Travel accounts from professional journalists, specifically professional moto-journalists don’t inspire me. They interest me, make me wish I could do likewise, but they don’t inspire me. Congratulations to those that have combined the work, education and talent to make a living as a writer, rider, explorer, photographer. Your stuff will be, and should be better than my friends and mine. But, following adventures of people on bikes on loan from a manufacturer, in gear under review, on a magazine’s per diem, and on time that is or will be paid for doesn’t inspire me. It’s the amateur stuff that inspires me. Show me that special trip on a not so new machine, that you planned, prepared for, and executed all while being a productive member of society in a separate career, and that will make me wish I could do likewise AND make me think I CAN do likewise. That’s inspiration. Where do I find the kind of amateur swill that makes me want to get out and go? Places like FJRiders, of course.
The 1911s do YFO
The trip that must have been meant to be.
I fretted a little about this report getting wordy and wandering to areas not directly related to a ride report, but then I concluded that this isn’t assigned reading and nobody is forced to follow, and that maybe the folks (lady-THANKS Tyler) that started this deal might get a kick out of how big a deal this was for us, so here you go:
About ten years ago I brought home a new to me FJR and have been saying “one day we’re going to ride this thing out west” pretty much every since. Mrs1911, upon seeing the FJR at first demanded that it be returned but before long I had to be sneaky to get out of the garage without her on the back. Within the past couple years though she seemed to lose interest in going anywhere on the back of the bike. In spring 2016 I decided that I was putting the tent on the back of the bike and going to Redlodge. I asked if she wanted to go. She said yes to my surprise. I put the trip out west off for another year. I couldn’t carry enough camping gear for two and the added expense of hotels and added time for shorter mileage days didn’t fit in the days off from work or the $ I was willing to spend at the time.
Later in 2016 my mother, who lives with us, had a little cardiac event ending with a couple stints installed. Mrs1911s father started talking about a hip replacement and Mrs1911s mother has a case of Alzheimer’s coming on. It occurred to me that for a gifted procrastinator such as me, the window of freedom between raising our kids and being there for the folks that raised us might not be open much longer. When the 2017 vacation bid hit the top of my box the weeks around YFO were open and I pulled the trigger. The first time in my working life that I have planned two weeks or more together at one time. YFO is the motivation to finally do the trip! And we were both looking forward to it. Mrs1911 has only been west of the Mississippi twice. Once to visit my grandparents in Arkansas. Not the part of Arkansas that ANY tourist has intentionally visited, the soybean, rice and mosquito growing, HOT and humid part. And once we flew out to Phoenix for a couple days, work related, but saw little more than a few cacti close about Phoenix. I’ve crossed the country several times, but as a kid who didn’t appreciate it.
Let the prep begin.
The Craigslit Bushtec may have been the first sign that this thing may really happen. There was still a LOT of stuff that had to work out for us to take this trip. The spring had to be wet enough that there would be a decent stand of grass for the horses. We had to get somebody to take care of the ponies and look in on the place and mom. We had to figure out what to do with the dog. I didn’t get both syllables of kennel out of my piehole before the Mrs shot that down. Smokey is 68 lbs of muscle and energy, needs daily exercise, and is too much for mom to handle. There was camping gear to upgrade, farkles and maintenance for the bike. But there was plenty of time, says gifted procrastinator. And there should be a test run.
Mrs1911 has slept in a tent, lived out of a cooler for a few days, and been on long m/c rides. But not all at the same time, for a long time, with weather not known ahead of time. When we finally got to do our test run it couldn’t have worked out better. The ride up to Hungry Mother SP Va on Saturday started warm and sunny but ended in the upper 30s with wind and rain. Saturday night was cold and wet. It was chilly when we crawled out Sunday morning but the sun was peeking out.
Her new heated jacked and rain suit, and the new mattress and sleeping bags worked just fine. Sunday was a beautiful ride around Jefferson National Forest.
Sunday night was cool but dry and the trip home Monday was pretty good too.
The none-to-gruntled Mrs1911 having chased me to the top of Roan Mtn in not-made-for-hiking-gear
YFO was ON. And now that I was sure we were going to do this it was time to finish a couple of the most expensive and time consuming items on the YFO prep list, that I hadn’t wanted to do if this thing wasn’t really going to. May 20-21 we take the dog to Orlando, to stay with my daughter and her dog Parker. Down there he’ll be well cared for, exercised, entertained, and have his social horizons broadened.Celebration, Florida's down town and eateries are dog friendly. Smoke would come home a few pounds heavier and an ice cream junkie.
And so YFO begins, Friday afternoon May 26, about 7 hours later than planned.
Day 1 Friday: Because the SS Immediate Procrastinator leaves port late the backroad routes to Land-Between-The-Lakes Ky are scuttled and we get on the slab. Asheville’s bumper-to-bumper but doesn’t seem so bad after we hit Knoxville at 5pm. We roll into Canal campground well after sunset and pitch the tent with flashlights in hand. The morning reveals nothing backwards or upsidedown.
Day 2 Saturday: We get up and look at the radar. We abort the planned breakfast at camp, pack up fast, and get on the road. We wait out storms in McDonalds.
After we dodge the morning storms the ride west across southern Missouri/northern Arkansas is a pleasant one, until we get to almost the night’s stop, Roaring River SP, then it’s time to dodge the evening storms, and these are the mean ones, with flash flood warnings for southwest Mo, not a good thing for a tent by a roaring river. At least we get to check out some of northwest Arks fine roads. We end up in Eureka Springs looking for a room. There are none. The town looks like bike week Daytona. The ES KOA is full too, but I explain our plight to the owner Mike. After we wait out storms in the game room we put up the tent in what he calls the dry storage area, about 1am. It was fine camping to us.
Day 3 Sunday: Across Oklahoma. Now we are seeing something not like home.
And burning more fuel than usual for some reason
Just before we get to the nights stop the scenery starts to get appealing, and Black Mesa SP is when I get excited about looking around. Bonus, we won’t need to use flashlights to set up tonight. And the sunset…..
Day 4 Monday: Kenton Ok having no fuel caused a minor reroute. We lost some country roads that I was looking forward to but in the end it shortened the time on bike for the day, which turned out to be a good thing, as this day would have the first “scare” of the trip. Just a little west of Trinidad Co we ran into a storm. I headed to a picnic shelter along the road near Trinidad Lake planning to take cover and put on the raingear. I could see the shelter from the main road but I didn’t see the admission $ booth until I’d snaked around the entrance road. I backtracked to the main road, but found no shelter. So we end up putting on the rain gear in the open, with rain, and then hail coming down. As Mrs1911 is trying to get her rainpants on over wet boots and riding pants, with nothing to lean on or sit on, she cries out in pain. She aggravated her sciatic nerve. Something that hasn’t bothered her for 10 years. Selfishly, one of the first things that comes to my mind, after we conclude that this isn’t (yet) a call 911 event, is “I’ve been expecting for months something to come along to tank this trip and here it is”. I help her finish with the rain gear and help her back on the bike and we get under way again. Of course, 3 minutes after we are under way again the rain stops. But by then we have rainsuits on over wet riding gear, and we are cold. We find a place to pull off and regroup. It must have been a comical sight for passers-by to see me trying to help my wife on and off the bike, in and out of her gear, as we get the heated jackets on. She eats a handful of Ibuprofen. Once under way again, the combination of the pills and the Gerbing on high has Mrs1911 declining my offer to sell the bike at the next town and buy plane tickets home. A few hours later though she says we need to stop, she feels “bad”. The tone of her voice is worse than the words. I scroll through a few screens on the Zumo and head to an intersection in Alamosa Co that gives us a choice between pulling into the hospital or Arby’s. She chooses Arby’s. We take a break and get something to eat. We conclude a handful of OTC painkillers on an empty stomach may not have been a good idea. In the excitement of stormdodging, don’t forget to eat. Mrs1911 soldiers on. Over the next couple days we work out a way for her to mount the bike before me, minimizing the leg lift and I give her a hand getting up from the bed and out of the tent. Once she’s standing up straight and moving around she’s ok. I worry that she is being such a trooper just to keep from ruining the trip for me, but over two weeks later, after it’s all said and done, she is into this trip as much as me.
We get a little taste of the Rockies and it is good! US160,10,000 feet and climbing, about to drop down to Pagosa Springs. The drop down was spectacular, but as would happen many many times on this trip, there would be nowhere to pull off to take a pic right where we wanted to. Folks, you just got to see it for yourself!
La Veta, Co. Here I failed to purge a gravel shortcut from the route. The folks on the downtown La Veta backstreets sure were giving us some strange looks. My FJR and passanger are no stranger to unpaved roads and I sure wanted to take this. After mulling it over a little and considering with great weight the suggestions from the back seat I took a pic and backtracked.
Looking at the Spanish Peaks, from just south of La Veta
And from inside San Isabel National Forest
The day’s delays have us rolling into camp again well after dark. The camp reservation at Mesa Verde NP isn’t site specific. It’s a little bit of an adventure trying to find an empty site but at least we are getting good at setting up in the dark. To cap off the day just right, during the search to find a spot I knock my new RF1200 off the seat. It lands forehead squarely on a sharp rock and rolls around a while, trashing the visor. It’s a cool, dry night and we sleep well. It’s always interesting to get up in the morning and look around to see what we’ve occupied in the middle of the night.
The hot shower in the morning helps Mrs1911s back. The pictogram on the shower wall disturbs us both.
We do a load of laundry. The breakfast served up and the café is good and fairly priced.
Stay tuned folks. There is twenty days worth of this and it is just starting to get good.
