Alaska 2004
 
 

Day 10

July 18

  
 

Having spent some time with me, the Mapinator knows how much I love a good breakfast. He and Miss Theresa sure don't disappoint me either! There's biscuits, gravy, fried taters, eggs, sausage – just what I like and I chow down like I haven't eaten in a week. Rich Follen and V.J. are coming over to ride with us and we'll be meeting up with some other riders today. The plans are for me to head on to Don and Joyce's place in Castro Valley after the ride. So I gather up my stuff and once again get the old Redbird packed up and ready to roll. V.J. and Rich pull up in front of the house, and lo and behold Rich is on a brand new ST1300 – still has the dealer's tags on it.

“Well, what excuse did you use to get this thing?” I ask him.

“I've got a long trip scheduled back east and I was just concerned about the ST1100 and the miles it had on it” he answers.

“Well, any excuse is good as another I reckon” and we both laugh.

V.J. arrives and I give him a big old bear hug.

“How's Miss Mo doing these days? And just when are you going to get her that Russell seat?"” I ask him.

She sat on my one time at Dennis' house and really liked it.

“She's doing just fine and I am still waiting on the seat” he says.

We mount up and just follow John wherever he's headed. It's nice again not to have to worry about routes, roads, turns and such and just follow the taillight in front of you. We are going to hook up with some more folks that he knows and do some riding. So we slab a bit to get to the hookup spot. California slab traffic gives ‘crowded' a whole new meaning and you begin to understand why lane splitting is just a way of getting places around here. We get off the slab and back to the sweet two lanes which are more to my liking. It's a bit of an eclectic group of bikes today. Besides our ST11s and Rich's ST1300, there was a Ducati of some flavor, a dual sport, and a nice older gentleman on an original Honda Silverwing.

 
 
 
 

I dismount and walk over to see the Silverwing. I could tell he was proud of it.

“Hi there. They call me Uncle Phil. What year is your Silverwing?” I asked him.

“I'm Tony. My bike's an 86” he tells me.

“Man. It sure is in great shape. Neat bike!” I add.

It has the Vetter fairing and all the stuff you could put on one in those days. It is an immaculate bike that he has taken great care of and ridden very carefully. But we're here to ride, so John herds up the cats, and off we go, sorting out our riding order.

 
   
 

I sort of hang back to see where folks are going settle into and pick a spot near the lead. John has picked some great roads and great scenery and I am thoroughly enjoying it. Finally we pull in for a rest at Stumpy Meadows on Wentworth Springs Road: We really test the cameras as we take several shots of our ugly mugs.

 
 
 
 
 
  The temps are pretty hot, and there ain't much shade, so we get on the move again. I pull out behind the Mapinator and enjoy cranking the wick a bit following him. After a while, we notice there's nobody behind us so we stop on the roadside to wait up. Pretty soon Rich pulls up on his ST1300. We are overlooking the Desolation Wilderness and it's a great stop for the third tree on the right.  
   
 

“You know Uncle Phil, I help plant a bunch of these trees years ago when this place got hit by a forest fire” John tells us.

“I bet that was backbreaking work. I remember pegging tobacco back home where you stayed bent over all day, pegging and planting” I tell him.

“See anybody behind you?” I ask Rich. Having seen a crash on each of my previous group rides, I'm getting that sinking feeling.

“No, not lately” Rich says.

We decide to wait a bit longer. Still no one comes and I know in my heart something is wrong – bad wrong. A patrol cars zooms by headed in the direction that we just came from. Then we see an ambulance whiz past us headed the same way. My heart sinks and I say -

“Boys, somebody's down.”

Since John knows the road, he heads back to check it out. Rich and I stay put, but it seems time is standing still. Our minds go through the riders and we wonder if it is V.J. or one of the other guys. There is nothing that hurts your heart anymore than the thought of someone getting hurt riding. You know that is part of it and a chance you take every time you mount up, but it still does not make it easy. John finally pulls back up with V.J. close behind.

“It was the Tony, the older guy. He lost it at that cattle guard. Not at the cattle guard, but just before it. He ended up hitting the right frame that the fence runs off of” John tells us.

“Well boys, I'm done for the day” I tell them. “I just don't have the heart for much more. This is my third group ride that someone has gotten hurt. Let's just head for the house.”

We are all pretty much of the same opinion, so we head down out of the hills. V.J. has graciously offered to lead me into Don's house and for that I am thankful. We head toward the valley and decide to get a bite to eat before John and Rich have to head back to their houses. The restaurant was an unremarkable sandwich shop, but it didn't matter much. It was good to get out of the heat and to chill out for a while. We finish our sandwiches and get ready to mount up.

“Well, Mapinator, you've got to come to Tennessee so you can find out where the really good roads are” I tell him.

“Well, maybe in a few years when my son gets a bit older” he tells me.

We mount up and head for the road where the traffic is true California – elbow to elbow in all lanes. I'm running tail-gunner and John decides to lane-split to try to get around this mess. I've always been kind of a game chicken, so I figure I'm not to old to give it whirl. I'm thinking –

“In Tennessee, some good old boy would open his door just to take you out if you tried this back home.”

So I keep my eyes wide open and do discover that some cage drivers are fine with it and some ain't. It works fine but you just have to be careful. Finally, we clear the mess and get underway at speed. Further down the road, the Mapinator gives us the high sign and he's off to go back to his house. V.J. assumes the lead and finally gets to highway 160. What a wonderful road after the hassle of the heavy traffic. It winds lazily along the Sacramento River, with a few draw bridge crossings. It passes through small towns that give you a real flavor for what small town California is like – not much different that small towns anywhere. We finally stop alongside the river because it's getting close to Rich's peel off point.

 
   
 

“Well, Rich, it was a pleasure to ride with you again my friend. Sure hope you can come to Tennessee” I tell him.

We hug and know it may be while before we ride together again.

“Well V.J., I guess you're stuck with me. I sure appreciate you getting me to Don's house. But I guess we'd better get on with it” I tell him.

We mount and are off again. Rich splits off and we wave him good by as V.J. and I continue on the Casa Cortez. We come in from a different way than I'm used to so, so I sure am glad V.J. knows the way. We wind our way up the long hill and finally pull into Don's garage. As always, Don and Miss Joyce are gracious hosts and we sit and chat or a while. I am looking forward to being off the road for a day or two. I've put in more miles in the last 10 days than I care to think about and it is beginning to tell on my tired body. But it's still a good ways to Tennessee and who knows what will be in store for me on the way home.