Landing back in Boston mid-November, the only thing perfect was the weather. Perfect for hypothermia, that is. It didn’t take long in the cold and damp environment for me to realize that this would not be a suitable location for winter, especially after having been in tropical climates for the past 8 months. Although the decision to not stay was an easy one, where to actually move opened up an entirely new set of questions. This part of the journey I had not planned for very well, or at all. Well…time to pull out some maps and just as I had done in South America find a solution to the problem I now faced: Where would be my new home?
I wasn’t a big fan of the southeastern states and hadn’t really explored many of the western ones. Since the gray damp weather wasn’t something I wanted to deal with deciding to choose the Pacific Northwest probably wasn’t one of my better ideas, but I knew it wouldn’t be as cold in that area. I was still feeling the culture shock of returning to the United States and after living in South America, the busy stressful vibe of the United States wasn’t tolerable.
Having narrowed the region down, the next step was to pinpoint a spot. Looking at maps I noticed a rather large land mass not too far off of the coast of Seattle and Vancouver. It was Vancouver Island, and the capital of British Columbia, Victoria, was there. This seemed like a perfect place to call home until I could find a better location.
After a quick and uneventful drive cross country I was at the ferry terminal in Port Angeles, Washington, about to embark on another out-of-country adventure. As soon as the Blackball ferry pulled into Victoria Harbor I knew this would be a fun place. The Inner Harbour had a number of float planes landing and taking off, the Victoria Clipper (a high-speed catamaran) was there, and tugboat-like water taxis buzzed around the much larger Blackball ferry like mosquitos around an elephant. The entire inner harbor was just so alive.
Upon disembarking from the ferry there was a bit of a wait going through Canadian Customs where they scanned my passport and I confidently assured them I was visiting only for a week. In all honestly, I really didn’t have much of an idea about the length of my visit, as my planning (much like today) is almost nonexistent. The next step was to find a place to stay for a week or so until I could get my bearings and determine if I wanted to stay here longer. Having just driven over 3,000 miles I wasn’t in much of a rush to leave.
It didn’t take too long for me to find a cool hotel that allowed for longer stays near the center of town. The hotel was a great selling point, not only for the location, but also because it had what was probably the best Chinese restaurant ever. And if that wasn’t enough, there was the best dive bar attached to the hotel. Even with the rainy weather that lowered my morale, the restaurant and the bar gave refuge and let me refill my endorphins. This place would do nicely.
One of the best ways I’ve found to learn a new city is to go for long runs, get lost, and then learn the area. Frequently during these runs I would find someone running the same pace and strike up a conversation. This happened on one of my first days in Victoria. I kept pace with a man a few years older than me, and as our conversation continued I jokingly explained I was here working remotely, possibly quite illegally, and we both had a good laugh. Our finishing point was just after we crossed a bridge, when I introduced myself and he did the same. “Nice to meet you, Mike,” he said. “I’m Dean, the Mayor of Victoria, but you can call me Mayor Dean.” He handed me a business card and invited me to visit his office if I needed anything. My jaw was on the ground. I expected Canadian Mounties or Immigration to jump from around the corner. This, of course, didn’t happen (it was Canada and they are super-warm people, even to illegal visitors like me).
Despite the weather being a bit gray (which is to be expected in December in the Pacific Northwest), this island was a great choice. Within two weeks it was obvious this was to be my home at least through the winter months (unless Mayor Dean disapproved). It was time to find a longer-term rental on a month-to-month lease. A month-to-month lease was quite a commitment for me (even more so since I probably wasn’t allowed to be in Canada for more than 90 days per their immigration laws), but that would be a problem for future Mike to deal with (which he did successfully several times). It was now time to start exploring my new home and see what there was to offer this American traveler and digital nomad.
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I guess a good way to start a blog is to grab the reader’s attention, and I can do that here: How many people do you know who ride a Panther?
A few weeks ago I wrote a blog about Nick Adams, an interesting man, fellow motojournalist, and author. Nick is about the same age as me and he enjoys exploring the world on his different motorcycles. In other words, he is our kind of guy.
Nick Adams and his trusty Moto Guzzi.
In my prior blog about Mr. Adams, I mentioned that I planned to purchase one of his books. I did, and a few days after ordering Adventures on Borrowed Time, it arrived.
Adventures on Borrowed Timeis well written and well organized. It’s 191 pages long and it has lots of pictures. Nick’s writing style is conversational and easy to follow (it feels more like listening to a good friend’s stories than reading). The first chapter is about Nick’s ’72 Guzzi Eldorado (the one you see in the photos above). The following chapters take you through Canada, mostly on gravel roads, in good weather and bad. There are instances in which Nick’s Guzzi didn’t feel like starting, and Nick takes us through the steps he took to coax the old V-twin back to life. There are parts where Nick switches to his ’86 Suzuki Cavalcade (Suzuki’s attempt to cash in the Gold Wing craze), that monster of a bike’s surprisingly good handling, and the repairs Nick made to it. Parts of Adventures on Borrowed Timedescribe exploring Canada on Nick’s 650cc Suzuki Burgman scooter. And then, returning to my attention grabber at the start of this blog, Adventures on Borrowed Timedescribes Nick riding Canada on his 62-year-old Panther.
Never heard of the Panther? Don’t feel bad. The Panther is a 600cc single English bike made from 1900 to 1968, and most folks have never heard of it. They are fairly primitive, I think. I say “I think” because I’ve never even seen a Panther. And here’s Nick, describing what it’s like to take major trips through Canada on one. A long-distance moto adventure ride through the Canadian wilderness on a 62-year-old British motorcycle…what could go wrong?
The writing is superb, the photos are great, and the character development all make Adventures on Borrowed Timea book you need to read (the characters being Nick, his wife, the people he meets, and the bikes). You can purchase your copy of Adventures on Borrowed Timehere. Trust me on this: You’ll enjoy it. You can thank me later.
A Cup O’ Joes is available now on Amazon. Every bathroom in every motorcycle shop and every motorcyclist’s home needs this book. They make great gifts. Check out the blurb:
Joe Gresh and Joe Berk bring you a collection of their favorite articles and stories from the ExhaustNotes.us website, Motorcycle Classics magazine, Rider magazine, Motorcyclist magazine, ADVMoto magazine, and other publications. Ride with the Joes in China, Colombia, Mexico, New Zealand, Canada, the former Soviet Union, and the United States. Read their opinions on motorcycles, accessories, and more. Humor, wit, insight, and great reading…this collection of motoliterature belongs in your library. Published in black and white.
You could wait for the movie, but the movie deal fell through. You know the story…I wanted Leonardo di Caprio to play me or Gresh, the studio countered with Danny DeVito, and things fell apart after that.
Seriously, though, you need this book. It will make you taller, skinnier, more attractive, and a faster rider. Trust us on this.
Everybody has their preferred riding schtick and for me it’s international motorcycle travel. Anyone can ride their cruiser to a local hangout for a beer or their GS to Starbuck’s for a $6 cup of coffee. My riding is all about crossing international borders and collecting cool photos in places most two-legged mammals only dream about. Just to make a point, I once rode a 150cc scooter (my CSC Mustang) to Cabo San Lucas and back. The day after we returned, I needed something at Costco and I rode the little CSC there. When I parked it, a beer-bellied dude in a gigondo 4×4 pickup told me, “that’s a little cute bike.” He didn’t intend it to be a compliment.
“Thanks,” I said.
“I ride a (brand name deleted to protect the guilty),” he announced, his chest swelling with Made in ‘Merica pride to the point it almost equalled his waistline. “We ride all over.” He emphasized the “all” to make sure I got the point.
“Cool,” I said. “Where do you go?”
Cook’s Corner, the ultimate So Cal burger/biker stand.
“Last week,” he told me, “we rode to Cook’s Corner!”
Cook’s Corner is a southern California burger joint about 40 miles from where we were talking.
“Where do you all go on that little thang?” He actually said “you all” and “thang,” but he didn’t have the accent to match the colloquialisms. Okay, I had the guy dialed.
“Well, we rode to Cabo San Lucas and back last week.” I said.
Mr. 4×4’s jaw dropped. Literally. He looked at me, speechless, dumbfoundedly breathing through his open mouth. Without another word he climbed into his big truck and rode off. Our conversation was over. So much for the biker brotherhood, I guess.
My 150cc CSC Baja Blaster. I had a lot of fun and covered a lot of miles on that little Mustang.
The international motorcycle travel bug bit me when I was still in school. I had a ’71 Honda 750 Four back in the day (that’s me 50 years ago in the big photo up top). One of my Army ROTC buddies had the first-year Kawasaki 500cc triple. It was a hellaciously-fast two stroke with a white gas tank and blue competition stripes. We were in New Jersey and we wanted to do something different, so we dialed in Canada as our destination. They say it’s almost like going to another country.
And so we left. Our gear consisted of jeans, tennis shoes, windbreaker jackets, and in a nod toward safety, cheap helmets (ATGATT hadn’t been invented yet). We carried whatever else we needed in small gym bags bungied to our seats. Unfortunately, in those days “whatever else we needed” did not include cameras so I don’t have any photos from that trip. That’s okay, because all they would have shown was rain.
A 1969 Kawasaki 500cc, two-stroke triple. Widowmakers, they were called, in a nod to their often unpredictable handling.
As two Army guys about to become Second Louies, we joked about being draft dodgers in reverse. We were looking forward to active duty (me in Artillery and Keith in Infantry). We were going to Canada not to duck the draft, but as a fling before wearing fatigues full time. We didn’t really know what we were doing, so we took freeways all the way up to the border. It rained nearly the entire time. All the way up and all the way back. We bought sleeping bags because they looked cool on the bikes (it was a Then Came Bronson thing), but we stayed in hotels. It was raining too hard to camp, and besides, the sleeping bags were soaked through and we didn’t think to bring a tent. We got as far as Montreal, which seemed far enough to give us Canada bragging rights. We spent that single Montreal night in a cheap dive and pointed the bikes south the next day.
These days, I know to check the weather, bring rain gear (even if none is forecast), and study a map to find the most interesting roads (rather than the fastest). But hey, we were young and dumb, it was an adventure ride, it crossed an internationational border, and riding four days in a steady cold rain was a lot of fun. I didn’t think so at the time, but that’s how I remember it today. In fact, I remember that ride like it was last month. And it got me hooked on international motorcycle adventures. Canada was to be the first of many.
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So there we were in Calgary. Wow. And we’d ridden there on our motorcycles through all three countries (Mexico, the United States, and Canada). It had been a grand ride, but it was only half the trip. Now, it was time after a fun two days in Calgary for the ride home.
Before diving into our ride home, though, you might want to catch up on the ride to Calgary. Here are the first seven installments of our story on the 2005 Three Flags Classic…
The plan after the events in Calgary was to select our own route home and ride it at our own pace. The official portion of the 2005 Three Flags Classic was over. It had been a blast. On the run home we would decide where to go, how to get there, and how long to take doing it. Our plan was to head west across Canada from Calgary toward British Columbia, turn left somewhere above Washington, meander over to the coast somewhere after Portland, and follow the Pacific coast home. It was to be another grand adventure, and wow, we were having fun!
On the first morning out of Calgary, we stopped in Banff and had a great breakfast. Smoked salmon and eggs, as I recall. It was delicious.
The road through Banff. It was a crisp morning and the riding was great.We walked around in Banff a bit after breakfast. This bear skull was for sale in a store window.Good buddy Marty posing with the 1200 Daytona in Banff.
The ride that morning was beyond glorious. Crisp, clean air, cool temperatures, and all was well with the world. The big 1200 Daytona was running superbly well and the scenery was magnificent. Every scene was a picture postcard, and I caught a lot of them. Incidentally, all of the photos you see in this story were shot with film. I had my Nikon N70 with me and just two lenses (the 24-120 Nikon, and a 17-35 Sigma). Great scenery, great photo gear, a great motorcycle, and great photo ops. Life was good. It still is.
After that great breakfast in Banff and a bit of walking around, were back on the road headed west across Canada. Our next stop was Lake Louise.
The Lake Louise Hotel.The Lake Louise Hotel lobby, courtesy of the 17-35 Sigma lens. This place looked very expensive. In our dead-bug-encrusted road gear, we looked out of place.A statue near Lake Louise, erected by the Canadian Pacific Railway, honoring the Swiss Mountain guides. When building the railroad through the Rockies, the Canadian Pacific Railroad needed guys who knew how to find their way around in this kind of terrain. They bought mountain guides in from Switzerland.Lake Louise. It gets its greenish hue from glacial silt.The road crew in front of Lake Louise.There were signs around Lake Louise advising us to be on the lookout for grizzlies. Wow!
We continued heading west and then south through Canada, and we spent the night in Penticton, about an hour north of the border. Penticton is an interesting resort town, complete with a large lake and a casino. I had a smoked salmon pizza for dinner. Love that smoked salmon.
We crossed the border early and re-entered the U.S. into Washington. We were honking along pretty good, not 30 minutes into the U.S., when a Washington State Patrol officer pulled us over for speeding. It was early, maybe 6:30 in the morning, and the officer was heading north when we were heading south. He lit us up as he passed by, I saw him do a “Smokey and the Bandit” u turn in my rear view mirror, and we pulled over immediately. The officer pulled up behind us. When we took our helmets off, he looked at us and said, “Ah, old guys,” while shaking his head. He told us to slow down. The trooper was an old guy, too. I think he felt a connection. No citation. We chatted a bit. We were lucky. Yeah, I’m an old guy, but riding that Triumph always made me feel like I was 18 years old. “I don’t know why you boys aren’t getting tickets today,” the trooper said and then he told us to ride safely. His strategy worked. We rode across Washington at a sedate 60 mph for the rest of the day. It took forever.
Somewhere north of Yakima, Washington.
We stopped in Goldendale, Washington, for a cup of coffee in a local bar, chatted with the locals for a while, and then we had one of the most scenic rides I’ve ever taken. It was to be one of the best parts of the ride, and it was through the Columbia River Gorge. The roads and the scenery were incredible. It was the first time I’d ever seen it, and I’ve been back there several times since. It was an area I knew I had to include when we hosted the Chinese for the ride through the American West, and I wrote a piece about the region for Motorcycle Classics magazine. The Colombia River Gorge is one of my favorite places in the world.
Marty, headed into the Columbia River Gorge.
We rode along the north side of the Columbia River for about half the length of Washington, and then we crossed into Oregon on the Bridge of the Gods. It was probably 300 feet above the river, and it was one of those iron mesh bridges that you can look down and see all the way to the river. It looked and felt like I was flying, and it was unnerving. I looked down once and that was enough for me. We then found our way into Portland, and checked into a hotel I knew from a previous business trip.
Portland, looking out over the Willamette River.
Portland is a very cool town. Marty and I had fun exploring it, and in particular, stopping for lunch at the Olympian. I later did a story on the Olympian, too, for Motorcycle Classics. The Olympian has a fantastic vintage motorcycle collection.
Kelly’s Olympian Bar. This is a cool place to have a drink.Inside the Olympian. It’s a “must see” spot on any ride through Portland.
We left Portland before sunrise early the next morning and headed southeast toward the coast. Oregon is a wet state. We had a lot of mist in the morning riding through the rain forest, and it was eerie. I half expected to see Sasquatch jump out and grab me every time I wiped my face shield. Then, we arrived at the Oregon Coast Highway, and yep, that ultimately became a story gracing the pages of Motorcycle Classics, too.
Sasquatch is down there somewhere.Hippy Bob, who we met on Oregon’s Pacific Coast Highway.
The people you meet are the best part of any motorcycle ride, and on the Oregon Coast Highway, we met a guy who introduced himself as Hippy Bob. Hippy Bob had hit the Oregon lottery for $5,000 and he immediately bought a Harley basket case for $4,500. Bob was taking his time working his way down the coast from Portland on that motorcycle (Bob had been on the road for two days when we met him, and he had only traveled about 200 miles south of Portland in that time). I was really interested in Hippy Bob’s motorcycle, as I hadn’t seen a Shovelhead Harley on the road in years. His was a 1981 model. I used to own a 1979 Electra-Glide (with the Shovelhead motor), and I called it an optical illusion because it only looked like a motorcycle. Things were constantly breaking on my Harley. I asked Bob if he had any problems with his Shovelhead, and that opened the floodgates. Bob just went on and on about the nonstop challenges he had faced keeping his Harley running. He was still talking about it when we left.
We rode the Coast Highway all the way south to Highway 138, and someone told us to watch for the elk further east. We did, and wow, were we ever impressed.
Wow.Wow again!A bambino.
We spent the next night in Roseburg. The hotel was literally next door to the Roseburg Harley-Davidson dealer. We looked at the new 2006 Harleys (it was the first time I had seen them, and they looked good). I bought a Roseburg Harley T-shirt. There’s that old joke…you know, for a T-shirt company, they make a pretty good motorcycle…
Our destination the next morning was Crater Lake. Was it ever cold that morning! We rode through more beautiful scenery, but the temperatures were damn near debilitating. I need to tell you that we had been seeing signs warning of elk crossings for much of our time through Washington in Oregon, but the only elk was had seen so far were the ones off Highway 138. I had mentally dismissed the elk warning signs until what happened that morning. We saw another elk warning sign, I was trying to stay warm with my electric vest cranked up all the way, and then all of a sudden about 300 yards further up the road, the largest elk I ever saw stepped in front of us. I stopped, Marty stopped, and the elk stood broadside, just staring at us. He was daring us to proceed. That bull owned the road. He knew it, and he wanted to make sure we knew it, too.
Now, you have to picture this scene. We were the only ones out there, having a staring contest with this elk that was the size of a house, on a bright sunny freezing morning. Steam was coming out of the elk’s nostrils, and mine, too. I flipped my visor up because it was fogging over. The elk stared at me. I stared at it, wondering if I could get the bike turned around if the elk charged. I could see the headlines: Motorcyclist Gored to Death By Enraged Elk.
After what seemed to be an eternity, the elk looked away from us, crossed the highway, and disappeared into the forest on the other side. I started to let my clutch out, and then a female bounded out of the forest on the right and followed the bull into the forest on the left. I stopped and waited a second, and then started to roll forward. Then another female elk appeared. We stopped again. They just kept coming. Big ones, little ones, more big ones, more little ones, and well, you get the idea. I realized: Those elk crossing signs are for real.
Then it was on up to Crater Lake. It was beautiful, and it would become yet another Motorcycle Classics article.
My Daytona parked along the road circling Crater Lake.Yep, that’s snow. It was cold up there!
The area around Crater Lake was downright scary. There are steep drops on the side of the road, no shoulder to speak of, and no guard rails. There are lots of signs warning that you could get seriously hurt or killed up here. On the way down, we encountered ice on the road. I love riding; I hate riding on ice. I was concentrating intensely when out of the corner of my eye I saw a yellow motorcycle closing in on my right rear and I remember wondering who else would be nutty enough to be up here riding on the ice, and who in the world would try passing under these conditions? Then I realized: It wasn’t another motorcycle. It was my motorcycle, and the ass end was sliding around. The back end of my Triumph wasn’t going in the same direction as the front end. That was a close one.
After Crater Lake, we buzzed down to the California border, almost got stopped for speeding again (the CHP cruiser going the other way hit us with the lights but didn’t come after us), and we made it to Davis, California. We had dinner with Marty’s son, and then headed home the next day.
A trip like this is one of life’s grand events. It’s hard to say what part of it I liked best: The camaraderie, the people we met along the way, the scenery, the riding, the wildlife, the memories, the photo opportunities, the sense of adventure, or just the sheer pleasure of being alive and out in the world.
Here’s a summary of the miles that Marty assembled:
• 9/1/05 Upland, CA to Tijuana, BC: 139
• 9/2/05 Tijuana, BC to Gallup, NM: 657
• 9/3/05 Gallup, NM to Grand Junction, CO: 419
• 9/4/05 Grand Junction, CO to Driggs, ID: 569
• 9/5/05 Driggs, ID to Whitefish, MT: 526
• 9/6/05 Whitefish, MT to Calgary, AB: 366
• Total for Three Flags: 2,676
• Miles ridden within Calgary, AB: 6
• 9/8/05 Calgary, AB to Penticton, BC: 430
• 9/9/05 Penticton, BC to Portland, OR: 468
• 9/10/05 Portland, OR to Roseburg, OR: 288
• 9/11/05 Roseburg, OR to Davis, CA: 469
• 9/12/05 Davis, CA to Upland, CA: 427
• Total for return trip: 2,082
• Total for round trip: 4,764
The Three Flags Classic Rally is one of the world’s great motorcycle rides, and if you’ve never experienced it, you might consider signing up for one of these rides. You can get more information on the Three Flags Classic on the Southern California Motorcycle Association website. I’ve done some great rides in my life; the Three Flags Classic was one of the best.
So, good buddy Marty and I completed the 2005 Three Flags Classic motorcycle rally and we were in Calgary. That didn’t mean the riding was over, though. We would stay two days in Calgary, and then plot our own course home to California. That part of the ride was great, too. This blog focuses on our two days in Calgary. Much as I like riding, after riding from Mexico to Canada, it was good to be off the bike for a couple of days!
Before diving into our time in Calgary, you might want to catch up on the ride. Here are the first six installments of the 2005 Three Flags Classic…
Calgary was fun. It’s a large and modern city, and we had a good time walking around and taking pictures. About the only riding we did in Calgary was finding a motorcycle shop and getting a new rear tire for the Triumph (you might remember that I patched it). Only one shop had the tire I needed, they knew I needed it, and they soaked me pretty good. It cost $300!
Some of the sculptures along Stephens Street in downtown Calgary, as seen through the Sigma 17-35 lens. I’d heard these were supposed to cut down on the wind noise between the buildings.Interesting graffiti. Classier than the stuff you see around LA.An interesting sculpture in downtown Calgary. It reminded me of one of the guys who rode with us on the rally.I couldn’t resist this shot.An underfed Canadian horse?A chess set in a Calgary store window.Looking up in Calgary.A steam engine in downtown Calgary. I had a new super wide angle 17-35 Sigma lens. It was about a third the price of the comparable Nikon lens and it did a good job.
We spent two nights in Calgary, and we went to the Three Flags Classic banquet in our hotel. About a thousand people attended. I won a $100 Aerostitch gift certificate. It was great. Then they announced how many people rode each different brand of motorcycle. There were lots of Harley, BMW, and Honda riders. There were a few Suzuki and Yamaha riders. But there was only one Triumph rider, and that was me.
We had fun in Calgary. Like I said above, it felt good to be off the bikes for a bit. We spent time just sitting around in the hotel drinking coffee, we talked about many different things, and we solved most of the world’s problems. Then it was back on the bikes for the run west across Canada, with a left turn to head back into the US as we neared the Pacific. That’s coming up, folks, so stay tuned!
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Day 5 would have us crossing another international border (this time in Canada, the third country of our 2005 Three Flags Classic rally), and it would be yet another grand day. If you haven’t read the first four days, you might want to catch up by reading our prior blog posts here:
Day 5 would take us all the way in to Calgary, Canada!
We loaded up early again the next morning and headed north from Whitefish, Montana. Wow, was it ever cold! It was 34 degrees when we rode across the border into Canada, and even though the sun climbed higher into the sky on that fine bright day, it grew even colder as we continued north. I had my electric vest cranked all the way up and I was still freezing.
We stopped for breakfast in Fernie after we crossed the border to warm up a bit. Our route took us through a brief bit of British Columbia, and then we entered Alberta. The route took us into the Kananaskis National Park in Canada on our way to Calgary, our destination that day.
The Canadian Rockies in Kananaskis National Park, on our way to Calgary. That’s my Triumph Daytona 1200 in front, and Marty’s BMW K1200RS behind it. Wowee, it was cold that morning!Another photograph with the Rocky Mountains in the background. This was in Canada’s Kananaskis National Park, and that’s me next to my Triumph.A comparable photo of Marty at the same spot with his Beemer.
We saw signs warning of mountain sheep crossing the road. I thought it would be great to see one, but I didn’t expect that I would. Then we started spotting the things all over.
Look closely. Way up the road. Just past the sign on the right. Do you see the mountain sheep standing there?
The first one was that lone sheep you see in the photo above. We stopped to grab a photo, but I realized I had my Sigma 17-35 wide angle on the camera. I grabbed a quick shot from the motorcycle, but I knew the distance and the wide angle lens would make the animal just a tiny bit in the photo. I didn’t want to get off the bike because I thought I might scare it away. I fumbled to get my longer range 24-120 zoom lens on the camera (it was in my tank bag). The entire time I thought the goat would run away before I could get the lens on my Nikon N70.
Then the sheep looked directly at me and starting slowly walking in my direction.
“Uh oh,” I thought.
I didn’t know if mountain sheep bite or if they are aggressive. Maybe it would come over and try to butt me. I could see, even at a distance, that the thing had horns. I had visions of it knocking me and the Triumph over. My Triumph had never been on its side. The scratches on that beautiful Daytona fairing would be tough to explain. I remember wondering if I would be able to keep the bike upright if the thing butted me.
Little did I know….
Marty’s photo of my close encounter.
The sheep literally walked right up to me. I took this shot while sitting on my Triumph, at a distance of maybe 4 or 5 feet.
My new best friend. We were both feeling kind of sheepish. I guess it was as curious as I was.
I shot up a whole roll of film and the thing was still hanging around. I noticed that as it advanced, it would stop every few feet and lick the road. I’m guessing that it was enjoying the remnants of the road salt the Canadians put down when it snows and the roads ice over. Someone later said they are probably used to being fed. I prefer to think it just wanted a better look at the Daytona. After all, it was the only Triumph in the 2005 Three Flags Classic.
It warmed up after that and it was a glorious day. Our next to last checkpoint was in the Kananaskis National Park at a place called Fortress Junction. Marty and I chatted with the other riders and then we rode the final leg of the Rally into Calgary.
A guy named Dave and his friend at the final checkpoint in Fortress Junction, Canada. It was a glorious day.
Later that day, we rode along a highway and then into Calgary, the endpoint for the 2005 Three Flags Classic. I would be the turnaround point for Marty and me. We still had a lot of fun in front of us…a couple of days in Calgary, and then the grand ride home. On the ride home, we were on our own (it was not part of the Three Flags Classic, which ended in Calgary. That portion of our ride is coming up in future blogs, so stay tuned!
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The second day of the 2005 Three Flags Classic motorcycle rally would take us from Gallup, New Mexico (where we stayed the first night of the tour) to Grand Junction, Colorado. You can catch up on the ride by reading our prior blog posts here:
Day 2 of the 2005 Three Flags Rally. Good times. Great roads. Gorgeous scenery. A grand ride in every respect!
To continue the adventure, we were up early and we rolled out of Gallup, New Mexico on a beautiful day. The bikes were running great and Marty and I were in high spirits. It’s hard to put into words what it feels like to be on these kinds of rides. You’re out in the world, on a powerful motorcycle, seeing things worth seeing. It’s a great experience and a great feeling. Everything just seems better to me when I’m on a motorcycle ride. I sleep better, the food has better flavors, the people are friendlier, the bikes feel stronger, and on and on it goes. You need to experience it to really understand it. You folks who ride the big rides know what I’m talking about.
We spent very little time on the freeways on the Three Flags Rally. Most of our riding was on magnificent roads like the ones you see in the photos below. The folks at the Southern California Motorcycle Association who planned the ride did a fantastic job.
Another cool shot on the road in New Mexico. That’s Marty and his K1200RS BMW, with my Daytona in the background. Marty still owns the K1200RS. It has 144,000 miles on the clock.Another Daytona shot in New Mexico. That’s Shiprock in the background.
If it seems like there are a lot of pictures of my Daytona here, well, I guess there are. I loved owning the Daytona, and the more I rode it, the more I liked it. For a cool story on how I came to own this bike, check out this blog entry I wrote a few months ago.
A few miles up the road from this location, we crossed into Colorado. This was my first time in Colorado, other than passing through the airport in Denver a few time on business trips. But those stops don’t really count…a layover in any airport could be a layover in, well, any other airport.
Mesa Verde, Colorado. Wow…this was a great ride!
Marty wanted to stop in Mesa Verde National Park in Colorado. I had never heard of the place (I don’t get out enough, I guess), but I was up for it. Marty was a very easy guy to travel with and he didn’t have many preferences. He was a judge (that is to say, he’s the real deal…a Superior Court judge), and he told me that he didn’t want to make any decisions on this ride. Where we stayed, where we stopped to eat, and all the rest were up to me. I think that’s because Marty was paid to make decisions all day long. Making decisions was his job, and he wanted a break. So when he asked to hit Mesa Verde, it was about the only time he expressed a preference on where to go, and I was all for that. It was a good move. Mesa Verde National Park is an impressive place.
The ride up to the top of Mesa Verde (it literally means “green table” in Spanish) was awesome. It’s a multi-mile climb to about 8500 feet, and the vistas are incredible. You can see clear into New Mexico from the top.
All of the above, as you can see from the photos, was grand. But the main attractions at Mesa Verde National Park are the ancestral Pueblo Native American ruins. That part of the Park is almost beyond belief. It’s real Indiana Jones stuff.
Ancient Indian cliff dwellings in Mesa Verde. If you’ve never been to Mesa Verde National Park, trust me on this: You need to make the trip. Watch for the next issue of Motorcycle Classics magazine…it’s got all the good info on where to stay, where to eat, and more.
Mesa Verde is a very interesting National Park. I liked it so much that Sue and I took a road trip there last summer to explore the area in more detail. I’d been thinking about it in the 14 years that have elapsed since the 2005 Three Flags Classic. I wanted to see it again and bring my wife so she could see it. The Native American cliff dwellings are amazing and the scenery is magnificent. I have a story coming out on Mesa Verde in the next issue of Motorcycle Classics magazine. It really is a special place. Marty made the right call on this one. Hey, he’s a judge. The guy makes good decisions!
After Mesa Verde, we rode through heavy rains along the Dolores River and stopped in Telluride, Colorado. The sun came out just as we entered town. The ride along the Dolores River in Colorado was beautiful even in the rain. We were having a grand time.
Downtown Telluride, washed clean by a torrential Colorado rain.
We had a checkpoint in Rangely, Colorado. It was a great experience. I had a conversation with a guy named Pat (a BMW GS rider), and it turned out he lives one street over from where I live in California. I mean, think about that: Here we were, probably 1300 miles from So Cal, two guys strike up a conversation, and it turns out we’re practically neighbors (but we had never met before this ride). What are the odds?
Good buddy and GS rider Pat, a fellow Californio, at a checkpoint in Colorado.
We made Grand Junction, Colorado, where we would be spending the night, and we reconnected with our friends at the hotel. Dinner was great, and then the rain started again. I felt like taking more photos after dinner and I wanted to play with a couple of new toys. I had just purchased an ultra-wide Sigma 17-35 lens and I wanted use it. I had also purchased a Sunpak MiniPro Plus tripod for the trip. It looked like it was going to be a good idea, but it was a bust. One of the legs broke off halfway through the ride, and I threw the thing away. I almost never travel with a tripod any more. They’re just too bulky, and I can usually find something to steady the camera for evening shots.
Our bikes, parked in the rain at the hotel in Grand Junction, Colorado. I used the 17-35 Sigma for this shot, and my uber-cheap tripod (before it broke).
That wrapped up Day 2 of our Three Flags Classic ride in 2005. It was a great ride. We were two days into it and we had already ridden halfway across the United States. Out tally so far was two countries and four states. We still had several more states and another whole country to go. It was magnificent.
There’s more to come on this grand adventure, folks. Stay tuned for Day 3!
Former US Army paratrooper, GS rider, and good buddy Mike!
That’s good buddy Mike in the photo above, a very interesting guy I met on our most recent Baja ride. He’s a former US Army 82nd Airborne Division paratrooper, and for the last year or so he’s been living off his BMW and camping as he goes. Mike penned a piece on motocamping, and he sent it to us here on ExhaustNotes.
Here’s Mike’s take on this topic…
Camping can be fun and enjoyable for everyone if you plan properly and set realistic expectations. The same can be said for camping on a motorcycle. Over the past year and a half I have made it a point to camp on my moto at least once a week, and for the weeks I have not met this goal there are long weekends and vacations where I more than make up for it.
A man, a motorcycle, and a campsite. It just doesn’t get much better than this.
Throughout the past year I have been frequently asked how I choose a campsite on a moto. In this blog I wanted to answer that question from my personal experience.
For the first couple times using a KOA or other publicly-used campground is a great way to ease into camping. You will be camping, but close enough to stores and facilities that you can begin to gauge what you need and start to define your personal camping comfort zones.
After camping in that environment, and after you invariably get sick of listening to kids screaming and another annoyances from humans, you can experiment with camping for free in National Forests. A good note to remember is that National Forests are free to camp in, but National Parks are not.
A Baja campsite.A National Forest campsite. Note Mike’s mascot peeking out from under the tent.Mike in the morning at one of his campsites. The floral-print shorts were not standard issue 82nd Airborne gear!
Over the past year I found a number of free remote campsites. I use www.freecampsites.com or I look for National Forests on maps. Once in a National Forest locate a Forest Road (FR) and ride a few miles down it. Many of these FR’s are doable even for street bikes but be aware of changing road conditions as you navigate them. You will often see the remains of a campsite marked with stones from a previous campfire. For me this is the perfect indication that someone has camped here before and is a safe location.
Moto camping is an easy and inexpensive way to escape the rat race with less effort then many would think. Moto camping experiences are some of the most rewarding that I have had throughout my adventures. Being so removed from everything as you sit relaxing in the glow of a warm campfire reflecting off your moto is a fulfilling feeling that few venture to achieve.
At the end of his email to me earlier today, Mike asked if I had any rides planned. Actually, Mike, the answer to that most excellent question is yes. I’m thinking about two motorcycle rides, either one of which might involve camping, so your blog today was very timely.
One ride I’m thinking about is another Baja adventure, and this one would involve more dirt riding than usual (at least for me). I’m thinking about a run up to Mike’s Sky Ranch in northern Baja (I’ve never made that trek, and I always wanted to). Another variation, perhaps part of the same ride, would include a leg from Chapala on the Transpenisular Highway near Catavina through Coco’s Corner to the Sea of Cortez (a 23-mile unpaved section). And another possibility is a run from San Felipe down to Bahia de Los Angeles on the Sea of Cortez, which involves about 70 miles on dirt. I’d like to do this on my CSC TT250, just to say that I did. I’m thinking maybe December for this ride.
There’s another ride on the horizon that my good buddy Dan the K is setting up, and he was kind enough to extend an invitation to me. Dan rode with me a couple of times in Baja on the CSC motorcycles, once on his RX3 and once on his TT250.
Dan the K with his TT 250 above Baja’s Rumarosa Grade.
The ride Dan is planning is a much longer adventure ride up to Inuvik in Canada’s Northwest Territories. That ride will involve a lot of camping. It’s coming up next summer, and I’ll keep you clued in on the planning right here on the ExhaustNotes blog.
I’m excited about both rides. On that Baja ride…anybody want to ride with me? Hey, let us know here at info@exhaustnotes.us!
Photo ops abound in New Mexico. They have at least four different license plate themes. It’s cool.
Wow, we are enjoying our travels here in the Land of Enchantment. Every where we’ve been, the roads have been awesome and the photo ops have been amazing.
Yesterday we were up near the Colorado border in the little town of Aztec, New Mexico, and we came across a National Park Service Native American ruins site. I never heard of Aztec, I certainly never heard of the ruins there, and the roads were amazing. We stopped for a few photos, and then it was on to Colorado.
A kiva, a large multipurpose room. It was cool.A storm on the horizon…As we viewed the ruins, thunder boomed. It added to the mood. It was a great stop. Sometimes the unplanned ones are the best.The view through an ancient Native American door.
Mesa Verde is coming up next, but that’s a topic for another blog.
More cool stuff…it seems my friend Dan the K is planning a trip to the northwest territories on his 250cc RX3, I invited myself along, and Dan told me that’s great. It looks like Gresh may ride with us for at least part of the run, too. All adventure motorcycle tours are great; I believe the ones on 250cc bikes are even more so. We’ll include you in the planning for this ride, and you’ll be able to read all about it on the ExhaustNotes.us blog.
I wasn’t a big fan of the southeastern states and hadn’t really explored many of the western ones. Since the gray damp weather wasn’t something I wanted to deal with deciding to choose the Pacific Northwest probably wasn’t one of my better ideas, but I knew it wouldn’t be as cold in that area. I was still feeling the culture shock of returning to the United States and after living in South America, the busy stressful vibe of the United States wasn’t tolerable.
