West Coast Ride – Day Eight

Another cool start to the day in Washington state. But low 60’s so only needed my borrowed jacket. Last night was dark. Stayed in a state park, burn ban, no fire. Was also run into the tent by the start of rain and a looming thunder storm. Always fun when camping. Lucked out and just got a light and sound show with a few drops of rain. I also got to meet the camp’s pack of kittens. Wouldn’t have anything to do with me but got I strange feeling that I was being hunted. One sat close and watched me as the others circled like a bunch of mini velociraptors.

Left out and started my run southeast. I’m homeward bound now. Running out of town I could still see Mt. Rainier on my right, well off in the distance. I bid her farewell and she was soon out of sight. More barren, brown foothills and mountains. And more evidence of wildfire. At one point I saw smoke rising from behind a hilltop. Fresh, rolling smoke, not the hazy kind that’s been dissipating for a while. Then a large section of hillside blackened by fire, a stark contrast to the light brown hillside next to it.

I’ve seen plenty of fire damage and smoke in the last few days, covering multiple states. But I’d not seen fire, not yet. As Libby and I rolled on we found ourselves climbing into the foothills again. Back down and running alongside more rivers. Eventually I found more smoke rising over the hills. The large, dissipated clouds hung to the left but the rolling smoke could be seen rising behind the crest of the hill.

Now, I’ve ridden over 2800 miles so far and haven’t had a single traffic stop. This is quite unusual as we always get stopped at some point. I was beginning to think that I’d make it home without one. Then I looked in my mirror. There they were, red and blues flashing right behind me. I pulled into the right lane and prepared to pull over, ready to accept my fate, but the deputy flew past me. I can only assume he was headed towards whatever fire was burning up ahead.

The road lead us towards the smoke, then turned away. Then back to it, and again away. As Libby and I ticked off miles we grew closer and closer to this growing mass of smoke. I realized quickly that I was going to run right through it. The closer we got the more the smoke moved until finally it was rolling like smoke off a campfire. The flames quickly made their way towards the road side. Keep in mind that this is grass fire so flames are no more than six foot, but still, it’s fire right next to the road.

I carried on, thankful that it wasn’t a forest fire right next to me. Time for a gas stop and it’s gotta be close to lunch time. Pulled off into the town of Pendleton, Oregon. Hit the Sinclair and gassed up. The attendant offered his assistance and soon realized I knew how to work a gas pump, he’s not originally from Oregon either and still rather new to town. As he told me, he was required to take three days worth of training on how to use the gas pumps. THREE DAYS! Anyway, I chatted him up and asked about a place in town to eat. Apparently the second week of September is the Rodeo Roundup for Pendleton, Oregon. The city streets were shut down. Traffic was nuts.

After running around Pendleton for a bit I decided to carry on, run a few more miles and I’d find something. A few more miles turned into about eighty. I finally found a little restaurant called Sumpter Junction Restaurant. Small place, small menu. But they had food and cold beer. And a toy train that ran throughout the joint. It was here that I realized the state of Oregon does not have sales tax.

My stomach full and my ass rested, we carried on. Winding through more foothills and past more empty plains. The road was laid out in front of me, miles of asphalt, much like the deserts of New Mexico. I eventually pulled off at a rest stop to take a break. A young man, I’m guessing around twenty years old, decided to strike up a conversation. Apparently he is into bikes. Didn’t seem to know much, but he was young so I’ll give him that. I got the feeling he was looking for a bit of guidance. I’m happy I got to be an influence. Hopefully a good one.

Moving on. We’re close to Idaho. Finally reach the border and find a beautiful “Welcome to Idaho” sign, masked by trees and right at the end of a bridge. No where to pull off to get a good photo. Perhaps I’ll get lucky and be able to double back and get one when I cross back into Nevada.

As soon as I crossed into Idaho the landscape changed. Still some desert like areas but a ton of farmland showed up. Mostly corn, green and almost ready for harvest. Then smell of onion. Strong scents too. Another crop I couldn’t place, I reckon there’s a good chance it was potatoes.

Finally reached my destination for the day. Meridian, Idaho KOA campground. Place is packed and I’m the only tent camper here. Multiple people walking by have stopped to chat. Bike, tent, what’s your story? Happy to tell it.

Head off to a local bar and grill for a bite to eat, cold beer and to wait out this “unbearable” 87 degree heat. Very nice joint. Painted black and orange and situated right next to two dealerships, Harley and Indian. Even has a dedicated parking lot for bikes. Not spaces, but an entire parking lot. I’d be in there a lot if I lived here.

Libby and I have gotten to know each other quite well over the last 3,000 plus miles. She’s always handled well on the road but is getting easier to handle under slow moving conditions. She has become very therapeutic. Within the first 50 miles of the day the roar of her engine becomes a purr and we melt into one another. Man and machine, melded into one being. The agreement has been made.

She brings me peace… I let her horses run.

3220.6 total miles run.