Riding up to the Hell's Canyon Rally, Friday, I crossed from Idaho into Oregon and spotted a pack of cruisers down on the freeway. The weather report warned of freezing rain and strong winds in Baker, but thousands of bikes will show up to run the devil's tale. One of my boys gifted me $20 and I had $25 travel pay stashed from my last trip to the VA hospital, beer in the saddle bag, steak in the ice chest and coffee in the galley. It would be a good weekend. Not wanting to buck the gusting winds doing 70mph on the slab I took the scenic route, old Hwy 30, up the valley then along the Snake River to Farewell Bend. Didn't see any other bikes. Farewell Bend is where the Oregon trail leaves the Snake. It's on the freeway, but the gas station, restaurant and hotel are all derelict and deserted now. There is a state park but services are up the old highway and over the hill in Huntington, a left over from the hay days of rail before the highway; an old brick building with pressed tin ceilings and a caboose. A few miles of gravel road lead back to the Snake and a BLM campsite with a nice shaded fish cleaning station and berry picking in season. I ride a few miles along the Burnt river following the old road toward the bombed out looking ruins of Lime, an old cement plant. The bridge is out. There is access to the freeway but only going south. I ride south until I spot a place to cross the median and turn north. Lime flows past on my right and I run the high-speed turns (posted slow to 50 or 55) through the narrow valley to were it widens at the new cement plant that looks like a moon base then pick up the old highway again. In Durkee, more sagging boarded up prewar shops, garages and cafes, I spot a Willys-Rambler hybrid. The last town I pass through before Baker is what's left of Pleasant Valley, once sporting a modern new pre-neon sign. No vacancy, no problem. That's why I pull my bed and kitchen along behind.