Hours of Daylight – 12:32

Wow, so much has transpired in the past 26 days i won’t even try to rehash it here. You can see some of the photographic evidence at the following two URLs:

http://homepage.mac.com/jspeer_mn/deadwoodlo/

http://homepage.mac.com/jspeer_mn/OR-CA/

Believe it or not there’s even one more trip that I don’t have pictures from that should be at the beginning of that list, but that would be just too much to deal with, yes?

What i’m most interested in today is what is happening outside as i type: water is actually falling from the sky and the temp is hovering in the high 40s. See, this is momentous. We’ve not had measurable precipitation since April. What’s more we’ve not had more than fleeting puffy little clouds in an otherwise featureless blue expanse since that month, too. This dry-spell has, once and for all, woken some sleeping genetic memory of my Irish heritage. I need cloudy skies. I need rain. I need weather that makes you want to put on a well-made sweater. Mostly cloudy with breaks of sun is what i need. Unending sunlight with virga (remember what virga is?) off in the distance trailing beneath a scudding gang of clouds is fine for some, but not for me. Of course i’ll probably be saying just the opposite in 6 months after the Idaho winter. One thing is certain, i’ll take this weather over Minnesota any time.

In other news I’ve now ridden my lovely motorcycle over 10,000 miles. The most recent trip (photos available at the second URL listed above) was a seven-day, 2200.9 mile, jaunt out to the Pacific coast of Oregon and Northern California. While i might long for dampness where i live i was happy to not pack any rain gear nor worry about soaking rain washing out any of my riding plans. That being said the bracing coolness on the West side of the Coast Range was an experience i was only marginally prepared for. See, i’d started in the morning in Boise, ridden across Eastern Oregon (called "The Outback" by locals) where the temps were heading towards 100F, then arrived in the forests of the i5 corridor between the Coast Range and the Cascades. After two nights there i packed up and headed for the coast. It was a clear cool morning as i headed North on i5 (to maximize my coastal ride once I turned West and then South) but West of Corvallis the sun went away, the mist became thick, and the temperature plummeted. Twice i stopped to increase my layering. I think i was wearing both long-sleeved shirts and two undershirts (plus my fleece vest and the liner of my mc jacket). But i survived. Frankly i would always rather be cold than hot.

I feel i’ve reached a point in my riding style where i’m fairly comfortable. 10,000 miles will do that to a person, i suppose. Also i’ve now ridden, fully loaded, in many different environments ranging from blistering heat, to just above freezing, on long flat stretches of asphalt, and on lose gravel/dirt with a 1000 foot shear cliff only three feet to one side. I’ve had one crash and avoided two. A more experienced rider would say i’m probably reaching my most dangerous point – where the lines  of confidence and ability and skill get close together on the graph.

In fact there was a moment as i rode the wonderful (brand new) asphalt of the west entrance road to Crater Lake. I was going too fast with too much mass and i’d already negotiated a slew of complex twisties. The confidence line crossed the ability line. I entered a text book right hand curve carrying too much speed and seemingly without warning the bike simply would not hold the curve. I tried to scrub off speed, a more skillful rider would have shifted his/her weight even farther over and brought the bike into a steeper lean, but i failed to hold the turn, crossed the centerline, and before i fully realized what was going on found myself with my feet on the ground on the far lane’s shoulder looking up hill at the exit of the curve. If two conditions had been different i probably would not be typing these words. First, had there been an oncoming car in the far lane we probably would have met head-on. Second, if there had been no shoulder, or if the shoulder had been strewn with sand or gravel, i would have either hit the guardrail head-on, or the bike and i would have departed the roadway and crashed down into the ravine. Given the current conditions all i could do was stand there looking up the hill as the first SUV crested the top of the hill and descended towards me.

My first thought was to turn around and try the curve again. I mean, i’d already handled about 30 similar turns on this ride alone… what did i do wrong here? But i was already running late to get a campsite at the smaller, and popular, Lost Creek campground, and, frankly, i knew what went wrong: i had been cocky and over confident and just made it through a moment that, had conditions been different, might have been my end. I continued on to the gate, paid my admission, and rode the rim road until my hands stopped shaking.