Riders on the Storm

We started out our day in what I think has got to be one of the most overrated towns in all of the US --Sturgis, South Dakota. For those unaware, it is the biker Mecca. Each year literally thousands upon tens of thousands of bikers of all descriptions descend on this town for two weeks. It becomes party central. But the town itself is rather drab and unremarkable. The surrounding area is beautiful, but if you didn't know it, it could be Anytown, USA. Nevertheless, I now can say I've been there, and got the T-shirt to prove it.

Our travels today took us to Devil's Tower, a place sacred to Native American Indians (yes, they call themselves that down here). It was the first national monument declared so by Teddy Roosevelt in 1906. As a single column of stone rising over 1200 feet above the plain around it, it is truly an awe inspiring spectacle.

Once into Wyoming we stopped for coffee at a Starbucks in a town called Gillette. There we met a man we later named "Zeke, the mayor of Gillette." He wasn't really the mayor, just a friendly motorcycle enthusiast. Interestingly he had tattoos of all the different bikes he had owned. Not pictures of the bikes themselves, but the trade marks. So he had a BMW tattoo and a Harley Davidson one, and who knows what else. From the time he came in, to the time he pulled a chair up to join us, till we left, he never stopped talking.

Which brings me to some thoughts about gregarious Americans. Most are very friendly and will tell you their life story just because you made eye contact, and even when you don't! But having a motorcycle is like moths to the flame with every biker, former biker, and wanna-be biker. And they don't so much want to find out about you, as tell you about themselves. Usually in a loud, megaphone-like voice. Being Canadians, we smile, nod politely, and listen till we can leave. Ahhh, Americans -- ya gotta love 'em.

The concensus of our group was that the weather we ran into this afternoon, was the worst any of us had ever encountered on a motorcycle. It was literally a battle to make off the mountain in one piece.

We saw the storm gathering in the distance, and, unfortunately it was where we were headed. Lightening flashed as we got closer. Our road took us up Mt. Baldy, and then we had to descend. The lightening hit close. I wondered if it could hit a moving target. Rain began lightly. Because we were up on the mountain, there was sleet. But as we began the descent the rain grew heavier, and the wind picked up blowing sand and sleet and rain. It was all we could do to keep the bikes on the road in the wind-gusts as we descended the curvy mountain road. The wind was so bad, it blew my windshield partially out of its base and disconnected my speedometer cable.

At one point I stopped to put my rain gear on, but because the road was so steep I couldn't put the bike on its stand -- it kept rolling off. And during the minute I spent trying to use the kick-stand, I got soaked.

Fortunately we all made it safe to the bottom of the mountain, and proceeded on to Cody, Wyoming--a town whose identity is rooted in the persona and antics of Buffalo Bill Cody. We ate supper in his hotel, which is still standing. We recounted the battle on Mt.Baldy and agreed we were glad we too were still standing.

Took a licking, and it stopped ticking...

Ever wish you could have a "do-over?"

You know, those times you do something, perhaps not thinking, and when it goes wrong, wish you could do it all over again? It seemed like a good idea at the time, and maybe it was, but something changed, so the end result wasn't what you wanted or expected.

That happened to me today.

When we arrived yesterday in Belle Fourche, South Dakota, I mentioned to Ben that his rear tire was worn down. So the plan became to go to the Harley Dealer in Rapid City. A short but windy distance away. We grabbed breakfast first at the Perkins in Spearfish. Completing that we readied ourselves to head to Rapid City to get the tire changed.

I did something I've never done before: I put my iPhone on the dashboard of my windshield as I put on my jacket. I intended to put the phone in my pocket. But something distracted me, likely I was the last one ready, so I hurried...and absentmindedly left the phone on the dash.

As I bounced through a construction zone, something black hit my knee and in my mirror I saw it land on the road. My first thought was, "What was that? Must've been some piece of debris off the road."

But then the thought flashed through my mind, "Where's my phone? Was that my phone?" I felt my pocket. No phone. "Oh no!"

I pulled over and made a quick U-turn and headed back. There was no place to park but I saw the phone on the road so I pulled over anyway. Traffic swerved around me.

Sure enough. There he was. "Maybe he isn't badly hurt" I thought. (BTW My phone is male). But no, he was dead. I knew it when I saw his little black body lying on the asphalt. I knew he was lifeless. He would never ring again. Never again would I hear his cheery little chirps signalling him delivering my mail mail. My constant companion lay dead. And it was my fault.

I carefully scooped him up, cast a quick glance for oncoming cars as I searched for his case. I knew he'd want it. I saw part of it, grabbed it, hopped back on the bike and tried to catch up with the others.

The rest of the day went well. We saw some awesome country, including Mt. Rushmore. And we ended up in Sturgis, the biker's Mecca. We got the tires changed and overall, had a great day of riding. But for me, I wish I could have a "do-over."

I've had that in life too. Maybe you have too. A mistake, a thoughtless word uttered, maybe even an intentional risk. And when it all goes sideways, we wish for a "do-over."

But do-overs only happen in our imaginations, or childhood games. In real adult life we don't get them. What's done is done, and we have to live with the consequences. Self-recrimination usually doesn't help. Neither does blaming others for our mistakes.

So what do we do, when we can't have a "do-over?"

Here's what I've observed about situations needing a "do-over." Sometimes there is mercy, meaning we don't get what we deserve. Consequences don't play out to their logical outcome. Their impact is minimized and in some cases they're even redeemed so that the mistake becomes part of a greater tapestry for good.

Sometimes all that is needed is an attitude-change on our part -- having a humble and contrite heart. A bad situation might be transformed into something good.

So next time, you need a "do-over" in life, check your attitude and change it if need be. If only that worked when it comes to iPhones.

A Polecat by any other name...

One of the great things about riding a motorcycle is that you get to experience your environment in a more "first-hand" way. Bikers refer to cars as a "cage." But when you ride along a ribbon of highway without a cage, you see AND smell so much more.

Today we left Missoula MT about 7:00 am knowing that we had a long way to go. We went through Butte, and Belgrade. Ate lunch in Bozeman. Then on to Boudras and Billings, eventually ending our day in Belle Fourche...and I didn't plan all the "B" names. In total we rode 994 km today. (Ever heard of bike-butt?) In Boudras it was so hot I went into the gas station and there was Clint Eastwood. He was hot too so I asked him if he wanted some of my water. He said, "I reckon." He was grateful and offered me a part in his next movie. Said he needed someone with my moxie. But I told him I was on a bike trip and couldn't do it.

So besides seeing amazing geography, rock formations, and landscapes in Montana, Wyoming, and South Dakota, we saw the battlefield at the the Little Bighorn where Custer had his last stand. We saw the headwaters of the Missouri river. There were deer and antelope, and they were playing at home on the range. We saw quaint American towns, many with homemade sculptures on the lawns, reminding me again that there is a fine line between hobbies and mental illness.

And the smells -- fresh mown hay and...skunks! Dead skunks on the road. I've never been on a trip where I saw and smelled so many dead skunks. On average, one an hour I'd say. The lowly polecats met their demise in such an undignified way, protesting with an aroma that ensured they would be remembered by any who passed that way.

And tomorrow it's on to Sturgis.

That's How We Roll...

We set out today from Kennewick WA, and drove some of the most beautiful country around as we travelled along the Clearwater river en route to our our destination for the night, Missoula MT -- a total of 563 km, or 350 miles. Along the way we stopped at Lewiston ID and just had to drive the famous Lewiston Grade. Its hairpin turns make it a challenge and for any thrill-seeking biker.

The rest of the day was excellent! Weather was hot so we tried to stay hydrated. Tomorrow we head to the biker's Mecca: Sturgis SD. Its 636 mi. almost 1200 km. away. Pretty ambitious, so stay tuned to see if we can do it.

It occurred to me as the miles flew by, that each of us on this trip is so different. We have very different personalities, backgrounds, jobs, hometowns, -- even motorcycles and styles of riding! I'm not a speed demon -- I enjoy the journey. But others like to "book it" and the faster and further, the better! I enjoy the view from the back of the group, others can't stand to have anyone or anything in front of them.

But I think we recognize the differences between us, and even embrace them as strengths. No one is better, just different. We recognize that and accept each other.
That's just how we roll.

And in a nutshell, that's how all of us have to treat each other as we travel life's highway together.

The Scene of the Crime

It was just over 30 years ago that she blew her face off. It wasn't expected. Oh, some said they knew but the rest wouldn't believe them. Then one day, "Boom" and it was over.

There are a few significant events that our in our lifetime that we remember forever. This is one of those events for me. I was visiting family when the shocking news came.

On May 18th 1980, Mount St. Helen's blew her face off and devastated everything around her. After visiting family I had to drive through the ash-covered countryside to return home. And today I returned to the scene of the crime. Honestly, I couldn't believe how barren the landscape still is in places. The grey tree trunks hit in the original blast still stand starkly as mute witnesses to the unfathomable force unleashed that day. The landscape is definitely still scarred badly.

But in other places there are signs of new vegetation and animal life. A land once completely obliterated, is being restored and renewed. New life is taking place.

It reminded me that no disaster or devestation in our lives is completely unrecoverable. No past is too bad to overcome. It may take time, and there may still be a lot of scarring. But healing can come. Restoration and recovery are possible.

We've all had a Mount St. Helen's in our life. And if you haven't yet, just wait. It will come. But the lesson of the mountain is not just that of remembering the horrible damage it caused. It is also the lesson of recovery, renewal, and above all, hope.

One more thing, we covered 450k today and ended up in Kennewick. I had the biggest Calzone ever! And no, I didn't eat the whole thing!

And so the Adventure begins...

Ben and I finally set out from the office around noon. At our first stop, the border, we had a minor setback. We had some contraband good which could either be confiscated or returned to Canada. So we parked out bikes in the US and walked back to Canada, leaving our goods at the little brokerage there. Then we walked back across the line, hopped on the bikes and carried on.

We had decided to cross into the Excited States of America at Aldergrove. Probably waited about 25 minutes. Bob and George were behind us and we met up with them in Lynden at about 1:20 and proceeded from there. Jim left from Calgary at 7:00 this morning heading west.

Everything was pretty smooth until we hit Seattle, catching the Friday afternoon rush hour. Did some stop and go, weaving and bobbing in and out of lanes as we tried to stay together. I'll leave that to your imaginations.

Got down to Tacoma around 5 o'clockish, got gas and had a drink.

I saw a side of Tacoma I didn't expect. As we turned and headed east we went through miles and miles of Mexican shops and restaurants. I thought, "This isn't Texas or Arizona!" But it might as well have been.

We arrived at our stop for the night in Ashford, near Mt. Ranier. The road in was beautiful, holding promise for twisty roads tomorrow.

We had supper at the WildBerry restaurant -- authentic Himalayan food. The featured entree was Yak steak. Authentic Yak from Colorado -- or so our little Sherpa server told us. The other guys tried some Himalayan cuisine-- I stuck to the meatloaf, (and now the meatloaf is sticking to me). My beverage of choice was a hitherto unheard of and untasted libation called Moose Drool. Actually quite nice.

To cap it all off, as we exited the restaurant who should pull up but Jim, thereby ending his 1200km ride from Calgary today.

We're debating just what we should call ourselves -- maybe some of you have some suggestions. One idea is "The Twisted Misters." Make your comments.

Today was a good start. My ribs weren't too sore from the fall three weeks ago -- better than I expected. So now its time to relax, and dream about putting the knees to the breeze tomorrow.

T'was the Night before...

I leave tomorrow on a much-anticipated motorcycle trip.

This isn't the first time I have strapped on the leathers and succumbed to the beckoning open road. The first major trip was in 07 and branded The Musty Steers tour. We, of course, were the Musty Steers. The name Wild Hogs was already taken. It was a great adventure. Perhaps I'll write about it another time.

The second trip was in 08. We became The Knights of the Open Road... (don't laugh). We traversed BC, Montana, Idaho, and Washington -- about 5000 km in a week --returning safe and talking about a future ride.

So here we are. Just about ready to go. Final packing is underway as I try to allay that niggling sense that I will forget something.

Bike is ready, including the Canadian flag on the aerial -- we'll be in the Excited States of America on July 1 so I gotta show some Canuck pride.

Back to the packing. More tomorrow...