Home at last

I did it.‡

According to Google it was 7,778 miles, door to door. That, of course, leaves out a couple bits of getting lost, as well as various bit of random mileage while I was in Oak Ridge and Ottawa (I didn't get on the bike at all while I was in Jersey City/New York, though I did do about 20 miles while I was in Minneapolis).

Not quite half of that was in one week, of two stages (1,300 miles, or so, to Minneapolis, and then a day off with minnehaha, and the remaining 1,500ish, in the four days after).

Getting out of Reno, yesterday, took about an hour. Early traffic from Burning Man, and the vagaries of road repair. I got to to the agricultural checkpoint, and the woman there didn't ask me a thing, merely said, "You're good" and I was, hard to believe, back in Calif.

I decided not to take the more scenic route past the south side of Lake Tahoe, instead just dropping straight through Vacaville (where the Faire used to be, when Maia and I started dating), past Travis Air Force Base, gas in Sacramento, and then to the Bay, and a left turn for home.

The road out of Tahoe is nice. Winding, but not twisty (with the luggage, and all the wear and tear on me, I don't think I wanted twisty). Downside, the condition of the roadbed is variable. Where there is asphalt, it's fine, where there isn't the wear and tear of chains has made the concrete slick, and not quite smooth.

I between the day of horrible wind, and the 650 miles I did Saturday, my hands are sore (the bit I least expected when I left... the inside of my right thumb. It's from the pressure of the throttle). Yesterday I was mush for brains. I was a puddle of ambulent goo when I got in.

The house was empty, and I had no focus. The last hour and-a-half on the road were tough. It was foggy as I approached the Bay Bridge (though as I came through the hills, the sun gleaming off the bay was incredible, but at the bridge, fog. I was cold (the inland temps had been higher; high enough that I was overheating a bit). The traffic was dense, and the approach to the Bay Bridge was full of idiots; I had to use my horn on someone from Illinois, who didn't seem to think my being in the lane was something he had to worry about when changing lanes. This was different from the people (mostly in Utah and Nevada) who seemed to think my coming up in the passing lane, and overtaking, meant they needed to get over, so they could pass the truck in front of them. Having to hit the brakes to dump 20 mph, and then dawdle along while they crept past the truck... grmnble.

The most obnoxious was the guy in the inside left turn lane, after I got off the freeway. I was in the front of the outside lane, and he pulled straight ahead for more than car length, which sort of screwed up my turn.

The sun set a few minutes before I got to the door. Not so much that I needed to stop, and switch for the more clear visor, but I was skirting the edge of that when I stopped the motor.

By the time I got myself together enough to call for pizza, it was too late (we live in the "scary" part of town, and no one will deliver past 9 p.m.), so I boiled some heat and serve indian food, and ate pistachios.

Yesterday I was discombomulated. Four days of nothing but the wind past the helmet, paying attention to the road, and the sound of my own thoughts had me a bit short of concentration. tenacious_snail and I went to breakfast, and then to the market for some food. Decision making power I had not much of. It was strange to be thinking of groceries for more than one meal, to be looking at the mix of people which seemed, "normal".

Ottawa and New York were cosmopolitan enough (I didn't get to see enough of Minneapolis to get a sense of the inhabitants; what I saw felt pleasantly urban, and my company was certainly urbane), but it wasn't the mix of home. I got several offers of help, based on just how dazed and confused I looked.

Came home, cleaned the bike (the fairing, my helmet, and my jacket, had become a hecatomb for insects), added some oil, collected myself some more, and fell asleep at an early hour. I'll probably go and get some coffee (for the house, and some to drink right now) and enjoy a bit more solitude.

School starts in two weeks, and I need to let my job know I am available, but right now, the idea of sitting still is really pleasant.

‡I had to leave Memphis out of that list, because Google Maps will only allow 25 points.

(no subject)

Is there a way to revert to S1, because the "features" of S2 are driving me batty.

I'd settle for an S2 which had the look/feel (esp. the previous/next buttons at the BOTTOM of the page, where it would be useful to me).

Call me a luddite, but I resent the foisting of, "improvements" I don't want, which make what did work, not work.

Grmnble... kids need to get offa my lawn... gremnble.

Before they fade

7,800 miles, and 9 weeks, leaves a lot of fleeting impressions in the mind, so I'm going to jot them down.

Helmets: I love them. Yes, there are a few things about them which chafe (literally, my forehead was getting raw by the time I got home, mostly from the way the wind moved the helmet when I was looking to the side/rear), but I can't imagine not using one.

1: It's my windshield. Above about 30mph, and the wind is annoying. Above 80mph, and it's blinding.

1a: Bugs. I cleaned the fairing yesterday, and my jacket today. There were a lot of dead bugs. I got to watch a lot of bugs die. Some of them most dramatically (I think I killed a dragonfly in Nebraska. There were a lot of them about, and something large hit the visor; a bit outboard of my left eye). Since some of the larger flying insects can do 20-40 mph (like dragonflies) and are hard, the thought of an impact velocity of 100-140 mph is a bit frightening.

But I saw lots of people not wearing them. Some croggled me. The guy in Flagstaff: Calif. plates, and his helmet (full face) on the sissy-bar. The guy in Salt Lake, with the armored jacket, heavy pants and bare head. Dude! I'd worry a lot more about cracking your skull like a hard-boiled egg to be peeled than I would about the road rash.

Sunsets... Lake Huron in the late evening. The Bonneville Salt Flat in the steel-blue gloaming, gorgeous (and the better for a dark visor).

The UP, and upper Wisconsin, desnse trees, and water everywhere. Little pockets of early autumn, with a single set of bright red, or orange, leaves, in the sea of green the road tunnels through.

Bikers: By and large (New Hampshire excepted) they were all friendly. I cannot being to estimate how many I dropped a hand to. When I was stopped, they came to chat, even guys who weren't riding a bike at the moment. Yeah, I have some issues with Harleys (I think them sort of ugly, and the sort of "statement" they make is problematic. GoldWings are too "cushy, for my taste too), but that's mostly aesthetic. I never had one give me grief. The only folks I pulled over for were pushing a Harley, and if I could I'd've helped (neither of us had a gas tank, so there wasn't any way for me to help them out. I hope the five miles to Fernly weren't too hard; because there was a lot of uphill; if one is pushing a few hundred pounds of motorcycle).

Bikes: Get much east of the 109° 02′ W and BMWs become thin on the ground, but the groups of bikes tend to be more heterogenous.

I put about 1,000 miles of 2-up riding. I also did enough rough road (about 20 miles) to feel fairly confident.

Toll-plazas are evil. The ground is slick, and the stop/go aspect of them makes it a bit treacherous. The worst spot is right at the point of payment.

Cops tend to ignore bikes. Not completely, but the trick of estimating speed for a bike is harder, and (by reports) it's harder to get one in the radar gun. I do know I thought I could have gotten about three tickets in speed traps, and didn't.

Passing sucks. This is mostly about 2-lane roads (i.e. opposing traffic), though fools who don't pay attention to what's coming up behind them on roads with passing lanes abound. In that case it's more a nuisance than a hazard.

Photography is doable, but I wasn't rigged for it. Next time I will be.

Friends: It was a great trip for meeting friends (some of whom were not yet possessed of voices/bodies to go with faces/personalities). I was blessed with wonderful hospitality along the way, and the chance to stop at homely places and relax, with other people, was priceless. All in all, the visiting (both the planned stops, and the offered ones) justified the whole thing.

New York is amazing. I can see why those who grew up there hold it so dearly; and all I saw, to speak of, was mid-town Manhattan. I shall have to go back, and explore it with more vigor. There was some really good food there, and some confused food, but the stereotype of the rude New Yorker makes no sense to me. I was, everywhere I wandered (uptown, downtown, midtown, and over to Brooklyn), treated with openness and friendly manner. Conversations on streetcorners, discussions on bridges, answers from cops (about traffic issues). It's expensive, but expansive.

Next time I will plan/announce better, and try to arrange to see more people.

Borders: The way to smuggle, is on a motorcycle. No where was I given more than a cursory glance. I crossed three borders by myself (into/out of Canada, into Calif), and two with a passenger. My passenger was of a different nationality than myself. No one cared. Entering the US, all the cars had their trunks opened, and coolers too. My luggage (topcase, duffle and two hardcase saddlebags) ignored. Same in Calif., where I was waved through.

I'd do it‡ again, but without the deadlines (going out I had two deadlines, coming back I had one, sort of. I wanted to be back not later than next Saturday). I think I'd like to do some of it with people (a support vehicle, and some other bikes. The one so I don't have to have all my gear on the bike, and the other for company), and some of it as noodling to here and there (maybe a side trip, with a rendezvous planned some days away).

It was, in some ways, a bit of retreat. I spent a lot of time in my head. I didn't think about much, there was a lot of, "no-mind", and lot of singing to myself. There was also the slow scrolling of the horizon, the birds, the pronghorn, the possibility of elk, moose, bear, and deer. There was the calculus of movement, the peering into corners for hazards.

There was peace, and fleeting moments of anxiety. There were friends to relax with, and passing acquaintance to remind one of the shared identity of the nation.

It was so very worth it.

‡I had to leave Memphis out of that list, because Google Maps will only allow 25 points.