The alarm went off at 6:30. I was very comfortable and sleeping soundly. Knowing that I had about 470 miles ahead of me, and no alternative route to shorten it, I reluctantly got out of bed. Tonight the home run derby was on TV, and I hoped to make it to the motel in time to watch it.
I got dressed and packed up my gear. I took my first bag down to the motorcycle, along with my empty water bottle. They had a carafe of ice water in the lobby, and I stopped to fill the bottle. As I was filling it, I looked over at all the people enjoying the breakfast buffet.
My eating schedule was supposed to have me fasting on this day, but the breakfast buffet looked so good. I pondered for a minute, and then decided to "compromise" and eat breakfast, and then fast the rest of the day, through the night and not eat again until lunch on Tuesday. It seemed like a reasonable plan, or at least a viable way to justify my decision.
So I loaded up a couple plates full of food, along with a couple of cups of coffee. The breakfast area was very full, and I found a small table that was empty, situated very closely next to a couple of other tables.
As I made a pig out of myself, I noticed the guy sitting at the table next to me had a FEMA shirt on. I struck up a conversation by saying, "FEMA, huh? I bet you have a lot of interesting stories to tell."
It was meant as an icebreaker-type comment, just to try and reduce the awkwardness of sitting right next to a total stranger. I did not anticipate his reaction. As it turns out, he was a talker. He immediately started telling me all about his job and the various emergencies to which he had attended. He was currently in the area working on landslides and fires.
I listened politely. After about 15 minutes of him going on and on about stories from his career, a colleague of his came into the breakfast area and sat down with him. That seemed to calm him down a bit, as they started talking about their plans for the day. That shifted his focus away from occupying me with his tales of FEMA regalia.
As I was wrapping up my breakfast, they started discussing the large wildfire in eastern Oregon. My ears perked up as I had seen the smoke from that fire the previous day. From their conversation I learned that it had been sparked from a lightning strike, and that the winds were supposed to pick up and give it the potential to spread. As I wrote about during yesterday's musings, that's exactly what happened and it wound up burning a large portion of northeastern Oregon.
Once satiated, I went back up to my room and grabbed the rest of my gear. Then I stopped by the front desk to check out, and went out to the motorcycle. Today's destination was Green River, WY.
As I got on the motorcycle, my body immediately complained. I still had a long way to travel before I would get home. The AirHawk seat cushion helped a bit, but the stock Indian seat is absolutely the worst motorcycle seat I've ever experienced. I think I need to bite the bullet and upgrade it, even though replacement seats are about $1,500.
Thankfully, so far my brain appeared to have returned to functioning normally. The swim in the cool pool the previous evening, along with a good night's sleep really seemed to help. Add to it the large breakfast and a couple of cups of coffee, and I felt like my neurons were firing much more effectively this morning.
I was glad, as I was starting to worry what I would do if I continued to make bad decisions. At a certain point the impairment would have started to interfere with my ability to safely operate a motorcycle (it arguably had already crossed that point on Sunday.) While my body was weary, my brain felt sharp again.
I pulled out of the hotel, and into traffic. It was almost 8:30, which was later than I had planned to leave. The unplanned breakfast put me behind schedule. But I didn't mind, as the breakfast was tasty.
Before I got on the interstate, I needed to top off my fuel tank.
As I've mentioned several times already, excluding the first day of this trip I completely failed at my normal routine of filling up at the end of my riding day so I don't have to worry about it in the morning.
The first section of the journey was a two hour stretch from Eagle to Twin Falls, ID. I had a planned stop in Twin Falls to see the Snake River Canyon, along with the famous Evil Knievel jump site. I had been looking forward to this stop for the entire trip.
I rode through town to get to I-84, and then headed east. The first half of this day would be all interstate. There aren't many other back road options in this area. At least none that wouldn't have added at least a hundred extra miles.
The city of Boise itself has a population of about 250k people, which is about the same size as the city of Sioux Falls, SD where I live. However the metro area is about 750k, which is about twice the metro area of Sioux Falls.
Once I got east of the city, the area grew sparse in scenery. There were no trees, and the hills were just shapeless lumps.
It looked like there was rain ahead of me, particularly to the north.
The clouds were growing darker, and I could see the hills in the distance looked hazy from falling rain. The temp wasn't cold, but I could feel it cooling down into the 70s.
About the time I had resolved myself to the fact that I was going to get wet, the sky started to look like it was clearing up. The temp also started to rise back into the 80s. I was heading southeast, and I think the rain was moving north.
In any event, I didn't feel a single drop of rain as I rode during this morning. Later this same day would be different, but we'll get to that part of the story later.
In this part of Idaho there were occasional spots that were scenic…
…but there were a lot more spots that were just plain barren.
About two hours after I left Boise I arrived in Twin Falls, ID. It was going to feel good to get off the bike and walk around for a bit.
I got off the interstate and headed south on highway 93. Twin Falls was about two miles off the interstate. As I approached the Snake River Canyon, there was a scenic overlook so I pulled over and snapped a few photos.
I'm sure Twin Falls is a nice little town, but I was here for one reason: the Evel Knievel jump site. This was located a couple miles east of the city. I followed the GPS instructions to get me there.
There was a small housing development in the area, where the dirt road to the jump site branched off to the left.
I had heard that the jump site was down a dirt road. They weren't kidding. There was no gravel, just dirt. I took my time and rode carefully.
At the end of the dirt road was a little parking area.
I pulled in and parked the motorcycle. I was the only person in the lot.
This was exciting. I had been an Evel Knievel fan since I was a young boy watching him defy death on the Wild World of Sports. Evel was one of the three people I wanted to be when I grew up (along with Alice Cooper and Fran Tarkenton.)
As a child one of my favorite toys I had was my Evel Knievel stunt cycle, which I received Christmas morning in 1975. It had the action figure, the motorcycle and an Energizer that would let you wind up the "motor" on the cycle and send Evel on his way across the living room.
I played with my Evel Knievel action figure so much that the metal wires in his limbs all broke, which made them bend in all sorts of unnatural positions. In retrospect I think that actually made the crashes all that more realistic.
Standing here at the site where Evel made his extremely brave, and notoriously unsuccessful jump over the Snake River Canyon gave me a mental boost I really needed. While my body was still physically exhausted, from this point on through the remainder of the trip my mental condition was greatly improved.
For those of you unfamiliar with the event that happened at this location, here's a very brief summary. On September 8th, 1974 Evel Knievel attempted to jump the snake river canyon in a rocket powered vehicle (called the Skycycle.) The Skycycle was supposed to launch from the south side of the canyon rim at over 300 mph, fly through the air to the north side, then parachute safely to the ground. Unfortunately the force of the rocket's take off from the launch tower caused the parachute to deploy immediately, slowing the rocket before it could make it to the opposite side. The rocket, with Evel strapped inside, crashed at the bottom of the canyon.
The metal launch tower is no longer at the site, but the dirt ramp on which the tower was located is most definitely still there. I got off the bike and walked up it.
From the top of the ramp I could see the size of the canyon he was trying to cross. It was at least 1/4 mile to the other side. In my brain I had always pictured the jump happening from east to west. Now that I was standing on the ramp I realized it actually was from the south to the north.
Looking to the west I could see the town of Twin Falls, ID.
Looking to the east, I could get a good view of the canyon. Shoshone Falls is just out of view from this vantage point. But I could see a multi-use path that ran along the ridge of the canyon.
I stood on top of the ramp for a few minutes, taking it all in. It was pretty darn cool.
After a few minutes I decided to go down and walk down the trail a little way. When I got to the bottom of the ramp I saw a plaque talking about the jump attempt.
I started to walk down the path. Looking back gave me a view from the side of the ramp.
As I got farther down the path, the Shoshone Falls came into view. It was very pretty.
The scenery was nice enough that I could have easily spent more time walking around. The path continued on all the way down to the falls. But, I still had a long way to go before the end of the day, so I decided to turn around and start walking back towards the motorcycle. From a distance you can see the jump ramp.
I took a few more photos of the canyon.
I returned to the bike, climbed on and headed back down the dirt path out of the ramp site.
Before I got back on the road, I wanted to fill up the gas tank. After Twin Falls, it looked like the gas stop options became pretty sparse. I followed the GPS as I worked my way back towards the interstate. I found a station, and topped off the tank.
Like the ability to get gas, I speculated that the places to use the restroom would also get pretty sparse. I decided it would be prudent to empty my bladder now. After I did so, I washed my hands and then discovered there was no towel dispenser or hand dryer. Nothing. I even looked around outside the restroom thinking there had to be one somewhere. Nope. That was crazy.
With wet hands, I got back on the bike. They would dry off soon enough in the heat and wind.
At this point I was roughly 45 miles north of the Nevada border. I had never ridden my motorcycle in Nevada before, and it was really tempting to ride down and cross the border to add another state to my list. Unfortunately it just wasn't feasible to add an additional 100 miles to an already long day, especially with the mental events of the previous day still fresh in my mind. The state of Nevada will have to wait.
Rather than doubling back the way I came through Twin Falls in order to get back to the interstate, the GPS routed me east on a highway for about eight miles to an interchange. On this stretch of road I got behind two trucks that were spewing some sort of dust. I'm not sure what it was, but I was getting covered in it.
Whatever this dusty substance covering me was, it smelled bad. It had the faint odor of fertilizer, but smelled sweeter. Not a good kind of sweet smell, though. I was really hoping that the trucks would either turn off the road, or that I could find a safe place to pass them.
As it turned out, the trucks turned. And when they turned I turned as well. Unfortunately, the turn I thought I was making to the interstate entrance ramp turned out to be a service road. And even more unfortunately, that road was under construction. Rather than pavement, it was comprised of loose dirt.
The trucks continued to roll down the service road, and I gingerly turned the bike around being careful not to lay it down in the loose soil.
I got back on the road, went another hundred feet further, and then correctly got on the ramp for I-84.
I would stay on I-84 for a few hours. The interstate would take me east through Idaho, then dip south down into Utah.
As I rode along, I settled in for a long stretch of nothing. There isn't much to see in this section of Idaho and Utah.
I was trying to adjust my hand positions around to try and get a little more comfortable. As I was doing this, suddenly the engine died. I had a moment of panic, with all the memories of the previous year's breakdown flooding my brain. Getting stranded in a remote section of Idaho was not high on my "want to do" list.
I pulled in the clutch and hit the starter to try and restart the engine. Nothing. It wouldn't crank. As I coasted along I dropped the clutch hoping to bump start the engine. Still nothing. The engine wouldn't fire.
As I coasted, I started to wonder how long I would have to sit on the side of the road before help would come. Was there even cell service in this area?
Then suddenly I realized what I had done: as I was shifting my hands around, my arm had bumped the "kill" switch which was now in the off position. A wave of relief came over me as I flipped the switch, let out the clutch and the bike roared back to life.
Now that the crisis was averted, I had to laugh out loud at my own stupidity. It's not the first time I've done that, but it happens seldom enough that it always throws me for a loop before I figure out what happened.
I pressed onward. As I got into Utah the scenery got a little bit better. There were some rolling hills that broke up the monotony a little. Not a lot, but a little.
In the open spaces in Utah, there were signs warning of frequent wind storms. Sure enough, a strong cross wind came up. Occasionally it would blow clouds of dust across the road obscuring my view. A couple gusts came in so hard it felt like I'd gotten slammed in the head. There's not much to block the wind in this area of the country.
The riding was getting dull, and I was starting to fight sleep. I was zoning out a bit, which is never an ideal place in which to be while riding a motorcycle. About 50 yards ahead of me was a highway patrol vehicle. Suddenly, the patrolman hit the lights and siren on his car and took off.
The sudden lights and sound jolted me out of my stupor, and made my heart beat quickly. I was startled, but that wasn't a bad thing as it got my head back on straight for paying attention to the road.
After about two hours of riding on I-84, I reached the I-15 exit ramp.
I had to ride north on I-15 for about five miles to get to highway 30, where I would start heading east.
At the town of Riverside, I took highway 30 towards Logan, UT.
I was in need of gas, a good stretch, some fluids and maybe a bathroom break. Not necessarily in that order. I stopped at a gas station on the west side of Logan right as I entered town.
The section of the trip between Twin Falls, ID and Logan, UT took about two and a half hours of travel time. Mentally and physically it felt a lot longer than that.
I topped off the tank, and gave the windshield a good scrubbing as it was getting difficult to see through all the bugs. I went inside the store and enjoyed a few minutes of air conditioning. I bought another Gatorade, and drank half of it as I stood and stretched my legs.
After a few minutes of rest I decided I needed to keep pressing onward if I wanted to make it to the motel in time to see the Home Run Derby. I was preparing to get back on the road when suddenly my innards declared an emergency. I was already on the bike so I quickly moved it up closer to the store. The pumps were pretty busy and this way I wasn't tying one up during the time I wasn't actively using it.
I made it into the bathroom just in time. I'm very thankful that a stall was available for me to defile. I can only speculate that it was the triple digit temps combined with the stress I was placing on my body over the last few days that caused my intestines to rebel.
Once that unplanned ordeal was finished, I went back out to the bike. The air temperature now read 102°F. I polished off the rest of the gatorade, threw my empty bottle in the recycling bin and then got back on the road. I felt a little better after the rest and the digestive purge.
So far on this day I had been on the interstate, so I had the radio turned off. I would now be riding on back highways for a while, so I pumped up the tunes. I often don't play music at faster interstate speeds, as the wind noise is already quite loud and my ears don't need to have additional cacophony on top of that. But now that I would be riding 55 mph or less for the next few hours, I decided it was time to jam a little.
In honor of the previous evening's "trance" that took me back to the summer of 1983, I picked out a playlist I had created that was composed of music from that same summer. It's amazing how music can quickly transport you back to specific points in time.
As I rode through downtown Logan, I rode by a young woman walking down the sidewalk. She gave me a smile as I went by, and for a split second I thought, "yeah, I still got it!" Then I realized that the song "Flashdance - What A Feeling" by Irene Cara was blasting through my speakers, and that's probably what she found amusing, causing her smile.
Then I realized that not only do I not "still got it", I probably "never had it." That's probably OK. Remembering who I was as a younger man, if I had charisma (or "riz" as the young'uns now call it) I would have likely messed up my life to an even greater extent than I did without any riz.
Highway 30 from Logan to Bear lake turned out to be a wonderfully scenic stretch of road.
The traffic was heavier than I expected, and most of the time was a no-passing zone due to the limited visibility.
That kept the speeds rather low on this stretch. I resisted the urge to get frustrated, and tried to relax and just enjoy the ride.
Occasionally there would be a passing lane, and the drivers that were in a hurry could get around the slower vehicles. For the most part I let everyone else pass me, except for a few occasions when I was behind a particularly slow RV and there wasn't anyone in front of them.
The temp cooled down to a more reasonable 95°F. Still hot, but more comfortable than it was.
One of the things that I had to be careful about were the tar snakes. For those of you not used to the term, these are areas where cracks in the pavement were filled with tar. Due to pavement expansion and contraction because of temperature extremes, the tar can work its way out of the crack and form a little ridge. Like a snake laying on the pavement.
When my tires would hit these ridges, I would lose traction just for a brief moment. The bike would quickly plant itself again once the tires again hit solid pavement, but the sensation of the bike sliding out from under me was unnerving. Tar snakes have been known to take motorcycles down, so the respect I was giving them wasn't unfounded.
As I approached Bear Lake, I was looking out and enjoying the scenic view. In my moment of inattentiveness, I had a close call when the car in front of me suddenly slammed on their brakes. I think their turn had snuck up on them and rather than turning around when it was safe, the driver chose to panic stop. I suddenly realized I was closing in on the back of their vehicle very quickly.
I depressed both front and rear brakes aggressively enough to activate the anti-locks. The bike quickly came to a stop without hitting the car, but it was closer than I wanted it to be. I immediately vowed to pay more attention.
This was the first motorcycle I've owned with ABS. Shortly after I first purchased my Indian, I tested the anti-lock brakes at low speeds on the street in front of my house. I wanted to make sure they worked, and also didn't want the very first time I used them to be under duress.
However, this was the very first time I had them activate in an actual stopping situation. Paying closer attention and avoiding the need for them is the best approach. However, having the feature of anti-lock brakes was a nice measure of insurance. In this instance, had they not been installed on the motorcycle I probably would have hit the vehicle in front of me.
Bear Lake was beautiful. It has a very nice turquoise color.
The lake was also a lot larger than I expected. Wikipedia says that it is the 49th largest lake in the United States. It seemed even bigger than that as I rode next to it for many miles.
Once I got to the east of Bear Lake, the road became very deserted. It would appear that most of the recreational traffic comes in and out from Logan on the west side.
For a while I had both the scenery, and the road all to myself. The road now was straighter, so I sped up and started making time towards my motel.
The temp slowly cooled into the low 80s as I rode. This was a welcome change from the triple digits I had experienced around the town of Logan.
I put the hammer down and rode hard on this stretch. I never passed any other vehicles, but I got passed several times, so I don't think I was riding unreasonably quick. In these situations I tend to ride just a little above the speed limit, but not enough to get pulled over.
At some point in this section I passed from Utah into Wyoming. However I'm not sure exactly where in the pictures this happened.
As I passed the town of Kemmerer, I was thinking I could use a short stretch break. I looked for somewhere to pull off, but every time I saw one it was too late to pull over and utilize it. Then I started to notice some dark clouds in the distance. They were very obviously producing rain.
I decided to press on and hope that maybe I could outrun the rain by getting ahead of the clouds. Of course I wasn't completely sure what direction the storm was moving, so it was quite possible that I was moving towards it even faster? It was a gamble.
For a while I thought I would avoid the storm, which got my hopes up for a few minutes. Then, after a while it became apparent that I was indeed going to ride right into the storm. The only question was, "when?"
My butt was on fire, and I really needed to get off the bike for a few minutes. I decided to pull over and put my rain gear on before the rain hit. If by some weird stroke of luck I didn't get rained on, I wasn't out much time as I needed the stretch break anyway.
I pulled over along the shoulder, which was narrower than I wanted it to be. I put on my hazard signals, and grabbed my rain gear out of my saddlebag and took it all down in the ditch, slightly behind the motorcycle. I decided that if a passing vehicle hit my motorcycle, at least I didn't want to be standing in the path of destruction. Several semis went by at a high rate of speed and I was glad I wasn't standing up on the pavement as they passed.
By the time I had my rain gear on, it was obvious I made the right decision. Rain was definitely coming and I was going to need waterproof clothing. The sky got even darker. I could smell the approaching rain in the air. There was lots of lightning, but unfortunately my camera never caught any of the flashes.
Between the towns of Granger and Little America, the rain started. Along with the rain, the temperature dropped down to 64°. I just had my t-shirt on underneath the rain jacket, and probably would have felt a little more comfortable if I had also put my sweatshirt on. The GPS said I only had 35 miles to go until the motel, so I decided to just tough it out rather than pulling over again.
The lower fairing on my Roadmaster has vent doors. For much of the trip I had them open to try and get more air flowing across me and the engine during the triple digit temps. Now that it had cooled off I didn't need the extra ventilation, and the open vents were also letting the rain through so I reached down and closed them.
I also switched my bike into "rain" mode using the Ride Command screen. This mode slows the throttle response so that when you twist the throttle handle the engine doesn't respond as quickly. On a high-torque motorcycle this can help you from breaking the rear wheel loose when accelerating on slick pavement. However I ride like an old man, especially in the rain, so I probably would have been fine without it. In any event, my motorcycle has the feature so it made sense to use it.
I reached interstate 80, and headed east. The speed limit was now 80 mph, but I set the cruise control at 70 mph. I figured the slower speed would help reduce the chance of hydroplaning. That probably was a little faster than I wanted to go on wet pavement, but I also didn't want to get run down from behind by other vehicles. Thankfully other vehicles had slowed down as well, so I didn't feel unsafe at 70 mph.
As I rode in the rain, I came across a truck I recognized. I had first seen it two days before in Oregon. I also managed to get behind it the previous day, and again earlier on this day. I remember it because I recognized the license plate number. It's weird how I found the familiarity of the truck comforting, almost like I had a comrade out here on the road.
This was the first time I'd really ridden in rain since purchasing this motorcycle. During the previous year's trip I had encountered some sprinkles, but never rode through anything heavy enough to require rain gear. The one time I did encounter heavy rain, I was able to pull over before it got real bad, waited out the storm inside a gas station, and then didn't hit the road again until the storm had passed.
Between my rain gear, the fairing, and the lowers on the motorcycle, I didn't get wet at all. I had boot covers to keep the water from soaking through to my feet. And having a full-face helmet in the rain is a complete game changer compared to my old open faced helmet. The rain came down pretty hard for a few minutes, but I stayed nice and dry.
I was very thankful that I had made the choice to replace my front tire a few weeks before the trip. And I had gotten a new rear tire eleven months prior. Knowing I had plenty of rubber hitting the pavement gave me one less thing to worry about as I rode through the storm.
My hands were getting just a little chilly in the cooler temps, so I kicked on the heated grips. Setting the heat level on 2 (out of 10) was enough to do the trick. This motorcycle is really spoiling me with all the creature comforts. Well, except for the stock seat, of course, which is one of the most uncomfortable things I've ever sat on.
Now that I had experienced actual rain riding with this motorcycle, I was pretty happy with how stable it felt in the wet weather. On my old bike I would often feel a bit tentative in the rain, but this bike stayed planted very well.
Just outside of Green River, there was a tunnel on the interstate. As soon as I entered the tunnel I realized that the sunless sky, a tinted windshield, tinted helmet visor and tinted sunglasses all combined to make everything pitch dark. My eyes weren't adjusted to allow the headlights to be effective, and if there was any lighting in the tunnel itself, it wasn't sufficient to allow me to see the road.
Thankfully the tunnel was less than a quarter mile long, so I was able to just focus on the light I could see from the tunnel's end and hold a straight line. I came through unscathed.
As I reached the town of Green River, I exited the interstate. There was a curved off ramp, and I wasn't sure how slick it would be in the rain so I took it very gingerly.
My motel was on the very south side of town.
As I pulled up in front of the office, I was disheartened to see a "closed" sign on the door. I pondered the situation for about 15 seconds when a guy in a truck pulled into the parking space next to me, then got out and opened the office door. It was the owner, and he was just leaving for a while when he saw me pull in, so he came back to help me get checked in. That was close!
As I walked into the office, the time lapse camera caught me from behind. My rain gear was still inflated from all the wind on the interstate. I'm fat, but I'm not that fat.
I got checked in, and the guy told me my room was around the back. He advised me to move my motorcycle over to the side of the building.
I parked my bike in a little space in front of a truck with a plow blade. I was gambling they wouldn't need the plow on this day.
I walked around the back of the motel and found my room. Upon opening the door, it didn't look too bad, especially considering it was the cheapest lodging of my entire trip.
I flipped on the TV and found ESPN. The home run derby was just starting. I made it just in time to hit my goal.
For some reason taking off rain gear is always a struggle for me. After removing my jacket the next thing I needed to do was get my rain pants down over my boot covers. I was having a terrible time, when in the middle of the fight the gastrointestinal issues I had experienced earlier in the day suddenly flared up again.
I realized I wasn't going to have time to finish removing my rain gear before Vesuvius erupted, so I quickly hopped into the bathroom with my rain pants still around my ankles. It was close, but there were no emergency clean-up measures needed like Pompeii.
Once I had that pressing need met, I was able to approach my rain gear dilemma with a clearer head. As it turns out I had forgotten to unzip the lower portion of the rain pants to allow the legs to expand and slide over my boots. Once unzipped, I removed the rest of the rain gear and hung them up to dry.
Below the rack where I hung up my rain gear was this odd little carpeted bench. I took a picture because I found it curious. The photo doesn't really convey how out-of-place it looked compared to the rest of the room.
I relaxed and watched the home run derby. During one of the breaks I decided to quick hop into the shower and clean up..
After the home run derby was over, I decided I was thirsty. There was a convenience store a few blocks away, and the rain had now stopped, so I figured I'd walk over there and buy some drinks. It would be good to get the blood flowing a bit as well. On my way past my motorcycle I took a photo of it sitting in the lot. I hadn't taken one when I first arrived because it was raining and I was in a hurry to get into my room.
I also got a proper photo of the motel.
Down the street was a Loaf 'N Jug convenience store. I had been fasting since breakfast, and had planned to fast until lunch the next day. However, I lost my willpower at this point and along with my Powerade Zeros I also bought a sub from the cold sandwich area. So I completely failed at my fast on this day.
On my walk back to the motel I called home. My wife didn't have much time to talk and wanted me to call back, but I knew once I got to the motel I would be crawling into bed soon. So I convinced her to just have a short phone call during the five minute walk back.
Back at the motel room I gobbled down my sub and drank one of the Powerades, spent a few minutes writing up my notes for the day, then crawled under the covers.
Much to my dismay the mattress was a rock. It was the first (and thankfully only) bad mattress of the entire trip.
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This page last updated on 12/10/2024