Category: motorcycle touring

2023 Summer Moto: Stairway to Heaven or Highway to Hell

“The day I keep my gratitude higher than my expectations, I have a very good day.” Ray Wylie Hubbard on the attitude of gratitude.

Climate Change or Climate crisis? New Bike Shakedown or…

Searing Valley heat or refreshing mountain breezes? Two days of riding or dreaming of two days of riding? Overnight in my home with my lovely wife or overnight in a campground with fellow dirtbag Pete? Initial service on the Moto Guzzi prematurely or put some miles on the thing to meet the mileage requirement? Let’s check in on Sisyphus’s attitude.

If you presumed the entrée into this discourse reflects what has up to this point been the nature of my blog, you would have correctly identified my choices as mountain breezes, two days of riding, and overnight with a dirtbag over searing heat and dreaming of riding. As for choosing to spend overnight with a dirtbag, until my lovely wife agrees to join me on an overnighter two-up, well then Pete on his own bike will have to do. As for the oil change, read on.

Picking up Bella Rossa, a beautiful Moto Guzzi V85-TT E5 Adventure on April 27

Though things were heating up, we had enjoyed an uncharacteristically mild late spring after a brutal winter. That’s brutal for California. You might say the spring was yielding perfect riding weather (see Where Has Sisyphus Been? https://sisyphusdw7.com/2023/06/17/where-has-sisyphus-been/).

At that time, the beginning of April, the Moto Guzzi was merely a dream. Little did I know the 2023 Super Bloom would be my last ride on the venerable Kawasexy Versys. You see, after appealing to my wife in a four page single spaced, 10 point font essay, Life is Too Short for Later, and yammering about “my next bike” for over a year, I had finally convinced her of the intersection of my wants, needs, and deserves. Wallah, I purchased a 2022 “new” Moto Guzzi V85-TT on April, 27 in Elk Grove, 114 miles north of my home in Merced. As part of the negotiation with my wife, it was determined that the garage wasn’t big enough for two motorcycles. The Kawasexy would have to go (see way below).

A busy May traveling, and a June filled with Pete’s obligations, my appointments, a birthday, Father’s Day, and family gatherings took a bite out of moto adventuring. Funny how life interferes with moto adventuring. All of these interruptions prevented taking the new V85-TT out for more of an adventure than a trip back to the dealership. It was now nearly two months later and I had only put 400 miles on the bike, all of them in bringing the moto home and returning to have some OEM farkles (accessories) installed six weeks after signing on the dotted line, coincidentally on my birthday. Apparently airplanes bearing motorcycle parts from Italy travel at the same speed as slow boats bearing motorcycle parts from Italy aka supply chain issues.

Since the all important first service on the bike would need to happen after 1,500 km (It’s an Italian bike and while the Owners Use and Maintenance Manual is in English, all measurements are Eurometric, so, (to convert 1,500 km × by 0.62137119223667 = and yield, 932.056788355 miles), I needed to put another 500ish miles on the bike to reach the 932 mile first service milestone.

I had been planning a major ride of nearly 5,000 miles up the eastern side of California into Oregon, across Idaho, Wyoming, into South Dakota, back down and across Wyoming, Colorado, and Utah then across Nevada to return home for late summer/early fall given our changing climate. Before I could do that, the bike needed to visit the fine mechanics at Elk Grove Power Sports. As I am want to do, I proposed an overnighter to Bridgeport, CA to capture those 500ish miles. I could then get the initial service done by the dealership roughly keeping it within the mileage requirement and the bike would be ready for the 11 day ride across the Western US.

What Happened to Uncharacteristically Mild Late Spring and Early Summer?

We set off from our meeting spot at the Chevron on the corner of G Street and Yosemite Avenue on Wednesday 07/19 at 7:00 am. Since it was an overnighter and we were quite familiar with crossing the Sierra to get to the East Side, I hadn’t done my usual deep dive into logistics. Tioga Pass was still closed and besides, the traffic into the park was chaotic. That left Sonora Pass on CA-108 or Ebbitts and Monitor Passes on CA-4 and 89, respectively.

From Merced to Bridgeport is roughly 150 miles or about 3-4 hours over Sonora Pass on CA-108 depending on how many nalgas relief stops (NR‘s) were made. We were leaving Merced predicted to reach 108 degrees on that day to arrive in Bridgeport which was predicted to reach 92 degrees. Since going over Ebbetts Pass (8,730 ft. elev.) and Monitor Pass (8,314 ft. elev.), toss in a side trip to Markleville for lunch and a fuel stop in Topaz, it would be 189 miles and take about 4 hours, more or less including for NR‘s. We though it a better more forgiving route over CA-4 and 89, temperature wise because of more sustained elevation, plus we’d arrive in Bridgeport a little later when presumably it would be cooler.

Approaching the Stairway to Heaven

First stop at Camp Connell at 4,760 ft. elev.

If there’s no rain or snow falling from the sky and you’re not in a cloud, the temperature decreases by about 5.4°F for every 1,000 feet (9.8°C per 1,000 meters for the Euros) up you go in elevation. We set out on a comfortable 64 degree morning. By the time we reached Jamestown, 1,427 ft/435 m, the temperature had risen to 85 degrees. Since Merced is at 171 ft/52 m we had gained 1,256 ft of elevation, so the temperature should have been around 77 degrees (85-7.7058 degrees). Hmmm. I doubt I have many Eurometric followers so I’ll dispense with the metric figures. It wasn’t until we reached Camp Connell, (4,760 ft. elev.) above Murphys (2,172 ft elev.) and Arnold (3,999 ft elev.) that we began to feel the temperature dropping. It was nowhere near 25 degrees cooler according to the 5.4 degree decrease factor per 1,000 feet of elevation gained. It was more like 65 degrees, pretty much what it was when we set out from Merced a couple hours earlier, of course, relative to the rise in temperature back home as Earth rotated.

I bought a Mega Millions Lottery ticket with the prize nearing a billion dollars at the Camp Connell Store. I figured my luck was changing because it was getting cooler. Maybe if I won the lottery I could chase cooler weather around the globe. At least I could make the owner of the Camp Connell Store giddy since our guitar solos didn’t. Sadly my changing luck only included the brief respite from the searing heat on this trip. The only thing changing is the climate and without a great deal of concerted effort, will our grandchildren and their children not suffer what is beginning to manifest itself with greater and greater extremes of weather events.

Yes, it’s summer and higher temperatures are expected, but, even higher temperatures we have seen of late have set all time recorded temperature records. And, temperatures are expected to be record setters in August into September as El Niño strengthens. Don’t believe me? Go outside. Or, check out: Dr. Daniel Swane at https://weatherwest.com/ for “just the facts, ma’am.”

Too bad Joe Friday isn’t around to convincing folks of the factual crisis nature of our changing climate.

For the youngsters: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joe_Friday#:~:text=Just%20the%20facts%2C%20ma’am,neither%20used%20the%20exact%20phrase.

Markleeville for Lunch

Pete, the bikes, and two views from Ebbetts

Not to waste all the mathing I did earlier, in crossing Ebbetts Pass we did not experience a 46 degree decrease in temps from lower down the west slope. But, it was cooler and very pleasant.

We stopped in Markleeville for a return to the Cutthroat Brewing Company for lunch. It was warm, having lost elevation from Ebbetts Pass, bordering on 90 degrees at 5,531 ft. elev.. Fish tacos and a BLT later, we decided to head to Topaz Lake, NV, but not before a fellow with what I believed was a German accent on a BMW 9T paused to admire the Bella Rosso. He noted the Guzzi’s beauty and said he had toyed with the idea of getting a V-85 TT, but replaced his old BMW with a newer BMW. I told him that since my bride was a beautiful Italian, there was only one motorcycle for me. He turned, put on his helmet, started the bike and rode off. I suspect he was feeling a bit envious if not down right covetous of my Italian bride inspired bike over his Brünnhilde…

Try the Cutthroat in Markleeville

More Mathing, Climate, FWLS and Navigation

Fuel Warning Light Syndrome (FWLS): 44.6 miles is cutting 50 miles a little too close for comfort

My fuel gauge showed only two of seven bars and the little fuel pump warning light had come on somewhere between Ebbetts Pass and Markleeville. I hadn’t had the opportunity to test the fuel capacity to mileage aspect (FC:MA) of the V85-TT though I remembered reading on one of the forums that you’ve got at least 50 miles, maybe more, to empty when the little light comes on.

Turns out that in Topaz, I filled the 6.076 gallon tank with 4..06 gallons of fuel. So, I had a little over 2 gallons in the tank. At Moto Guzzi’s User’s Manual estimated 48 mpg, I had another 96 miles before empty. The Guzzi TFT was telling me I was getting 51 mpg. At the more conservative Guzzi estimated 48 mpg x 6.076 gallons, that would net 291.648 miles on total full tank cruising range. Since our fuel stop was 173 miles from Merced, and I began the ride that morning with 6 of 7 bars showing on the fuel indicator display, I would have theoretically had 118.6 miles left with the last two bars and fuel light displayed.

That begs the question, what does a bar indicate on the fuel gauge? Nowhere to be found in the User’s Manual. By way of arithmetic wizardry, if I divide 6.076 gallons by 7, the number of bars on the gauge, then each bar would represent 0.95371429 gallons per bar provided the bars represented equal volumes. With two bars displayed, that would amount to 1.90742857 gallons remaining in the tank. At 48 mpg, I could make it 91.5565714 miles before running out of climate changing fossil fuel. User’s Manual, forums advice, or my arithmetic assumptions? How’s that attitude shaping up?

We decided to spare me of FWLS (Fuel Warning Light Syndrome) after lunch and travel the 27 miles to Topaz since I only worked out the mathing as I sit here a week later…

Near Monitor Pass… Yup, that’s snow on the distant peaks

Bridgeport Reservoir Marina & Campground

From Markleeville we backtracked on CA-89 up and over Monitor Pass. Again, in conserving the mathing I did earlier, as in crossing Ebbetts Pass we did not experience a 46 degree decrease in temps from lower down the west slope. Neither did we experience a 43 degree decrease crossing Monitor Pass. But, it was a tad cooler, and again, very pleasant.

We dropped down to US-395 heading north to Topaz Lake in Nevada (5,059 ft. elev.). Preparing to stop for road work ahead, I contemplated the sweat beginning to saturate me and whether I might fall unconscious due to heat stroke waiting for the pilot car to take us through the construction zone. It was at least 100 degrees as we waited. Fortunately, the wait ended after several sweltering minutes balancing the bikes on the heat absorbing tarmac and heat reflecting road-cut wall.

After fueling and deciding to avoid yet another prepare to stop episode, a quick Google/Apple search revealed an alternative route roughly parallelling US-395 that would take us directly to our destination, the Bridgeport Reservoir Marina and Campground.

A pleasant detour through rural Western Nevada

Our only reservation was in viewing the not-so-distant thunderheads and flashes of lightning in the easterly direction of NV-208 that became NV-829 in the little community of Smith Valley where we were headed. A few welcomed raindrops began to fall just outside of Smith Valley along with the cloud cover, cooling the route. About 4/5 of the way on NV-208 we came upon a public utility vehicle with flashing lights and a sign that cautioned: Incident Ahead. Figuring there was some sort of vehicle accident we were surprised to see the road ahead had been washed over near Water Canyon as a flash flood had appeared to have just raged across the road, burdened by mud and gravel with trees and limbs held back by what appeared to be a retaining fence up canyon. It’s always the weather upstream that presents the danger of a flash flood downstream.

The Walker River begins in the Sierra Nevada as the East Walker River and the West Walker River. In Mason Valley, just south of Yerington, Nev., the rivers converge to create the the Walker River. The Walker River terminates in Walker Lake. Walker Lake is a terminal lake, meaning that the lake has no water that flows out from it. Since 1882, the level of Walker Lake has declined more than 150 feet. This decline in lake level has caused an increase in dissolved solids making the lake much more saline. The rise in salinity has made it difficult for fish and other wildlife to survive in the Walker River Basin.

The ecosystems and recreational uses of Walker Lake and other terminal lakes in the Great Basin have become at-risk due to consumptive water use. USGS provides scientifically sound data and investigative studies in the Walker River Basin so stakeholders can evaluate alternatives for supplementing flow to Walker Lake while maintaining a healthy agricultural economy. https://www.usgs.gov/centers/nevada-water-science-center/science/science-walker-river-basin

This appears to be a case of the euphemistic “consumptive water use” doing to Walker Lake what the LADWP has done to Mono and Owens Lakes in downstream activity (diversion for “consumption”) presenting a danger to the ecosystem of the basin. From the Bridgeport Reservoir and Marina website:

Established in 1924, the [Bridgeport] reservoir was constructed to aid farmers and ranchers downstream in Nevada. Soon after, it was realized a strong fishery could occur here too. Today, it sustains a population of Rainbow and Brown Trout as well as some Sacramento Perch.  A rich ecosystem, similar to Crowley Lake, provides an unlimited food supply for the fish to grow and populate. The Reservoir provides anglers of all ages and skill to catch fish, whether one is Trolling, Still-Fishing or Fly- Fishing.

Shortly after our arrival at the reservoir, a couple and their infant showed up in the tent site just down from us. Dad was apparently a serious fisherman because he had one of the most tricked out fishing kayaks I’ve ever seen. I’d be surprised if he couldn’t catch every last Rainbow and Brown Trout in the reservoir. Good thing CDFW limits catches to 5 trout a day. On the other hand, he may just be a catch and release fisherman and trout could live to fight another day.

The scent of sage filled the air as we set up camp before heading into town for rehydration and dinner.

A quick whistle-wetter at the Big Meadow Brewing Company under misters and shade cloths that made the outdoor seating tolerable if not downright pleasant. Then it was across the street to Rhino’s for comestibles and the place was packed. Pete and I sidled up to the bar to order the night’s meal and this is where I met my new best friend, Brad who joined us by way of an adjacent stool.

It seems Brad is like Pete and me, retired. It also seems like Brad spends a good deal of time at Rhino’s seated at the bar. I engaged him in conversation by apologizing for taking up real estate at the bar by putting my helmet and jacket on the stool next to mine. He replied that we could have left them on the bikes out front because no one in this honest town of some 509 souls would think of taking them. “Besides, if someone would take them, we’d see to it they would never take anything that didn’t belong to them again…” as he snickered, no doubt amused by his reassuring us that the law abiding citizens of Bridgeport were not above or below taking the law into their own hands ala Jason Aldean.

He waxed on and on about his life on the East Side, about the horrendous winter snowfall of 22/23 that was causing him to have to rebuild his home on the reservoir; about his retirement from the Mono County Road Department; about his wild motorcycle antics on his Harley Dyna and KTM Super Duke; about his mountain biking misadventures; and about how he only needs to go shopping in Reno once a month for supplies.

I managed to eat about half of my Rhino salad listening to his Brief-But-Spectacular-Life in Bridgeport. I have to admit that I did envy his living in such a magnificent setting on the East Side. I had respect for what it must take to eek out a living, own property, survive the harsh winters, and enjoy a “Norm” like personage at the local watering hole. And the bartender/ waitress was correct in suggesting the mild buffalo sauce on the grilled chicken in the Rhino’s Salad. I left feeling that Bridgeport really is the kind of place,

Where everybody knows your name
And they’re always glad you came
You wanna go where people know
People are all the same
You wanna go where everybody knows your name

Brad was not the only local “color” we witnessed in Bridgeport. We noticed that several stately looking gentlemen who appeared to be conducting some sort of official business while enjoying cool canned grain and hops derived beverages in their plaid rolled-up long sleeved shirts, tractor and cowboy hats. They were seated on the curb near the Superior Court Building and leaning on the bed of a pickup in the parking space in front of Ken’s Sporting Goods. They were there when we arrived hardly noticing our arrival on motorcycles and had yet to conclude their business when we prepared to depart after dinner. Since Ken’s Sporting Goods and The Bridgeport General Store and Market were closed, we noticed an ice-chest had appeared. I suspect this counsel was considering important civic issues and were deliberating in the cool evening air as the Courts building, built in 1880, likely didn’t have air conditioning. There must have been a particularly vexing civic issue under discussion to require an ice-chest intervention…

Nighthawks

Nighthawks or Night Owls?

Edward Hopper said that his painting “Nighthawks” was inspired by “a restaurant on New York’s Greenwich Avenue where two streets meet.” He noted that, “unconsciously, probably, I was painting the loneliness of a large city.”

The waxing crescent moon and Venus at twilight

There doesn’t appear to be anything lonely about the expanses of a rural high desert lake at sunset when the Goodnight Moon, Venus, Mars and Common Nighthawks are present. I was filled with a comforting sense of the organic order of the elements: the water, the fauna, the mountains, the fading sunlight, the sage scented air, and emerging heavenly bodies. There was too much going on surrounding me to feel lonely.

Having procured a few ounces of Three R’s Elixir which stimulates rehydration, relaxation, and reflection it was time to enjoy one of the best parts of moto-camping: The setting sun, the calming 15 mph winds coming off the lake which provided natural air conditioning at our campsite and emergence of the Common Nighthawks, chordeiles minor. The Nighthawks took to wing, their sharp, electric “peent” call the first clue they were overhead. In the dim half-light, the long-winged birds flew in graceful loops, flashing white patches out past the bend of each wing as they chased insects. Along with mosquito repellent wipes, we were fortified against the Great Sierra Mosquito Plague of 2023, reassured that our ariel foraging friends would spare us from annoying little aedes and culex buggers or any of the other 3,500 species described in scientific literature.

Chordeiles Minor courtesy of Wiki

On a previous summer evening, when Pete and I had camped in the same campground, we witnessed the male Common Nighthawk’s dramatic “booming” display flight. Flying at a height slightly above the lake, he abruptly dove for the shore. As he peeled out of his dive (sometimes just a few feet from our heads) he flexed his wings downward, and the air rushing across his wingtips makes a deep booming or whooshing sound, as if a racecar has just passed by. These dives may be directed at females, territorial intruders, and even people since they were flying just above our heads. On this night I guess we weren’t confused as female Nighthawks or territorial intruders. I guess with all of the bad press the Orcas and Sea Otters are getting the Bridgeport Nighthawks felt compelled to leave us be.

UFO or UAP?

In the series of photos above, the moon, Venus, and Mars are visible. At least they were on the shore of Bridgeport Reservoir. Pete and I often remark that every object that registers a different color against the backdrop of space and the distant galaxies or can be determined to be moving, is a UFO. At the lower right is the first real photo I’ve taken of this new unidentified aerial phenomenon. Unfortunately it was neither a UFO nor a UAP, but an IAD, Identified Aerial Drone that belonged to fellow camper.

Our campsite neighbor in space 17 was a woman of considerable moxy who was traveling from Seattle to spend some time with her daughter who was spending her summer camping along the East Side of the Sierra. Our neighbor had two dogs, one small and one medium sized. The small dog yapped as small dogs do to announce their ubiety. The medium dog snarled as dogs of greater statute do to announce their assertion of boundary. Since she was traveling solo, I’m sure the dogs provided some measure reassurance from any malfeasance as well as company. She was sleeping in her Honda CRV, snuggling with her curs. We exchanged campground pleasantries sharing our respective journeys as she produced a clutch of firewood purchased at the Marina Store. She had little idea about how to start the fire as she had place a small box that contained what might have been her dinner that evening under the split pine logs as kindling. Luckily, I had stashed some paraffin fire starter bricks that I bring along for just that sort of occasion. The wind had abated so her fire, with a little coaxing, crackled pleasantly casting a dome of soft golden light dancing over her’s and our campsite.

What would Melanie Daniels aka Tippi Hedren think?

Disappointed about the fake UFO/UAP, we allowed ourselves to suspect these were alien intelligence collecting craft (AICC) made to appear to be Nighthawks. But as our neighbor’s campfire faded and our imagination inducing elixir was kaput, it was time to turn in concluding that our Nighthawks were really our companions to take the edge off of any perceived loneliness on the shore of a rural high-desert lake on the Eastern Side of the Sierra.

Homeward Bound Over Sonora Pass: Highway to Hell

Awakening the following morning after cranking up the JetBoil for a quick mocha before breaking camp, we were faced with a dilemma. It would likely be cold, as in cold, at the beginning of our homeward bound leg over California’s second highest paved pass. It was a mere 19 miles to Sonora Junction at 6,919 ft. elev. where US-395 intersects with CA-108 over Sonora Pass (9,623 ft elev.). Here’s the dilemma: When would we begin to encounter the oppressive heat that was forecast for the day? Pete’s solution, let’s eat. So we made our way to the Bridgeport Inn for breakfast.

The Bridgeport Inn, a beautiful historic Victorian Inn, built in 1877

It’s not getting any cooler Pete, although you do look kinda cool…

The Inn has a quite fascinating history. Sometime after it’s construction in 1877 the Old Leavitt house became an Inn. The tragic story of Sarah, a young woman distraught by her fiancée’s accidental death a short time before their planned wedding, allegedly roams the Bridgeport Inn in Room 16. It was there, dressed in her white wedding gown, that she hung herself. We both ordered eggs, hash browns, and wheat toast, Pete’s eggs were over medium, mine over easy. https://thebridgeportinn.com/index.php/area-history/

Time to add a layer at the Sonora Junction

Sonora Pass from the East Side is gnarly. It is the second-highest pass with a paved road in California and in the Sierra Nevada. It is 321 feet lower than Tioga Pass to the south. State Route 108 traverses the pass, as does the Pacific Crest Trail. The highway over the pass is extremely steep (exceeding 8% for most of the traverse, and up to 26% grades in some locations), narrow and winding between Kennedy Meadows on the west side and Leavitt Meadows on the east.

Fortunately the pass had opened on June 9 and it was July 20, coincidentally the day that Tioga Pass opened, so traffic wasn’t too bad. I wrote about a section of the road and an unfortunate series of events on a pervious adventure. More luck than skill, I avoided a crash when I lost power to the rear wheel missing a downshift to first gear and stalling in neutral around a posted 10 mph hairpin. You can read about the harrowing event in the conclusion of our Utah tour featuring the Burr Canyon: https://sisyphusdw7.com/2020/10/21/burr-trail-here-we-come/

Keeping it low and slow

There’s nothing like following a travel trailer or motorhome on a two-lane double-yellow downhill road. The western slope isn’t as severe as the eastern approach. Slow though it was, especially on CA-108 from Twain Harte to the J-59 La Grange Rd exit, as vacation and truck traffic increased along with temperatures. That despite exposure to a 50 mph breeze on the bike which failed to cool us. It’s the inverse of the chill factor when riding exposed to cold where an increase in wind exaggerates the apparent cold. The heat factor causes one’s sweat to evaporate quickly, without the cooling effect of a more gentle breeze on the body’s cooling system. Now all I need to do if find where I stashed my cooling vest..

I guess we have Lloyd H. Haigh to thank for the route the the Clark-Skidmore Party didn’t enjoy; the two lane, double yellow, slow moving traffic, heat discomfort notwithstanding. After six or so hours we had returned to the air conditioned comfort of our homes, only slightly the worse for wear.

WuMo by Wulff and Morgenthaler

Fortunately at 45 I had opted to stay with the bicycle that I have ridden since a wee lad and which had never been crisis inducing. My sailing, skiing, kayaking, and backpacking phases, all considered good fortunes, are merely dormant. The moto was more of a retirement breakthrough than crisis or a phase for that matter. Though early in my campaign to get a moto, my wife did threaten to divorce me until I convinced her of my insured value. Until then I suspect most friends didn’t take my moto-lust seriously thinking there goes Tom again, Peter Panning. I never considered the unicycle and since I was retired, I couldn’t be fired. Crazy? Nah. Guys just want to have fun and documenting these adventures keeps me out of trouble…

“The day I keep my gratitude higher than my expectations, I have a very good day.” Ray Wylie Hubbard on attitude of gratitude.

By the way, message me if you’re interested in the Kawasexy:

2016 KAWASAKI VERSYS LT with ABS FOR SALE

I’m the original owner of this KAWASAKI VERSYS 650 LT VIN# JKALEEF106DA13018, purchased in 2016, brand new at Hollister Powersports.  I’m asking $4,200 for this like-new Versys LT with the following touring features: Its comfortable upright riding position on a comfortable saddle, adjustable windscreen, a 5.5 gallon tank averaging 50+ mpg, and adjustable long-travel front and rear suspension.

The Versys comes with its OEM side cases.  I’ve added Oxford heated grips, a T-Rex engine guard and a T-Rex center stand, an SW-Motech Street Rack and Alu-Rack for additional dry bags, a Kaoko throttle lock, a Givi Rear Mudguard, and a Kawasaki Relay for a dual USB port.  I will include the tank bag and tail bag as seen in the photos below.  

The bike has 28,440 miles with a documented history of excellent maintenance.  There are a few scratches on the cases and fairing as the bike has toured the Western US but as you can see, they are minor.  It is in excellent mechanical condition.  It’s nimble and sporty and not too heavy. 

If you’re interested, please contact Sisyphus and Associates (me) at tjonesdw7@gmail.com or Sisyphusdw7.com ,

2023 Late Spring: Travels by Land, Sea, and Air

Near the Carrizo Plain on CA-58

Where Has Sisyphus Been? 2023 Late Spring Travels by Land, Sea, and Air the air, on the road, and in the sea…

Following our winter Desert Pilgrimage last reported in a series of posts beginning with https://sisyphusdw7.com/2023/03/01/2023-desert-pilgrimage-day-1-merced-to-three-rivers/, March found Sisyphus and Associates in Atlanta attending the wedding of our dear niece, Rachael. With the arrival of spring the city was enjoying most hospitable weather as blossoms and blooms were emerging and the forest canopies were leafing out.

Mr. and Mrs. Sisyphus, my wife’s sister and her daughter Meg, another lovely niece, enjoyed witnessing the bond consecrated between two splendid young people at The Trolly Barn with an enchanting brick patio surrounded by lush gardens and graceful granite steps where vows were exchanged. The inside of The Trolley Barn with its 30 foot ceiling spanned by the original 1889 beams is where we delighted in meeting other family members and friends of the brides’ in celebration of their nuptial, dancing away the night on a mesquite wood floor at a raucous reception that followed. Raucous (rock-us) in the most courteous manner considering this was the South…

Following the wedding day, the Westies from California joined cousins Margaret Gale and Linda from Colorado, delighting in the hospitality of our hosts, the Floyds. Their beautiful Buckhead home was the scene of a series of late nights savoring family, those of the present and memories of those of the past, with an eye cast to a promising future.

We were there for a week and managed to sample some of Atlanta’s great food and beverage scene at The Lantana Lounge in the Mid-Town Starling Hotel where we stayed the first two nights. The extended families dined at South City Kitchen for a pre-wedding dinner. Later lunches at Serena Pastifico, the Anis Cafe & Bistro, The Treehouse, pizza at Anticas, tacos at Tuza, and and dinner and drinks at Local3 were had in between exploring Buckhead and a stroll through the Atlanta Botanical Garden. And let me not forget to mention the notable meals prepared by my “Sister-Wife,” Lonna, Toni and Ginger’s youngest sister, that were exquisite as we dined in their charming home.

Left to right, Sisters G, T, (Sisyphus), L, and M, G’s daughter, our niece.

Upon returning to Merced from Atlanta signs of spring were bursting out everywhere. Vernal pools in the countryside, tulips, Japanese maples, and camellias in our yard, Mrs. Josephine Rabbit, Mr. Rabbit, The Bunny Cake in our home, and fiddlenecks along side of South Bear Creek Drive. All of the evidence was in. Our challenging winter was capitulating to a softer spring.

Since we were scheduled for Maui in May, that left April for Sisyphus to get on the moto, and with Pete, check out what was rumored to be a super-bloom throughout California and parts of the parched West. California had received bountiful precipitation over the winter into the spring causing hardships where flooding took place but nourishing the flora that had suffered consecutive years of drought.

Before and after

Almost to the day, four years ago Pete and I set off in search of the 2019 Super Bloom https://sisyphusdw7.com/2019/04/. Our plan now was to retrace part of that journey to witness the 2024 version of the bounty that water brings to the thirsty hills and dales of California’s central coast, the Mojave, and the Sierra.

Super Bloom 2023

Our son and granddaughter in Antelope Valley in April of 2023

As Pete and I were preparing our route, my son and his family had made their way to see the splendor of the Antelope Valley Poppy Reserve. That was all I needed to set about planning for five days on the motos on the road.

This would be something of a reprisal of the 2019 Super Bloom Tour, following a familiar route that took us across the Central Coast Range over Panoche Rd, through the foothills of the Gabalan and Santa Lucia ranges to our first night near Cambria. From Cambria it was east bound up and over Mount Pinos in the the Los Padres National Forest and down to into Antelope Valley, Lancaster, to our second night at Saddleback Buttes State Park. Then it was across the Mojave to for our third campout in Shoshone. From Shoshone it was westward back to the Sierra Foothills through Death Valley to our camp in Kernville before returning home along the familiar roads of Kern, Tulare, Fresno, Madera, Mariposa, and Merced Counties: https://go.rever.co/sS8ZMN3OMyb. The route I linked was amended as an exploration here, or a left or right turn there, got us to each night’s planned camp.

Day 1 Cambria

A reunion of sorts took place in Paicines as we made our way through some fog over Panoche Summit. We landed in Cambria where we made our way to The West End Bar and Grill followed by our first night at the Hearst-San Simeon State Park Washburn campground, making new friends along the way.

Our customary route to the coast combines several back roads through the San Joaquin Valley and across the Coast Ranges that I’ve documented many times on previous trips. For this journey we serendipitously encountered three gents on motos, two of whom we met in the spring of 2021 on our trip to Joshua Tree (https://sisyphusdw7.com/2021/04/) at the same little Paicines Store. They were out for a Sunday ride and were debating continuing because it was a tad foggy and they were chilled.

We bid our adieus and continued south on CA-25 riding out of the fog just a few miles down the road near the Pinnacles. Still cool, the warming sun took the frigid sting out of what couldn’t be warmed by the heated grips. The ride into Cambria had us passing through Paso Robles where my wife an I enjoyed some grape and hops tasting last fall. Winter storm damage closed our Santa Rosa Creek back road entry into Cambria, a delightfully narrow two lane road that winds itself through vineyards and oak woodlands that feature valley oaks, blue oaks, coastal live oaks and many more, all interspersed are laurels, madrones, and chaparral including chamise, manzanita, and ceanothus. Grasses are abundant and given the climate, fire is an ever present danger even in a wet year as the long hot summer beckons.

We are apparently creatures of habit as our favorite dining spot in Cambria is the West End Bar and Grill where we re-introduced ourselves to the owner who greeted us on the Moment’s Inattention post from last spring , under considerably less favorable conditions. (https://sisyphusdw7.com/2022/05) Gary, the proprietor, is quite the jovial fellow as one must be as a pub owner.

As a feature of the Three R’s of Moto Touring: Rehydration, Reflexion, and Relaxation, we found ourselves taking our customary evening stroll through the campground since riding a motorcycle all day requires at least some movement. We came across an interesting character who had to share her story of wanderlust. A bit eccentric and perhaps a bit lonely, she regaled us with the tale of her teardrop towed behind a Camry, both completely filled with what must be her worldly possessions. She was from Seattle and had been on the road for some time traveling from National Parks in the southwest in search of, well, we weren’t sure. As far as that goes, upon reflection, we weren’t sure of what we were in search of. Maybe that was because of the rehydration that had taken place…

Day 2 Saddleback State Park

Early the next morning as we prepared our eastward departure, we discovered that a critter, likely a racoon, had invited itself to the remaining chips from last evening’s snacks. I believe that smudge on my nose is sunscreen and not ranch dip.

Departing via CA-1 south to Morro Bay, we headed east on CA-41, A.K.A. the Atascadero-Morro Road, then south on US-101 to CA-58 east. While the verdant spring had been expressing itself upon entering the Coast Ranges, we hadn’t yet seen the evidence of a Super Bloom but more or less a typical spring bloom in fields of meadowfoam, fiddlenecks, and lupine.

Lots of green, not many wildflowers.

For some botanists, “super bloom’ is a vexing term. There is no scientific definition, only the eye test–you know it when you see it. There was no short supply of media trumpeting the one sublime aspect of a burdensome winter, a super bloom, however, we just weren’t seeing it. We were still a few degrees of latitude north for the Super Bloom variables to manifest themselves at this time, this year. What we did see was lots of evidence of damage to road infrastructure, much in repair. We must have encountered a dozen, “Prepare to Stop”, “Road Work Ahead” signs on this trip.

Blossoms and fruit destined to become guacamole

As we were entering Santa Margarita we noticed orchards that appeared to be blooming with an interesting blossom, but also heavy with fruit. Signage along the roadside at the entrance to one such orchard solved the mystery: avocados!

Highway 58 took us just north of the Carrizo Plain where blooms from space could be seen. The hills just north of the monument’s dusty topography had erupted in Super Bloom color: yellow from the hillside daisies, goldfields, and tidy tips, whose ends are frosted white; purple from the phacelia and wild hyacinth; azure splashes from the lupine and baby blue eyes and orange fiddlenecks and poppies. Ah yes, we were in the midst of the 2023 Super Bloom!

I had intended to chronicle all of this remarkable color from a GoPro mounted on my handlebars. Technical difficulties and user error, however, botched the video and I wasn’t able to get the most dramatic of the bloom as we crossed the Temblor Range into McKittrick, the vast orange sea of the Antelope Valley Poppy Reserve, or the dramatic CA-58 canyon along the raging Kern River. I guess there will be yet another spring trip to film when I figure out the camera… I humbly offer the following:

The beginning features some of the bloom near the Carrizo Plain

McKittrick and checking the investments

I didn’t know at the time, but as we were traveling through the Antelope Valley Poppy Reserve along with thousands of other bloom seekers, I thought the GoPro was capturing what the Spanish sailors in the 18th century first had laid eyes on along the California coast, declaring it la tierra del fuego, the land of fire. They had arrived as a giant super bloom of flaming orange poppies, which would later be named the state flower, glowed from the hillsides.

La tierra del fuego

By the 1870’s the poppies were so threatened that the state government and a group of concerned citizens, led by the Great Poppy Lady, Jane Pinheiro, were working to establish a preserve to ensure the blooms would live on. That effort became the Antelope Valley California Poppy Reserve, an island of native flowers among encroaching development and creeping invasive species. Even after the 1,800-acre park was founded, the pace of growth persisted, bringing cookie cutter suburbs, vast solar farms, and nonnative plants that crowded out other species.

Oh, and then there’s Adelanto, a desert city in California’s Mojave as it tried to transform itself from a bedroom community of affordable housing in eastern Los Angeles county and a city of prisons to a metropolis of pot… Check out the Crooked Media Podcast, Dreamtown: The Story of Adelanto where ever you get your podcasts: https://crooked.com/podcast-series/dreamtown-the-story-of-adelanto/

Saddleback Butte State Park includes over 2,955 acres (4.617 sq mi) of land, and was created in 1960 to protect the area’s Joshua Tree (Yucca brevifolia) desert habitat. It’s the OG Joshua Tree Park, formerly a monument. The lights in the distance are from Lake Los Angeles. But Lake Los Angeles has no lake. Instead, the now-nonexistent lake is a remnant of the town’s manipulative speculative real estate history. It seems the desert fancies drifters and grifters trying to convince folks of putting down roots. Roots that die of thirst and dreams that evaporate.

I arose the next morning to catch the first rays of the sunrise and noted the desert flora showing off.

A Butte and a Joshua Tree

We only come to the desert as visitors who appreciate the complexity of an environment. While hostile to hominids, the Mojave has an incredibly robust ecology should you take the time to look and listen and learn. Perhaps eco-tourism will at least compel people to consider there’s more there than meets the eyes, eyes focused on exploitation of a fragile landscape.

Day 3 Shoshone

As we planned the day’s ride, rather than retrace a previous route the trusty Butler Map indicated a more direct route to US-395 by heading east on Avenue J. We were still in Los Angeles County when we set off and after 8 miles we encountered the San Bernardino County line where the pavement ended despite our Butler Map guidance for the most direct route. It would be 15 miles on dirt to US-395 and another 9 miles, on dirt, to Helendale where we hoped to join the Mother Road, Route 66 rather than the longer route through Mirage, Adelanto, and Victorville, another desert prison town. Hence, the less direct paved route would have to do.

After getting gas at a sketchy Arco station adjacent to I-15 in Victorville we hopped on the interstate for 10 miles to Daggett where we picked up the National Trails Hwy, Route 66 east. A lunch stop in Newberry Springs where the wind was gusting at 25+mph and I found myself eavesdropping on the conversation of two local residents. I asked if the “desert road from vegas to nowhere, Some place better than where you’ve been, A coffee machine that needs some fixing, In a little café just around the bend”… was open just down the road. One of the lady’s eyes lit up as she shared that she and her husband were extras in the movie, her husband on a HD chopper with Brenda’s carefree daughter, Phyllis, below…

Bagdad Cafe, 1987 and the trailer for the movie https://youtu.be/4G2MEszpox0

When I first saw the movie, I loved the eccentricity of the characters and wagish storyline. Even more appealing was the haunting Bob Telson composition, Calling You, https://youtu.be/IZ0e5AHdDXw . Jevetta Steele recorded the soundtrack for the film. Here’s an update with a beat that features Ms. Steele, however some of the melancholy of Telson’s original, IMHO, has been lost, https://youtu.be/e7dZq8NYZwg.

Today , the Bagdad Cafe is a tired, melancholy roadside attraction.

Having decided that the memories of a whimsical movie about a little cafe just around the bend, are better than the actual cafe of the present, we set off for Amboy and the Kelbaker Rd intersection. You can’t miss it as the Joshua Tree Sticker sign notes the turnoff…

Looks like a lift tower on Chair 7…

From the sign we had another 125 of our 280± mile day’s ride to our destination in Shoshone before us. Kelbaker Road features some interesting desert flora and the granite outcrop in the Boulder’s Viewpoint area is worth a stop.

A controversial mega-solar energy project that would extract massive amounts of groundwater from the area around the Soda Mountains in the vicinity of Baker would also impact the dwindling bighorn sheep population that once flourished in the area. I-15 and I-40 has already interrupted ancient migration trails. Desert bighorns once thrived in the serrated mountain ranges across the Mojave Desert, where they formed a “metapopulation” of groups connected by these ancient trails. Today, their survival is threatened by disease, drought, interstate highways and now, renewable energy.

Flying through Kelso and Baker we made our way through the Mojave National Reserve, arriving in what is our favorite little town of Shoshone, just outside of Death Valley NP.

It’s impossible to get lost in Shoshone

After setting up camp and checking directions, we strolled down Old State Highway 127 which runs parallel to the new state highway past the school and ‘Sorrells House’. I’ve noted in previous posts that the house was designed by Richard Neutra and is now occupied by the surviving daughter of the family whose great-grandfather founded the town and whose family has owned the town, lock, stock, and other revenue generating venues, now with a nod to ecotourism rather than strip mining, solar farms, malls, and subdivisions. That, and there’s a natural hot springs that keeps the community pool at a comfortable 89 degrees year round!

A raucous Tuesday night crowd had gathered at the Famous Crowbar Cafe and Saloon where we enjoyed dinner and a whistle wetter or two. Our server who was working solo serving a capacity crowd at the bar and tables managed to restore our whistles while awaiting victuals from the solo line cook in the kitchen. Somehow the wait didn’t matter. More impressive is that she didn’t write anything down.

Following a delicious grilled Ortega chicken sammie and salad, we checked out the antique Chevron gas pump in the museum area adjacent to the cafe, a relic of a distant past that displayed a three digit price display as in: “_._ _”. We then strolled across the new State Highway 127 to the Chas Brown Market for procuring the first “R” of the hour of rehydration, relaxation, and reflection that beckoned. Pete made a new friend in the market while discovering that beer, by volume, costs more than gasoline. The new Chevron pumps in front of the market, that had sold a $1.9 million dollar Mega Millions lottery ticket in 2020, sported considerably higher prices with updated displays to several digits. You might just be able to fill your Range Rover’s tank with those winnings.

From its headwaters north of Beatty, NV, the Amargosa River flows underground in a southerly direction. Near the Dumont Dunes south of Shoshone and Tecopa, it makes a big u-turn and heads north into Death Valley National Park, finally terminating in Badwater Basin, the lowest point in the United States. The very same water that fills the campground pool and rises to the surface in the wetlands restoration areas, mostly flows beneath the desert surface and is warmed by subterranean thermal activity.

Day 4 Kernville

We decided to take CA-178 into Death Valley. The last time we rode this route was at night and is featured in the Riding Under a Fool Moon post from 2019 https://sisyphusdw7.com/2019/11/ . The route took us through Badwater Basin, the lowest elevation below sea level in the US. The snow capped mountain is Telescope Peak in the Panamint Range and summits at 11,043 feet above sea level. The photo at the bottom shows the sign from the basin viewing area to sea level, some 282 feet above the road.

We decided to forgo the hustle and bustle of Furnace Creek to stop at Stovepipe Wells for a mid morning snack before heading to another of our favorite spots in the desert, the Panamint Springs Resort. We stayed there earlier in March on The Desert Pilgrimage Tour, https://sisyphusdw7.com/2023/03/. This day it was just for lunch before heading up and out of the lowlands on CA-190 to the high desert, US-395 and CA-58 over Walker Pass to our destination for the night in Kernville.

At the Father Crowley Overlook we stopped to view the colorfully striped canyon created by ancient volcanic activity. In Panamint, the market cashier said that Tom Cruise had a few weeks earlier, flown into Panamint Springs to check out Rainbow Canyon that was a location for filming the first, pre-CGI Top Gun. The canyon was nicknamed “Star Wars Canyon” by visitors who came to observe and photograph the military test flights which occured in the vicinity. Star Wars Canyon is part of the R-2508 Complex, which has been used by the military since the 1930s. Unfortunately a jet crash in the canyon in 2019 resulting in the death of the pilot and injury to several visitors in the area, put an end to training flights through the canyon.  We did meet two delightful couples, one from Britain and the other from New York by way of France who were curiously hoping for an F-16 to rip through the canyon. We had an enlightening exchange of cultural perspectives of our respective travels.

As Rick Steve’s says about travel: Globetrotting destroys ethnocentricity. It helps you understand and appreciate different cultures. Travel changes people. It broadens perspectives and teaches new ways to measure quality of life. Many travelers toss aside their hometown blinders. Their prized souvenirs are the strands of different cultures they decide to knit into their own character. The world is a cultural yarn shop. Back Door Travelers are weaving the ultimate tapestry.

Ian and Melissa at the Father Crowley Overlook

“Rainbow Canyon” isn’t quite as colorful in the midday light. It was however green from spring rains.

We continued up past the turnoff to Darwin and over the Inyo Range to Olancha. The Owens Lake was beginning to show signs of life as water from the winter storms and the beginning spring runoff was making its way downslope.

Before crossing over Walker Pass on CA-58, Pete and I pulled over to stretch following a fuel stop in Ridgecrest at the intersection of CA-58 and CA14 where we were warned by a passing motorist that there was an unsafe driver ahead. This after a brief conversation with another solo motorist in an “all earthly possessions on board” van who was headed west, back to civilization after an extended desert stay. I guess unsafe drivers are a feature of civilization.

We made our way the Rivernook Campground in Kernville passing by the recently upgraded Isabella Dam. You might find this video recently posted by the Kern County Fire Department interesting as the project overview is examined in the context of this year’s river flows https://youtu.be/cDwY4sWs9MU .

After a fine meal at Kern River Brewing we were pleased to have a bit mellower experience than when we were in Kernville last February during the community’s Whiskey Flat Days celebration (below) where winding our way through the SRO crowd to get to the gas station was the most daunting aspect of that 5 day ride.

Try riding a motorcycle through that crowd

I had a brief clip of the Kern River as it raged near our campsite, but once again, my technical expertise (and budget) doesn’t permit purchasing format conversion to make IPhone video in HDR into a YouTube friendly format. Not sure who the villain is in this, WordPress, Apple or YouTube. I know who the victim is… You, my audience, who can only appreciate the still photo above https://youtu.be/LukyMYp2noo .

Day 5 Homeward Bound

Good Morning Mr. Jetboil

One of the subtle calibrations one makes when “roughing it” is how to maintain the adventurous aspects of unpacking and setting up camp, not showering for consecutive days, making a fire to keep warm while enjoying the Three R’s after riding a motorcycle for 300 miles, sleeping on the ground, awakening to a frosted campsite, only to break down and pack up camp again. How to ameliorate those “hardships” without seeming to be too much of a wuss? A warm cup of coffee, mixed with some chocolate is the solution to the fine recalibration from discomfort to comfort. In fact, it seems like beverages, both associated with the Three R’s and morning reverie, more than compensate for any of the major and minor nuisances of motorcycle touring.

Our route home found us rolling over some new roads through Bakersfield to Oildale because of the closure of foothill roads east of Bakersfield due to winter storm damage. After riding through Kern River County Park into Oil City then out, the contrast of the two could not be greater.

Once through the sucker rod pumps of Oildale we headed north on CA-65 stopping in Terra Bella for one of the best Mexican breakfasts we’ve ever had. The tortillas, flour and corn, were handmade and the huevos rancheros with chorizo were incomparable. The Amigos Restaurant reflects the very best of determined sisters to operate a treasured eatery in the rural Southern San Joaquin Valley.

In Porterville, where once again foothill road closures kept us rolling through the citrus groves Strathmore, Lindsay, Cutler, Orosi, and Orange Cove we made it to CA-168, Tollhouse Road by way of N. Academy Avenue in Fresno County. Our intent was to make our way to Friant and then drop down into Raymond and home. Now, I’m not the greatest navigator once we’re on the road as my issues with Butler Maps, Google Maps, Apple Maps, and Rever have all been documented in previous posts. So, I decided to turn over the last leg of the trip to Pete, acknowledging his ancestral Basque heritage in proximity to Portugal, a nation that once ruled the seas. You had to know a thing or two about navigating to rule the seas.

Our left turn onto CA-168 wound up taking us into the heart of of the 5:00 Fresno slab commute as we merged onto CA-180 followed by CA-41 merge. It was white knuckle, bumper to bumper traffic at 80+ miles per hour until we exited onto CA-145 and Rd-406 that took us on winding foothill roads devoid of crazed cagers at the foot of Hensley Lake and eventually to Raymond on Rd-600. From there it was Raymond Rd to Ben Hur Rd to Buckeye and Yaqui Gulch roads to CA-140 and home. I highly recommend a Sunday afternoon drive on any of the aforementioned foothill roads. Try to avoid becoming a crazed cager, or at least avoid crazed cagers anytime you can.

Epilogue

Extroverts have more fun. If your trip is low on magic moments, kick yourself and make things happen. If you don’t enjoy a place, maybe you don’t know enough about it. Seek the truth. Recognize tourist traps. Give a culture the benefit of your open mind. See things as different but not better or worse. Any culture has much to share. Rick Steves

What creature appears to be washing ashore? Could it be a descendant of Wilson?

Just prior to a delightful week spent in the company of my wife, our son, his wife and their beautiful little daughter in Maui, a new member of Sisyphus’s family arrived…

Two beautiful Italians and a hillbilly

So, if you are interested, or know someone who may be interested, in purchasing the 2016 Kawasexy Versys 650 LT loaded with several touring-friendly features and lovingly maintained with a mere 28,440 miles, message me. Both Italians insist on moto-monogamy!

Addio mia bellezza arancione!

Ciao…

2023 Desert Pilgrimage: Day 1, Merced to Three Rivers

Where the pilgrimage finds Tom and Pete contemplating our good fortune…

“What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness.”― John Steinbeck, Travels with Charley: In Search of America

To Reacquaint With or a Pilgrimage To?

Preparing for our 2023 Desert Pilgrimage required planning to ensure comfort when we pitched our tents on each of the four nights on this five day late winter tour of the Sierra Nevada foothills, Death Valley, and Western Nevada basin.  We covered some 1,215 miles not unlike how John Steinbeck prepared Rocinante for his nearly 10,000 mile trip of 75 days to reacquaint himself with the speech of the real America, to smell the grass and the trees, to see the colors and the light.  These were his goals as he set out, at the age of fifty-eight, to rediscover the country he had been writing about for so many years.  He took his dog Charley along for company.

Our goal was to take a journey into known and familiar as well as unknown or foreign places we have rambled through for so many years without freezing with Pete along for company. And as a pilgrimage is defined (and noted in the previously published preview of our Desert Pilgrimage on sisyphusdw7.com), we would be in search of new or expanded meaning about ourselves, about others, about nature, and a about higher good through the experience which would lead us to personal transformation.  All this, after which Pete and I, two humble pilgrims a decade-plus older than Steinbeck, would return to our daily lives of household chores, motorcycle YouTube videos, our families and dog and cat friends, and an ever disappointing Warrior’s season following the defeat of the 49ers. 

It’s a good thing baseball season is just around the corner.  You know, hope springs eternal and the pitch clock promises to give me back wasted minutes watching major leaguers tug at their various appendages while mugging at the camera in a paix de dieu between pitcher and batter… Go Giants!

Day 1, Merced to Three Rivers Friday, February 17, 2023 

Merced to Three Rivers

  • Loaded for action at 864± lbs.

What’s it take to travel 1,215 miles in February on a motorcycle to the desert in the winter?

Pictured is the gear I hauled including the tent, ground cloth, sleeping bag, camp blanket, down jacket, air mattresses (a Thermarest pad and a Klymit Insulated Static V Lite insulated pad), JetBoil stove, fuel canisters, and the now infamous, REI Flexlite chair.  

Infamous Flexlite chair?  Yes.  I manage to tumble over both entering and exiting the chair wherever it is used regardless of slope.  And, no, it has nothing to do with the “rehydration” portion of the rehydration, relaxation, and reflexion ritual observed at the end of the day; the 3R’s we’ve come to perfect as camp has been made, whereupon victuals are scarfed, a fire set, and we sit back to enjoy the canvas of stars and planets and examine the nature of the day’s expanded meaning about ourselves, others, nature, and a higher good made possible by the day’s experience on the motos which would lead, hopefully, to some sort of personal transformation. Oh, and that acrobatic chair entry and exit. 

Maybe my issues with the Flexlite, aside from just enjoying the night sky with a cold brewski and conversation with Pete, may have to do with trying to keep from cascading into a hypothermia-induced inability to think clearly or move well, the result of shivering, feeling very tired, confused, with fumbling hands, suffering memory loss, with slurred speech, and drowsiness.  You know, any five of the seven hypothermia symptoms that mirror typical male geezer behaviors after spending the day on a motorcycle.   Pete doesn’t seem to have the same issues with his Walmart folding camp chair. He’s older than me too.

Absent from the picture are the additional clothing, tools, technology, and other assortment of “stuff” that added approximately 85 pounds of gear in the panniers, dry bags, and tank bag to the 25 pounds of the armored jacket, pants, helmet, and boots worn for protection while riding.  Including my weight, I added 290± pounds to the svelte, 473.6 pounds of the Kawasexy Versys.  I added 61% of the weight of the bike just in my nalgas and gear.  That’s a whopping 864± pounds when you add in the fig and Kind bar snacks.  Given the high center of gravity of the bike and all of the gear, it makes for anxious low speed maneuvers on stable, much less unstable, ground, paved or otherwise.  I do my best to avoid the Flexlite manuever on the loaded Kawasexy.

Our first day of the 2023 Desert Pilgrimage began with an approximately 180 mile day from our home-sweet-home in the San Joaquin Valley, Merced, to the foothill community of Three Rivers, the portal to Sequoia National Park.   

Pine Flat Reservoir

Backroads are our preferred pavé.  Santa Fe, various numerical roads in Madera County, Daulton, Friant, Millerton, Auberry, Maxon, Trimmer Springs (Pine Flat Reservoir pictured), Piedra, Elwood, Kings Canyon, Dunlap, Dry Creek, and Sierra are but a few of the names of the interconnected roadways you can see in the Google Map link. Check out the street view option on the map to see more of the terrain.

We arrived at The Hideaway campground in Three Rivers on Sierra Drive which just happens to be on the Kaweah River; the Kern and Tule rivers nearby. Pete has become the master selfie photographer.  The pic does give you an idea of what an 864± pound Versys touring outfit looks like. I requested that he take a picture of the campsite, me, and my rig.  Pete decided to improve the empty campsite photo with one of his mug in focus, in the foreground… 

We had set up camp after nearly 8 hours of undulating foothill and mountain twisties in a nearly empty campground.  There was a large canvas teepee with a wood stove chimney billowing smoke, a large brush pile, and us–our two tents and two chairs.  As we were making our way to the Totem for dinner and to procure campsite provisions for the night, an SUV with a roof tent showed up.  We don’t mind neighbors. 

Loves us our Totem

Pete had his buuurrrgggerrrr alotment for the trip and I enjoyed the first of two BLT’s.  The Totem isn’t fancy but the food is scratch made with good ingredients and the bar is well stocked with a variety of craft beers and wines.  As with most eateries near a National Park, there were the typical mementoes, camping supplies, bundles of wood, and tire chains for sale.  

All of the patrons were decked out in the latest winter outdoor fashion as we sat somewhat awkwardly adorned in our motorcycle gear.  You know what they say about ATGATT (all the gear, all the time).

A Smokey Bear approved fire

It was now dark and we returned to our campsite to enjoy the “3-R’s” with a cozy fire.  We managed to take up 5 campsites along a shaded rockwall figuring no one would show up this late in the day, but low and behold, a family van circumnavigated the campsites settling on one along a fenceline that wasn’t ideal, however, we weren’t going to cede the campfire that we had set safely away from our tents.  

The family consisted of two parents and two kids.  Dad set up a family sized tent as mom presumably prepared the evening meal as the kids frolicked in the dark twirling their lanterns and giggling.  I started feeling guilty, understanding this expanded meaning of myself for selfishly taking up so many sites, but, since the kids seemed to be having fun, Pete and I decided that our colonization of The Hideaway was meant to be.  And like that our guilt transformed to pride.

Too cold for my nalgas

The next morning we met some of our campsite neighbors.  One fellow from where the RV’s were parked above us who made his way up from the river showed interest in our bikes and revealed that he too rode a touring motorcycle, a KTM 850 Adventure R.  I noted how cold it was and he said that he and his wife, their 6 month old, and 2 year old had been touring the western US on a 45 day tour leaving their home in Montreal as temperatures dropped to sub-zero.  I noted that the morning’s 30 degrees in Three Rivers must have been like a day at the beach and he quipped, “Hey, I’ve already been for a swim in the river.”   

He had that, “Ya know, I’d love to be on my moto touring, but it’s garaged for half of the year because of the weather…” longing in his voice and eyes.  I acknowledged that what he was doing with his family was far more remarkable than anything two retired silverback dirtbags were doing to pass time, thus achieving higher good points for the day.

As we had stalled until the sun had risen enough to dry our tents, I made coffee and we packed the other gear.  The family van Dad stopped by, giving me the opportunity to apologize for having monopolized ¼ of the campground.  He dismissed my guilt by noting that they had a wonderful evening and were looking forward to visiting the snowbound Sequoia National Park and the Giant Forest Sequoia Grove.  With that we bade our neighbors safe travels and set about on Day 2 of our Desert Pilgrimage, 2x higher good points in the bank, and I managed a tumble free Flexlite night, cha ching! 

Stay tuned… up next, Day 2: Three Rivers to Panamint Springs and Death Valley.