The alarm went off at 5 AM, which was 3 AM according to my body. I felt really tired. Math told me I got about seven hours of sleep, but because I woke up and peed about six times during the night I didn't feel rested.
I think it was the anxiety about the ferry crossing, and then the extremely aggressive route I had planned for the day that was causing me to feel exhausted. As I mentioned before, this day wasn't going to be the longest day of the trip mileage-wise, but probably would be the longest day time-wise.
In addition to the challenge of the day's length, I also had planned this to be a fasting day. I didn't want to eat anything until I got to Boardman, OR later that evening (and then I wanted to stay around 500 calories.) The pain of hunger was going to be layered on top of the pain of long distance motorcycle riding.
Once dressed, I finished packing. I put away the dishes I had washed the previous night, and straightened things up so it all looked presentable. I'm generally not a slob so things weren't too messy.
Different Airbnb locations have different procedures for checking out. This particular one asked that I strip all the linens from the bed, and put them in a laundry basket along with any towels I used.
It was 54 degrees outside. I went ahead and put on all my cold weather gear including chaps, my leather jacket and neck gator. The temp was supposed to rise later in the day, but was predicted to stay cool until at least noon. There was even a 50% possibility of rain once I reached the Pacific coast area.
I pulled out right at 6 AM sharp. I wanted to be at the ferry landing by 6:45, and Google said it would take me 25 minutes to get there. So I was in good shape schedule-wise.
I backed the bike up so I wasn't right next to the Airbnb owner's house when I started it up. Then I snapped a last photo and bid goodbye to my loft.
I hadn't been on a motorcycle since Wednesday evening. I kind of thought my body would have recovered a bit, but I was dismayed to still feel most of the same aches and pains I was feeling when I arrived that Wednesday night. I guess two days off the motorcycle wasn't enough recovery time to heal this old body.
Remembering how treacherous the gravel driveway was, I took my time. Plus it was early and I didn't want to annoy the sleeping residents by roaring through the neighborhood.
The rutted loose gravel at the end of the drive was still there. I gingerly rode across, then once I was on pavement I could resume typical riding speeds.
The morning was cool, but not bad. It was very quiet, with hardly any traffic. Most of Whidbey was still asleep early on this Saturday morning.
I never did top off with gas after I arrived on Whidbey. I only had 50 miles on this tank, so I had plenty of range if I decided to wait and fuel up later. However, I was doing good time-wise so I decided to find a gas station and top off the tank. Arriving even earlier at the ferry wouldn't award me any bonus points, so I figured I might as well use the time by getting gas rather than just sitting in the ferry parking lot.
I passed a gas station, so I pulled in. It was a very quick gas stop, as I didn't bother taking any of my gear off, and I only had to put a little more than a gallon into the tank. Then I was back on the road. My next planned gas stop would be Forks, WA.
The sun was starting to peek over the trees behind me. It made for very pretty riding.
I reached the intersection where the day before Shawn had told me to turn. He said that Google usually routes people further up the highway before turning. However, my GPS agreed with Shawn. I turned left as instructed.
A little ways down the road the GPS told me to turn right. I couldn't precisely remember the directions Shawn had given me. I didn't recall making this turn the previous day. So much of my memory was a blur I wasn't sure. I decided at the last second to follow the GPS.
Google suggested one route. Shawn suggested a second route. As I rode I realized that my GPS had directed me along a third route I didn't know existed. I thought about turning around, but decided that this route couldn't be any longer than the time I would spend backtracking. So I pressed on.
This road dumped me out on the Fort Casey road, which is the road I wanted to be on to get to the ferry. So ultimately it got me to the same place in about the same amount of time. And it saved me a U-turn I would have had to make to get in line for the ferry.
Much to my relief, the line for the ferry wasn't very long.
I reached the toll booth at 6:42. Three minutes early.
After showing my reservation and paying my fare, they directed me to the motorcycle area. I was the first motorcycle in line for the first ferry crossing of the day.
I had a half hour to kill until the ferry arrived, so I walked around and snapped some pictures. Here's the Fort Casey campground. I had seen it from the park side the previous evening.
In the distance I could see the ferry making its way towards us. Technically the first crossing of the day leaves from Port Townsend. I was going to be on the second crossing of the day, but the first leaving from Whidbey Island.
My time lapse camera caught me as I waited patiently for the ferry to arrive.
Some other motorcycle riders pulled up and parked behind me. I struck up a conversation with them. I learned that they were from Detroit. They had ridden all the way to Whidbey using absolutely no interstates. Given some of the wide open spaces of the Great Plains where there are few other roads available, I thought this was quite the accomplishment.
They were on their way down to California, then would start working their way home. All in all, their trip would take about six weeks. Once again I wondered how people funded trips of this magnitude, and how they can put their regular life on pause for that long. The ten day trip I was currently on was probably the limit of which my wife would tolerate.
As we were chatting, one of the guys went on a rant about Washington state and its mandatory motorcycle helmet laws. He was firmly against these laws, and made it very clear to me how he felt. He ended his rant by calling the Washington state government " a bunch of communists."
Personally, I wear a helmet. However I am pretty libertarian in my beliefs, and don't feel that helmet use should be mandatory. At the same time, I also am reserved enough to not spew my political beliefs to some random stranger waiting at a ferry crossing.
I just smiled and nodded, and silently ignored the fact that what he was ranting against wasn't technically communism, but a more generic authoritarianism. He didn't seem to be the type of guy that would appreciate a lesson on economic systems.
When it was time to board, I was the very first vehicle on the ferry. I had a long day ahead of me, but at least I could now rest easy that I had successfully met my goal of getting on the first ferry crossing of the day. After parking my bike I snapped a photo. My time lapse camera captured me snapping a photo:
And here's the picture I was taking at the moment:
I climbed all the way up to the sun deck to take some pictures. Here's the Fort Casey campground as viewed from the front of the boat.
Being the first vehicle on the boat, I also was the first person on the sun deck.
I plopped down in a chair and enjoyed the morning. It was still cool, but the morning sun brought some warmth. There also was hardly any wind.
The ferry took off and we started to cross the Puget Sound.
The water was very calm on this morning, which made for a very smooth crossing. Of the four ferry crossings I made on this trip, I had calm water for all of them.
After a few minutes the wind picked up and I started to get a little chilly, so I made my way back inside. Before I went below deck, I took a picture looking down onto the vehicle parking level. You can see the front of my motorcycle peeking out from behind the RV.
I found a seat inside and finished the 2nd half of the ferry crossing indoors. As we approached Port Townsend I made my way back down to the parking deck. The two bikers I had met were already down there getting ready.
The ferry worker approached us on motorcycles and asked us to please not rev up our engines as we left the ferry. Apparently it really echoes loudly throughout the ferry and hurts the ears of workers and other passengers. I'm not a "revving" kind of guy, so that was an easy request to honor.
We waited for the ferry to finish docking, the gates to go down and the signal for us to leave.
Because I was the first one onto the ferry, I was also the first one off the ferry. The nerd in me noted that they use a FIFO system. I rode through the parking lot and into Port Townsend. It was now about 7:45 AM.
Shawn told me that Port Townsend is an interesting town to explore. Unfortunately on this day, my schedule was too full so all I did was ride through the town.
I took highway 20 south out of Port Townsend. The two other bikers were right behind me. They had told me they were riding out to Classet, WA, which is the westernmost point of the lower 48 US states.
Highway 20 was pretty. It was mostly a canopy of trees.
The two bikers followed behind me for about 20 miles. Around the town of Blyn I noticed they pulled over. I think they stopped at a cannabis shop. That would be the last I ever saw of them.
I continued riding west on highway 101. There was lots of scenery to look at. However, just two hours into my trip I was already feeling tired and sore. This didn't bode well.
Just west of Port Angeles I hit a little snag. I suddenly saw a detour sign that I didn't anticipate. Highway 101 had some bridges under construction, so traffic was routed down highway 112. Here is a map of the detour route.
I created this map months after the fact. From the map I can now clearly see the route of the detour. However, when I first took the detour, I had no idea where it was taking me, and how long the detour would last before it routed me back to the 101. At the time all I knew was that I was riding on the wrong road in the wrong direction.
In the end the detour was 48 miles long. I estimate that it added 10 miles and at least 30 minutes to the route. That's not that much in the grand scheme of things, but on a day where I was already pushing my saddle time and mileage limits, it's not what I wanted to encounter.
Also, the detour signage was rather poor. The signs letting me know I was still following the detour only happened every 10 or 15 miles. That left plenty of time for me to worry that I had missed the turn back to the 101 and I would accidentally wind up running into those other bikers who were visiting a lighthouse in the northwest corner of Washington state.
Highway 112 was very curvy and slow. On any other day I would have loved to be riding it. On this day, however, it was just frustrating. My frustration was born out of not knowing exactly where I was going, and the slowness of not getting to the end of the detour fast enough.
After what seemed an eternity, I reached the intersection of highway 112 and highway 113. Turning right would take me to the aforementioned lighthouse in the northwest corner of Washington State. Turning left would take me back towards the 101. I turned left.
I made it back to highway 101 and got back on my original route. So that minor crisis was over. Now I faced a new crisis: I was seriously fighting sleep. I would nod off and feel my hands go limp as they would start to slide off the handlebars. It was definitely in an unsafe situation.
I managed to stay upright until a few miles down the road when I reached Forks, WA. This was my first planned gas stop of the day. In addition to gas I needed some time off the motorcycle and some coffee. I'm not a fan of straight black coffee, and enjoy it with artificial sweetener and some cream. Although I was fasting, I decided that having a few calories from the cream in my coffee is better than eating hospital food for weeks because I fell asleep and rode into the ditch.
After filling the tank I went into the station and bought a large cup of coffee. Seattle is famous for their coffee. What's funny is when I was in the Seattle area I didn't have any coffee, and now that I had left the area I bought a cup of gas station coffee.
There was a long line at the cashier. As I waited I noticed the lady in front of me was purchasing more than $100 of snack food. Maybe she visited that cannabis shop too?
I went back out to the bike and chugged my cup of coffee and tried to wake myself up. My body was complaining, and I tried to put it out of my mind that I hadn't yet hit the halfway point of the entire trip's miles.
After a few minutes of recovery, I reluctantly got back on the motorcycle and headed out for the second section of the day's journey:
I rode through the town of Forks. This town is notable for being the setting of the "Twilight" series of books and movies. Many fans of the series make a pilgrimage here to see the area. I'm not a Twilight fan myself (never seen or read any of them,) but I am a fan of other things and can appreciate the desire to seek out and see a place in person that previously you've always just imagined.
I left the town of Forks and continued down the 101. There were lots of bridges being rebuilt along this stretch as well, but thankfully none of them caused any long detours.
One of the things to which I was looking forward to on this day was seeing the Pacific Ocean. I had never seen a "real" ocean before. I had seen the Gulf of Mexico a couple of times, and while technically that is ocean water it's really not the ocean.
In any event, I had never had a chance to see the Pacific Ocean. As I rode closer I started to feel a little excited. Some of that may have been the coffee I had chugged back in Forks. Either way, it was a good feeling.
It was a beautiful sunny day, then right as I arrived at Ruby Beach it became foggy and overcast. It was an extremely abrupt change, happening within about 1/4 mile.
I remember back in 2008 I had a similar experience in Branson, MO, but in that instance it went the other direction: pea soup fog to sunny and cloudless in just a few hundred feet. It's crazy when this happens.
When I had selected Ruby Beach as a stopping point, it looked like this quiet little turn-off from the 101. Looking at the map I imagined I would probably be the only person there.
Reality was far from the picture I had painted in my head. The entire area was full of people, to the point where cars were just circling the lot waiting for someone else to pull out so they could take the parking spot. It was a madhouse. Even the highway leading up to the drive had cars jammed along the shoulder with people parking and then walking into the area.
One of the things I had wanted to get was a photo of my motorcycle in front of the ocean. With the onset of the fog, the ocean wasn't visible from the parking lot. That was a disappointment.
I decided that at minimum I would take a picture of my motorcycle in front of the fog that was hiding the ocean. Kind of a "if the fog wasn't there you would see the ocean" shot. If I couldn't get a scenic picture, then I could at least get some dark humor out of the situation.
With the traffic and all the parking spots full, there wasn't a good place to get a picture like this. I decided that I would quickly pull into a no-parking zone just long enough to hop off the bike and snap a photo. Odds were good that I would be back on the motorcycle before anyone even noticed my violation.
Given the combination of my time schedule, how busy the area was, and the fog, I briefly considered just leaving and getting back on the road. I decided to make one more circle through the parking area and see if by chance I could catch someone backing out of their space right as I went by.
I circled the lot but there were no spots opening up. I decided to give up and join the line of cars trying to leave the area. Then I heard someone yelling.
When you're on a motorcycle and hear someone yelling, your defenses automatically go on high alert. Anyone who's ever ridden a motorcycle for a length of time has probably gotten yelled at. My immediate thought was that someone saw me when I pulled over in the no parking area to take a picture, and now they were going to chew me out for it.
I looked to my left and saw the guy who was yelling didn't look upset. That helped me feel a little better. Once he had my attention he walked over and told me I could circle around and pull in close behind his RV. His RV was long enough that it took up two spots, but short enough to leave a space behind him large enough to fit my bike.
I inched through the line of cars, and made my way around. Behind his RV there wasn't enough space for a car, but my motorcycle fit just fine.
After I parked, the owner of the RV walked up to me. I thanked him for giving me a place to park. We chatted for a couple of minutes, then I headed down the path towards the ocean. The fog was still hiding the ocean that was only about a hundred yards away. The fog looked a lot thicker in person than it does in photos.
The path down to the beach was steep. As I approached the area I could see a big field of logs that were piled up.
I looked for a way around the logs. There may have been a path somewhere to get to the other side without climbing, but I didn't see one. So I just went over the top of them.
Climbing over the logs looked like it was going to be easier than it actually was. The logs were large and I was wearing my motorcycle boots, so I didn't have a lot of sure footing. The last thing I needed to do was slip and break a bone when I'm nearly 2,000 miles from home.
Once I got past the field of logs I was on the beach. I had to laugh as I saw a couple sitting in lawn chairs determined that they were going to enjoy the beach despite the weather.
I tasted the water on my hands. It was indeed salty. Then a big wave came and washed over my boots, so my feet got a little wet. Too close. Oops.
After a couple minutes near the water I decided to head back. I had to traverse the field of logs again, which seemed even more treacherous than the first time. Then I climbed up the hill to the parking lot.
It was still chilly while riding, so I was still wearing my cold weather gear. That's great when sitting on a motorcycle, but when walking up a steep hill it was a bit much. By the time I reached the parking lot I had a fair amount of sweat pouring out of me.
Because of the large coffee I had chugged, I kind of needed the bathroom and thought it might be a good idea to use the restroom before I got on the road. However, like the parking area, the bathrooms were packed. There was a large line waiting to use the facilities. I decided I could hold it rather than spend 20 minutes waiting in line.
I got back on the motorcycle and made my way through the parking area and back to the highway. The line of cars was slow moving.
I continued down 101 riding along the coast. After a few miles the fog lifted and the sun came out again. It was mainly concentrated in the Ruby Beach area where I had planned my stop.
When I was mapping out the route for this trip I envisioned riding along the coast as having a nice view of the beach and ocean to the west of the highway. After all, on the map it looked like the road was right next to the water.
In real life I found that the road was a couple hundred yards from the water, and most of the time the view was blocked by a heavy forest of trees. Occasionally there would be a thin spot in the trees where I could see the ocean.
There was a pull-out parking area along the side of the road that wasn't tree-lined, so I pulled over and got some good pictures of the ocean.
This area allowed me to get the picture I had wanted of my motorcycle in front of the Pacific Ocean. It happened, just not in the place that I thought it would happen.
With that item checked off my list, I could now get back to the goal of putting some miles behind me. It was now about noon, and I still had well over 400 planned miles left to ride to get to my hotel.
According to the map, I had the Pacific Ocean on my right side, and the Olympic Mountains on my left side. That seems like it would be a recipe for great scenery. Once again, there were so many trees that most of the time I couldn't see either the mountains or the ocean from the road.
That isn't to say it wasn't a pretty area. It just wasn't what I had expected when I envisioned this route in my head.
Being a native of South Dakota where there are hardly any trees, and those trees that we do have were intentionally planted by the people who live there, this was a sight I wasn't used to seeing. Again, not a bad thing, it was just a lot more trees than I was accustomed to seeing.
The miles and miles of trees made it hard to fathom the risk of over-forestation. I know that it is a real thing, but when you see this many trees your mind finds the concept difficult to grasp. It seems like you could spend your entire life cutting down trees and barely make a dent in how many grow in this area of the country.
Occasionally I would get a glimpse of some mountains in the distance.
I caught up with a motorcycle tour group. There was a group of about ten motorcycles riding together, with a support vehicle driving behind them. I knew it was a commercial tour group because of the signs on the back of the SAG truck (which stands for Support and Gear.)
The group was riding slightly slower than me. However, they were spread out enough that I didn't feel comfortable trying to pass all of them. And it's poor biker etiquette to jump into the middle of a group and pass each bike individually. So I just dropped the speed back a few mph on the cruise and rode behind them.
First things first, I ran inside and used the bathroom. When I came back out I realized how much warmer it had gotten. I was still wearing my leather jacket and my sweatshirt, so I removed them. I slathered on a layer of sunscreen, then put my mesh jacket on. The jacket was warm as I stood there in the parking lot, but once moving the wind would make it cooler.
I wasn't motivated enough to swap my regular jeans for the armored Kevlar jeans, so I just left them on with my leather chaps on top. While it was a little warm for the chaps, I didn't want to not have protective gear on my legs. Plain, regular jeans may feel tough to your hands, but they shred in a hurry when sliding on pavement.
Then I had a moment of decision. It was now around 1:30 PM, and if I continued to follow my original planned route I would have more than 350 miles remaining to ride. My original plans had me continuing on the 101 south out of Aberdeen, then taking highway 4 east to Kelso WA. Here's a map of my original intentions:
While a large part of me wanted to continue with my original planned route, I also had to be realistic. The detour earlier in the day had slowed me down. I had spent more time at Ruby Beach than I intended. The speed I was keeping on the highway was slower than I anticipated. On top of all that, I expected to be sore, but my pain tolerance is a lot easier to imagine when I'm sitting in a desk chair making plans versus actually sitting on a motorcycle day after day.
In addition, while the riding had been pretty, I was seeing a lot more trees than anything else. It's not that I was sick of seeing trees, but my desire to see more trees was starting to weigh less than my desire to make it to my destination before I was completely spent.
I decided to change my plans. Instead of heading south out of Aberdeen, I would now ride east towards Grand Mound, WA. From there I could hit the interstate and make better time on my way to Vancouver, WA. This would reduce the day's mileage by about 50, and shorten the day by nearly an hour. This is the updated route that I actually rode.
I had actually considered this possibility beforehand, so I already had a "bail out" GPS map prepared. That may or may not have influenced my decision to amend my route. I loaded the alternate map into the Ride Command system, and then hit the road. I felt a little let down that I had to wave the white flag, but a man has to know his limitations.
I rode through the town of Aberdeen.
Aberdeen is notable as the hometown of Kurt Cobain. While I wouldn't call me a Nirvana "fan", I do appreciate his contribution to music. After my trip was over I learned there was a bridge in Aberdeen that had a memorial set up under it. Had I known I may have stopped by for a photo. But I didn't know at the time, so I just rode through town.
Patrick Simmons from the Doobie Brothers is also from Aberdeen. I am definitely a fan of the Doobie Brothers. I don't think he has a memorial bridge, though.
Speaking of bridges: one thing Aberdeen does have is two wire grate bridges. Those absolutely suck when you're on a motorcycle. The metal grating does little for traction, and the gaps make your motorcycle want to wander all over the place. I slowed down and held my breath as I crossed them both. At least it wasn't raining, as they become slick as glass when wet.
I continued east on highway 12. My weariness was rising steadily, along with the mercury.
Near Elma, WA I saw smoke in the distance. As I got closer I could see emergency vehicles out in the field as they battled a grass fire.
The road was still above average in regards to scenery, but not as spectacular as it was earlier in the day (or would become later this same day.)
A made it to Grand Mound, WA, which is just south of Olympia. Here I would catch the interstate heading towards the Portland area. But first I was in need of gas so I found a station a couple blocks from the interstate junction.
After filling my tank I went inside and used the bathroom. There was a Taco Bell attached to the gas station, and I was hungry enough that even Taco Bell sounded good. It's interesting that when I fast my sense of smell gets very acute. I resisted the urge to buy any food.
However, I did grab a Gatorade. On this trip I found a flavor of Gatorade that I really liked: "Lime Cucumber." They have a no calorie version, which is the kind I usually grab. I generally try not to drink my calories.
The girl behind the counter was unusually cheery. She greeted me with a big smile, and generally seemed more excited to be working the counter of a pump 'n munch than one would expect. As unexpected as it was, I did find it a pleasant interaction.
The temp was now up to 93°F. I drank a good portion of the Gatorade, then got back on the road. It was now about 2:45 PM. I still had a long way to go.
I pulled onto the I-5 interstate heading south.
I was now on the fourth of the day's five "sections". This stretch was mostly interstate down to the Vancouver, WA area.
Overall the traffic on the interstate wasn't busy, but it was steady. There were occasional places where lots of vehicles would get bunched up, but then there were stretches where there was lots of distance between cars.
The coffee I had drank four hours prior was wearing off. I started to have serious issues with falling asleep. I was kind of regretting not grabbing another coffee at the gas station, but I knew if I did I would have paid for it later that night when I was trying to sleep.
I tried all my usual tricks to fight sleep; singing, reciting movie dialog, counting by intervals that require my brain to do math, etc. It was a futile effort. I was starting to fall asleep about once per mile.
Had there been a good place to pull over, I probably would have. I kept thinking I would push through it and then wake up. I only had a few more miles to get to my next gas stop so I powered through it the best I could.
On the north side of Vancouver, WA (not the city in Canada that we usually think of when we hear "Vancouver") I took the exit onto the I-205 bypass.
Once I hit the 205, my brain woke up a little. My body was still extremely weary, but at least I stopped actively fighting sleep. I think the exit and the milestone of a different road was enough to jar my brain back to consciousness.
I made it to Camas, WA around 4:30 PM. I had only ridden 96 miles since I last topped off the tank, but after Camas there weren't a lot of good options to fill up on my final stretch of the day. Plus, I just needed to get off the bike, if only for a few minutes.
It was a quick stop. Just long enough to top off the tank and use the restroom. I noticed as I walked to and from the bathroom that I was walking gingerly. My body was sore even when I wasn't on the bike. The miles were starting to take their toll.
I took a photo with my phone, but for some reason it didn't save. So here's a picture captured by my time-lapse camera.
The temp was now 99°F. I decided that was close enough to triple digits, so I removed my jacket. I left my chaps on because those were more effort to remove and I no longer had the energy to take them off. I really bit off more than I could comfortably chew with today's route.
I knew I was being too aggressive when I put together the original route home from Whidbey to Sioux Falls. My choices were to add another day or two to the trip, which would have been ideal but would never have passed the spouse test. Or I could have taken a more direct route home, which would mean I would have missed out on seeing a lot of cool stuff. So I chose to stick with the aggressive route.
There wasn't much I could do at this point. If I stopped for the night in Camas I would just make another day of the trip unreasonably long. I decided to forge ahead and continue on with my plans.
I finished off my bottle of Gatorade, which was now very warm, and then took off for the fifth (and thankfully final) section of the day's journey.
The good news is this last section was the most scenic portion of the day's ride. In fact, it was probably the most scenic portion of my entire trip. The bad news is I would have appreciated it more with cooler temps and at the beginning of the day rather than the end. As I left Camas I started to get views of Mt. Hood in the distance.
Highway 14 is also known as the "Columbia River Gorge Scenic Byway."
The western portion of the byway consists of tree lined pavement that weaves around curves and up and down hills. It was great riding.
I wasn't always sure how fast I could actually take corners. Some of the curves were good at five or ten miles over the advised speed, and others felt like the advised speed was actually a bit aggressive.
Because I was unfamiliar with the road I mostly stuck to the advised speed so I wouldn't get surprised by the sharper corners.
Occasionally I would have a local driver riding my tail. They were familiar with the road, so they knew exactly how fast they could push each curve. When possible I would pull over and let them go by.
Overall, the pavement was in pretty good shape.
As I came out of the first portion of the byway, the trees started to thin and I could get a better view of the surrounding mountains.
The second portion of the byway opened up a little. It had fewer hills, and trees, but still had plenty of curves and scenery. In fact, it probably was more scenic than the first portion.
The area was so scenic, I had a difficult time going through all my time lapse photos and choosing which ones to discard. I knew I couldn't keep all of them. Please forgive me if I'm including too many photos, but I decided more pictures was better than not enough.
The highway followed the north side of the Columbia River. On the other side of the river was interstate 84, but the river was large enough that most of the time I didn't notice the interstate over there.
There were many tunnels along the route, which just added to the charm.
Wow, there was a lot of scenery. How does one decide to omit these photos?
I rode the byway for about 75 miles until it ended. Highway 14 continued west, but I was getting the impression that the farther I went the less spectacular the scenery would get. The heat was getting oppressive, and my thermometer said it was now 108°F. It was brutal. I still had another 75 miles to ride to get to my hotel, and I was physically and mentally spent.
There was a bridge across the river near Maryhill, WA. I decided to cross the river and finish my ride on the interstate where I could sustain a higher average speed. Earlier I had passed by the famous Bridge Of The Gods which also crossed the Columbia River, and noticed that it was a steel grate bridge. I really, really hoped the bridge near Maryhill was paved.
As I crossed the river I officially entered the state of Oregon. Another new state to add to my list. And I was relieved that the bridge had pavement on it.
I really needed to pull over and take a break, but there was nowhere to pull over. It was a very sparsely populated area.
The interstate side was still scenic, but unfortunately by this point I was mentally over it. I just wanted to get to my hotel and get off the bike.
I had been listening to music all day as I rode. I decided that I needed something different to focus on for a while, so I found an old sermon I had recorded about 25 years ago. I listened to it while I rode. Having something else to think about helped a little, but I was still well aware how uncomfortable I was.
The closer I got to Boardman, OR (where my hotel was located) the less interesting the scenery became. It was starting to look like the southwestern portion of Washington that I had ridden through three days earlier.
Three miles from the exit I would take to get to the hotel, there finally was a rest stop. As much as I needed a break, at this point I opted to just push on and get to my hotel. Once I got off the motorcycle I didn't think I could find the motivation to climb back on, and if that happened I would rather be at my final destination for the night.
I forced myself to ride three more miles, then took the exit. Normally I would choose to top off my gas tank before heading to the hotel, but on this day I was too spent; I just rode directly to the hotel.
There was road construction happening near the hotel. No, that's not accurate. There was road replacement happening near the hotel. The pavement was completely gone. It was just dirt. I rode carefully, as laying the bike down was not a cherry I wanted to add to my misery sundae.
I made it to the hotel about 7:30 PM. That was thirteen and a half hours after I had left that morning. I was soaked in sweat, ridiculously hungry from fasting and completely wiped out both physically and mentally.
I checked in, and missed about half of what the lady behind the desk said. My brain wasn't working. Thankfully I don't think it was important, just usual hotel stuff.
I went up to my room and opened the door. The cool blast of air from the A/C unit felt marvelous. I went over and turned it down even further. When I took off my clothes I half expected to see griddle marks on my body from being broiled all day.
I had a lot of needs: a shower, food, different clothes, and sleep. Not necessarily in that order. I started by taking off my chaps which I had worn the entire day in the heat. The cool air hitting my legs felt wonderful.
I decided food was next on the priority list. There was a Subway next door, which worked well with my fasting goals of keeping my day's calories around 500. Although I didn't look forward to walking back outside in the heat, hunger forced me out of the hotel to buy myself a 6" rotissare chicken sub. I brought it back to the hotel room.
I flipped on the TV. I hadn't seen a baseball game since six days earlier on Monday. Unfortunately, being in the Pacific time zone, by this point in the day all baseball games had already ended. I flipped around the channels and found a rerun of a College World Series baseball game, and watched that while I ate. Old baseball is better than no baseball.
I could have easily eaten three more of those subs if getting them didn't mean getting dressed and walking through the heat again.
I checked out the news headlines and discovered it had been a very eventful day. Both Richard Simmons and Dr. Ruth had died. And presidential candidate Donald Trump had survived an assassination attempt. While personally I'm not a fan of his, (or for that matter anyone who was currently involved in this election,) I don't want to see anyone get shot regardless of their political affiliation. Thankfully he survived, but unfortunately another man in the crowd died from the bullet.
Knowing I was fading fast, I made a brief call home just to check in. Then I took a much needed shower and crawled into bed early. The mattress and pillows felt wonderful. I fell asleep almost immediately.
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This page last updated on 12/10/2024