“Rising From The Ashes” West Coast Tour

I pulled into the remains of the Detroit town square and felt a shiver.

Onlookers were taking pics with their painful expressions. We all mourned, clicked and walked the ashes. These were maybe the single most emotionally impactful images I’ve ever taken.

Back on my bike I continued up this highway of doom... absorbing all things incinerated.

Trees were left at their trunks, charred through the bark and lining the hills like massive tombstones in an endless graveyard.

Concrete impressions with remnants of an appliance splayed out in open ground signifying another total loss.

This fire was perhaps only 3 weeks old. Only seasonal rainfall impeded it’s path.

I was never more desperate to escape Mordor.



The oncoming Willamette Valley is renown for it’s many classic and restored covered bridges. Tragically some of these will succumb to this fire.

It was difficult to witness such personal loss and imagined heartache. But I do not overlook the strength and resilience of the human spirit.



Making my way west beyond the burn I leave the highway and head north along a beautiful landscape of rolling hills draped with colorful greenery.



This is incredibly lush and fertile countryside. What seed wouldn’t flourish here as some consider this the flower capital of the Americas.



( Oregon Trail Interpretive Center with the facade of a Calistoga wagon.)

I pass signs trumpeting Silverton, Mulino and Mollala as I ribbon ride my way to the famed ending of many weary travelers... Oregon City and the end of the Oregon Trail.



My niece, her husband and their awesome young children live in this beautiful town along the Willamette Falls just 35 miles southeast of Portland.



My sis, other niece and brother live in the metro area. So plenty of hugs and celebration ahead.

Yippee!

I’ll try to stick to landscape and bike pics so as not to bore the contingent... but if I slip in a few cuties please forgive me.



( Clackamas River park and launch.)

On my stay I ride out to the eastern end of the Willamette Valley.



Accompanied by my niece we travel along incredibly lush green winding roads that follow the creeks... and overlook the Matterhorn-esque glacial peak Mt. Hood.



My niece is a real trooper and great friend.

Another day lures me and family to Silver Falls, a world class destination of waterfalls... which some you can walk behind.



The lodge at Silver Falls is another class Roosevelt commissioned building.



This niece and her family are also wonderful.



(My awesome niece at Silver Falls.)

They sported me a private guest quarters I reluctantly gave back. Hahaha!



(Sorry, couldn’t resist... love my niece’s family.)

An unCovid related health issue sent my brother to the hospital with sis that couldn’t be easily remedied. And thought best they quarantine afterwards to be safe.

So I decided to head out after the week to visit other family living in Eastern Washington. I’d never ridden a motorcycle up the Columbia Gorge before and this should be epic. So let’s roll.

Fantastic life report @DesertSurfer. I've followed along with your rides over the years, on ADVR. Though I don't know you personally, I'm truly inspired by your journey of survival, escaping from underneath that odious shadow, and emerging into the light once again. I sincerely feel a bit of gratitude towards the universe to have this chance of playing audience to more of your travels.

All the best to you and yours,

Dave

With the warm weather holding I take off from Oregon City for Eastern Washington. This is supposed to be around a 5 hour trip mostly straight down the Columbia River Gorge.



My niece’s boyfriend rides an RC390 and made a route out through the Mt. Hood Conservation Area. This route connected a serpentine of small backroads leading directly out to the Columbia and avoiding any freeway running through Portland and airport area traffic.

With the route loaded in my IPhone I departed about 10am.

And the GPS immediately routed me to my last ride... a cafe to have a hot drink with my niece. Oh damn.

The GPS route somehow became problematic and needed a manual stop/start at each checkpoint... which meant I had to pull over to manually hit my end/start on my Iphone.

But the ride traveled along a picturesque Clackamas River with lush canopies over country roads.



A few more pull overs to advance the route on my Iphone and I continue onto a sport bike’s Alice in wonderland ride.

One lane roads that cross over the Sandy River on cool narrow bridges. 270 degree turns cut into the hillsides on hillclimbs or descents. Lushing road was a particularly exciting 8 mile section.

I pull over and advance my route three more checkpoints so I can ride straight through.

When I come to the fork that starts the final checkpoint the road name is missing. I zoom into the Iphone map and search for the through route. Many roads show they end at the river’s edge with no bridge crossing. I finally locate the roads that lead out of this mountain maze.



I travel over a rise with a forest clearing and have a breathless view at a stretch of the Columbia Gorge. WOW!

The sky is clear blue and the weather is perfect. Not too cold but breezy enough to whisk the sweat off me from my aggressive ride.

I wind my way down to the river side and can’t believe the width and height of the gorge. It’s another natural example of a humans insignificance. This ride will be humbling and hypnotiyque.

I stop at the Cascade Locks for a lunch of fresh sturgeon fish and chips. I look at my watch and it’s 3pm and I have 3 more hours to go. I’m making horrible time. My Uncle awaits and I’ll be holding up a bbq dinner.

I pass on crossing over the river on the Bridge of the Gods with it’s open grated see through floor. The North side adds another 30 miles so I’ll save it for another time.



The sun sets from within the walls of the Gorge and I find myself riding in the dark and pushing against the strong winds.

I pull into a small community that appears out of nowhere and fuel up. Temps get cooler and I add a layer then head out.

I figure out the freeway system and finally arrive in Richland Washington... referred to as part of the Tri Cities. It’s great to reconnect with my Uncle and Bbq it is... and after I’m beat. 10 hours en route fighting wind got the best of me. And where did the time go?

In the morning I walk across the street to the Columbia Center Park and admire a section of the Upper Columbia River.



This river snakes it’s way throughout the state before cutting a wide swath on it’s way to the ocean.

This area is a story about the history of water.



A modern water history museum stands next to us at the park, unfortunately closed due to CoVid so no free coffee today. Hahaha.



We plan a trip into the interior to hike through the scabland channels. We’ll choose the Drumheller Channel to walk around. Deep flooding hundreds of thousands of years ago from the Missoula Floods after natural ice dams broke... scourged the earth into these deep irregular channels.

We drive over to the nearby city of Walla Walla for a small gathering of relatives. More great hugs and congrats for my new found well being. My mother’s family included many. Summers involved staying at our grandparents berry farm with many cousins which we became close. It’s great to pick up again where our lives have all taken us.

Back in Richland we have a few more cousins show up and I have my fill of more greetings, praises and hugs. I’ve never smiled so much until my face hurt.

The Indian Summer was finally coming to a close. Rain arrived the next few days, changing plans of hiking the channels. Another destination saved for a later trip.

A break in the rain sends me out traveling south back into Oregon cutting the state in half and heading back to Bend again to share with Mom during her time on earth.

A low battery and 4 hour charge sets me back to a 3pm departure. Glad I brought my small charger. Now I would be traveling at night which was not optimal. Clear skies are again forecasted with 40’s temps.

Little did I know the fear of God I’d soon witness.

Thanks for the post GB/ Dave. I just try to stay positive and inspire when I can. And I hope to keep riding for years to come. I’ve also enjoyed following your travels during landlocked times and look forward to reading many more!

I left Eastern Washington along the Columbia to clear skies heading south. The forecast was mostly 50’s and cooler nearing Bend with maybe light rain.



Splitting off from the Gorge I ride south to Grass Valley under a very light intermittent snowy dusting. No problem, just a quick brush off of my visor here and then.

But it gradually continued as it eased me into more and heavier flurries. The snowfall was wet and melted once it touched the ground.

But the higher I climbed snow blanketing the shoulders and landscape. It must have been snowing earlier and at least a few days before.

As I continued the snow became drier and stickier. And no vehicles to smash it down or spread it away.

( Oregon Dept. of Transp. Images from the ride.)



I could feel my moto on a drift many many times and I had to maintain absolute perfect lines.



There was one long climb with heavy snow about 15 miles from the town of Madras. My tires were barely holding traction and I would have stalled and been rolling backwards if my tires broke loose completely.

I was covered with snow at this point as it was sticking on me. I just held my line as straight as possible and knew if I stalled loosing traction before the top I’d get blanketed on the side of the road and freeze.

Somehow I crested that hill and as I went down the other side the show fall lessened and wasn’t sticking to the pavement.

The sky was clear in Madras and I about kissed the ground.

Leaving Madras it snowed heavily riding 20 miles into the cowboy town of Redmond but then stopped to Bend.

When I arrived at my Mom’s I had to shake the snow off of me.

My riding suit was waterproof but I had a few damp areas of sweating from fear.

I can’t be believing these weather forecasters anymore. Clear skies and 50’s my ass.

But the forecast in every direction is snowfall for the next couple weeks or more.

I’ll have to figure a new plan to get over to the coast now.

At the moment I’m bundled up licking my wounds in Bend Oregon... having seen and lived through the wrath of God.

However, the wrath wasn’t over yet.

I love in bend. Road home last night in the snow... the weather has definitely turned here in the last few days. I hope you find safe travels and I have been loving your pics so far.

Jonathan

Good story and pics! Waiting anxiously for the next installment. Thanks for Posting! dd

Nice report DesertSurfer - I wish you much health and many happy journeys.

My view rising over the crest of the road and from inside my helmet thinking... “This is now not possible to pull off on a street bike and not a question of if I go down but when.”




Since I’m already days beyond this moment reflecting back on the dire situation, please indulge me in setting this all up and first lead into a side bar conversation.

The mental side effects of cancer recovery for this lifelong motorcyclist...

Up until this point of the trip I was fairly impressed with my physical stamina. I certainly wasn’t doing any iron butt distances and was breaking up the trip into easily doable sections.

Riding isn’t too physically taxing on a bike that’s fitted to you. And all the country cornering roads feel like the perfect amount of body resistance workout.

But what is harder to cope with is the loss of mental edge that happens and it’s On an individual basis so YMMV with radiation treatments in the vicinity of your brain.

And I’m not necessarily talking about loosing data, knowledge or memories either, of which there are small amounts to be expected. At least has been in my case. But minimal. I don’t care that a good portion of my movie watching and knowledge will have to be reprogrammed... A new fresh watch of the Godfather series. Whoopee!

However, what’s scary is learning about the mental erasure of some of my life long developed instincts. My sense of time is askew. And my senses of fear and preservation are dampened. I ended up in one bad situation after another so far on this trip where I was led up a mountain pass during a clear day’s ride with no forecast of snow let alone rain... as conditions gradually changed. So gradual that I didn’t have a point early enough to trigger me into turning around until I was deep in the thick of it. I knew better. I was raised in self preservation.

Twice I rode through mountain passes where I was hit with snow that a motorcycle had no business being on. I was damn sure I wasn’t going to let that happen again... so I thought.

So back at my mom’s after being a bit butt hurt from having ridden 2 hours of a snowy pass... I looked at the upcoming weather for a window to head out before winter hits full force. It showed a break in the weather after a day before all hell was to break out.

Sadly, I packed up and left my mom. Otherwise I would be stuck there until the next spring thaw. But also I was stressing out my mom with my presence. She had been struggling to hide how physically deteriorated she has become and worried I would sound the family alarms to force her into a care facility. With great pains I departed early the next morning knowing this may be a final visit unless I can fly back for a short trip during the holidays. I just needed to return home safely.

The road south on highway 97 was clear although low 30’s. There was some snow on the shoulders just off the roadway in places but clear blue skies.

I knew of a highway several hours south that I didn’t think would have issues so I took the turnoff to highway 123.



The road starts off as a long straight climb right up to a high pass and I could see what looked like ice across the road in the distance. I knew this would be a no go but I wanted to reach the beginning of what either was frozen solid or a pavement mirage. 3 miles down the road it started to become covered. I turned around but even what looked like pavement was slick and difficult turning around with my loaded sport bike.
Back onto the highway heading south.

I originally hoped to cut across the state heading west and make it to the coast to visit my best buddy Jake. But wasn’t sure if there was a low pass as it seemed this supposed Indian Summer warm weather caused snow dumps when it converged with the cold weather over the Cascade high peaks.

I was considering just calling it quits and crossing over the border and heading home. But I also thought there might be a low pass in the vicinity that could get me on the Interstate 5 highway and a clear path over toward the coast.

My memory was struggling for when I’d ridden any of these before and if they would be susceptible to these warm Indian snowfalls.

I pulled into a resort parking lot for travelers visiting the Crater Lakes area and asked what they knew. Next to the resort office in an opened garage was a Yamaha bagger.

The manager was the bike owner and said there was a terrific winding road with a low pass and no snow up there yet. I asked him numerous times if he was sure and he responded profusely it was south facing in the sun all day and the storms hadn’t hit that far south yet.

Off I went through beautiful winding country roads across the meadows and up the gradual incline through the pass. And into the frozen mouth of Hell hidden beyond.

Having grown up in Northern California, Knowing most roads mentioned, Bend, Klamath Falls, etc, It is with eager anticipation that I await your next entry. Great stuff. Many familiar photo memories.. Thanks

Hey SVO Jon, I always enjoy Bend. But it gets cold and is in a bowl around passes that can snow at anytime.

Hi DD, This trip sure has become intense.

Hey WO, Glad you’re enjoying the travels.

Hi DJ, It gets difficult to capture good pics in rain and snow but I’ll keep the posting.

I recall riding to Bend on my way home from PNWet work and getting rain then light snow up on the pass.

It was August. We were looking at each other and wondering who we had pissed off in a former life.

We stayed a night in Bridgeport at an old Cowboy hotel. It was 28° the next morning. Too cold to fire the BMW's.

Of course by Lone Pine it was over one hundred and of course the 395 crosswind home.

I have a new respect for the Cascade range of Oregon as well as its high desert plains.

Rumors are it’s becoming more unpredictable to ride a motorcycle near elevation.

I rode through my share of mid 30’s temps with my 5 layers of pants and 6 layers of top gear. When the temps were low or below 30’s I was just plain cold and wasn’t happy.

I’m reluctant to start writing my next installment and remind myself of the hell I confronted. But it will post soon. And other inspiring and heartfelt events to include.

So stay tuned!

Great Report ! I am enjoying it immensely.

The scenes from Detriot, OR were stunning. I have eaten in the flattened cafe. I hope that like you have, they too rise from the ashes..

Living way up north here i have a snowman in the front yard and a sledding hilll grommed for the grand kids and no intention of riding the moto anytime soon, so i will be living the wintery adventure vicariously through you. Carry on !

Cheers

Thanks N ID Jim, Yeah. Detroit really choked me up. I’ve ridden past so many burned forests on this trip. I didn’t want to dwell on it, but as the Apollo 13 crew said it best,”Houston, we have a (f##king) problem”.

Since you’ll be living this trip too, I hope we both make it out alright. We still have a ways to travel.

Hold on!

I follow the said route as explained by the resort manager... across the flat meadows that wind north and west from the Klamath Lakes. The sky is clear and the air is crisp. I take the fork that follows the signs to Rocky Point which leads to a country road through the woods in the direction of a private lake resort. I pass the resort on my mission to reach highway 140 through a low mountains heading west. I begin to see some remnant snow on the shoulder in scattered places but disappears as I face the sunny side of the route.

I reach the 140 and it looks clear. I’m thinking it’s maybe 35 miles and am giggling having found a clear pavement path through the woods. My immediate destination would be the direction of Medford Oregon and up the Interstate 5 freeway and a coastal road to Glasgow Oregon meeting up at my longtime riding buddy Jake’s.

It will finally be great to hang out at Jakes and catch up on our lives.

The first 10 miles on 140 are dry pavement with little to no snow on the shoulders. The resort manager’s call seemed proper. The excitement of making it over the pass was building.

The country carving through the woods was blissful.

Around a corner snow began to appear on the shoulders but the roadway was clear.

Slowly with each few miles snow began to creep into the roadway. Centers and middles of the roads begin to appear covered in snow, but the lane areas showed pavement exposure.

I begin to reduce my speed. The route started to loose sun and lay heavily in the shade. The snow now completely creeps into the lanes and suddenly I reach a crest where the entire road was a full sheet of frozen snow.

Snow plows had pushed the soft slush over to the side and volcanic pellets had been laid down by the road crews and vehicles were continuing ahead as usual.

I pull over to the shoulder to let the few vehicles pass me while I continu to survey the situation. I had traveled about 18 miles and figured maybe another 12 or so more. I wasn’t sure how much traction I’d have but the volcanic pellets were well covering the road and cars were making it look manageable. I take it slow and feel there is plenty of traction. I could stay on the far right where the pellet grit was building up and have plenty of traction. And I’m in no hurry. So I continue on very slow going.

The road continued winding and I stayed near the shoulder. The it opens up to the sun and there is much more exposed pavement allowing me to pull off the snow ice and pellet grit.

I continued on around the next bend. The sun disappears and the conditions become much worse. The plowing had become uneven. The road is ice packed and the pellet grit nearly gone. I pull over to the shoulder. My feet barely able to get a grip. This is now serious sh#t.



I waited and watched as cars continued past me running slow but without issue. But on two wheels this would require perfect handling.

Figuring I had 5 miles before I’d be descending below the snow/ ice elevation... I contemplated continuing.

In hindsight I should have turned back. Of course the right answer is always obvious after the fact.

It was mid to low 30’s, the ground freezing and thawing the snow ice pack. And this was an outpost destination with no services or turnoffs. I should have been terrified. But as I mentioned earlier I just felt no alarms going off.

Foolishly, I was confident in my riding. And I saw this as just a routine problem needing solving.

So I rolled cautiously back into the lane and carefully picked the perfect line.

I gradually built up momentum and lifted my feet to the pegs. My rear tire had the intermittent chatter of traction breaking free then re-engagement. I kept the speed low and followed the road ahead hands firm to the grips.

This was crazy. I wasn’t really moving that fast, lugging second. It would take forever. But the road was flat and navigable. I could see an uphill ahead and realized this would be the make or break if I could get traction. If my back wheel spun out I’d go sideways and slide out.

I slowly ramped up speed and somehow maintained momentum. I could feel my rear tire struggle to keep contact. I wondered how much more I could roll the throttle. As I neared the crest I accelerated for posterity.

And then my future flashed before me. The hill dropped steeply on the other side. My momentum carried on and the descent was a combination of thick ice and slush. I was going way too fast and yet couldn’t brake.

I could hear myself thinking “This was now not possible to pull off and not a question of if I go down but when”.

My wheels pushed into the snowy icy slush. My front tire bogged down and my rear end continued it’s forward momentum. And both wheels washed out from the opposing forces.

In slow motion we went down. My bike hit the bar end, my hand clenching it. I kept to my seat drawing my low side knee up from dragging. My rear side case formed the perfect three point stance and on we slide for what seemed long... but only about 25 feet.

I could see oncoming traffic but not close enough for concern. My hand separated from the grip and I did a slight roll on the ground to try to hop up but the momentum spin me a few revolutions before I could right myself.

Hands went to my thighs as I came upright for that standard position of a large inhale, a slight head shake and a frustrating look at what just happened.

The traffic immediately stopped in all directions. It was a dismal scene. I guy left his SUV and asked if I was hurt. I was catching my breath but said not hurt. My hand felt bruised but no worse then my ego... and dreams of making it any further. I was now essentially stopped dead in my tracks on the pass. And I started feeling consciously confused.

I tried to pick up my bike but with no traction had no leverage. The onlooker helped me lift it. Another driver asked if I wanted a ride back to Klamath Falls. I couldn’t really focus, said that was the wrong direction and waved as if I was good.

Bear with me again here for another side bar...

This is by no means a religious thread. And I am no one to talk about it. I’m actually not a practicing religious person. I generally stay fairly neutral on these matters.

However, events I’m going to describe further give wonder as to the term divine intervention. I’ll leave that for you all to decide.

Back on the icy highway 140, standing adjacent with my upright motorcycle in my grip... my predicament hadn’t quite sunk in yet. In a nutshell, I was standing there absolutely and totally fucked.

I couldn’t ride out of there. The temps were in the 30’s and as the sun passed over the mountains soon to be 20’s. Snow was bound to fall soon and I’d easily freeze trying to walk down the mountain with my motorcycle left on the side of the road.

And I was still in a daze from my fall on the ice.

But the question is... do you believe in miracles? Karma? Guardian angels... anyone?

If so, they can come in any form, shape or size.

Pulled over, staring from the driver’s seat of a 2012 Dodge dually was 70 year old Dan B. I had just waved him off as being OK. He could tell I was still rattled, standing holding my upright bike clueless what my next move would be... other then down again.

Dan stayed off of the shoulder. And coincidentally he was pulling an empty low trailer. He looked at me to see if I’d come to my senses enough to see his offer to tow me back to Klamath Falls.

And thank god he waited on the shoulder. I awoke to the thought of a tow to anywhere out of this hell and I waved him down.

Dan set up a low ramp and the other onlooker helped me push the bike around and up on the trailer.

Yes, he was going in the opposite direction but I could get back to Klamath Falls. While up on the trailer I powered the key on and got a strange “OFF” led error message. “GREAT”, another problem to address when I get unloaded.

The 50 mile ride to Klamath Falls started out pretty quiet. I was humbled, a bit embarrassed and bewildered as to what just happened. Dan spared me the obvious question of “What was I thinking riding through the pass”?

Come to find out Dan’s been a motorcyclist and done his share of iron butt rides over his lifetime. He knew what I was thinking. We started talking about our riding endeavors and it was as if he knew me better then myself. No explanation needed.

Dan said he’s heading to pick up a new Toyota truck for a dealer swap. He asked where I was trying to get to. I said Glasgow, Oregon. There was a big pause and then a chuckle from him followed by something like “Of course”.

Dan said “That’s where I live and where I’m headed to after I drop off the new truck”. “But I don’t think I can get you there. “ “I’d have to get an OK from the dealer to have you on board”. “And I don’t think your bike and the new truck will fit on the trailer”.



( This was an odd technique for strapping a bike down. But it worked perfectly.)

Next thing you know when we are picking up the truck, Dan figures out an idea how to load both vehicles on the trailer, gets approval to haul me back and changes his itinerary of staying the night and heading straight back the same day.



I help Dan spin my bike and he straps it down, pulls the truck on the trailer, ties it down and we’re on our way to the coast. Glasgow here we come. Yeehaw!

Some would simply call this exact meeting on the snowy pass as pure luck. A lot of small planets seemed to have had to align in my mind. I’ll leave it up to the reader.

Meanwhile I’d make it over to my buddy Jake’s in Glasgow later this night to celebrate my safe arrival.

Next up,...

In Glasgow, two buddies reminisce over 45 years of riding together in separated photo albums...

( en route... to be continued...)

Wow.

Stories for around the campfire, somewhere out in the desert I think. Glad you're OK.

Ha ha! God looks after drunks and idiots ! At least it has worked that way for me.

Glad it worked out for you! What a great stioy!

..... the question is.....do YOU believe in miracles? Karma? Guardian angels... anyone?

well ..... you will too if you can find new parts to fix up your scratched and scabbed up machine ..... i hope yhe damage is not too bad

I've got a 2004 Aprilia Futura RST1000 in Stream Silver "ItalianMistressNo3" (look her up on DaGram)..... amazing touring and Sunday Twisty Machine (STM) love it ..... very reliable when looked after....love that powerhaus rotax motor!

I got the last OEM factory new left hand side panel (and mirror) available anywhere in the world after she rolled off the kickstand on my steepish driveway a year ago.... got it all on the nest cam in slow mo, it was painful to watch

good luck fixing her up af1 has a lot of parts I had to source alot of mine from England..... let me know if you need any help with repairs I've done a bit of them in the meantime keep riding that mistress, she's awesome machine .... Miles of Smiles, Loads of Laughs, Plenty of Pleasure during an otherwise unpleasant time ..... we should ride together in SoCal if you're still around .... two Futuras on the road at the same time is a very besutiful and rare event indeed.

that IS a beautiful machine....the graphite was my 2nd choice....almost ended up with it too as The Silver is virtually impossible to find took me over a year!

heres mine.....

https://www.instagram.com/p/B_uhmvhFurpMeEOO04Tot2QbBEJHUHKtC7Sh-c0/?igshid=109jjszo71u9h




my wife and I did a similar route back August 28 - September 20..... but at that time the West was on fire, and we called it "Tour d'Wildfires" or "Hippies From The Coast Tour"

https://advrider.com/f/threads/hippies-from-the-coast-tour-aka-tour-dwildfires.1464886/

we were on our Moto Guzzi's .... my wifes rides a V7 Classic, me a V85TT (aka #ItalianMistressNo4) .... i was not the Aprilia RST (#ItalianMistressNo3) .....for that journey...... too many miles a day, "death march thru sept", averaging +250ish a day ....day, after day, after day for 21 days, +4500mi, 7 states....too much tuck day after day for my 6'5" frame on the Futura!

✌❤️