Getting My Bearings

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Today I am writing from a beach at 6200 feet above sea level. But before we talk about the present and as a treat, the possibility of future plans, I best pick up where I left off and get this log caught up.

I woke up later than usual, to my surprise, in my humble abode - my first night at a Motel 6. I figured a place like this would've kept me up all night or have me up as soon as possible to ride away and fast. I recall the first thing that came to mind with a chuckle when I opened the door was, "This reminds me of 6 grade camp!". I'd say I had been spoiled by the high end accommodations that my previous employer set me up with but I'm a simple man and the romantic allure of Route 66-esque motor inns were definitely not found here. Nevertheless, at least I got to wake up to a great movie.

Once that concluded, I did, in fact get right out of there and back onto the road. Chance and I did our best to stay off the freeway but the density of the cities in California made the open roads far and few in between. Whenever we jumped at an exit to find ourselves a different eastwardly route, your Quixote and Rocinante often found themselves lost.

Then again, how can one be lost if they haven't a destination to begin with? It was always so liberating to ask myself questions like that just when I felt like kicking a rock. Oh, and in that last shot I wasn't lost, literally or metaphorically. I was just checking around to see if the coast was clear for a discrete roadside piss.

I resolved to saving the more interesting rides for further east and just stuck to the freeway to get out of California as soon as possible. East has all I've been telling everyone who has tried to make sense of my ride. For those who had difficulty accepting a road trip without a place or timeframe, I've revealed my one and only planned stop: the Bonneville Salt Flats in northwestern Utah.

Besides the obvious reasons of taking Chance to see his namesake's birthplace, I've had a strong desire to make pilgrimages as of late. Hiking through mountainous Tibet to Lhasa, walking Spain's Santiago de Compostela, and riding to Bonneville were my current three. I never really gave the drive to go on a pilgrimage much thought. Apparently when you reach the Cathedral in Galicia, Spain, when receiving the traditional cirtificate of completion, you are asked the reason for undertaking the camino, or path. I still won't know what I'll tell them but I reckon whatever you think it is when you start out may not be the same when you reach the end. That's how I feel about Bonneville too; not sure what I'll find there but at least I'm going. Maybe it's spiritual, maybe not. I've simply had a fascination for journeys since I was a kid. Blame Homer and The Odyssey or Nintendo and Zelda, but at the end of the day this fellow just wants to go forth. More on Bonneville and beyond later...

Once the state capital was behind us, we pulled into the foothills of the Sierra Nevada - the last hurdle out of California. The bike and I tanked up - Chance's favorite Chevron fuel and me, some traditional roadside American dining.

It was surprising to find Indians running the joint! I thought, what the hell, I'll pass on the eggs and sausages for once and have something closer to home-cooked. After all, when was I going to even see rice again? Seemed like a family-run place and they treated me as if I was part of it. Do I really look Indian? Maybe I should move to Mumbai and try my luck at Bollywood. Or perhaps they could use a dishwasher to cover my bill and maybe some gas on the side?

The food was so good I ended up coming back in the morning. That is correct, seeing as how low the sun was getting, I didn't want to be riding in the cold passes without optimum vision or warmth. So in a town called Rancho Cordova did I lay my head to rest.

The accommodations were nothing to write home about so fast forward to the next day and the passes! I thought today I would try setting up the fancy camera with the fancy chest mount. To my dismay, I'm afraid I angled it too low and most of the majestic scenery taken on the fly ended up like this:

Ah well, you live and learn! I did manage to make a couple stops as we speared through the heart of the Sierra Nevada mountains.

I couldn't believe how easily Chance was ascending. Seemed like soon we'd be grazing the sky! In fact, I did not know there was an incline until I pulled over to see a staggering cliff side! As I was looking over, already a little anxious about the drop, as you can imagine, I heard a loud boom behind me!

I'll probably sound crazy for this but there was a giant, rumbling pillar of fire just behind those trees. I stared at it absolutely bewildered and all the more confused that the passing cars were not coming to a screeching halt to behold it as well! Unfortunately, I came to my senses too late and took the shot just as the flame dwindled behind the tree line. Was it a pipeline? Perhaps God? Maybe altitude sickness? We'll never know...

A familiar shape caught my eye off the shoulder so we pulled over. Looked like the entrance to another National Park so I thought, why not; it's on the way. When I looked over expecting a roadway in, there didn't appear to be one. Instead it was dirt path that didn't seem used at all, at least not in a decade or two. The engines revved with my smirk and up the hill we climbed for some exploration.

After checking things out and soaking up the serenity I saw a path behind us...

 

To my pleasure, the path quickly became a dead end. Wherever it lead, it looked like the forest reclaimed it or perhaps the road project was abandoned. I love mysterious things like that.

Later on in the pass, another stop was made for a water break - coincidentally, there was a river down the hill!

It came as a surprise when I was seeing rising elevation signs and yet the heat of the day was as hot as in the valleys. You had to keep moving just to stay cool! Then it didn't help when I dropped the camera, inducing a torrent of sweat as I fought frustration and tried to maintain a level head while trying to fix the incessant error messages (don't worry brother - it's alive again)! Onwards into the cool breeze!

Guess how high we are now...

Still climbing...

Lake Tahoe ho! At the apex of the pass next to a sign that indicated a great time to do a brake check for the downhill ride, you could spot the water in the not-so-distant horizon. It would be the first body of water I've seen since the Pacific! In all my excitement, I didn't realize how cold it suddenly became!

Here were the passes I was expecting! Time to dawn the chaps... And awkwardly wave at the passers by. Amusingly, standing still the sun is just as hot as ever but, as anyone knows, rolling down the windows can change that with just 30 miles an hour. They don't call it wind chill for nothing!

One last check to make sure everything was secure for the luge.

Nevada was within sights now! Adios, California!

The scenary was gorgeous but unfortunately the video for the ride down was mostly of the unentertaining military surplus night vision goggles bag mounted on the tank (which houses my journal, actually). Once things started to level out, I fueled up for the long stretch at a quirky station.

All shops should have a lazy dog walking about. It was my first indication that this South Lake Tahoe area was a laid back place. But enough dawdling - the day is young! Giddyap!

As I rode into town I found my attention divided between the road, the restaurants, the motorcycle shops, the mountains, and of course let's not forget the largest alpine lake in North America at my left--! I hate to say it but I was falling in love with the area despite Chance's eagerness to leave it in the dust for the open road just outside of town.

To the motorcycle's reluctance, I'm sure, we randomly pulled into a motel parking lot. There were so many to choose from that it was overwhelming. I'm not an expert on the area but I'm sure locals would agree that one could nickname the place Hotel City! It was a tourist town - definitely not my scene but the natural beauty surrounding the area dwarved the Marriott or Harrah's casino down the street. The inn I came to rest at was just far away enough from the main drag and into the woods to take in the fresh wilderness.

An old timer working the grounds stopped in front of the bike and waited for me to get out of my helmet. "That's a nice Bonneville," said the man. We talked Triumph for a while, revealing he owned quite a few relics. I had never met such a Triumph fanboy before! I liked these accommodations already.

I wasted no more time and got a room from the refreshingly enthusiastic staff (we're actually on a first name basis now) for dirt cheap. The crash pad was like having my own cabin in the woods. The wood motif was everywhere - even the toilet paper holding thing, whatever they're really called. Before I even unsaddled Chance I talked myself into staying two nights. Not only was the cost the equivalent of one germaphobic night at the Motel 6 but the setting was conducive to hammering out some good writing as well as thinking about the road ahead.

And that brings us to today. I've had some time to think about where we'd go after Bonneville and I have some ideas. Since I have an annual pass that allows me access to all 2000-some national parks across America, I'll be using notable ones as beacons. Since funds, resources and one bike's mechanical stamina can only go so far, I'll opt for anything west of the great Mississipi! I'll set off each day that I'm not absorbed in writing towards monuments that mean something to me.

I imagine making a big hook of a route, eventually ending back home in Washington, but of course, it's all conjecture. As Che briefed in his Motorcycle Diaries, I will maintain that the method ever be improvisation.

Today, one more toast to California. Tomorrow, we cross the street and venture into Nevada and beyond (the state line is literally down the street)!