Nemo Rides the Continental Divide (long)

I returned Saturday night from my longest trip to date. 13 days, 3,831 miles, almost all of it on twisty secondary roads, and all of it solo...I love those blue highways, as John McPhee called 'em.

My Bike: a 1998 Honda VFR, with only 8009 miles on it as I rode out of my back gate in Oakland. I inherited it from my dad, who put all of 3600 miles on it and kept it in meticulous condition.
Bike prepping


The main purpose of the ride, in fact, was to take some of his ashes out to Gunnison, CO, where the fam had scheduled a memorial ceremony up on his favorite mountain, as well as a rather large and somewhat chaotic family reunion.

It was a somber reason for a ride, but a hell of a ride it was. On a bike, each mile grafts itself into your skin as a sensory and emotional experience. I kept seeing the twisty road sign, and it became a kind of sigil; one night in my tent, I dreamt that the twisty arrow was a rattlesnake.



I had new Metzeler Z6s, and I did a fresh oil and coolant change before setting out for the next couple of weeks. Bags packed, ready to camp, and armed with a new digicam, I was ready to hit the desert and the Continental Divide.

Day 1 Map


I buckled on my saddlebags and started out midday, stopping in Sac to have coffee with my buddy (and moto mentor) Holly, who assured me it that setting out as a woman alone on a motorcycle would build lots of character. I think I've got plenty of that.

I took Hwy 88 (a great, fast road, far less traffic than 80 or 50) to Markleeville.
I camped off the road to Grover Hot Springs. I passed plenty of hot springs en route, but as it was either ferociously hot (100+ degrees) or thunderstorming on me, I didn't stop at any of them. Here's the nice little camp spot.


I did get hosed down by thunderstorms 3 times on the trip, and was suitably impressed/freaked out by the wild displays of lightning crackling across the mountaintops, or sweeping across the desert.

Day 2 map

I started early and headed over Monitor Pass (a lovely stretch of pavement)

Dropped down onto Hwy 395 and blew south, stopping to ogle Mono Lake

and Convict Lake

Trouble came, however, after I passed Bishop and headed up Hwy 168, intending to take Lida Pass into NV. It was a hot day, and the VFR was working hard on the steep grade, and the bike's temperature started to climb, on this road in the middle of f'ing nowhere. When she reached 232, I stopped and let her cool down, wondering what in the hell was wrong. Water pump? Bad thermostat? Fan? Maybe a coolant leak? Man, there's nothing like the helpless feeling of not knowing what the hell is going on with your bike in some remote place that's 100 degrees. Checked for coolant level (ok) and leaks and (found none). I limped the bike the 30+ miles back down into Bishop and stopped at the Honda/Kawi dealer. I asked the tech guys in the back, and they suspected the problem was my coolant. Cursing the "environmentally friendly" diethylene glycol coolant I'd used, I bought some of their good ol' fish-killing HondaCool. I pulled the bike around to the back of the lot and proceeded, using the crap Honda toolkit, to pull off the bags, pull off the fairings, and change out the hippie crap coolant and add the good stuff in. In a 100-degree parking lot in Bishop, this was no fun. But the guys at the shop let me dispose of the old coolant there, and did burnouts on the forklift for my entertainment. A couple of hours later, I was buttoned back up and hit the road again. My mileage was shot for the day, but I figured I could head up into the White Mountains, camp, and visit the bristlecone pines the next day. I stopped to reward myself with a well-earned popsicle.

Lesson learned: Don't use hippie crap diethylene glycol coolant; stick to ethylene glycol.

camp spot, night 2.


The view of the Sierra near Grandview campground, in the White mountains (note the smoke in the Bishop valley)

hurry up and post more!!!!! I cant wait

You rock Nemo.

Day 3 map


Knowing it was going to be a viciously hot day across the Nevada desert, I popped out of my tent before the sun was up. I did take a little while to go up and visit the Bristlecone pines, as they are pretty amazing: tougher than nails and older than god (there are trees up in that grove that are 5,000 years old!)

Bristlecone goodness: the Cthulu tree


Close-up of the wood


Then it was time to take the Lida Pass (Hwy 168) and cross Nevada.
Lida Pass


I'd heard it was 120 in Vegas and I hate that place anyway, so I headed through the empty heart of the desert.

Not too long after seeing this sign, I came across a macabre tableau: a mangled car bumper on one side of the road, and a dead, bloated cow on the other. A message: pay attention!
The day's heat rose to a scorch (110) and the winds swirled up to 35 or so and blew the bike around. I stayed loose, leaned into it, and tried to avoid the dust devils, and hosed myself down at gas stations: shirt, pants, my Aerostich EvapoDanna (gold!), and the helmet liner. It helped for about 1/2 hour until I dried out.

Hwy 375, the Extraterrestrial Highway. Visualize 110 degrees.

I kept calling it the Existential Highway. It also runs next to a bombing range, and sure enough, a low-flying jet buzzed over me, low, and then roared off over the valley.

In any case, there was NO GAS between Tonopah and Caliente--191.5 miles. I was deep into the blinking reserve tank light and visualising trying to talk mustachioed, skeptical Nevadans into letting me siphon a bit of gas. I was hoping, hoping that Caliente would have gas--and fortunately, they did.

Gradually, the terrain rose and got a bit greener as I came into Utah, then rose up into a beautiful canyon. But there was smoke on the horizon: Zion was on fire.

I stopped to talk to some firemen by the road, and ended up avoiding Zion, swinging north and camping at Cedar Breaks National Monument instead.

Not bad, huh?

i almost sent you an email yesterday asking if you made it alive, good thing im a slacker!!! Glad to see that you made it! well, so far, from what i can see....

Hurry up... I'd rather read yours. Mine is crap.

Been waiting for these after hearing about your trip. Very nice. Keep em' coming.

Very cool!!!

Allright!!!

Can't wait to look at the pics tonight on my personal computor.

I'm blocked from the pictures at work.



Again glad you are home safe and happy. Hope to make a road trip with you someday!!!!!

T

So far so cool!!!!(or hot)

Between Tonopha NV and Caliente you should have passed Rachel as they do have one or two petro pumps there. Easy to miss though if your not looking.

Can't wait to hear about the rest of your adventure!

This is really amazing - beautiful pictures, a hell of a trip, and a wonderful tribute to your dad. Keep it coming!

(Since I'm in no-freeze Cali, I just put water and Water Wetter in my bikes.)

Day 4 map

I rode down from Cedar Breaks in the morning, after meeting some BMW folks in the parking lot--they were on their way out to Monterey for MotoGP.
I, however, was headed out across one of the best routes ever--Hwy 12 across Utah, dropping down to its southeast corner and across Lake Powell on Hwy 95. Riders, truly, I am telling you, you must make this route a motorcycle pilgrimage for yourselves.

(Red Canyon, along 12)

I skipped the RV horror of Bryce Canyon, passed lots of large trucks at high speed, and tunneled some holes in the rock.



As I got closer to Escalante, the color of the canyons changed, and there were more ranches carved out of the canyons.



Still gotta watch for deer, though.

Roadkill

A few miles outta Escalante, the geography goes even more geologically haywire, dropping you down through many twists into Calf Creek Canyon. I was so impressed that I had to stop, throw on some shorts, and stumble up the canyon in 105-degree heat for a couple of miles.


Calf Creek Canyon

Rising out of the canyon, the road runs along the knife edge of the ridge, then rises out of the crazy eroded canyons and over a mountain range, complete with groves of aspen,

then back down into another set of red canyons near Torrey.
I diced it pretty fast down the mountain with a guy in a Dodge Viper, which was great naughty fun.

I stopped in Torrey for lunch, wondering why I was seeing so many bitchin' vintage bikes running around these canyons, and the locals told me there was a Norton rally in town. I had to go ogle them and talk to the Norton dudes, of course.

This guy actually rode there, on an ancient Norton! (Most trailered 'em in)
Waving goodbye, I headed out across Capitol Reef National Park for some more geological madness.

Chimney Rock


Petroglyphs near Fruita


See what I mean? Go!

I crossed the weird blue badlands after Capitol Reef, then headed southeast on the 95. The road near lake Powell is incredibly lonely (perhaps 1 car per hour) and the sweepers are fast. And, as one guy from sport-touring.net said, "the desert through there is epic." Sure enough, you could just about hear Wagner playing in the background.

edge of Lake Powell


See how dried up Lake Powell is? Hite Marina is now over 1/2 mile from the water. History shows again and again how nature points out the folly of men, as Blue Oyster Cult says.

It was here that a fox ran out into the road, trying to fling itself under my wheels; I swerved, and took it down a notch. If anything happened to me out here, the vultures would get to me long before the ambulance, you know?

By this point, it was early evening, and there was a storm brewing in the sky to the east. As I rode up the next canyon, and through a hole blasted in the rock (a spot known as The Comb), I looked out over the valley below and saw the nasty, gunmetal grey cloud spread out before me, stabbed through with bolts of lightning. Crap. The wind was swelling, and the road to Blanding, of course, ran right through it.
But I tucked in, rolled the throttle and rode hard. I managed to fly into the lot of the Prospector motel in Blanding just as the clouds opened and the first drops started to fall.


One sweaty, exhausted, achy, sunburned Nemo, very glad for shelter and a shower.

nice helmet hair, and btw, is you camera supposed to look like an alien?

Day 5 map


I rode out to find the day still cloudy and vaguely threatening rain. Hell, at least it wasn't 110 degrees! There was fresh chip seal on the road to Dove Creek, though, which slowed me down and made me cranky. Once I veered off into the mountains, though, things improved. Hwy 162, especially, was full of lovely riverside sweepers.

San Miguel River, CO

As the road switchbacked up the mountain, the scenery got purtier and purtier, mountain-style.

Stormclouds over the Uncompahgres

By the time I hit Hwy 550 and Montrose, though the road was positively crowded in comparison to the desert. I headed east on CO-50 towards Gunnison, to meet up with my family, and the traffic eased a bit and the 50 opened up into wide mountain sweepers. I rode into Gunnison mid-afternoon and met up with my folks for dinner.

Days 6 and 7 I spent with my family; at the memorial ceremony, and at the various family reunion parties. We piled into high-clearance vehicles and took a rough dirt track miles up into the mountains above Crested Butte, where my aunt Mary owns a cabin. This was where my dad had wanted his ashes to be scattered; so we had a small ceremony to say goodbye, and scattered his ashes there. It was intense, but the Elkton cabin was a beautiful place, and I could understand why dad would want to end up there. It was a cloudy day, but here's the view from the mountainside.


The cabin is old-school; here's the outhouse


and a decaying tractor in the meadow


and my dear siblings, doing what they do best (well, we all needed a beer afterwards, understandably)


The next day, my uncle held a chuck-wagon cookout at his ranch, the Roaring Judy.




Who says a VFR can't handle dirt roads?

I did get roped into giving pony rides to all my little cousins, but the food was damn good.

And after days on the road, I was in a mood for meat, and my uncle does some damn fine slow-cooked BBQ; there was a huge chocolate birthday cake and ice cream for my mom, too.

My aunt and I finally tired of the kids and took off for a while on her horses, riding around the ranch bareback. It was a nice change from the bike to tool around on a sweet old horse.

Day 8 Map


I said goodbye to my mom, brother, sister, aunt, and uncle, then headed back out on CO-50, passing Blue Mesa Reservoir

before heading up onto CO-92, the North Rim road. Thanks for the recommendation, cousin Aaron! It's a local sportbiker favorite, running along the rim of the Gunnison river in lots of fast sweepers and tighter curves, with very little traffic on the weekday.


Up the mountains, down the mountains; this part of CO doesn't have many flat spots.
The coal town of Somerset


I stopped in one spot to dunk my clothes in the creek, walked up to the waterfall and found--naked hippies! 2 girls (very well put together, I might add) and a guy. I didn't get pictures, as that would have been disrespectful, but it brightened my day. Plus I got to cool off in a waterfall.

I headed back east toward Utah, (big oil/gas industry area and lots of big trucks in that part of the country) and what should I encounter, out near Dinosaur Nat'l Monument? Another storm; this one an even darker and more threatening blue-black, with lots of lightning. I decided to run through it and try to make it to Vernal, UT; kind of a bummer, since I'd wanted to pet the dinosaur bones at Dinosaur, but I'll just have to return.

Tucking in and running through a desert thunderstorm is exhilarating and a bit terrifying--you feel as if you're dodging lightning bolts, and the wind is trying to tear the handlebars out of your hands, and the rain is threatening to pound holes in your helmet to get to your skull. The storm was brief, though, and I stopped to eat and dry out in Vernal before heading north into Wyoming. My midday rest and long meal had become an important part of each day by now.

Here's Flaming Gorge


Once past the Gorge, though, Wyoming turns into looming, melancholy sagebrush plains. I wanted to make more mileage, so I passed Green River, balked at the expensive rooms at Little America, and turned north into the middle of nowhere, WY. The road was dark and deserted, the deer were out, the storm was still threatening, and I was getting tired--not a very pleasant ride. I finally stopped in Kemmerer, WY, glad to see cheap motels and gas. But every damn place in town was full.

No room at the inn, any inn, for Nemo, dammit. I got off at the gas station and found that I was shaking from exhaustion; time to stop. The nice lady at the Conoco told me about a sort of makeshift campground behind City Hall, so that's where I headed. Yeah, I slept in the dirt lot behind City Hall in Kemmerer, WY, listening to trucks go by all night, starting at the angry yelling of drunk guys roaring through town in their huge trucks, a rifle rack in each one. It sucked, sure enough, and I kept my knife close; but at least the sky cleared a bit overnight. And that which doesn't kill you...

veefereefer said:

Between Tonopha NV and Caliente you should have passed Rachel as they do have one or two petro pumps there. Easy to miss though if your not looking.

Click to expand...

There were 2 lonely pumps standing in Rachel, but the place was closed when I passed; temporarily or permanently, I don't know. Might be good to check before trying that route, though.

And R-gal, I swapped out my water-wetter at Elskipador's recommendation--he thought that the corrosion protectant in the glycol would be preferable when touring.

The water-wetter goes back in when I head to Reno-Fernley Oct. 6th, though!