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.