XC 1X2

Another day, another wake up at oh dark hundred hours for no reason. The others in the house gradually rose and we made breakfast with tea. Michelle and Amy had expressed interest in motorcycle rides and I was happy to provide. One of the greater joys of riding a motorcycle is sharing that joy. Michelle had a helmet so we suited up and were good to go. I found a loop that took us up through the (steep) hills behind the city to a vista. The route down was different. Michelle got a slow, but technical, ride through Cragmont. Amy got a faster run tailing a Corvette into downtown. They are both excelent pillions, light and easygoing. After lunch I said goodbye and popped off to the city. Traffic was moving slow enough to necessitate lanesplitting which I am still getting the hang of again. I stopped at a higher speed until a group of bikers zipped by be between the lanes. Safety in numbers, I joined in. The 45 minute drive to Mission Dolores Park took 30 minutes. Even parking went smoothly

My last cannonball day. The four of us made our way out of bed to grab breakfast. It was so nice to eat chilaquiles again. Just one of the little things that let me know I'm getting closer to home. On my way out of town I saw an In-n-Out. I wasn't hungry but it did make me happy. I had a lot of ground to cover so I got to work. Faster is better in this case. The less I drag my feet, the less time I spend in the heat. I made it to the California border in short order. Here I took the only photo of a state's welcome sign. To me, that lets me know that this is home. A golden welcome Lunch happened in Corning, which purports to be some sort of olive capital. From there, sweat. It was over ninety for three hours of today's trip with temperatures peaking just shy of a hundred as I hit Fairfield. I was able to (legally) lanesplit my way through morning traffic and escape to the cool of the bay. The chill ocean air felt nice. I made it in to Berkeley and caught up with Michelle

I enjoyed a slow morning in Lebanon. James, my friend in Medford, was not going to be off work at 6:30 and he was only 200 miles away. I took breakfast at a small counter in downtown Lebanon. Friendly cooks and friendly service. I took the bike to fill up, an experience I had been dreading. I puled up the the station and the attendant asked, "You got it?" I said yes and ran my card with a sigh of relief. Apparently it is common for attendants to allow motorcyclists to fuel their machines for themselves, in spite of the legislation. I wound down the old highways to today's first stop, Eugene. I found an Indian joint (mediocre) and a bakery (delicious) to kill some time at. After that stop I left for Medford. I quickly ran into a long stretch of traffic which was slow enough to force me between first and neutral. This is annoying enough on any bike but on a Guzzi, my dry clutch was very unhappy. I decided it was time to start splitting lanes. Illegal, yes, but just as illeg

My fire reroute enabled me to sleep in a great deal longer than expected, one positive side effect of the new path. I ate breakfast which included honey from Jerry's bees! I'd met the colonies yesterday so it was only fitting to try the products of their labor. After saying goodbye to Roberta, I was off. I stopped into a Mexican restaurant for lunch and got gas right before the Oregon border. Oregon is a full-service gas state and I was not about to try that out on a motorcycle. Bikes can be notoriously difficult to refuel without splattering the bike, rider, and attendant in gasoline. I figured if I could cut it to one fuel stop in the state it would limit my misery. I rode on for the night's stop, Lebanon, a small town smack in the middle of Oregon just off I5. Happily, I was able to walk for dinner. Unhappily, this is one of those towns where I was not able to strike up a conversation with the locals. Oh well. A 100 Grand bar eliminated my sorrows and I went to bed. Toda

I woke up at my graunt and gruncle's home in West Seattle. Over breakfast (with homemade jam and homelaid eggs) we talked about my travels and what I had seen in the country. My gruncle Richard shared some stories from when he trekked around Europe on a BMW R25. Many of those stories seemed to involve crashing. I spent some of the late morning applying for jobs. It seems that the pressures of real life are in fact starting to get to me. I left the house just before noon to spend some time with my friend Chris. We grabbed lunch and caught up. He has been terrorizing Alki beach with his Abarth. Riding in that is an odd experience. The loud exhaust and wing larger than the car attract a lot of stares. He dropped me off with my first cousin, once removed. Let's just call Betsy my aunt, she's older than me and tracing the family tree that far out is annoying. Betsy and her husband Jerry have been doing more quarantine projects than anyone else I've met. They have planted mor

Woke up with the sun. After Sami went off to work, I was next. Patrik and I said our goodbyes and I was off into the cool morning air. I enjoyed it while I could, today was forecasted to be hot. Spokane has some pretty areas around it. The house I woke up in is right by Riverside Park, a crater of lush, forested land right on the edge of the city. I saw the other parts today. Eastern Washington is renowned for its wheat production. It was a lot like the midwest but smokier and hotter. The smoke from the fires got so bad that at one point I pulled into a gas station to try and buy a surgical mask. All they had were cloth, not enough to keep out the fires' gift. I pressed on and was rewarded. Route two was today's road and after I got through Waterville, the brown, flat landscape morphed into beautiful tones and lush forrest almost instantly. I motored on to Leavenworth for lunch. Leavenworth was a logging town. Once the trees dried up(?) they made a switch to tourism. Inspired b