West 2002
 
 

Day 07

July 31

  
  As it turns out, Coop decides to rest (he's got the stock seat and Doug and I have Russells), Doug decides to ride with another group so I am left to my own devices. I like to ride with others but I've done a bunch of solo riding so I wander over to the free breakfast before I head out. It is not exactly what I am used to. Having eaten rattlesnake, snails, and ants before, I can adapt to eating almost anything. Given a choice, however, I'm just not much into foofoo breakfasts with yogurt, fruit and sweet rolls. There is a little pig meat so I manage okay. One of the riders, Ken from Oakland, California and I strike up a conversation after breakfast. He has to have one of the cleanest, shiniest Black STs I have ever seen. It would make Ron Wayden proud. He also has installed the radio pocket with a CD player. I have the pocket and was wondering how it looked. When I see that he had to cut the side maintenance cover because of the length of the CD player, I quickly take that farkle off my list. Also, it turns out his mother and grandmother are both from Arkansas so we get to talking about good Southern cooking. Cornbread, white beans, black iron skillets, fried chicken, sweet milk gravy, country ham, homegrown maters – man we both are almost slobbering and realize how far away we are from that kind of food. After that conversation, I'm sure glad I've shipped some white beans and ham hock to Dennis's place ahead of time. Well, with most of the rides smoked out, I take off in no particular direction. I figure I'll just see where I end up. As I round a corner I see the sign – .
 
 
 
  With a name like “DEAD INDIAN MEMORIAL ROAD”, I've just got to check it out. Don't know what the story is, but it looks promising so away I go. As the road wanders upward into the hills, the smoke gets a little thicker. But it's still manageable and this is a pretty dandy road - no traffic to speak of, decent curves, and good pavement. What more can I ask for? I don't know where it ends up, but I figure I'll find out sooner or later. Often at home, I'll just take off and follow any road that looks interesting. You would be amazed at how many great roads you can find that way that no one else ever finds. This one takes me through the Sky Lake Wilderness Area which is quite beautiful in it's own way. But as all good things often do, the road finally ends, t-boning into what looks like a pretty major highway. I hang a right and discover this is highway 140. If my memory serves me right, this runs into Klamath Falls which ought to have a place or two I can check out for lunch. It's a gentle road, running alongside a beautiful, large lake call the Upper Klamath Lake.  
 
 
 

As I ease down the main drag in Klamath Falls, I see it –

“RED'S BBQ – SOUTHERN COOKING”

There's quite a few cars in the drive, so I figure I'll find out whether Red knows what he's talking about or not. As I park my bike and take off my helmet, another couple who came in on a ST come out.

“How's the grub in this place?” I ask.

“Great. Really Good. And reasonably priced” he responds.

“Thanks a bunch. I reckon I'll check it out” I tell them.

I wave as they take off, presumably headed back to Ashland. The hostess seats me, and a very harried waitress stops by. I can tell she's been as busy as a one-legged man in a mile run.

“What would you like?” she asks.

“I guess I'll take the sampler. Is this really Southern cooking?” I ask with a grin.

“Why, certainly” she says.

“Well, since I'm from Tennessee I reckon I'll know in a little bit” I reply.

She manages to keep my tea glass filled until the food arrives which is no small task. The sampler has ribs and chicken, coleslaw, beans and cornbread. As I dig in, I taste the cornbread and determine that Red may have been to South Oregon, but not the South where I'm from. We don't put sugar in cornbread as a rule and this tastes like a piece of cake. But the rest was really good, so if you are ever in Klamath Falls, stop at Red's BBQ. When I finish up, the waitress comes back and we strike up a conversation.

“I've been working 16 hours a day at this place. I don't think I've got a life” she says with a long sigh.

“Well ma'am, I don't reckon I've ever seen an armored car following a hearse” I tell her.

She looks puzzled and I guess she just doesn't get it. I figure there are other things that the poor soul doesn't get, but I leave her a nice tip and head out to the bike. I run highway 66 back to Ashland which turns out to be another real treat. The DOT is doing some pavement, so I am really careful in some of the tight turns. There's loose black gravel in the inside of a lot of them plus some irregular pavement. 66 runs up and down the ridges with some great views and little smoke so all in all it is a great ride.

 
 
 
  When I pull back into the lot, I see Coop. We head back to his room to decide what we want to do for supper. We figure there are some restaurants a few miles in toward town so we decide to walk. It's great to get out and stretch the old legs and share the day's experiences with each other. The temperature is just right, the pace is moderate, and the company is great. After a mile or so, we spot one of the restaurants – Omar's, that we saw in the yellow pages. It's been in operation since 1946, making it the oldest restaurant in town. We get a table pretty quickly and the service and food are excellent. What a great end to a great day – good food and good conversation. We finish up and begin the walk back to the hotel.  
 
 
  We talk over the ride for tomorrow and I mention Dead Indian Memorial Road. I am really hoping we can run up to Crater Lake tomorrow because it will be our last chance to see it before we go. We check out the maps back in Coop's room and chart our course. But the forest fires continue to burn and obscure the mountains into the night – only daylight will give us the answer.