Testing out the Wordpress iPhone App, live at the Salt Lake City premiere of Warren Miller\’s Children of Winter ski film. Stay tuned!
Author Archive for moto
This morning at Crater Lake Lodge, we awoke to The Shining. Our bikes were covered with some of that 500 plus annual snowfall they get up there. It was decided that no amount of haste in checking out would make the descent off the mountain road any drier, so we opted for hot coffee in the Great Hall and a full breakfast. Let me tell you, you can’t go wrong with Crater Lake Eggs Bennie. Suiting up was grim and our bags were lighter because if it was wearable, had holes and a zipper, we put it on. At the bottom of the access road was where our routes diverged. Darth and Obi-Ben were heading coastal, and Moto was in for a solo ride East. After a few high fives, like three spacemen after planting flags on the moon, I pointed it east to Bend, and the Brothers Rafferty sought out the next leg of the Trans-America Trail.
All three bikes started up, no problem. The riders had a tough time.
After slabbing it from Adel to Crater Lake to try to make up some time, we decided we should detour and spend a night at Crater Lake National Park. Crater Lake is the deepest lake in the United States at 1,943 feet deep, and the seventh deepest lake in the world. The body of water is a caldera (volcanic basin), has no inlets or outlets, and is filled by 500 plus inches of snow a year. We paid our entrance fees to the National Park Service, then climbed the switchback road to Crater Lake Lodge, which is perched on the rim at about 7800 feet. We parked our bikes in the circle, next to a 10 foot snow bank. Woolfree, the nice bellman from the Dominican Republic (the “DR”) told us this was only the lodge’s second night of the season. We would find they were still working out all the kinks. The front desk could not pull up Darth’s reservation, even though he had a confirmation number from a call earlier in the day. They were able to get us a split level loft room, with plenty of space to stretch out. Then while getting our gear to the room, the power in the whole building went out. Good time to take a nap before our 8:00 PM dinner reservation. The lodge is operated by a company called XanTerra, which has a big fat contract to run this and other grand old national parks lodges. The building itself is grandiose, with a spacious great room with a stone fireplace (with a lame gas burner instead of logs), but comfortable chairs and couches you can just melt into, especially after sitting upright on an enduro bike all day. Due to the power outage, they offered an improvised menu which turned out to be ok, all things considered. The power went back on while we were finishing up coffee and dessert, just in time to turn in for the night. We stayed up for awhile looking at all the photos and video trapped on our respective digital devices, reviewing the good times, small victories, and reminders of the little challenges we have had along the road and trail. Good way to end the night.
Crater Lake, from the deck of the Crater Lake Lodge just before dinner.
After leaving Denio Junction, we hit the dirt in the Sheldon Wildlife Refuge. We passed numerous Opal mines, not many people out on route 8a. We settled in at the Gooch Springs campground and set up our tents in a bit of a squall. By dark, we had a raging sage brush fueled campfire, some beer, and some red beans and rice. We listened to packs of coyotes calling across the valley to each other. When we awoke, there was snow on the ground and ominous dark skies above. We packed up in haste and started a frigid death march across the Nevada/Oregon border. Coming into the town of Adel, the crosswinds blew me from the righthand side of the road all the way to the left. Fortunately, the Adel Country Store was open, with a fire raging in the wood stove, and a friendly sleepy eyed dog named Bush curled up in front of it. My hands were so cold, I couldn’t get my gloves off for a good ten minutes. We just sat there not saying anything for awhile. The proprietor, a woman named Marcie, gave us hot coffee and made us bacon and eggs. I don’t know what we would have done had it been Tuesday. The store is closed on Tuesdays. Sent from my iPhone.
Not sure what we would have done without this place.
Obi-Ben, messing with his phone.
Just threw down lunch at Denio Junction , just a few miles from the Oregon border. Met a rancher in the cafe who gave us some advice on what roads to take. He gave us yet another viewpoint on how the rising fuel costs are killing rural America, particularly tough on the cattlmen. Basically, thanks to GW’s brilliant ethanol subsidy, there’s no freaking corn to feed the cows. He and his wife had their cows at a local pasture and they had come to check in on them. They were from Oregon but had to come over to Nevada to find pasture because it is so hard to find these days. After some massive burgers and shakes, it was time to roll. Darth bought a can of Chunky Stew, allegedly to be his dinner for later that night. After he and Obi-Ben are done hammering out the dents from his aluminum Touratech pannier box after his digger in the mountains, we get on the bikes and go. Sent from my iPhone.
Another bar/gas station/grill/grocery store/post office/motel in Nevada.
We rolled into Paradise Valley and the little hamlet of Paradise for a quick rest. Little did we know that Paradise would be a shangri-la to wait out a major wind storm. We threw down some lunch at the Paradise Saloon (best cheeseburgers in all of Nevada so far). Our plan was to saddle up and ride over Hinkey Pass. At the 7820 feet elevation summit, Obi-Ben and Moto caught a glimpse of a lion on a distant ridgetop. Unmistakable, lurking low to the ground near a big boulder. When Obi-Ben got his scope out, it had vanished. What was in front of us was an impassable stretch of snow. We scouted it out, but the downslope of the pass was all north facing. What really turned us around was a fast moving
squall that chased us back down into Paradise. We returned to the saloon and met many townsfolk trickling in for spaghetti night. We met Steve Lucas, a friendly and generous man with a big cowboy hat who bought our dinner. Besides running the local feedlot, Steve runs a B&B 10 miles out of town called the Stonehouse. He also owns a little house in town called the Adobe House, which is where we stayed. The Adobe was a fully furnished house with beds, a loft, a coffee maker, and satellite TV so we could see the final performances on American Idol. There was also a .38 Special CD in the stereo, so we rocked that out the next morning. Stay tuned for more about our stay at the Adobe, our thoughts on Cook versus Archuleta, and the prospects of getting into the ranching business.
Sent from my iPhone
Designated Pace Car for the opening segment to Baker, NV, I reported home to
Cottonwood Heights, late Sunday afternoon after logging 504 mostly all-dirt
road trip miles in about 28 hours.
The boys are in high spirits, suffering a few challenges yet recovering with
grace each step of the way. We have about 20 new best friends from our
overnight experience in Baker, and will report more soon.
The challenge will be, due to the remoteness of this amazing route, getting
internet or cell phone coverage for posting images and text. The boys will
figure out how to get ‘er done, though… they are all tech-savvy, highly
driven mostly upright mammals.
Me, I will post some more thoughts about awesome Day 1 after a night or two
of distilling. Or distilleries.
mb
In Chicago at a work conference, discussing e-commerce with other travel and tourism marketing professionals. Listening and observing, and wondering if some of these folks feel like they are trying to catch and hold on to a greased pig, that’s the analogy I think of when I hear folks ask questions relating to how they might “monetize social media” and the like. And the greased pig squirts off into the corner, and then someone else tries to catch and hold it. I learned today that in the Social Media Ladder of Technographics, I somehow qualify and fit the profile of Creator (because I started this blog). I learned the online travel industry, generating $112 billion dollars in sales a year is the largest segment of e-commerce, porn notwithstanding. Talk about monetizing something. The truth is, most of the time, I was thinking about the upcoming Moto May-hem trip: Utah to Port Orford on the Oregon Coast, following a mostly off-road route called the Trans-America trail. I had a call with my master Yoda, Bart to discuss new tires for the KTM 640 Adventure. I have been reading reviews online for dualsport Pirelli tires, Metzelers, and Dunlops. My bike is currently equipped with Metzeler Enduro 3 Sahara tires, front and back. The reviews were inconclusive, so it was good to get some direction from Bart. Based on his advice, I am going to give the Dunlop D606 tires a try. Stay tuned for a full report after I get them mounted.
This is how I will update my blog on the moto trip.
Sent from my iPhone
On March 30, a small but elite crew of willing participants met in Park City at the Eating Establishment to map out the day’s route that would include 5 Utah resorts (Park City Mountain Resort, Solitude, Alta, Snowbird, Brighton) in no particular order, as well as some rewarding backcountry shots in between. We departed on this journey at about 9:30 AM, and when all was said and done, we returned to Park City a little after 5:00 PM. It should be noted that this trip “officially” never happened, you’ll just have to take my word for it. By the end of the day, we had hiked and skied some of the most legendary backcountry shots the mighty Wasatch has to offer: Patsy Marley, Grizzly Gulch, a chute on Mt. Tuscarora called The Seagull, and managed to squeeze in quite a few great in-bounds runs like the Highboy at Alta. To the 5 amigos who held each other together through a full day of hiking, traversing, crashing on pavement, more hiking, bottomless buckets of fries at Alf’s, more hiking, bonking, breaking trail, and some kick ass memorable turns in between: let’s do it again next year!
SS, Potter, Motionboy and Darth Nater, posing in front of random license plate at Solitude.