Day 06

July 30

The STs also get a wonderful free wash, and the clothes that Doug had carefully hung out on a line to dry are rewashed also. What a deal all rolled into the price of the campsite! When we get up, we wring out and pack up. Soon we are cruising down highway 14 that runs along the Columbia River. The contrast between the arid landscape and the flowing river is visually arresting.

As we ride on, I notice that I am chasing my shadow along the road. Grabbing my camera out of the pocket of my Darien, I finally get a good shot of it.

We continue to move right along at a good pace. Then, with no fuel stations in sight, my reserve light comes on. I think -

“Boy, this ain't the place to find out how far you can make it on the reserve.”

Fortunately, as we near the crossover to Oregon, we see a gas stop and take advantage of it. Then it‘s down the hill, over the river and into the first restaurant we see. As we sit down, I notice a World War II vet (by the cap he is proudly wearing) at the adjoining table, sitting with his wife. We finish our breakfast, mine of pig meat and hen fruit, and we get up to leave. I try to make it a practice to thank every W.W.II vet I see, because they are quickly disappearing and we owe them a great debt. As I walk over to him, I also notice he's wearing a USMC watch. When I stop beside his table, I ask him a standard Marine question –

“All right now, are you a Hollywood Marine or a real Marine?”

This goes back to whether you went through boot camp at San Diego or Parris Island.

He laughs when I show him my helmet that carries an USMC sticker on either side.

“Hollywood, reckon. When I was in, them boys in Parris Island had it a lot tougher than us” he said with a smile.

“Well, I had an 11 week vacation at that resort they run down in Parris Island. But I just want to say thank you for what you did. If it weren't for guys like you, I'd likely be speaking Japanese or German today” I tell him.

As we continue to talk, he tells me that he had been shipped later on in the war to fight the Chinese after he had fought the Japanese. I can tell that our conversation has brightened his day a bit and for that I am thankful. We exchange good-byes and I go on outside to join Doug and Coop on our ride to Ashland and WeSToc. Doug moves out quickly, but Coop and I decide to ease along for a while and enjoy the scenery. The wheat fields seem to roll on for miles, every now and then broken by tall grain elevators rising like giant monoliths.

In the distance, we see gorgeous mountains standing sentinel over the whole scene. We just have to stop and take some pictures. I tell Coop –

Then there are the many hay fields with giant round bales symmetrically placed at the proper intervals like a giant Chinese checker board. I never really thought about Oregon as that big of a farming state, but today I am certainly proved wrong. Suddenly I am rudely snatched away from my thoughts. For last few miles on highway 97 there is a flatbed semi in front of us hauling a prefab building. We have been keeping our distance for safety sakes and so we can enjoy the scenery. Suddenly, he veers slightly to the right to avoid oncoming traffic as he crosses a bridge. I think –

“He's a fixin' to hit that bridge with that house.”

With a big 'wham' my expectations are not disappointed as we quickly grab the whoa levers. We wonder if we are going to have a house sliding down the road to go around but fortunately it stays on the trailer. I radio the driver on my CB and let him know that he broke off some of his wide load markers so that he doesn't get a ticket on down the road. He eventually pulls over and we whiz on past him. After the prior trailer incident, I was not looking forward to trying to dodge a house. Coming into another city in Oregon, we stop again for gas. Up comes a couple of guys riding fully dressed Victory motorcycles. I've not seen very many on the road so I strike up a conversation with them.

“How do like those Victories?” I quizz them.

“Oh, pretty well” the older man speaks up.

I'm guessing that they are father and son.

“We're headed for Sturgis and this is his first real long ride” he adds..

“Well, we got real close a couple of days ago when we passed through Rapid City” I tell them.

I notice he has a few military looking tattoos. So ask him -

“You in the service?”

“Yep, I was in the Marines. Two and half years in Nam until they finally sent me home cause they thought I was crazy. One of my buddies asked me to go skeet shooting the other day but I turned him down. I told him the last time I had a gun in my hands I was killing people and the next time I have one I'll be doing the same thing” he tells me.

We hit it off especially when I tell him I was in the Marines too. It's a hard thing to explain but there are things you understand having gone through USMC boot camp that nobody else understands.

He adds in, “I used to race Enfields but finally had to give up. But let me tell you a Harley joke – What's the difference between a Harley and Kirby vacuum cleaner?”

“You've got me on that one” I tell him.

He replies with a big grin – “The position of the dirt bag.”

I'm thinking that one's pretty good that could be fit to any make and model. But you'd better be careful where you tell it. We both laugh and head back to our bikes. We wave as they pull out, then we head in the opposite directions on southward. We continue on 97 until we come to highway 138 that will take us to Crater Lake.

We figure we'll stop by since we are in the neighborhood. I pull up to the ranger station, and the ranger isn't smiling –

“I could take your money, but you'd be wasting your time. The whole place is covered up with smoke from the forest fires and you can't see a thing.”

I thank him for the information and we sadly turn around and find a stopping place to pick out another route to Ashland. I really hope we will be able to see it before we leave the area. We pick out highway 230 which will take us to highway 62 and a short stint on the slab to get to Ashland. As we proceed south, the scenery is beautiful, but the smoke becomes so bad that my eyes begin to water and my nose begins to run. I have never experienced such far reaching effects of a forest fire like this before. It reminds me of the old days in a smoke filled bar and I am glad when we reach the hotel in Ashland. You can't even see the surrounding mountains for the smoke. As we pull into the parking lot, I see more STs that I have ever seen before in one place. Talk about variations on a theme – all sorts of modifications, colors, farkles, and riders. The new ST1300 is there so we get a real up close look at it.

We get checked in, drop off our gear and wander over to registration. Quite a gathering, I see some folks I know from EaSToc are there. There is a free taco table (I immediately think of Guy) that we help ourselves to and we sit at table with some folks already there. Many of the preplanned routes are closed due to the forest fires, so tomorrow will be make your own ride sort of day. Coop and I decide to go back and wash up some clothes while we've got the chance and Doug wanders off on his own. At the laundry, we meet a nice couple from Idaho that are new ST riders. She turns out to be a rural mail carrier which is a pretty interesting occupation in a place like Idaho. We share our common experiences with them then they wander off after their clothes finally finish. The laundry is hotter than blazes, so Coop and I quickly stuff our clothes in the machine and sit in the hall, waiting for the machines to finish. We enjoy our time solving all of the world's problems and discussing the past few days of riding. It's been a long day and we are glad when the buzzer finally goes off signaling our clothes are done. Tomorrow will be interesting – just where we will ride and how bad will the smoke be?