Anacortes Oyster Run 2018

Great ride down on the Harley Electra glide. Chuckunut Road never ceases to give joy. The awesome views of the ocean, winding road through evergreen corridors.

Now I’m in downtown Anacortes at Island Cafe.  There’s the rumble of Harleys and the bumble bee buzz of  crotch rockets in the background. I’ve a window side table where I’m eating raw oyster and clam chowder soup. There’s a whole lot of bikers in leather walking by, lots still wearing their chaps, others stripped down to club vests and jeans.  The women are most beautiful. More and more come on their own motorcycles. A lot still ride behind their rich men on big touring motorcycles, couples who can afford them.  

Here and there is a gang member, a Bandido or such but they’re less than a thousandth of the gathering, Christian bikers and War veterans bikers much more prevalent.  The Combat Veterans even have a booth and the word ‘combat’ is obviously distinguishing.  Did I say the women were beautiful? Lots of bearded men.  It’s America so land of luxury and fat with no one commenting on the prevalence of bellies.  We joke that that’s why we need the big cc bikes, to haul our old white haired lard asses.The crotch rocket set and the Harley Sportster crowd are slim and trim and more fashionably dressed.  The Victory crowd are really stylin. The Indian set, a vintage breed apart.  Lots of choppers and some incredible bike art. I talked to a young guy on a KTM Duke. The prettiest little girl was riding a Rebel. Lots of Yamaha and Honda’s too. The Trikes and Spiders are becoming more and more popular too. 

A rock band was playing when I arrived. The hour and a half wait at the border delayed me some while I only got away at 12 having planned to leave before 10.  It’s an accomplishment to make it another year. Don Pollock got me out to my first Oyster Run years past. 

I didn’t realize back then how sober bikers generally are. Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance was a classic in the mindset of mainstream bikers. Now there’s a whole lot of adventure bikers touring the world. The Triumph Tiger and later BMW got into that market. I still argue that my Harley Electraglide is the best American freeway bike ever developed. I loved riding across the country and back to Sturges. The trip down here on the #5 freeway then along the back roads thorough Pacific Northwest farming areas made me love my Harley all over again. It’s just such an amazing machine.

Anacortes is such a sweet little family town back drop for this long standing biker  rally.  Quilting stores ,lots of sea side tourist items along side furniture stores and lots of variety in restaurants and coffee bars.  I’ve come here in summer on the bike just to enjoy the town when it’s quiet.  Anacortes rocks all the time.  But really this day it roars.   

Massage for Men

Massage for Men, Costa Rica

- William Hay

I had a massage today.  I rolled my ATV in the fall elk hunting north Vancouver Island. My lower back is still in some pain. My neck is intermittently painful when I’m under stress since I rolled the truck, or it may have been the car or the when I was hit by the car bicycling.

I noticed some low back tension driving my Polaris 500 ATV and the Ural Side Car Motorcycle this winter.  I’d like it to be better when I take my Harley Davidson Electraglide out of storage early spring for road trips on the highways.

I bit the bullet and went to "massage world" again.  I did this at Harrison Hot Springs Spa last month and my body loved it. My doctor friend, George recommended it.  My chiropracters Richard Cho and Stan Jung have been great but I’m a bit squeamish about manipulation right now.

I’ve taken flexeril and celebrex to get through the night. At first I could only sleep an hour or so as every time I turned I woke up. Now I’m good for most of the night.  Maybe I’m woken once and pee too to kill two birds with one stone.

"Massage world" is definitely feminine in these spas. They’ve got all that fragrant female scent thing happening.  The colours are subdued and pastels.  Lights low.  Eastern 60’s music is playing somewhere in another room.

Here there was a lot of white and wood and cleanliness. Spa people are big on hygeine.  They also look like vegetarians.  I expect they all chant and meditate and sit naked on the beach without sexual thoughts to bother them.  Sweet people.

When they’re not giving massage they’re plucking hair out of ladies faces. Delicate touch and all.  This place had it all.

I was directed to a change room, given a key and a robe.  Hospitals would do well to find out where they get their robes and bid on them. The hospital gown went out with the 50’s.  I was supposed to get slippers but didn’t.  I could have asked but was so troubled by whether  to leave my underwear on or not I was happy to make a statemtn walking about barefoot. I'm 'massage world' hip!

They had me fill out that form that says I’m healthy enough to withstand the rigors of a massage too. .  Apparently I was fit enough because this very pretty young Costa Rican woman, who told me her name was “Nancy”, invited me to follow her to this cute little hut.  Inside it looked just like a fancy massage office from some big city spa. The view was ocean and palm trees.

More flower fragrance, subdued lighting and pastel colours. She asked me to get under the blanket and stepped outside. I figured that was my cue to drop the gotch.  If she’d stayed I would have got under the blanket with it on. She must have left the room for some reason more than just not wanting to see the old guy awkwardly struggling onto the massage table.  I got onto the table and under the blanket naked.  The lighting would have been much more subdued to make that into a spectator event by any means.

The massage was magnificent.  Yes, she returned. She didn’t shriek or slap politically correct charges on me.  Instead she used the cotton sheet to cover my modesty (ha). Lots of ritual around that.  Probably more to save her than for my sake. I’m having less that ‘massage world’ thoughts about now.   Every once in a while I actually  think that maybe I’d like the other type of massage  Wouldn’t do anything for my back but the thought passes  through my mind. That got me praying, at least. I was there for healing so I just kept praying in my mind. In time it felt like I was shedding physical tension and psychic tension as well.

I was lying there with all that sweet fragrance, soft background music and this young woman’s very professional hands kneeding my muscle deeply and caringly.  My only concern was that I didn't want to fall asleep and start snoring. It really  was heaven . When she worked on my low back I had all these negative thoughts dissipate . Then she had me turn over and began working on my neck. I carry a lot of tension in my neck. I say some people are a ‘pain in the neck’ and really mean it.  She got right in there softening things up that had been tense way too long.

I couldn’t have been there for more than a minute when she said that time was up. I looked at my watch and someone had turned it an hour ahead. She stepped out of the room.

I got my gotch back on, put on the robe and walked back to the change room where I dressed.  At the front I paid the $100 with a credit card. I was having trouble focusing on this world.  I was kind of floating and my back didn’t hurt. Same thing had happened at Harrison’s. The amazing relief from this gnawing constant pain.

I walked outside into the tropical sun and sat down on a cushioned reclining lounge chairs by the pool..

That’s when I had the realization that massage is really really good.  Spas are wasted on women alone. I’m not being sexist here.  I think women are really smart and deserve the whole massage spa thing. I just think there's room for expansion.  Roman Legionaires and Spartans were getting massages thousands of years back.

The only trouble I can see is with the environment. I wouldn’t change a thing about the masseuse or the massage.  Last thing  I want is some heavy big boned handed fraulein or sumu wrestler pounding on my back. I liked Nancy just the way she was and the pressure she put on was just perfect. She was so soothing.

What I figured was missing though was a show cased Harley Davidson Motorcyle. That would go along way to improving decor.  A few racks on the wall would help too.  I know they don’t have moose in Costa Rica but Harrison’s Hot Spriings could have a big moose head rack right there in the massage room. They must have deer here so they could get some antlers up so guys would have some place to hang their gotch. A Costa Rican taxidermist could get a wild boar's done up  and have it up on the wall beside a big marlin fish.   Some wooden sailing ship models in glass cabinets would add a thing or two for sure.

Instead of the flower fragrance,  I think camp smoke would be just as restful. Maybe add a little pipe tobacco and cigar smoke for flavor.  The soft colours could be improved with the new cammo designs.   Tasteful green and grey commouflage designs out would really spruce up the decor.

The music doesn’t have to be that anemic eastern stuff either. The massage I was receiving was originally called ‘Swedish Massage”.  I figure a little  Swedish “Death Metal” band music could be used. It wouldn’t have to be played full out.  Softly as back gound would do just fine.

Being of Scottish Irish Canadian origin,  I think bag pipes would definitely add to the massage experience too.   Come to think of it a gun rack and some vintage car and jet fighter pictures on the wall would just about complete it.

Otherwise the massage was perfect.  Just wish my hunting dog, Gilbert, could have been there to enjoy it with me.

Sturges North 2011 & Veterans Motorcycle Run

Friday morning was the sign up for the Veterans Motorcycle Run in support of the Canadian troops.  Everyone had to sign a waiver and show proof of valid motorcyle license.  When I left my motorcycle to go sign up, I asked the fellows near me if it was okay to leave my motorcycle there.  With smiles, a big fellow answered, "Don't worry we'll protect it."  My Honda 230 CFR was by far the smallest bike there.  I'd given up telling everyone I couldn't bring the Harley Electraglide on the back of the truck towing the RV.  Instead I just called it my 'baby'. "Looks like it could be a trouble maker, " a Gulf War Vet commented.  The rest of the bikes ranged from 600 cc to 1600 cc and maybe more.   At the Sturges North grouns Azzkikr had a custom built motorcycle  with the biggest car engine Chevy ever made.  As this was a Veterans Bike Run I wouldn't put it past some of these guys to have rigged their machines with military ordnance to enhance performance, maybe even Stealth technology.
When we 'd signed in and got our Sturges North "Ride with Honor" t shirts, the ride captain told us the route. I couldn't hear so would depend on staying with the group. That was my first mistake.  Then we all bowed our heads when the chaplain said a prayer for the ride.  I find motorcycling is a great catalyst for prayer and like that these rides begin with the sacred.  Then someone called out "Mount Up".  Another shouted "Lock and Load".  The women and men got on their bikes and a collective throbbing roar filled the air.  I couldn't hear my little bumblebee so had to trust to the feel.  We rode out in double lines.
On the flat the Honda CRF does 110 km but as soon as there was an incline I had to lie down over the top of my bike to reduce wind resistance.  I'd say I started on point and drifted to rearguard but in fact I just slipped a little back in the middle of the pack when the space opened a bit in front of me and some big bikes behind would pass and fill it up. I had a definite advantage with gnarly tires when we hit the road repair before Sorrento   but then we took the uphill turn at Monte Creek. I was reduced to 80 km with guys and gals flying past me. You could actually see my feet pedally furiously to keep up.  On the downhills I'd make 120 and close the gap. I had no idea where we were going.  I actually thought I was the last bike.  It was only when I pulled into Falkland for the buffet lunch at the Falkland pub that I found out there were a whole lot of bikes behind me. They must have got caught behind traffic.  That happened to me and even with the passing lane I didn't have the get up and go to pass this one car that thankfully turned off somewhere letting me get back to making my maximum 110 km/jr speed.
The scenary was tremendous along the winding roads with lakes and evergreen, cattle on rolling grass pastures. Falklands Pub was welcoming , a famous Hog destination with a lot of biker paraphernalia on the walls from previous rides.  Great roast beef , ham and chicken wings, roast potatoes and salads for $10/  I sat with a fellow who said he had got chilled without any windscreen. I said, "I know what you mean. I don't have any either on my Honda 230.  I got chilled plus  I got bugs up my nose. I also think I'm the smallest motorcycle here."
"Then I'm the second smallest, I'm riding a 600 cc Buell Blast."  he said. He was up from Vernon.  Since I'd had a Buell and loved it we got along just fine.  I left early though figuring that even though I couldn't ride fast I could eat fast and get the jump on most of the other bikers.
I had to fill up with gas and riding wide open throttle had to add a litre of oil.  Then I was back on the road way out ahead of the crowd.  The salmon valley with the horses and cattle and rolling hills was a treat to ride through.  I came out at the place where we began and as no one was there thought I'd just beat everyone.  So I drove 5 km back to Pierre's Point Campground, shut down the motorcycle outside the trailer, hailed Gilbert and Laura, regaled them about my exploits as a great motorcyclist only to have Laura say, "It's on the radio, the Veterans ride, ends in Sicamous.  I just heard the first bikes were arriving." I gave Laura a hug and chucked Gilbert under the chin. Then I had to get back outside to the bike and climb wearily back in the saddle.
Crossing through Salmon Arm there were bikes going everywhere. I took the road to Sicamous and arrived in a town flooded with motorcycles. There were bikes parked on the sides and down the middle of the main street.  The band, "Lead Painted Toys" was belting out rocker tunes at the open beer garden. The Canadian legion was open and inviting visitors. Ice cream vendors were doing a hot "cold" trade. Harley Davidson had some big bikes there and the firemen were out watching the big "burn off' event.  I definitely got into the ice cream.  I took a picture of myself and my motorcle dubbing it the "little motorcycle that could'.  Picking bugs out of my nose I missed the windshield on my Harley Electra glide and the comfort but there was a strange sense of accomplishment in just getting there. I thought it appropriate for a Veterans ride given that often the Canadian troops had done the really big jobs with the least and certainly not the latest equipment.  Canadian troops got the job done regardless. I was glad too that they'd finished their tour in Afghanistan doing Canada proud.
Siccamous has a great marina and given all the power boats here I expect there's great fishing. Driving back at a reasonable 80 to 90 km/hr pace, not pushing my bike to the limit I enjoyed the magnificent lake and scenery thankful that the ride had given me a chance to see what wonderful country lies around Salmon Arm.  Sturges North picked a great place to have the rally.
When I got back to the RV  I was exhausted. All my muscles ached and all I could do was lie down and watch another episode of Sons of Anarchy starring Charlie Hunnan, Ron Perlman and Katey Sagall, Kurt Sutters television series about an outlaw biker gang.  Very apropos viewing material.  I'm reading a Louis L'Amour western novel too which seems an equally good fit. .

Sturges North 2011 & Eric Burdon and the Animals

Eric Burdon and the Animals was the band I was waiting for. I'd heard "House of the Rising Sun" as a teen ager and learned it on guitar, playing and singing it for years. "Warm San Franciscan Nights" was a song I must have made love to somewhere along the way. I marched through the streets of San Francisco and later lived there.  "I'm just a man whose intentions are good, Oh Lord, Please don't let me be misunderstood" may well have become my personal song of relationship.  Eric Burdon stepped on stage, the band so utterly professional with music to their very toes, and that voice of Eric Burdon's, well, I was 40 years younger with tears in my eyes, wondering where it had all gone and laughing. "Spill the Wine, take that Girl," had some of the answers.   It was a full moon. There were bikers all around. So many of us were older.  The women still looked good.  There was that funny smell in the air but mostly it was pine smell and the smell of the recent rain on the grass.  We'd done the drugs and been drunk and fought and free loved but now had RV's to go with a $10,000 to $100,000 machines.  There were children up late and as many grandparents past their bedtime hanging in there for Eric Burdon and the Animals this Sturgis North 2011 Motorcycle Rally and Music Festival.  There was more Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance than LSD in the crowd.  Eric Burdon's words spoke to youth and maturity, the dreams and idealism."It's my life and I'll do what I want with it" had us all dancing and cheering.  The skill of the musicians wasn't something that came with "just hanging out'. There was real discipline and the play beyond that hard preparation.  This  patch of laughter was something earned..  The applause was incredible.  Standing ovation and roars filled the air with" House of the Rising Sun". The keyboards, bass guitar, drums and lead all entwined with Eric Burdon's voice and the unique sound of a band whose music captured an era. Tonight it was as alive  as it was back then.  Just phenomenal.  I rode back to the RV at the First Nation Pierre's Point Campground on the motorcycle, with the girl on the back, wind in my face, spectacular clouds and a a full moon. If I was a wolf I'd have howled!

Gilbert's Dog Motorcycle Helmut

Gilbert is an old fashioned biker. He's not keen on goggles or helmut.  Left to his own devices he's doing everything he can with his paws to remove them.  This week he knocked his helmut off somewhere while we were driving through China Town.  I could actually hear him say, "OMG, how could that have happened".  So this is the last picture of his helmut until I get another.  I can get him to keep the goggles on but in this picture he's got those off by himself.  The Doggles protect his eyes but I wasn't sure the helmut was all that protective . Mqybe I find a more stylish one he'll leave on. 

Gilbert - Harley Biker Dog

My 1 year old cockapoo, Gilbert, began riding motorcycles at a few months old, in a pouch I hung around my neck. He graduated to a Harley Davidson dog carryier case I bought from Trev Deely. That's how we travelled to work on my Harley Davidson Electroglide Classic last summer.  When the rain and snow came we stopped riding only to begin again this year. He has doggles now and a helmut from Zoomer pet wear.  He's waiting on his leather jacket for more protection but has the Harley Davidson and Harley Davidson fleece.  I took him for a ride a couple of weeks ago after he'd been groomed and lost his sheep dog dreadlock hair.  He began to shiver. It was clear he wasn't enjoying that ride till we stopped and got him an extra heavy black and white skull and cross bones sweater to wear over the light weight ski sweater. Once he was warm he was back to enjoying the ride.  My biker friends thought he should have his own electric heated liner. I'm just glad the warm weather is coming so we can both just cruise in our Harley Davidson t shirts.