Six County Ride.

There used to be a time, when the RRs would be for a six state ride. Now, as lame as it maybe, all I have time for is just some pictures from a six county ride (Sacramento, Placer, Nevada, Yuba, Butte, Plumas) for me - and led by a home grown Hooligan, and a Brit ( I think, I didn't confirm), who happens to work in the same building as I - but whom I had not met in person till this day.

Not much to say, not because there wasn't much said. There was plenty said on the intercoms,  all in good fun, I might even have offended Jeff, but because I don't have much time to do this write-up.

Just some pics and a line here and there. HotRodZilla would like this RR.

All the pictures happened on the return trip. Riding out was more a speed blur for me than anything, chasing the two fast bikes. It's no wonder that ever since I have started riding with Doug, my gas mileage and tire mileage has gone way down - and I now wear out the sides of the tires before I wear out the middle..

This was the turn-around point at Belden, besides the Feather River.

Have been riding on occasion, but it has been so long ... since I posted.

My friend Doug rode with me today. He is teaching me how to ride in the dirt and gravel. We only did a small section of dirt, and the V-strom did pretty good in that gravel - the perfecto signal from Doug at the end of the dirt section was all I needed to see!
The rest was goat trails. It was a perfect day to ride - just what I wanted and needed to forget about work for a day.. Work has consumed me. Trying to set boundaries has been difficult, I care too much about my customers, but it has been consuming me..  

On the bright side - I am lucky to have friends like Dougie to ride with. Real lucky! 

Here are some pictures from the day.. 

Near Iowa Hill. Yea, she is my red-headed b****.. 

Indian Summer in Big Sur.

I haven't been writing many (or any) ride reports lately, with so many other things to do, the motivation has been lacking. Somehow, after a couple of drinks to unwind this Friday night, I seem have found my second wind, in the writing department. Funny, and not sure why that is, but here I am typing away. 

This was a short ride through Big Sur, a couple days before New Year's eve. I hadn't rode that stretch of Hwy 1 all year long. I have made that pilgrimage, at least once a year for several years now - Big Sur being one of my few favorite places in California. Not wanting the streak to end, I decided to mark my attendance before the year was over, a quick run south from Napa to Pismo Beach, where I would meet up with my good buddy Treedoc from the FJR forum, whom I hadn't seen in at least a couple years. 

It being the holidays, I expected traffic snarls, and dimwits aplenty from all over the country, and perhaps over the world, but then there was something I didn't expect...

Old man winter was in California early this December. Planning for an early departure from my parent's villa in Napa, I opened the garage door to find the driveway completely iced over. I stepped out and I could feel my moto boots slipping on it. I was going to have to wait it out till it thawed. More coffee then? Yeah sounds like a very good idea.

Traffic wasn't terrible cutting through the Bay area towards the Big Sur coastline. Typical holiday traffic heading in on a week day, but nothing like the carmageddon it normally is. With some effort I was able to get around clumps of slow moving vehicles, the sun was shining on my visor, and I could feel it's warmth, it was a good day.

As I am writing this report today, the Big Sur highway has been closed due to a rain damaged, and now demolished bridge. It wouldn't be possible to ride this stretch again, not like this, for at least a year, if not longer. It could be a blessing in disguise, if you are in the know of other inlets onto portions of this iconic highway, but it certainly isn't a blessing for the businesses in Big Sur. This place for example, where I took my first break for the day, a mainstay in the area - Nepenthe.

Glacier National Park in the Rain.

It's been over 3 months and half, and since I have not been finding time to write about it, I am doing something, which I usually do not do ever - give up, and just post the pictures instead. I will try to intersperse a few words for context, and to provide a framework for the story, but I will get directly to the titular best part, and I will mainly let the pictures tell their own. It is mid-January 2017 now, but I am going to go ahead and back-date this post to September 2016. Hey, it's okay, all the cool kids have done the same at one point or another.

I apologize if this may seem like being forced to look through someone's vacation album, but unfortunately, that is what it is going to be. 

My base of operations for spending a few days in the park, was a little bed and breakfast with a big view in Somers, MT.  Outlook Inn has a view which no other property has on Flathead Lake, and a hostess with a big heart, who has been running this B&B for 18 years now. Michelle loves what she does, and it shows. Some people just do what they do for the money, others have a true passion for what they do. Michelle is the latter.   

There was no better way to start the day when here, than breakfast at this table. Something fresh, something local, something new and something always very tasty when Michelle is in the kitchen. She has huckleberry bushes behind the B&B, and this year she was determined to beat the Bears to the berries. The result - Huckleberry pancakes, and Huckleberry jam just to mention a couple of the fresh goodies I enjoyed here.

A meandering ride to the river's end.

The first motorcycle ride of my 40s. Decided to ride to the coast. A nice long ride, but shorter by usual touring standards - rode to Mendocino from Napa on Hwy 128, through the Napa Valley and the Alexander Valley vineyards, and then through the glorious Redwoods near the coast. It was sunny, warm but not too hot earlier in the day - the reason for tackling the in-land portion of the ride first.  Hugged the coast on the return journey, enjoying nature's air conditioning. The fog had blanketed the coast this afternoon - the sun struggled vigorously to burn it's way through. To no avail,  it remained a prisoner to the wall of fog.  

The ride was brisk and fun - few (almost none) leisure stops. The weather was melancholy on the coast, but there was no fog in my mind. Opportunities to ride come seldom these days. I was grateful to be out this day. 

I did make two or three notable stops. First at Point Arena lighthouse. The scene was guarded by the fog, but breached periodically by the beacon from the lighthouse. I ventured to do my best to capture the cliffs kissing the ocean - take it home with me in my mind, and also locked away inside my camera. 

Sometimes you have to leave the ground - to fly.

I have always maintained that riding a motorcycle is the closest you will ever get to flying, without ever leaving the ground. Although, sometimes - you have to, and it is definitely very OK to float off the ground, and soar into the sky! This occasion was my big four-O! Life supposedly begins anew at the big four-O! However, I don't feel any differently than when I hit the big three-O, which I think is a very good thing. Not that I was going to let that stand in the way of celebrating! My American family had a surprise gift waiting in the wings..and it involved flame-throwers..in a way. 

It would appear, if you have a flame thrower, some sturdy ropes, and lots of extra fabric - you can be a hot air ballooner. Oh don't forget the basket - you basket case! Don't try this at home kids! 

St. Helens and Rainier. The Pacific Ring of Fire - Part 3.

The great state of Washington is where my dear friends Lisa and Tobie live. I don't get to see them very often, perhaps once, maybe twice a year, when they make their way down to the long-distance rider gatherings or what I (probably only I) refer to as 'The Fest' in Gerlach. I had the pleasure of seeing them at the IBR start in Albuquerque, New Mexico - July of 2015, but they were volunteer staff for the IBR, just as I was, and that meant many things to do, and not enough time to visit and catch up. It had also been 4 long years, since I visited them at their mountain cabin in Packwood, WA, and as I would learn - they have been quite busy upgrading their property in this time. More on that later..

This entire trip had fallen into place almost last hour, and I was excited to see my friends today. Lisa had been in touch with me throughout the day, we were exchanging texts when I would stop for gas or food. She is a great hostess, and she knows I love good food, so she was already grilling me on what I like for dinner, for breakfast, to drink and so on .. god bless her - she is such a sweetheart! This blog post is dedicated to Lisa and Tobie - very dear friends and honest, hard working, responsible, patriotic Americans. May we all be blessed with good friends like them. 

It was after a late lunch in Hood River, OR - that I ran into the other variety of our citizens. I am not a bleeding hear hippie in any shape or form - I respect people who work, and who desire and appreciate the dignity of work. I have little patience for people who would rather mooch off the hard work of others. I didn't know in the beginning, but one such example was parked beside me in the parking lot, and from inside his car, he struck up a conversation with me on the pretext of being interested in my motorcycle. I chit-chatted for a bit, even though I wanted to just get on moving, and after a few minutes of banter - he dropped the shoe. Could I spare $20 for gas? Hahaha - I should've seen this coming! I scanned the car - there he was with his iPhone in his hands, and in the passenger seat, what seemed to be his drugged up girlfriend, who hadn't stirred despite the conversation. He had to have been speaking up because I had earplugs in and my helmet on. What I really wanted to tell this schmuck was to use that government subsidized phone to try and find a job, but instead I just told him I didn't have any cash or change to spare that I could give him - and that he should try his luck with someone-else. There is a lot more that I wanted to say to him and say here, but it's best to stop wasting time and just move on .. in the immortal words of Smashmouth - I needed to get some fuel myself - and we could all use a little change!

As I set sail along-side the windy Columbia river, I had caught whiff of the barn, lunch had been a lousy McDonald salad and the texts with Lisa had whipped up my appetite. My love for good food was now engaged in full-scale warfare with my wanderlust, there wasn't a clear winner in sight, but the stalemate did result in a much quicker pace. 

The savory Wind River Highway was first on the menu, and the GoPro was set on a 5 second time lapse, in retrospect - that was a lapse too long. I should have set it to 1 second or maybe a 2 second lapse. This highway serves up curve after delectable curve for miles and miles - in some cases you can clearly see the highway slithering away into the distance in front of you. I was hoping (counting on) the GoPro to catch these moments, but due to my own fault in setting the lapse, none of the 5 second lapse captures passed the taste test to be included here in this report.

For no fault of mine, however, the ever so kooky GPS had managed to ignore the turn-off on Curly Creek to get to NF-25, and as I would find out - also every other way-point I had set on NF-25. If I hadn't been paying attention - it would have routed me right to Mt. Adams - where incidentally (and I knew) the road was washed out and closed. Thanks wacko GPS - but I was prepared for your mischief, you weren't going to keep me from St. Helens and views such as this below!

Mazama, Sisters, Bachelor, Hood. The Pacific Ring Of Fire - Part 2.

Technology has integrated itself into our lives so inextricably - to the extent of becoming an extension of ourselves, lulling, perhaps dulling us into relying so heavily on the gizmos we constantly find in our hands, or at our fingertips - scanning a screen to give us the information we need. A glowing screen has replaced paper. Although, the irony of lamenting on a weblog isn't lost on me, I brought this up because it pertains to this narrative - do we even carry paper maps anymore? I haven't for years now. I should, they are essential, but I haven't been. I have been relying too much on my gadgets. My Ultrabook to plan my itineraries - translating them into meandering routes, and a scattering of way-points, before sending all that data to my GPS devices - which have been my rudders, steering me collectively through over 120,000 miles of wandering travels over the past 8 years. Evidently, this has worked pretty well for me over the years - until it didn't. :)

Adventure begins when one leaves their backyard. Northern California - even around the Shasta area is still my backyard. I consider Shasta home after all. Adventure can still be found here, if I had decided to go way off the beaten track, but I didn't this time around. The plan was to visit Crater Lake first - come in the South entrance, snap a few photographs and exit the north entrance, to find the Aufderheide scenic byway (for off the beaten track fun). Crater Lake was hardly busy at all, it was still early enough in the morning and not a lot of souls were stirring yet. Chilly as it almost always is, but still pleasant. Not a cloud in the sky, although I would have preferred some of those white fluffy ones to be floating around. The lake was mostly calm, and reflective in that deep, deep blue hue, echoing the thoughtful and introspective state of mind it instills.     

Lassen and Shasta. The Pacific Ring Of Fire - Part 1.

What drives my fascination with volcanoes? It's not the danger or the peril. On a day to day basis, those are practically non-existent for volcanoes which lay dormant for decades if not centuries. Yet, being fickle, mysterious monoliths, often shrouded in the mist - volcanoes permeate mystical in our legends and our psyche. We are drawn to them, like the one ring destined to return to it's fiery origins in the depths of Mt. Doom - volcanoes exert an inexplicable pull on the strings of my heart and my mind.    

When Europeans settled the West-unknown,  in some instances they were undoubtedly drawn to settle in the stunningly gorgeous and fertile shadow of these sleeping beasts. Unaware of their history, or the fire which churned in their cores. The natives who roamed the land before the Europeans arrived, had no written history, only legends passed on through word-of-mouth, of the explosive battle between the gods of the sky and the earth, atop these mountain peaks. It's easy to theorize that when the West was conquered, the victors paid little attention to these fairy tales from the natives. 

It had been a long 4 years since I toured these volcanoes in the Cascade range. July of 2012 was the first time ever, that I had strung together a vacation ride through the Cascades. At the end of that trip, I had vowed to return again within the next couple of years. Although, as most resolutions often do, it fell victim to life, work and responsibilities galore. So it was to be 4 years - almost to the day, and countless invitations later, when I embarked once again stringing together volcanoes along the way from Lassen to Rainer, with the goal of seeing and spending some quality time visiting my very dear friends Lisa and Tobie, who have a mountain cabin near Rainier.  

Archiving the memories of the first portion of the trip in this post, taking some time here and there to do so. Hopefully, I don't run out of time, or steam in it's midst .. it might happen. Ride more, write less.. sigh.. :)

Getting out .. to anywhere - Touristy Images of Yosemite Valley.

The year had started off bright, with a few sun-bathed days of wandering around the wine country and the Northern California coast, but I hadn't been able to get away on the motorcycle - somewhere, anywhere, for a few days at a time since then. I foresaw in January - that this year, I may ride, but I may not write as much. True to that vision, I have been able to ride on some weekends, but I haven't been writing about those rides, neither have I really been riding anywhere to write much about. As a matter of fact, I am feeling quite rusty as I am writing this right now. Work has been keeping me very busy this Winter, and while I am enjoying the challenges at work, with long days and dark cold nights, filled with puzzling problems to solve with methodical detective work - the longing to once again roam wild and free on the motorcycle has only been growing stronger, and overpoweringly so. I needed to get away, and decompress, the best way I know how.

To let the visor filter in the sun again. To ride the conduit towards the glimmer at it's end, and come bursting out on the other side. 

The Sun Also Rises in Winter.

Winter has come to California. We had missed the memo last year, and maybe ignored it the year before, but we have it now. Winter is coming .. is here! It has also brought some life changes and lifestyle changes for me in particular. Gone are the days, perhaps, of riding every weekend, or taking off often on long cross-country trips for days on end. I am still young (very young?), those days might return, perhaps when I am a bit older, so maybe I can enjoy the free time a lot of my much older friends seem to enjoy, but I am in no hurry to get old. For now, professional challenges have a very firm grip on me, and I seem to be enjoying them also - I may have shirked away from responsibilities sometimes or some days, but I have never backed away from a challenge, and the new gig is nothing but..

But, the sun also rises in the Winter. Now, more so than ever, I have to grab every opportunity that presents itself - to get away, to let the wind scrub away the worries, the stress, the niggles from my mind. Let the sunlight color my face, and let the sun burn away the clouds and the fog which collect in the winter of my mind.

On these scarce days, I will ride more, and I will write less. I will extend my ride to pull in places farther away, but perhaps not extend the lens as much to do the same. New Year's Day was one such day to extend my wine country ride out to the coast. A perfect opportunity to start the year, the best way I knew how, astride perhaps the best motorcycle that I have ever owned - the tried and tested companion of many years now, the veteran, the been through hell and back, the quirkier now than before, but still the very enjoyable FJR.

I hope you enjoy the images that follow. I am going to be writing less, but I am hoping the images will convey more than my words could manage. Happy New Year!

Leave the archway open, let the sun shine through..

San Diego Wildlife

"What have you learned this year?" My sister asks me at a happy hour meet turned surprise birthday celebration with some friends. I was reluctant to get into a philosophical discussion about life's lessons, while the drinks were flowing so freely, besides I have always been a much better writer, than I have been a speaker. I tried to deflect her query, but she persisted.

"Perhaps, you have learned there is no such thing as making a lifetime career at one company.", she offered. I agreed. 

"Perhaps, you have also learned that you can always have family." I couldn't have agreed more, she is not my sister by birth, but she is my sister by heart! In a land I have made my home over the past 18 years, with my family of birth half the world away, I have been blessed with some very close friends, who have become my family. I have my "aunt" and my adopted family up by Mt. Shasta, I have my American "dad" near Reno, and my wise sister dear here in Sacramento! 

What else have I learned? Perhaps that I have to keep enjoying and living my life, while I explore my options and opportunities, in this niche technical field where I have found employment for the past 16 years. 
Funds have been tight, as I navigate a period of transition, and as a result, the wanderings on a motorcycle have cooled down considerably, except for the occasions where the kindness of friends and family have provided me a roof over my head during my wanderings, knocking off the ledger, one of the biggest expenses while traveling!

On this occasion it was a trip to San Diego, and I was fortunate enough to spend several days in the area. I have been to San Diego multiple times in the past few years, my modus operandi here hasn't varied much - enjoy the relaxed beach towns of north county, photograph the sunsets by the ocean, and ride some magnificent roads east of San Diego.

This time around I didn't chase after the sunsets as much as I usually do, trying my hand a little bit at street photography for a change. Although, the locales I was spending my time in were mostly gentrified, and not too adventurous of places for street photography, it was nevertheless a target rich environment. 

For instance this puppy mill (and not the kinds which are frowned upon for good reason), caught my eye. Perhaps I even found myself relating to it in some regard - caught in the wind, as I am at the moment. The wind churning my legs, but trying to keep my head up high and a smile on my face. :)

The Mystical Mt. Shasta.

I have been making this pilgrimage for over 8 years now. My adopted family lives here, in this mystical place. This place seems to exist at the confluence of the natural and the metaphysical. It has for millennia inspired lore, legend, and spirituality - from the times when native tribes roamed the land to the present day. 

One such folklore about the origins of the mountain has stuck with me, and I will share it here.

Some time ago in the very distant past - this land was populated by an ancient tribe, which migrated seasonally between the coastal mountains of California, and the great plains which once existed here. 
They were led by a much loved and revered chieftain, who guided them in their passages for many years. There came a time, however, when the ravages of old age had made the chief too frail, and too feeble to make the trek through the coastal mountains. Yet, the chief longed to see the ocean one last time. 
It was unlikely that he would have survived the treacherous journey to the ocean one last time, but his people loved him so much, they embarked on an undertaking which would change the landscape forever. 
If the tribe couldn't get their chief to the ocean, they were going to build him a pedestal so high, that he could see the ocean from atop it. So, they labored - far and wide, and day and night, and they terraformed, carving out earth from the far reaches and building a colossus underneath their beloved chief. 
Thus, the mountain rose, higher and higher into the heavens, until finally - the chief could once again see the ocean, from up among the clouds. His dying wish gratified, he immediately asked his people to stop building. When they stopped, they dropped the rest of the earth they had collected at their feet, where they stood - giving rise to the lesser mountains and hills which surround Mt. Shasta. :) 

I hope you enjoy the pictures which follow! 

Running dry for a lack of rain. A natural spring also feeds this lake, albeit now, a bit feebly.

Things don't go as planned - A wandering ramble through the great American South West - Part 2.

Picking up from where I had left off in Part 1 (clickable link). 
If you haven't read part 1 yet, please click on the link and read that first. :) 

Also, fair warning. Part 2 is even longer than Part 1. I had a request from a reader, asking me to make Part 2 as long as I wanted to. Request granted. :D

As voiced in Part 1 - Brian and I were having a disagreement with our riding styles. The ride plan now in effect was that Brian leads and we curtail our picture stops. I still have route suggestions and we attempt to strike compromises on the routes. Brian just wants to get to Albuquerque, he has his tall blonde 'girlfriend' to look forward to there, and to lighting up cigars and telling tall tales in the IBR parking lot with all his IBA buddies. He lives for moments like these, and I don't blame him. They are all very lovely people, some of the best that I have come to know, but we will be there all weekend long, and I am in no hurry to get there right away.  

Brian wants to take the most direct and efficient route there. As you would, perhaps, if you were in a competitive rally. Why dilly-dally, when there are points to be accumulated, and points per mile statistics to stack in your favor.
I am on the other side of the spectrum, for me the journey is the destination. I want to enjoy the journey, and linger, and soak up as much as I can. The destination is secondary and it can wait. 

I also wonder if "Been there, done that, got the T-shirt" has a role to play here. In his 57+ years on this earth, Brian has criss-crossed the country many times over. I on the other hand, have not enjoyed these vistas as often as I would like to, I still marvel at the sights, they still take my breath away, I still want to sit and stare at them. Will I still do that 20 years from now? Oh God - I sure hope so!  

To his credit, Brian is taking what scenic route we are taking, and the resultant torture - for me. If it weren't for me, he would have run across I-40 to Albuquerque, interstate freeway riding is his thing anyway. For all intents and purposes, for him, he is dragging an anchor, and I am holding him back.

Crossing into Colorado from Utah, we route on CO Hwy 141 to Hwy 62. Hwy 141 is in the rain shadow and a high desert at the start, a fun twisty ride in the beginning, eventually giving way to valleys and high farm country. Not quite as scenic as Hwy 145 through the San Juan Mountains and Telluride, but then again, not as busy either, and Hwy 141 is the most direct route to Ouray. It's obvious I am not the one routing today, if I was riding by myself, I would have taken the longer but more scenic route. Riding separately is unmistakably the solution, but it isn't happening just yet. 

My first view in almost 5 years, of the rugged and jagged peaks of the San Juan Mountains looms ahead. Brian is in no mood to stop, but I am, and I am not letting it pass by. I wouldn't do this on a remote back road, but we are on thoroughfare highways, if we get separated, we can pull over and wait for the other, or just link up with each other along the way. We both have SPOT and GPS devices and we know exactly where we are going.  

San Juan Mountains from CO Hwy62.

Things don't go as planned - A wandering ramble through the Great American South West. Part 1.

Things don't go as planned. How many times are we reminded of the idiom - "Best-laid plans of mice and men oft go astray"? Now this might sound like a pessimistic view to hold, but I disagree. Is it still a compelling story - if everything goes as planned? If everything is instrumented and executed smoothly and perfectly, like a machine? Although, aren't machines just as flawed? Conceivably inheriting the inherent flaws of their human creators? 

I am reminded of a recent conversation I had with a new acquaintance over a campfire in Yosemite. This person had just hiked the Mt. Whitney trail, a 22 mile round trip, and a portion of the longer John Muir Trail (a 210 mile hike with a ~10,500 feet elevation gain), which he is planning to tackle next. An avid hiker, who takes great pride in his planning and execution as well as his physical abilities. During our conversation, we started to discuss the protagonist in the recent bestseller - Wild. I asked him if he had read the book, and he had, but didn't like it. When aksed why, he replied in a long-winded fashion, but which I distilled down to the woman having made every mistake in the book. I countered - that's what made her story a fascinating read. She was/is flawed, she made mistakes and lots of them, she encountered peril - even if sometimes it was of her own making, but there was also perseverance, learning, and growth from those hard knocks. I don't think I sold him on the concept. What do you think? If she had done everything by the book, how many would have bothered to read her story?

This story is not nearly as exciting, except things didn't go as planned. It isn't even by any means - concise, so go grab that coffee, tea, or maybe even a real drink. You might need it! : )

This jaunt through southern Utah had been planned several months ago, with Brian - my mentor and riding partner on some such touring excursions in the past. Despite our starkly different riding styles, we had on previous occasions managed to ride together with only a minimum of friction. That may have been because those outings were some years ago, and being new to longer distance touring at that time - I mainly just acquiesced to his plans, riding style and wisdom, the last of which he does have an over-abundance of. At this point you may be wondering, what is so inexorably different about our riding styles? It boils down to our personalities and motivations. Pitching the stop to smell the roses, and stop to take in the sights personality vs. the stop for nothing, just keep on riding, there is still miles to go before I stop/sleep type. The satisfaction we derive from the type of riding we prefer also resides in different hemispheres.  I prefer the twisty and scenic byways and back roads, Brian prefers the freeways and the long, plumb highways through vast valleys and farm country. Something had to give for this dynamic to work. Would it work?

A brisk and for summer, a surprisingly balmy run across the high desert of Nevada was first on the agenda. Brian was on his Honda ST1300 a proven touring and rally bike with over 100,000 miles on it. I had left the veteran, just a bit shy of 80,000 miles Yamaha FJR1300 in the garage, instead deciding to stretch the legs of the rookie Suzuki DL1000, it only had about 12,000 miles at the beginning of this journey and hadn't before been ridden past a 500 mile radius from home.  We weren't setting any speed records in the desert. We had chosen the northerly route on US Hwy 50, over the much faster and much hotter E.T. highway, running nominal speed out of towns. It was an uneventful journey across Nevada, we noted and commented on the desert being unusually green for this late in the season. Spring Valley pictured below in White Pine county, Nevada was still grassy and living up to it's name.

US Hwy 50, Spring Valley, Nevada.

Getting out of my comfort zone - Yosemite.

There have been an interesting sequence of events these past couple of weeks, in this adventure called life. The theme has remained the same - getting out of my comfort zone. One was planned, something I wanted to push myself into this weekend - to expand my horizons, and to discover a new experience. I have wandered solo for respectable distances, if not far and wide, but I have never camped before, having preferred the luxury of a comfortable bed and a hot shower at the end of the night. For the first time, I wanted to dip my foot into a new stream, albeit in a place with unrivaled charm and beauty, which perhaps made the experience infinitely more enjoyable, even for a first time. 
The other had been planned for me, by fate/life/chance/destiny - whatever you want to call it, perhaps giving me a chance to see what I was made of, and what I can make of myself. I wouldn't find out about these other plans till the Monday after I returned home, and then again unceremoniously, as is often how these things are practiced. Involuntarily coerced out of my comfort zone on a much larger and definitely life altering scale. For the time being, I have been taking a little bit of time 'just for me', before I start contemplating my options in all seriousness and unfold the sails and set a new course. 

I will be refraining from dulling this blog post further with the philosophical grappling in my mind, but my hope is that I will soon see the light at the end of this tunnel, and it will likely lead me to a better place.

Monitor Pass - Riding the Sierras Series.

Arguably for some, but inarguably for me, some of the best riding in the alpine country of the Sierras, and with some spectacular views! This stretch of Hwy 89 or Monitor Pass as it is called, is unlike the other highway passes which bridge the West side to the East (and entirely a different planet) side of the Sierras, in that it is entirely a two lane highway, and in my experience has also been *almost* always entirely deserted throughout the riding season. Which means, a much diminished chance of a smug Californian's snail paced Prius polluting your fun. In comparison Hwy 4 (Ebbetts Pass) while beautiful, is a one lane highway for about half of it's length, the stretches of Hwy 108 (Sonora Pass) are immense fun, but you will find it peppered with slow trucks and other four wheeled obstacles. Not to mention Hwy 120 (Tioga Pass) - the views are dramatic, countered by the astoundingly dense drivers and traffic you will encounter, either precipitating from or perhaps vindicating the 'retarded' speed limits on Hwy 120 as it passes through Yosemite National Park. 

This Road Report picks up right out of the town of Markleeville, CA on Hwy 89. Markleeville is a tiny town in Alpine County, which has grown quite popular with the motor sports crowd and is a good option for a brunch or lunch stop while you transit to or from the destination passes (Monitor/Ebbetts). You never know what you will find in Markleeville, CA.

Couple Of Old Classic .. Cars.

Well.. actually, mostly just one. :)

I went for a ride this weekend, the V-Strom needed a new set of chain and sprockets. It's a 2006 V-Strom, and I bought it in Nov of 2013 as a companion bike to the FJR, which had been giving me some trouble in the latter part of 2013.  This V-Strom had mostly been a garage queen when it was living with it's previous owner. It barely had about 5000 miles on it when I bought it. A 7 year old bike with that little mileage obviously meant it mostly just sat in the garage a lot, so when I bought it I replaced all the fluids in the bike, put new tires on, new plugs, new filters, basically did ALL the requisite maintenance and tune-up except for the chain and sprockets. I have put another 8000 miles on it since then, but despite regular cleaning and oiling, the chain was getting in pretty bad shape and had just started spitting O-rings, which is a death knell for a chain, but understandable since this bike previously just sat around for so long. 

Long story short! I rode up to see my motorcycle guru in Fernley for some chain-work and took the slightly longer but much more fun way over Carson and Monitor passes. I am still looking through those pictures at the moment, and when they are ready - so will I be, to do another trilogy (hopefully) of 'Road Reports' in the Sierra mountains. 

Till then, I thought maybe you would like to take a look at some old classic cars that I found along the way in Markleeville, CA. This was on Mother's Day and a couple of them were out for a Mother's Day drive together.

First up was a pristine restored/maintained 1950s (I forget which year exactly) Hudson Hornet. This is the only picture I took of it, before I caught sight of the car that I fell in love with..

1950s Hudson Hornet.

Hike and Shoot - Lupine Fields of Folsom Lake (Not Motorcycling Content).

I recently joined some photographers' social clubs. One of them had a meet to explore and shoot pictures of the Lupine fields of Granite Bay State Park, besides Folsom Lake. 

The Lupines are in full bloom right now, although they are much diminished from previous years due to the severe drought we are currently enduring. 

Nevertheless, it was a fun photo shoot, made some new friends, also with some people who were out there exploring with their kids in tow, and they modeled for us, which was great! 

Since I have all the requisite model releases now, I am sharing the pictures here with you. I hope that you enjoy them! :)

A Walk in Fields of Purple.

Save A Horse, And Ride The Motorcycle.

There is always a good reason to go ride and to go take pictures, but sometimes the good reason is also for a good cause. 

All About Equine in El Dorado Hills held a fundraiser today, so I rode my own steel horse there to support them. It was open to the public to picnic, and wander the stalls, and look at the Horses and other farm animals that this animal rescue takes care of, and puts up for adoption. 

I was there as part of a photography group - which had organized a photo shoot for the benefit of this rescue organization. We had so called backstage access to the horses, so in addition to pitching in a few funds to keep the wheels turning at this rescue, we were also donating our pictures to them (in my case those that were any good, animals are hard to photograph), or the ones that the rescue might want to use. They have many good looking and some very friendly horses up for adoption. I didn't take a picture of every one of them. 

This rescue does not adopt out gnarly or ragged rescue horses, they rear them back to health (if need be), before the horses are put up for adoption. 

If you or your friends love horses, please feel free to help spread the word. There are animal rescue organizations which go belly up all the time - in fact All About Equine has even rescued horses from other rescues which had failed. 

Here is their info: All About Equine.

I am posting up some pictures, that I took this day. I was here for about 2 hours, talked to the volunteers, talked to the photographers, roamed the grounds etc, before stretching the legs of my steel (well, aluminum mostly) horse for the rest of the afternoon. 

Friends..