No Wedding and Two Funerals...Sierra Ride

[demenshea]

An eventful week took me to Carson City, Nevada, and the town where I grew up, for my friend’s mother’s funeral. I decided to make the most of a sad occasion and ride my newly restored bike.

I bungeed on my bag and filled my hard bags. With me I had brought my:
Purse
Credit cards…Just in case and some cash
Laptop
Ipod, speakers and charger
Cell phone and charger
Clothes, including a dress and sandals
Toiletries
Leatherman tool
Allen wrenches
Water and Gatorade
Chapstick
Swim suit and towel
Down pillow. Gotta have my pillow, sheesh…what a princess.

Leaving Folsom, CA early Monday morning I took Hwy 50 eastbound to Lake Tahoe.

After stopping only a few miles up the road in Pollock Pines for a pick-me-up (no not a shot of booze... a large iced coffee!), I got back on the road and was surprised at the amount of traffic for a weekday. The highway was full of motor homes usurping the entire lane and then some of the adjoining lane as well.

The beauty of a motorbike is that you can usually squeeze by in the
least amount of space and my 1100 can really move when I need some power. Maneuvering the road was the easy part, dealing with the heat was more difficult. I made a couple of stops, never liberating my camera for those picture moments until the descent into the Lake Tahoe Basin.


Tahoe in background peaking out


View from WPA built turnout down below Hwy 50

After taking a couple of compulsory "first glimpse of Tahoe" pix, I
headed straight to Kiva Beach off Hwy 89, otherwise known as the "dog beach", for some stimulating 55-degree swimming. Now, by dog beach, I do mean canine. It is one of the few beaches where you can officially take your dog friends. I parked my bike next to a shadow-casting motor home and headed to the sandy beach.

I love wearing my vented clothing with merely a swimsuit underneath!! I stay cool for the most part and love the convenience. Gawkers think it rather humorous when a motorbike rider parks, strips and liberates a towel from her bags, then heads directly to the beach. That is exactly what I did. I locked my hard bags and made off for the water.

When settled into the beach, I did my compulsory people watching,
chatting with other swimmers and reading. The day was sunny, hot and the beach full of interesting people and their matching pets. Funny how that works... people and their dogs, they do truly look alike.


Kiva Beach


See what I mean?

I left the beach and headed to the store to grab a quick bite and an
iced tea and more water. I rode up to Cave Rock, which, when riding
west, gives one a first glimpse of the beautiful blue Tahoe water. There is also a vista point where one can walk and see the Lake. The more adventurous can also hike down to the shore from here. Well, I had done my swim...


Cave Rock pic from 1999

Riding down Highway 50 into Carson City is a total blast. Now you goaty twisty guys would find this nothing but boring, however my big ol’ cruiser and I found it rather stimulating. You can fly down that road with the big sweepers flowing left then right. There isn’t a straight spot until you hit the bottom of the grade. It is amazing.

I love the fact that on a bike you can really get into visiting the
corners. You can negotiate the curves much faster than your auto
counterparts and really begin to feel like you can ride!!! Woohoo!!


Spooner Summit cruising down Hwy 50 into Carson City, NV (1999)

The next few days I did very little riding. Thursday there was an
amazing downpour and thunder and lighening. My friend was hosting his relatives and we were trying to remain cheerful and upbeat. Losing one’s mother is never an easy affair. I stayed until Friday morning so I could do some cooking and contribute moral support, as I knew he would do for me. I figured that my husband and son had, by this time, noticed my absence and it was time to go home.

After a brief stop at the college where Mike works, to bid him
farewell, I headed down 395 to the Jack’s Valley turn off and on to Genoa, Nevada’s oldest settlement. The valley was lovely, the weather not yet too hot, and the road was newly-surfaced and smooth. I was amazed at the growth in the area.


Jack’s Valley


Road through Jack’s Valley


High Desert Lola

I stopped in Genoa for a couple of quick pix and then up to Hwy 88 and over the summit. I took Mormon Emigrant trail to 50 and from Pollock Pines west I felt like I was descending into Hades. The temps went from 90 to 106 in a matter of miles. Note: I need an evaporative cooling vest, but thanks again to Larry and his gift banadana, I stayed relatively cool.


The Genoa Bar and StageCoach Stop


The Stage Stops


Genoa


View on 88 looking down toward Hope Valley


Elevation 7990


Hwy 88


I just can’t help myself…she looks so good! Notice I changed my chrome decals.

Another good ride.

Now this week... relatives and another funeral, I hope the final one (until my final one, that is). Plus, I guess I had better check in with work...geeze, all these expectations and all I wanna do is ride!

Cheers,
donna

[FishWitch]

I just lost my dad this past month & I must say there is nothing like motorcycle therapy. I did just about the same thing. The ride was peaceful & calming. Thoughts & prayers with you & yours.

[Orson]

Nice trip report

It's funny to see the Genoa Bar has a prerequisite "old fart" parked on the front porch

You people who get to live in northern California are truly fortunate. I've ridden lottsa places and nothing tops the combination of scenery, weather and roads that you have in northern California. Don't ever get jaded

[m0t0-ryder]

reason =
glad you could a good story from it!

Thanks for the photo story!


JRL

[motorrad]

Originally Posted by demenshea

An eventful week took me to Carson City, Nevada, and the town where I grew up, for my friend’s mother’s funeral. I decided to make the most of a sad occasion and ride my newly restored bike.

Great moto-therapy ride report with awesome pics/write up. Glad to see you're roaming off to cool places, even though the desitination was to deal with sader moments fading to past. How cool is motorcycling and finding those prime personal moments to reflect? Priceless.

Motorrad Tom

[Papa-Ken]

Originally Posted by Orson

Nice trip report

It's funny to see the Genoa Bar has a prerequisite "old fart" parked on the front porch

You people who get to live in northern California are truly fortunate. I've ridden lottsa places and nothing tops the combination of scenery, weather and roads that you have in northern California. Don't ever get jaded

Careful Will talking about the Oldfarts, we have our own club and we will come over to the oil capital and hunt you down.........Papa-Ken

[Orson]

Originally Posted by Papa-Ken

Careful Will talking about the Oldfarts, we have our own club and we will come over to the oil capital and hunt you down.........Papa-Ken

As a soon to be old fart myself...I used that moniker as a term of affection. Old farts are a fountain of information. Treasure filled Gold mines to be gleamed for every nugget of information.

In that, I'm a firm believer

[m0t0-ryder]

Originally Posted by Papa-Ken

Careful Will talking about the Oldfarts, we have our own club and we will come over to the oil capital and hunt you down.........Papa-Ken

A quick little bit of off the top prose...

Old Fart's... you know we have control!
To keep it "gassy" and not pinch a roll.

Our time and experience with bumps and pits,
Have lead to (Old) Farts, and not the $hits!

Young was good, with vim and vigor.
Old Farts experience helps prevent Rigor. (as in mortise)

So use the title with respect and honor.
Cause with time and practice, you'll be an Old Fart, not a gonner!