Mid-Life Rider

Eugene, OR 781 Miles

For the past three hours, riding the FJR had been a test of my endurance. I mounted up at 7:00 this morning in Bishop, CA. Twelve hours later, the only good thing I could think about my aching knees is that it made me not think as much about my aching back. I was also starting to feel light headed after all the miles and all the buffeting. I wanted to get off the bike but I also wanted to get just that much closer to home. I finally pitched it in at exit 195a in Eugene, Oregon, 15 hours and 781miles from where I had started.

I’ve been to Bishop once before, with riding pal Ron. That time we had arrived after crossing Death Valley. This time I arrived at about the same time after skirting the Mojave. I liked Death Valley better.

I love everything about rolling north out of Bishop early on a late spring day. There’s still a snap to the air. The Sierra rises up to the west and the Panamints do the same to the east. The Owens River Valley nudges against both. One of my favorite roads in the world is just north of here. In the back of my mind I’m wondering about heading to Reno or Carson City to get Rocinante checked out. The old girl has been clearing her throat since at least yesterday, eating up the miles but “aheming” every third beat. In the end, I decide there’s little that can be done, the bike is otherwise strong, so I will press on.

A few minutes out of Bishop a coyote sprints across the road. I see that as a very good sign.

Route 120 connects Route 6 to Route 395 by crossing over and through the Inyo National Forrest and then passing by Mono lake. It is the perfect antidote to the remorselessness of the Mojave. The road dips and bends, slithers and shakes. Despite her grumpiness, Rocinante digs in and we dance an energetic Samba around second gear switchbacks, third gear sweepers, and heart-in-your throat dips that are in some cases so steep, you can’t see the road ahead. Ahhhhhhhh-ooooooooh. Upppppppp-dooooooooown. The civil engineer who laid it out must have giggled himself to sleep every night for years after.

A bit further up the road I pick up route 89, the road I’ll travel for most of the day. It climbs and twists over Monitor Pass (8,314 feet) in another stunning display of road making and scenery grabbing. More than once I marvel that such a road is still available to ride in our increasingly nanny-esque state. The drop-offs on the downhill side are steep, deep, and sudden. There is no second chance.

I should but I don’t understand the attraction of bicycling over mountain passes. Everywhere I travel, from the Monitor pass road to Lassen, there are flocks of bicyclists grinding up some steep incline. Around Lake Tahoe the road is thick with them. Bicyclists and runners too. Maybe it’s the thrill of the descent. I know people who think I’m nutty to ride a motorcycle. I feel the same way about the peddlers.

I need gas and head towards Minden, Nevada. Cute town. I don’t know why people live there either, but unlike some of the grim Monopoly board housing out on the Mojave, the tree-lined streets of Minden whisper of a time long past. The whole place should be in black and white. But for the cars, it could easily have been 1950, complete with a parade that occupied the road I intended to travel.

Lake Tahoe is in many ways the Jewel of the Sierras. I’ve seen it over the years many times and it still takes my breath away. I’m peripherally aware that the health of the lake is in decline due to the pressure of humanity. As I motor up the east side, I share the road with bicycles, runners (what is the attraction of running on a two-foot shoulder while an endless parade of cars passes by), cars, trucks, bikes. The water is hashed by a flotilla of speedboats that rivals the Spanish Armada. Helicopters thwap the air overhead. Incline Village is packed. It’s madness.

I pick up 89 again at Truckee. For the next couple of hours my GPS persists in trying to route me back to Sacramento and from there up Route 5. I mean to take 89 across the state to Shasta and find myself stopping repeatedly to consult my map to make sure I haven’t gone the wrong way (easily done). Finally I switch the GPS to show a compass. I figure as long as it says some combination of North and West, I’m OK.

Passing NorthStar I pick up the trail of three Corvettes. Over the next 30 miles or so I see another 30 coming the other way. It was like a quickening. Later it’s Porsche 928s. And tons of FJRs. Now I know what sport cars dream about at night.

Last year, my pal Ron and I rode this same route with the intention of crossing over the shoulder of Mt. Lassen. The pass was closed that time and we were forced to double back and head towards Susanville. In our pique and haste we managed to attract the attention of the local constabulary just outside Sville. That ticket cost me more than $2,000 in legal fees, court costs, and traffic school.

This time the gods were smiling. The pass was open. The road is posted for 35mph, in this case, a very useful number to have in mind. The road is beaten into the side of the terrain, but only just. It would be a very brave driver or rider who could take most of the switchbacks at much over the posted limit. I kept Rocinante well in hand. My wet gear felt more and more like a liability as we continued to climb.

Once out of the park, the temperatures climbed back into the mid 80s and the road beckoned and called. We answered back and gave a spirited account of ourselves, me and Roci, finally stopping in McCloud for something to eat and the chance to clear my head. At that point I had been mounted up for ten hours.

Hwy 5 from Shasta to Eugene is actually a very pleasant road for an Interstate. The scenery is most agreeable, running from the high plains around Shasta, to the bucolic valley beneath Mt. Ashland in Oregon. There’s far less for the rider to do than on route 89, but by this time, I’m happy enough to hang on and let Rocinante do all the work. My body is speaking to me in stern tones, but I’m determined to put as many miles under my tires as I can before I sleep.

Tags: FJR1300, Bishop CA, Eugen OR, McCloud CA, Route 89, Mt. Lassen, Minden NV, Monitor Pass, Inyo National Forrest, Corvette, Porsche 928, Garmin Zumo, Ashland OR