Hibernating the Harley Davidson Motorcycle

Trev Deely has a great storage plan. I used it last year for the few months of winter.  This year they’ve even dropped their rates. I love that the experts ‘winterize’ my bike. Then in spring before I take it back I ask them to check it all over so that I am reassured of  a summer of safety.
I bought my 2009 HD Electraglide from Trev Deely when it was a year old and had very low mileage.  It’s been a great bike ever since.  Motorcycling all over BC, Washington and Oregon before the Sturges South Dakota trip last year I’ve had no complaints. It’s the greatest American freeway motorcycle ever made. I’d rented Electraglides in New England and Texas before buying myself one too.
Gilbert, my cockapoo, has grown up on this Harley.  He’s 4 and 1/2 year old and began riding on a motorcycle when he was only a puppy.  Last summer he did 5 hours on the back of my bike when we drove north to Merritt to attend the Sturges North motorcycle rally and hear Burton Cummings incredible music.  It was a sunny day so we detoured to Ashcroft and just rode round the high country before heading to the campsite and fair grounds at Merritt.
Today Gilber rode with me on our this ride of 2014 season.  Until March 1, 2015, the Harley is hibernating at Trev Deeley where the crew take good care of all the babies.
A Trev Deely fall sale was going on today.  Great deals on 2014 and 2015 Harley’s.  I loved the new Street Glide.  
Great end of the Harley season sunshine biking day.   

Harrison Hot Springs Village

Laura, I and Gilbert motorcycled up the number 7 from Vancouver to Harrison Hot Springs today.  Laura was on her orange Honda Big Ruckus while Gilbert and I were on the Harley Davidson Electroglide. We were able to book rooms at the Executive Hotel which is dog friendly, has locked underground parking, and all the amenities while being right in the centre of town across from the public hot spring pool.  Doffing heavy protective gear in the room we headed for a walk around town, Laura in sundress, me in shorts and t shirt, while Gilbert was stripped right down to the naked dog.  We stopped for fish and chips with onion rings first.  Gilbert was thankful I didn't forget him. He had a burger patty on the side which Laura broke up into bite sized chunks for him.  He was busy dog watching when he wasn't eating.
Then we made our way around the malacon.  Everyone loves the lawn and beach here. Familes galore from all nationalities. I especially loved the little white bonnet wearing chubby bodied babies wading with their bikinied bodacious mothers.  The folksinger, songwriter, guitarist Glenn Chatten was playing and his words and music were simply wondrous.  I've paid to hear Dylan, Cohen, Lightfoot and happened on Arlo Guthrie playing in the park with Pete Seegers.  Coming across Glenn Chatten at Harrison's was that kind of experience. Magical.
We'd last walked Gilbert around the town here in February.  There was lots of snow then. Now it was blue sky, blue lake, hot sunshine and miles of beach.  I picked up some soft drinks for the room and then we stopped at Savy Fashions.  It's one of several amazing high end well thought out stores that take advantage of the continuous flow of discerning tourists from all over the world.  Today we were getting Laura another bathing suit, reminiscing she'd bought one early in the summer of last year, here.
Now back in the room it's time to read before " taking the waters."  I don't know where that expression came from but it sure beats 'working out'.

Motorcycling the Columbia River Gorge

The Columbia River is the  largest river in the Pacific Northwest of  North America. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Columbia_River) It's historically famous for many reasons, one of which was the Lewis and Clark Expedition.  It was also contemplated earlier as a possible North West Passage.
When I personally was thankful to see it's Pacific mouth I was racing a hurricane.  The sand bar at the front of the Columbia River dictates passage at high tide.  I crossed at low tide in frightening seas.  I had the unforgettable experience of my keel smacking the bottom and bouncing back. If the boat had twisted rather than bounced I might not be here.  I'd apprised the coast guard of my decision to risk crossing rather than head out  to open sea to hopefully sit out the hurricane.
The US Coast Guard were there for me that day as I discussed the pros and cons of my plans and asked if I was missing anything.  I'd not slept  and been in riotous winds and seas so I appreciated immensely the gentleman at the other end of the radio saying, "That pretty much sums up your position.  If you choose to cross we'll keep an eye on you from shore."  The decision was mine but it was reassuring to know that if the boat floundered, the cat , the dog and I went into the brink, we'd probably be rescued as the survival suits and lifejackets would keep us afloat though we lost the boat.
Motorcycling,  there are no survival suits. Just leather and armour.  I didn't have the dog or cat with me. The cat is definitely not enamoured by motorcycle. The noise alone bothers her.  The dog is young. I'm building him up gently to motorcycling in pleasant conditions.  He's a fairweather motorcyclist already. So far so good. The Gorge might well have put him off to motorcycling all together.
The Columbia is called the windy river.  The wind was 25 knots (30 mph about) or more from west.  I came down from Goldendale on the 97 so got the cross winds before turning at the Columbia River to take the wind on my nose.  The 84 four lane free way runs along the  Oregon border. The Washington  2 lane 14 runs along Washington northern side.  I'd heard the northern route was more picturesque.
The Dalles was certainly scenic. Great open vistas of where the ice age rivers must have filled the valley and cut  this great swath of rock and shale canyon.  Rolling hills of green were broken by jagged jutting edges of bare rock.  The white capped river opened below me where countless windsurfers were actually enjoying the wind.
There was no coast guard to notify.  No soft landing. I was on my own. The trouble with motorcyling is everyone takes it for granted.  The bandits do it. The police do it.  Kids do it.  Old men like me do it.  You can spot us heading into places like the Gorge where only the intrepid would dare to go.  Or adolescents or midlife men with grey hair and potted bellies and big new Harley Davidsons with plates from foreign countries. The locals know these waters and the winds.  I suspect there are times when the gorge is just another glorious winding road. They actually have a weather channel 511 you can call to hear the 'wind conditions'.
My favourite motorcycle nagazine is Mojo. There's a girl who writes a great column about motorcycling.  She described the wind in the Gorge. I'd forgotten about her esquisite description until I was there. I remembered what she said about speed. You have to keep your speed up to counteract the force of the wind.  By trial and error I learned there was a window where I had control with the curves and balanced against the wind.  It was around 90 km or 60 mph.  Lower and I was fighting more , higher I was fighting more. I actually fell in behind these serious local big HOG motorcyclists with the the 'look', high handlebars and leather jackets saying "Vancouver Chapter of ....." a gang whose name I couldn't see.  They drove with grace like the Eagles that were hovering and gliding in the wind just above the road in places riding the wind.
I found the sweet spot.  It was somewhere between terror and bliss but I found it at times. There in the sunshine of the Gorge I felt  freedom.
I'd been told to watch my speed in the towns.  The police are watching for motorcyclists high on wind.  You'd be a fool to be high on anything else on that ride.  Bingen and White Salmon River were a sweet towns but I didn't stop. The sun was on my side and I was afraid the storm clouds above that had dropped a sprinkle of rain a few times already might any moment open up and ratchet  the whole experience up a notch above my comfort zone.
At the Bridge of the Gods I drove across the metal mesh cordoroy that feels so icky on a bike, paid the $.50 toll and was then on the 84.  The ride suddenly became prosaic like the scenery after the exhilerating experience of the northern side.  Contented I rode into Portland really appreciating the 870 lb weight of the Electra Glide.  I'd been lifted and set down 3 feet to the side once in windy conditions on my light weight Buell.  The Electra Glide was made for cruising.
As usual when life is most exciting there's no time or place for stopping for the best pictures. The best images remain those stored in memories.  Motorcycling the Columbia River Gorge like crossing the mouth of the Columbia River ahead of the hurricane will ever be stored in my best of memories file.

Ellensberg to Portland Motorcycling

I'm sitting in a Starbucks in Vancouver, Washington. It's really hard to believe I left the Hampton Court Inn in Ellensburg this morning.  My Harley Electraglide and I have covered so much ground.
It was a really nice morning ride from Ellensburg to Yakima.  Ellensburg, named after Ellen, the wife of the first settler, was definitely cowboy terrain.  Leaving the valley the northwest wind running 15 to25 knots hit me on the side making it difficult to hold the bike steady.  There were tumbleweeds and dry rolling hills.  If felt like I was riding through a Louis L'Amour novel.
At Yakima the terrain opened into Washington's wine country with farmland. The town had lots of Mexican influence too.  I drove around but didn't stay.  The sun was out and riding was really comfortable out of the wind.  At the trucker stop in Yakima I filled up with gas and had a coffee though. I'd also bought a couple of maps of Oregon and Washington State and had them along.
The fellow sitting next to me asked where I was heading. When I told him, he said,"It's a really pretty ride to take the Washington side of the Gorge. "  He showed me on the map. "We're planning on taking that route to Portland in a couple of weeks time. It's one of our favourites.  Bit of wind though."
Heading back up into the mountains I actually saw fields of purple sage. I wish I'd taken a picture but I thought there'd be more and a better place to stop. There wasn't but I sure have a better appreciation of Rider's of the Purple Sage.  It's so beautiful to see a purple carpet at the edge of pine.
I was on 97 going south heading into the mountains again. I think the summit elevation was 3000 this time.  Chilly and windy but with the sun out it was a joy to ride.
I stopped at Goldendale. It was a little town that advertised itself as as outdoorsman centre and appeared to attract deer hunters in season.  I filled up with gas again and had a grilled cheese sandwich in this small Chinese restaurant. An older fellow wearing a Gospel Rider vest came in after looking over my bike.
After he sat down and I 'd finished my second cup of coffee getting some heat back in my body, I walked over to where he sat and asked, "As another Christian rider, can you advise me whether or not the route along the Washington or Oregon side of the Columbia has less wind."
He laughed, "That's biking the Gorge.  No one can know till you get there. It's called the Windy River. The scenery is picturesque on the north though."  He said.
"That's what I heard," I answered.
"Where you coming from?" he asked.
"Vancouver, Canada."
One of the youngers cards at the table next, said, "You should have brought one of those beautiful Vancouver girls down with you. They sure are beautiful there.  A fellow your age must have a daughter." He and the men and woman at his table were laughing good heartedly.
"You're right the girls of Vancouver really are beautiful.  I always tell men looking for beautiful women to check out the churches.  Stop for awhile at the one with the most beautiful women. You'd be surprised what you can pick up there. "  I said.
"Now you're sounding like the minister here." he said turning to the fellow I'd spoken with.  He was laughing too.
"God bless."  I said after paying for the meal, leaving a tip and gathering my gear.
The trip from Goldendale to the Gorge was cross winds central.  I was glad when I finally got to the Columbia and turned right heading west. The wind was 30 knots on the nose.  Going around corners a blast would still catch the bike so  I had to hold on for dear life. It was better than steady cross winds.  I was thankful for the weight of the Electraglide too.  If I'd seen a big fat biker Mama hitch hiking I'd have offered her a ride just for ballast.
Out in the Columbia River everyone was windsurfing in the Gorge. I don't know why they bothered. You could wind surf just as well with a Harley.
A couple of fellows with long hair long grey beards sporting leathers with Vancouver Branch of some Biker Gang passed me at a stop. I joined in behind them  for awhile admiring how they kept in formation while I was scurrying about behind them like a dog trying to keep up.  They even had high handlebars and made that look easy.
I crossed north at the Bridge of Gods taking the freeway into Portland.  The sun stayed with me.  It was an awesome ride. Now I've got to find accomodation for the night.  

Vancouver to Ellensburg Motorcycling

Snoqualmie Starbucks was a terrific pitstop.  When I got back heading east on the I90 the winds had increased.  15 to 25 knots is perfect for sailing but something else riding on a motorcycle through mountain passes.  I had come in search of sunshine and like alot of prayers I hadn't specific about altitude and wind conditions so didn't quite get what I had hoped for.  I was fortunate that I kept ahead of the rain though. The sunshine kept breaking through above me. When I got into the mountain pass with snow still on the ground it not only looked cold, it was cold.
This brought me back  to thinking about fashion and the need for a biker cod piece. What I wondered about, was the name 'cod piece'.  Wouldn't the name change with size? Some might sport a 'minnow piece' while others might wear a "whale piece".  Given the propensity these days to name women according to cat's, pumas, cougars etc,   might an entertaining designer not name one a 'catfish piece'.  Being of the west coast I really think I'd want a 'salmon piece' myself ,but perhaps not pink salmon.  May rainbow or even lake trout or simply a pike piece given the value of alliteration.
I'd lost  all feeling there myself by the time I broached  the peak of the mountain. My legs despite the chaps were also numb. On the way down hill I had to flex my fingers in the gloves to keep them prepared for shifting.   120 to 140 km with wind and a sprinkle of rain in that austere barren winter pass was definitely chilling.    I filled up gas at Cleelum, a really rustic pretty little town.  The washrooms were heated so  I took a while to get my gear straightened out, thankful no one had to actually 'use' the washroom.  After that I was down in the valleys where the cows and windmills made a nice picture op.
Ellensburg is the town where the Central Washington University is located..  It's also famous for it's rodeo. It has quite the thriving little campus with lots of red brick  buildings and lots of off campus apartments.  I finally found my way to Hampton Courts.Hotel after driving around town before the sun went down.   The fellows at the Hampton Court  reception were tremendously welcoming.  I parked the Harley outfront chaining it to a lamp post. I can see it from the room. The room is magnificent.  It's a waste in a way being alone.  I did turn the heat way up and immediately ordered a pizza.  Now I'm going to watch tv and fall asleep.  The fact is the challenge made the ride that much more special.
Tomorrow the weather is for higher temperatures and more sunshine.  I'm looking forward to heading south.  I've never been in this area. It's like Manning Park but the forest is bit more civilized. Great streams and mountain views.  The freeway system is awesome.  

Snoqualmie Starbucks

By noon the rain had stopped and the sun was breaking through cummulus clouds.  I had the Harley Davidson Electraglide Classic packed and ready for a southern road trip the night before.  Rain turned me back.  Not the way to begin a trip.
Today there was sun.  I geared up and threw my bag into the top luggage. My cameras and Western Canada bird book fit in the side luggage.  It was time to go.  I said good bye to Gilbert who believed he'd really enjoy a long high speed freeway ride but I knew better.  A half hour and he'd want to stop and run and sniff and do dog things.  He's ridden backroads to Harrison's Hot Springs from Vancouver but he doesn't like when we go over a 100 km.  I planned on flying on this trip.  Better he stay with Laura who just loves having her canine "baby" with her when I'm not around.  For a cockapoo he's big and tough and barks and protects her too.
With such silly thoughts and prayers to Jesus I was on the road heading out Oak Street south.  Not too much traffic.  Always feels good to be leaving the city.  Past Richmond, I could feel bits of worry and care flying off me when I opened up the Harley at 110 km.  It does more than that in miles but I was just warming up. I had the tunnel to go through then I was smelling the manure north of White Rock.  Green fields and blue skies with fluffy white clouds.
The sunshine was incredible. It kept overhead and I could feel the warmth it was bringing.
I'm convinced I'm part vegetable. Maybe it's just aging. I need sun.  I felt energized as I screamed down the highway in the early spring sunshine.
Even the border crossing was no problem.  Really pleasant guy on the American side. Asked me what I going to the states for, "I've got 4 days before the Canadian election. I'm going south to find the sun."  He thereupon asked me why my son was missing.  I gathered by his comment he'd not been in Vancouver or maybe recently shipped in from some place where there actually is 'global warming' and not just cold precipitation. I pointed at the sun. "I"m following it."  He laughed. A border crossing guy in the age of Homeland Security with nano Ossamas everywhere with weapons of mass destruction and this young good looking border guy laughs.  Maybe he was from Vancouver after all.  Jealous of me with time to seek the sun and the machine for doing it too.
I hardly noticed the stretch of No 5 highway between Bellingham and Skagit Harley Davidson. I was flying.  The wings were out and Hans Solo had nothing on me.  I figure Gilbert needs an enclosed side car to really appreciate the airbourne Harley Experience.  He's my little Chewy.  Skagit Harley had a pair of jeans.  The trouble with laundry is that it robs one of clothes.  After finding out on Easter Morning at church my black cords had a ripped crotch I was sure I should have a second pair of pants for the trip.  I'm staying in Best Westerns so it's not like I have to pack tents or anything more than cameras, computers, t shirts, socks, and now I had the extra pants. I also picked up one of those neck face tube warmers.
Back on the road I noted my fuel was low so got off at a gas stop only to find it was a Costco Gas Station. I love my Costco card. The price really was a saving.
Back on the road again the skies opened  at Everett with rain then hail but I was out of it before it was more than just plain miserable. I 'd crossed over to the slow lane with reduced visibility.     I was  thankful for the neck face warmer. Without it the hail would have ripped chunks of flesh from my face. I felt one piece hit and was surprised it didn't draw blood.  Everett is a navy base.  I knew they'd have good surgeons if the hail got through the cloth peirced the skin and made a beeline for my brain.
When the hail passed so I moved out to the centre lane again to get out of the slow lane truck backwash.  Coming into Seattle I saw the exit lane and signalled to move over, shoulder checked and moved slowly into the lane. This bitch must have been in her own cellphone world because she passed me in that lane taking 2/3's of the lane and leaving me the edge.  I think she realized what she did because she was out of there turn off looking back at me over her shoulder, no doubt expecting me to go American on her with a Glock 9 mm.   I was happy to survive the close call and returned to saying Jesus over and over as the high speed traffic merged and I took the first exit into Seattle.
I've been to Seattle alot.  A few times I've come in on my older Harley Roadster.  This was the first time on the new Harley Electraglide. The new Harley is heavier and prettier and sweet.  I thought the same of the old Harley but I didn't know better like I do now.  Riding into a city on a Harley is like something out of the Old West.  There are all these silly city folk in their carriages and us riders on our hogs.
I liked passing Pike and Pine.  The trouble with Seattle is parking. There is nowhere to park and have coffee and be able to watch your motorcycle. Who wants to park a Harley and go for coffee and wonder if it's being vandalized. I like to look at my bike. Right now it's sitting in the parking lot and I'm sitting here looking at it.
So I drove down along the waterfront in Seattle thinking I'd love to stop for the fabulous Seattle Oysters but finding no parking ended back on the freeway again. It was a nice slow down warm up break. The sun was hot overhead and the town was actually warm.
On the freeway a sign said 90 Spokane.  I had never gone on this route before. It was 120 kms with vehicles all around me like someone had shouted fire in the theatre.  Underpasses, bridges, turns and finally I was out of the city.  That's how I got here.  It's a suburb town of the city I think. South of Bellevue.
Lots of new houses. Pretty little town. A great friendly young guy came in and told me I'd left my lights on. "I looked around for a Harley guy. I didn't want you to have no battery."  What a great guy. This Snoqualmie rocks.  I'd stay the night here but I'd have to buy a new house to do that.  Somewhere around here there are famous ski mountains.
I'm getting back on the road to get to a place called Yakima. Ellensburg is before that.  I'll see how far I can go now that I've warmed up.
Given that the chaps don't have a leather crotch, my poor penis experienced cryotherapy.  It's died and come back to life just sitting here.  Some enterprising fashion sort will come come up with a biker cod piece that's kevlar for the rain and fur lined for warmth.  Otherwise my leathers have been fine and kept me warm.  It's supposed to be 60 and sunny in Yakima.  Spokane was supposed to be hot but the weather forecast was overly optimistic.  Just an hour or two of riding more and I should find a Best Western in either Ellensberg, a rodeo town or Yakima, where 75% of America Hops is produced.  Wonder where I 'll find an AA meeting.
Enough laying about and hanging out in Starbucks scaring the clientele with  mean biker looks.  Time to be back on the road!