13,000 Miles in 30 Days - My Incredible Motorcycle Journey

[Helmetdance]

Greetings,

I'm happy to share with you what was the trip of a lifetime for me, my "13,000-miles-in-30-days" journey last August. This trip evolved from a dream I've had since highschool. Yet although my parents gave me a great deal of freedom as a teenager, cycles were not a factor in their equation of life. Once I had reached the age where I could buy my own, I had lost 1 friend and saw another seriously injured to accidents, which put a damper on my dream for years to come. At age 45, I started to think differently about it, and have had one serious accident myself that I walked away from with no ability to understand or explain why. If that didn't make me quit, nothing will. I'm glad I followed my dream, and plan to live it for as long as I can ride.

Day one:

Starting from home in Munster, IN, I teamed up with another rider from Chicago. A huge emotional high - not only had I looked forward to this for years, I also totaled my bike on my first attempt the year before on the first day. I planned this trip for months. My daughter and only child was married just the day before, on Saturday, July 31st. I was starting the longest vacation of my career. The weather was perfect. Man I was SO pumped! Seth and I met at Interstates 80 and 55 in Joliet, IL at 10:30 pm on Sunday night, August 1st. We rode until 5:30 or 6am, stopping for a break in Council Bluffs, Iowa, and rolling again by 10am.

The approach to Estes Park from the east on Hwy 34, Big Thompson Canyon Road, was incredible, finally getting into some twisty curves passing white water and steep, rocky cliffs, tired but highly adrenalized. This proved to be but a mere taste of what the coming days would bring. By 7:30 pm we arrived in Estes Park, CO. We didn't take pictures along I-80 or I-76 enroute to NE Colorado, thinking it best to put the flat land behind us and enjoy a more relaxed pace from here on. Traveling 1030 miles in less than 24 hours, we qualified for the Iron Butt Association's Saddle Sore 1000 ride. Now ready for some awesome Colorado steaks and a couple of beers, then a good rest.

Day Two.

Leaving Estes Park we entered Rock Mountain National Park, and crossed the Continental Divide via Milner Pass on Trail Ridge Road. Imagine what was going through the head of this flatlander accustomed to Indiana corn and soybeans with no turns at all except at an occasional exit ramp. I was like a kid on his first 4th of July:





Next stop, a hearty Colorado breakfast at the famous Grand Lake Lodge, just on the south side of the park on Hwy 34. Here is the view from our breakfast table:



After filling up the stomachs and the bikes, we headed down Highway 9 through Arapahoe National Forerst and into Silverthorne:



From Silverthorne we took I-70 to Glenwood Springs. Although not fond of interstates, this is one stretch of interstate that is truly beautiful and worth the trip. Particularly the stretch through Glenwood Canyon between Eagle and Glenwood Springs. This highway is truly an engineering marvel. The two different directions of interstate are separate and cantilevered away from the side of the mountain, and often give the feeling as if one were flying through the canyon in an airplane. If you're ever here, don't pass this one by just because its an interstate.

From Glenwood Springs we headed down Hwy 82 into Aspen and across Independence Pass. Independence Pass, besides being awesomely beautiful, required focused attention. Stay well to the right on the narrow turns as the oncoming trucks have a tendency to cross the center line to keep their trailers off the rocks:





Seth and I parted company at Highway 24 as the Navy and Uncle Sam were calling Lieutenant Commander Seth back home. I headed down to Highway 50 and started making my way west toward Montrose. One of the most awesome sights of the trip were two huge mule deer bucks that stopped all the traffic on Highway 50 as they sauntered across. This next shot is the bridge across Blue Mesa Lake at the Dillon Pinacles, in Curecanti National Recreation Area.



At Montrose I started making my way south down Highway 550, also know as the Million Dollar Highway - and the view is truly a Million Dollar View! Spent the night in a cabin at the KOA in Ouray, CO.

Day 3

The next morning I crossed the 11,000 foot Red Mountain Pass on my way to Silverton. This pass is one incredible place, and is a bit reminiscent of the craggy precipice that Sam and Frodo had to scale on their way to Mordor. Don't get too involved with the scenery here unless you park the steed, or you might find yourself taking an unexpected shortcut to a lower (a much, much lower) elevation:



Meeting people along the way is also one of the great things about motorcycling. This Colorado State Motorcycle Trooper walked up to me here in Silverton at the Java Shack. He commented on how "that red color really stands out". I grinned back and said, "I don't know if that is a good thing or a bad thing coming from you". Turned out the Java Shack was his wife's business. We spent the next half-hour drinking coffee and I got a lesson on how to work all the gadgets on the trooper's bike including the radar, and a briefing on how hard these guys have to train to keep their two-wheel quals:



Here is a shot from Highway 550 of Electra Lake in San Juan National Forest. Perhaps not fully convinced, yet at this point I have started to at least consider the possibility that there might actually be other things worth looking at in the USA besides corn and soybeans:



After stopping at the 4-corners monument, I made my way through Kayenta, AZ and headed up 163 into the Monument Valley area of Utah.







Deciding to take an even more scenic sideroad, I headed up highway 261, only to stop and turn around in 10 miles. The pavement ended and the grade became too steep for my big Goldwing. This would have been great fun on a dirtbike, but not on a rig that tips 1100 pounds with me and my gear. There is something almost sureal about Utah. You are confronted with literally thousands of square miles where nobody lives, and hardly anybody besides you is even there. Something very different strikes me, a huge contrast compared to the window view from my skyscraper office in downtown Chicago, there are NO people anywhere for as far as I can see - mind-boggling!



Heading up Utah Hwy 95, this is the view of the Colorado River at Glen Canyon National Recreation Area. This picture doesn't begin to do justice to Utah's breathtaking splendor:



I stopped that night in Torrey, after passing through Capital Reef National Park on Hwy 24. From the Arizona to border to Torrey is 250 miles, including my "turn-around" detour. In this entire stetch, I would bet that I saw no more than 20 or 30 cars. Utah is one big beautiful expansive wilderness.

Day 4

Starting out at sunrise, I headed south on Highway 12 through Dixie National Forest. I had to stop at one point as I came around a turn as a bull elk and several cows were standing square in the middle of the road. Also saw several deer and antelope. The early morning hours are great for wildlife. This is a beautiful stretch of highway.



I stopped for a couple of hours in Bryce Canyon but didn't stay long as I had planned to spend the night here later in the month on my way back home:







Leaving Bryce, I headed into Zion Park:



More pics of Zion later, as I spent more time here on my way home.

Crossing into AZ at Page, the Glen Canyon Dam and Bridge. The engineer in me finds bridges fascinating.





Heading down Highway 89 south, took Highway 64 west and entered Grand Canyon Park through the east entrance. Here are a few pics from the area of the park called desert view. This is the first time I had ever been here in my life. You walk through the parking lot and this panorama unfolds, I should say explodes, before your eyes. I had never literally had my breath taken away before. Nobody should ever die without seeing the Grand Canyon:







I spent the 4th night in the Bright Angel Lodge right on the south rim of the Canyon.


More later-
Mark

[Toyuzu]

I may stay up all night waiting for the next post! Good stuff, keep it coming!

Those are some breathtaking pics, too.

[Orson]

Holy moley that's a heck of a daily mileage average!

Excellent pics Looks like you saw a good chunk of the country.

Can't wait for the rest

[Kidder]

Outstanding trip report.

One question though, how did you total your bike the year before on the first day?

[Helmetdance]

Kidder,

I attribute my accident to inexperience and a bad judgement call. I think most people who know me would say I am a pretty conservtive person, and that reflects in my riding style. I was almost 1000 miles into my trip, only 60 miles from my destination. I wasn't tired, I was on I-76 near, Exit #80, Ft. Morgan, CO. I looked at my gauge and decided I would wait for gas, but changed my mind. I had passed about 1/2 of the decel lane. I took the ramp too fast - about 80 but still had room for braking - at least I thought I did. I didn't think I was in trouble but thought to myself, "you know better than that". I was on the brakes as I leaned into the ramp - a big mistake. There was sand on the ramp. Bike went down, sliding toward the guardrail at 55. I hit the throttle, the bike stood up and I high-sided. The bike hit the guardrail, I barely missed it, hit the blacktop instead. Broke 3 ribs, 3 fractures each - 9 total - OUCH! Got up and didn't realize I was hurt and first reaction was to get on the bike and leave - until I looked at it and didn't even attempt to lift it. An hour later I was on morphine. A tough way to learn.

Immediately before I was thrown from the bike, my last glimpse of the speedometer read about 52 mph. As I was flying through the air chest down and about 6 to 8 feet above the blacktop, I looked down and all I could see was blacktop rapidly closing in on me and filling my entire field of vision. I resigned myself to the fact that I was going to die and just closed my eyes, and thought to myself that it would be like taking a nap. In that last instant before I hit the ground, I will never forget the picture I saw in my mind, I saw Jesus sitting in front of me and I was literally flying into his lap. That's when I hit the pavement head first. I hit at a gradual angle and thought - this isn't so bad. Then my upper body hit the blacktop and took the most viscious hit you could ever imagine. As I started rolling side-over-side, each roll was another viscious hit - my ribs were breaking but I didn't know it. I thought, oh Lord if I just don't hit anything I might be OK. The face shield of my helmet hit the pavement with every roll. If I didn't have that full face helmet on, my face would have been smashed to a pulp.

Finally it was all over, I came to a rest only three feet from a guardrail post. My motorcycle had sheered the next guardrail post down, a 4-inch by 4-inch treated lumber rail. I never lost consiousness and can remember how very surprised I was at first to still be alive, and then even more surprised to be able to stand and discover no broken arms or legs - even though I would find out about the ribs a short time later. I was a bit disoriented, laying on my back and looking up at blue sky through a severly scratced face-shield. At first I was actually afraid to even try to stand up for fear that I would find myself in pieces. I had to talk myself into standing up. Yet I was relatively unhurt! It's a good thing nobody saw me standing there or they would have thought I was a few bricks shy of a full load, for I was overcome with such sheer joy at having just lived through a near-death experience, that I was standing in that cloud of dust literally laughing like a three-year-old.

I sat down on the guardrail, feeling as if the air had been knocked out of me. As I sat there, I could not believe that the drivers in first two cars down the exit ramp looked at me and didn't stop, they didn't even slow down, just kept on going! The third car stopped and the driver asked me if I needed help. I was so disoriented that I was trying to figure out the answer to his question, but I couldn't speak, I couldn't get the words out. He told me to relax and that he would call for help.

If not for the helmet, I would have died instantly. If not for the safety-gear, I would have been hamburger. Anyone who has lived through an experience like this one has a hard time understanding how or why, as many have been killed in what might have been considered "less serious" accidents than mine. I can only say, with sincere gratitude, that evertime I straddle my motorcycle these days I thank my guardian angel in advance for his protection. I told him I would try to make his job a bit easier from now on!

I was released the next morning.

Oh, by the way, in case any of you were curious about how I came up with my moniker - now you know!

[Toyuzu]

Ouch!

At least you got back on. A lot of people would have given up riding after a spill like that. Glad you're still on two wheels.

[Helmetdance]

Day 5

The next morning I was up early - packed and ready to roll before first light so I would be ready to tour the Grand Canyon for some sunrise photos. I have never seen so many people so eager to get out of bed so early, just for the sole purpose of watching the sunrise, but that is probably one of the coolest things to do at the Grand Canyon.

Kolb Studio sits on the south rim of the Canyon, right next to Bright Angel Lodge, where I had spent the night:



I decided to move on to a different part of the Canyon that would be catching the morning sun more directly. As I pulled out away from the parking area for Bright Angel, these two Park visitors raised their heads just long enough to bid me good morning:



Moving on to Mather Point, I could hardly get the camera away from my face long enough to watch where I was walking:







One could easily spend 30 days exploring the Grand Canyon and still barely scratch the surface and take hundreds of unique photos. But this motorcyclist had more places to go and people to see. The next stop was Kingman, Arizona, where I met another riding partner, Chris. Unfortuately, I somehow never took a picture of Chris – sorry about that bud – you’ll have to send me one! When Chris and I reached the Hoover Dam, you might say it was Hoover Dam hot – the digital thermometer on my Wing registered 111 degrees – and that was moving. As a tribute to the Wing – the temperature gauge barely moved from its normal position.





Chris lives in Las Vegas, and so we parted company once we got there:





Making my way into California on a smokin’ hot Interstate 15, I reached my destination of Victorville a little after dark.

Day 6

Got up early and headed up Hwy 395 to Nine-Mile Canyon Road, which would wind its way though Inyo National Forest and on toward Sherman Pass. Sherman Pass also has the illustrious honor of being the first time and place in my life I had ever seen a Joshua tree:











Heading down through Kernville and Lake Isabella, I made my way on Hwy 178 toward Bakersfield, and then Hwy 158 to San Luis Obispo. In San Luis Obispo I met Mike and his wife Carole. I had been corresponding with Mike on the GL1800 site since late February or early March. I knew I had found a veteran cyclist and native Californian, also an Air Force veteran and a former motorcyle safety instructor who developed the safety course now in use at many US Air Force and Naval Bases, even the CHPS (correct my acronym if need be). I think I picked Mike’s brain for the all the good info I could on California roads until his patience was worn thin – but he never showed it. He even helped me install my GPS on my bike over the telephone! People are one of the best benefits that riding affords, Mike and Carole are two of the greatest, and I dare say we have become three very good friends through our love of riding. Yet, I had no idea what Mike and Carole had in store for me. After a bite to eat, we headed up Hwy 1, I was about to find out:



Mike & Carole:









Love of Bridges! Whoa! The Big Creek Bridge on Big Sur!:



Due to the ocean mist, we didn’t get a lot of clear pics along Hwy 1 this day, but Mike and Carole got a few nice ones:









We made our way up the coast toward Santa Cruz. I spent the night in a KOA in Santa Cruz where my sister Michele was able to meet me for dinner. Mike and Carole had plans for the evening, but we would meet again in the morning for a ride that would prove to be the high point of my entire month – Yosemite.

More Later,
Mark

[Kidder]

Helmetdance,

Glad you made it out of that accident relatively okay. I guess making mistakes and LEARNING from those mistakes is part of life.

Now, onto the next trip report!

[Helmetdance]

Day 7 – Yosemite National Park

It’s Sunday August 8th. I awake at 4:30 to prepare for another day’s ride. I’m more than a little hungry as I could not find much food in Watsonville the night before. I can still taste the onions from last night’s Whopper, that will have to tide me over for a few more hours.

Dale (yes the one and only “endowed-with-the-Ansel-Adams-gene” Dale of Pashnit fame) has planned to meet me at the gate of the Watsonville KOA, my home for the previous night, at 6:00. We make our way to Hwy 152, and ride through the fog for a while until the morning sun finally burns through. We arrive in Los Banos around 7:30, where Dale and I meet up with Mike and Carole for Breakfast. The restaurant is a great little place – can’t remember the name – maybe one of my partner’s can help out with that – it was well worth the stop.



I can’t elaborate much on the route from Los Banos to Yosemite and hope that Dale or Mike will add a post to explain that. It was nice to follow the leaders, which gave me one day’s respite from paying attention to the GPS and road signs. I was taking it all in, except for the fact that I don’t even know for sure if we entered the park at El Portal or through the South Entrance – help me out guys!

Once we got there – oh my! I had seen pictures of Yosemite and had always wanted to go there. To tour Yosemite on a bike was the ultimate meeting of nature and adrenaline. There was no way I could have anticipated what the Yosemite experience would be like. Carole, Mike, and Dale were just as excited as I was, wasting no time to get to the good stuff, they escorted me through the park up to Glacier Point:











Dale:



Dale in the lead:





Arriving at the Glacier Point parking area, we walked out upon a vista that defies description. Breathtaking. In our correspondance, Mike had once told me that he thought Yosemite was the most beautiful place on the planet. Having arrived, there was no way I could disagree with him.









Mark, Mike, & Dale:



Making our way into Yosemite Valley, the views from the valley were no less striking than from above:









It seemed like the day flew by in no time. It was time for Carole and Mike to head for home. But not before adorning my bike with a parting memento – my very own “Gremlin Bell” – and it’s still there.

Dale and hung I out for a while longer, finding a nice place to eat in Mariposa. As Dale mentioned in a different post, the two of us had a running joke about the contrast between the Motorcycle paradise that is California, and the occasional asphalt strips that you find between the corn rows in Indiana, of which the most noteworthy feature is always knowing where you are in a given county from the road number, since the entire state is essentially laid out on a 1-mile grid. Dale expressed some envy at the fact that I was able to take a 30-day break, but in my humble view of California, you guys are on a perpetual break and live in a motorcycle paradise, so don't feel bad that I got to take 30 days straight without work. While I'm waiting for 3 feet of snow to disappear from my deck, you guys are posting threads about your latest twisty road discovery. But at least it makes good reading to fantasize over while staring out a window partially obstructed by icicles.

In all sincerity, if there were more folks like DaleC in Indiana, even riding the cornfields would be fun.

With the sun quickly waning, Dale also bid adeiu and faded into the sunset.

Hope to see you all again soon!

Mark

[Dorian]

Hey Helmetdance, I'm enjoying reading about your trip! Just to help you out a bit with the most recent post, the restaurant we stopped at for breakfast was Casa de Fruita. Their address reads Hollister but it is actually about 10 miles north of Holister, halfway between Los Banos and Gilroy on Hwy 152. For folks traveling from Monterey to Yosemite its a good place to stop at sunrise.

We entered Yosemite through the South Entrance, but in hindsight I wish we had entered through El Portal. That would have given us a bit more time. About 2/3 of the route was flat and straight. If you remember I all but celebrated when we finally found a curve.... the on-ramp to Hwy 99. But once we got onto 41 and started our climb things got interesting fast. Dale and I spent a lot of time on the radio apologizing to you, having forced you to experience the Sierra Nevadas with all of its redwoods and winding roads. It was quite a shock for you to adjust, being a flatlander.

That photo of you in front of Halfdome is still one of my favorites in my collection. I'm looking forward to the day I can put my blurple beast in the same pose.

Cheers!
Dorian

P.S. Looking at that photo with my longish hair cracks me up. Its like looking at old prom pics... it makes you wonder "what the heck was I doing?"