific Ocean from the hot tub on their deck. What a beautiful location. My biggest concern at this point is building up the willpower to leave. It’s going to be hard enough to leave such a nice place, but it’s going to be really tough to ride away knowing Ralph isn’t coming with me on the rest of this ride. We’ve had some great times riding around California and Colorado over the years, and when he came to visit me when I lived in TN. We are both getting older, and we live in different countries. It makes me sick thinking this may be the last time we ride together.