Day 10 Dec28

"Damn this traffic jam O how I hate to be late, burns my motor to go so slow, damn this traffic jam."
Acasucko was a bitch, heavy traffic, Hong Kong heavy traffic. Bad signage, just bad bad bad. The best advise I can give for transiting Acapulco north to south is, follow the signs directing you to the air port. Before you get there look for an invisible sign that directs you to CA2.
I was lost for 3 hours, got misleading directions, and a lot of no hable engles. Huge traffic jams that required hair raising lane splitting and beating on the side of buses with your left hand to make them move over at the pinch point. Miserable stifling heat wearing full riding gear.
After escaping the shit hole of Acasucko I had some easier roads.  The concern about the Rube Goldberg rear rack repair caused me to stop at a roadside moto repair shop around Juchitan. The vendor and his two sons were real nice to me and offered there shop and services. They offered up a drill and a couple of bolts out of the scrap bin. These augmented the zip ties but I needed a drill and an easy out to remove two bolts ends that had broken off in factory tabs that were on the rear frame loop.

On the road again and stopped by Major Major of the Mexican army at a military rod block. He wanted paper work and to geek the bike.He delayed me enough to hasten my decision to stop for the night. It was 8 kilometers to Pinetepa and that was going to be my rest spot.
The traffic was backed up the entire way.This day was to test every aspect of my riding skills. I employed my best attempt at track stands, heavy braking, emergency swerves, acceleration to avoid danger and trials skills.
Speed is truly relative to the venue, 180 MPH on the salt is as challenging as 20MPH in a snow storm.
The traffic jam was caused by funerals. The procession walks through town carrying the coffin. A band playing a dirge precedes the mourners. This is on the national hwy CA2.
It became apparent while searching for a room that this fills up the hotels. On my third inquiry I got an eight dollar room in a hotel that had an under ground garage that locked up for the night. The room was a little like a cattle stall but had a TV, toilet, shower, and a steel door that locked, it did cross my mind that if locked on the outside it was ma cell.
Not posh but secure.The word posh comes from the sailing days of the British dominance of the seas. On trips to the Spice Islands around the African horn paying passengers preferred Port berths Outbound and Starboard births Home creating the acronym POSH. The cargo of fertilizer, dried and compressed, if exposed to water would swell expand and could crack the hull and  sink the ship. It was marked ship high in transit giving us the acronym SHIT.
Now I'm into unpack, change clothes, wash out some stuff by hand, and take a walk to find some grits. Dinner is turning out to be a high point in this trip because of the great meals. After dinner I walked around the town square and found a beer with an outside bench where I could people watch. a Couple of local guys sat down then left, no conversation, they were enjoying the eve same as me.
I stopped at a vendor to get a couple of beers for the room a local by the window helped with getting the beer into a bag and covered with a little ice. He then offered to sell me cocaine grass or girls, that emphasized the difference between my normal environment and this economy.

Day 9 Dec27

Barra Navidad created good memories. I left early in the morning hoping to repeat my mileage days. that expectation was an allusion much like that experienced by the Obama voters.
The Velocitad Retardo's, read speed bumps, have taken their toll. I added at the last minutes of preparation a Givi trunk. The idea was to include a method of security better than soft luggage. It was so handy I could not resist over loading it. Directions indicated that its capacity was 12 pounds, I was over that. The trunk bolts to the rear rack of the KLR, the rear rack bolts to the rear frame loop. Negotiating the retardo's at speed results in air time for the Moto, repeat this action and the rear rack separates from the frame and the rack pivots on its front mounting bolts and the trunk occupies the operators seat during flight time. You could  say this produces operator stimulation.
In my possibles kit I had zip ties. A possibles kit is a compilation of equipment and tools used to fix maladies. I think I first ran into the term when reading about Mountain Men, interesting explorers that paved the way west. With my trusty multi tool (doubles as emergency underwear remover) I bored a couple of holes and secured the trunk and rack, at least well enough for more conservative speeds.
Acapulco was looming in my future, the warnings I had received from riders who preceded me made me want to transit it early in morning, rather than late in the day. jury rigging the trunk had eaten daylight, so I got a room in a motel with a restaurant a few miles from Acapulco and settled in for a rest. Here is where the lap top died and communication got a little more difficult. The hotel had guest computers in the lobby and I got off a few e-mails explaining there might be a lapse in communication. I should have used the I-pod for e-mail more.

Day 8 Dec 26

Welcome to the hotel California.
Today the Toll roads will be replaced by two lane black top at Tepic. Its there that I turn west and south to Central America 2 (CA2). This will take me south to Porta Vallarta and Alcapulco. In the month previous to my departure Terry and I had taken a 14 day luxury cruise through the Panama Canal. This had been a long time dream of hers and it coincided with her 60th birthday present. On that cruise we had a few ports of call that I would be skating through. Porta Viarta was one.
That morning I had the option of using toll roads to Tepic or the Carrilla Libre (free roads). It was time to slow down and I chose the slower free route. a pleasant ride with lots of scenic distractions. The road to P.V. from Tepic is a great twisty with lots of opportunities to exercise your skills in braking passing and accelerating, It was the first chance I had to challenge the chicken strips on these tires.
chicken strips are the section of the tire that get exposed to the road when you lean the bike over in the corners. You can wear a tire out by flat slabbing (freeway cruising) and never expose the sides of the tread to the ground., or the bike can be used to negotiate corners at speed and greater angles, thus using more of the tread on the sides.
Different bikes have different capability's and can attain different lean angles.
On my 60th birthday I was considering a present to myself that would let me explore them. Terry had organized a wonderful birthday party that included guests from all of my past. Matt was there and we had a great celebration that culminated with him and I climbing out the window of the hotel in the early A.M. and sitting on the pitched roof with a bottle of Tangle foot, reflecting on the aging process. I was explaining to him that I had some reservations about buying a track bike. A 600 Honda that was not street legal and would be trailered to the events. I was feeling a little bit of guilt about what I thought was an extravagant birthday gift to myself. Matt listened to my whine and then said " Dad if you don't do it now I'll use your money to do it when your dead". That's what got me into exploring my chicken strips. His intent was selfless, an expression that I should spend his inheritance, I did my best but Still wonder if I could maybe have spent a little more on things we could have done together.
This road gave lots of opts to explore the speed and agility of a Moto. Even if it was over weight, top heavy, and shod with tires that were not designed for the track, sounds a lot like a  description of me not the bike. Entering P.V. I passed the dock area for the cruise ships and recognized the streets where T and I had  strolled down to the old town market area, past Senior Frogs. Lots of heavy traffic on cobblestones. CA2 gets a bit obscure and you are occupied with splitting lanes passing on the right and left. Everything from donkey's to pedestrians pop into your way. Its easy to get lost and off CA2 here but its hard to get a long way off track.
The first part of the day had been a little consumptive of fuel. Above 5 thousand RPM the mileage drops down a bit. I was in petrol search mode and about 12 miles south of P.V I came across a P.Mex that had not opened yet (under construction). P.Mex is the government run fuel supplier for Mexico. I asked a guard at the facility how far it was to the next fuel and his reply was 300 kilometers. I am thinking I can do this but in the end resign myself to retracing the 12 miles getting fuel and starting out with a 300 mile capability.
This was an early indication of how some of the locals don't relate to where they are on a map. I pull out a map show them where we are on it and ask if there is fuel between here and another city on the map and the response would indicate that they didn't know where they were let alone that there was another city in any direction. You have to be careful about the credibility of advice, sometimes it was spot on and others it made no sense. I know in my other travels you sometimes have to recognize that the advice is from the perspective of the giver. If your in California on a bicycle and ask how far it is to a land mark the answer is often in minutes of travel on the freeway by car, you have to extrapolate. I thought I sometimes got responses in C.A that were relative to horse back or airplane I couldn't be sure which. It turned out the next fuel was about 50 miles out, I would have made it with a 100miles to spare.
Here met a couple of young guys on Motorcycles that were on their way to Argentina on a BMW and a Kawasaki. We chatted for a few minutes and compared bikes and itinerary's. They commented on how light I was traveling and I mentally registered that their 650 cc bikes were loaded down with huge aluminum panier's and trunk and tank bags. I am sure they knew they needed  lots of equipment and everything they had was necessary. I was getting by with one less pair of underwear.
Last nights finish in the dark with low fuel effected my decision to stop tonight an hour early at Barra Navidad and it was lucky because it took three inquires to find a motel. I was happy with it, it was secure , desk manned all night and a place to lock down the bike. I was using the steering head lock, a disc lock, and good cable to a BFR (big fuckin rock).
The local Yacht club was parading the bay with there boats all decked out in Christmas lights. I got to enjoy a nice meal with a great view and a walk through the market place. I found conversation with several Canadians in the watering holes and had an early turn in.

Day 7 Dec25

Happy Birthday Jesus.
The plan was the same wake up early, pack and on the road at first light. it was time to replenish cash and an ATM provided Pesos. I had been making good speed and progress because I was using the toll roads. The travel was uneventful, it was noticeable that I was getting further into Mexico, less gringo influence.
The day ended in Aceponta about 15 minutes after dark and the pet cock was on reserve. I found a Hotel for 360 Pesos, it had a nice secure courtyard and a desk that was open all night. It was manned by the cleaning lady but at least someone was up to watch for mischief.
These are pics of the courtyard, entrance,street, and room.
 Two blocks to the town square and i experienced the first of some great meals. Back to the room with an 8 pack of those little beers they serve on ice and settled in with the TV. Then the toilet plugged up, out came the translation book and off to the office. The help was responsive and it was corrected fast, while I got off an E-mail.
I took a computer with me an old dell that was expendable. my experiences lead me to think an I pod with the Wi Fi capability would have been adequate. That old lap top was heavy and broke towards the end of my trek. Wi Fi connections were prevalent even in the most remote places.
In the morning language skills would have helped getting my deposit for the TV remote refunded, it all worked out.

Prologue

"Spend your life searching for Hemingway with a Peter Pan attitude this is what you get".
If you have followed the blog this far you might be interested in some info on me, it may help understand the motivation for this adventure.
This is my 64th winter.I had a typical base education with an apex being a boys technical, vocational, high school. Then part time community college and a forty hour work week evolved into "Greetings your Uncle Sam needs you". 1966 to 1968 service number prefix US means drafted. as scary a word as can be, closely competed with by, IRS Audit or I'm pregnant. I had no combat exposure just dumb luck.
The next chapter was early poverty married life, cinder block coffee tables, incense,drip candles and foggy memories. Well they say if you can recall that era you didn't do it right.
A secure warehouse job and looking at a 35 year career to retire from the united auto workers. Health coverage steady decent pay daily grind reminded me of the army, I wasn't satisfied.
My dad was the greatest guy in the world and when I became troubled by a possible career change I asked his council. His was a generation that fought the 2nd war and survived the depression. He left a share croppers existence working for a dollar a day in Iowa and launched his family on a trek to Washington where he could wield a shovel on the Coulee canal's for a dollar an hour. 5 kids a wife and me the youngest in three corner pants. he was the patriarch of an extended clan that numbered more. I find that gutsy.
So when I asked him about leaving this job and going to work in the construction trades his response was "Security is a state of mind not a state of being". I bailed.
I had a chapter of camaraderie and peers that I generally appreciated and rewards commensurate with my efforts, not bad.
Along came Matt my son, you heard of him on day 2, more in a few sentences.
The economy crashed, construction crashed unemployment was running out, food stamps were a supplement. I was doing what labor I could find for cash. Timing belt on a Pontiac, head work on a Chevy, running hot tar kettle for a scab roofer, squeaking by.During this time it was normal to falsify my job search for unemployment, I noticed in the paper an add for fire fighters so I wrote them in. Then paranoia about the unemployment  checking up on me, I submitted and application. When I got the application I realized that it was an on going process and I could use this for weeks on my job search resume. Then one of the operating engineers slipped on the job and broke his leg the company called me up and asked if I could fill in for him as a concrete pump operator and I was employed. The fire department kept sending me notification of tests and I kept up on them. Written(1500 applicants) Physical, grunt groan strain (800 testees) and then oral interview(100 testicles). Then 6 weeks and the results were posted, I came out 11 on the list they hired 14 on December 1st.
I had no Idea I would be thrust into an arena of people so smart and competent that they would challenge me every day of my career to just keep up. A huge shaping event in my life.
While all this transpired there is divorce followed by serial monogamy (its not an oxymoron) and a relationship with my son who was the center of my life..
Matt and I got into bicycles and rode thousands of miles together. When he reach the age of majority when he wanted to spread his wings and make it on his own he exercised his Independence. We really got back together over motorcycles. M/C's had been a part of my life since the early sixty's. 250 Honda scrambler, BSA 441 Victor, Yamaha DT1, Huskavarna, Hodaka super rat,Honda CX500D, V65 Magna, ST1100. Presently Suzuki Burgman, Drz400, KLR 650,CBR600 F4I(track Bike) and a Hyabusa(1999). Matt came on board with SV650 Susuki at the same time John graduated to Kawasaki ZZR1200, That's John of John & Debbie John a dear Friend of 35 yrs and the three of us had ridden bikes together. We first met when John was 16 and Matt was 9. Now we were three amigo's on moto's.
We did a couple of trips to Laguna Seca. and had some great times.  John and I got back from a trip to the Bonneville Salt Flats in September of 07. We made great plans for the three of us to return and assault the salt. Matt died soon after. Matts influence spread to many peoples lives, 4 years later his peers gather as friends and testify to the significant influence he had.
In 08 John and I returned to the salt. John had qualified for his 175 MPH licence the year before, I was his pit boss and Terry was official tootsie Rod was advisor and speed freak extraordinaire.In 08 we went back with some of Matts ashes. On our last run John first we put Matts ashes in the belly pans of the fairings and John did a 199.99 mile per hour pass and I cracked a ton eighty(183.286). My pride of accomplishment is that I did it on a stone stock Busa, sans turn signals and mirrors. Present were John, Debbie, Rod, Phil & Jerry, Dixie and my sweetheart Terry. Honorable mention goes to Dale Wayne and Barry. Since Matts death I have also launched his ashes 2000 feet up in a rocket from his favorite beech and sprinkled his ashes on the Corkscrew at Laguna Seca.
Lots of these people have been in my life for 35 years some for 55. P&J let me crew on their boat, Cabo to Hawaii and some down the west coast.
When I turned 60 John gave me a T-shirt that had on the back writing that said, things to do before your sixty. Ride bicycle from Canada to Mexico-Ride bicycle 200 miles one day-Ride bicycle down the east coast Australia,without a gun-climb Mount Rainer-sail to Hawaii- Sail the San Juans and Gulf Ilse solo. Enough the list went on. They were all a lot of fun, and not possible with out a bit of obsessiveness.
Which brings me to the other star of the narrative, the KLR. for years in our M/C travels I have  admired the KLR. In 07 I bought a used 06 (100 miles on)with the intent of modifying it for an adventure. I wasn't sure what adventure.
On Johns birthday I bought him a T-shirt that said "does this motorcycle make my butt look fast".It was a comment on one of the things that sickens our culture. The idea that form should take precedents over function is an aberrant symptom of the American culture. I call it the Harly syndrome. It doesn't make a difference if it works does it make me look good permeates modeling autos M/C's omens shoes, on and on.
To me the KLR is in your face rebuttal that idea. Its major design is about function, it works. So you want to do central America by M/C, you need a 150 MPH flash Machine-NOT. Why crack a walnut with a grape press. Apply the tool that accomplishes the task, that's niche the KLR fills.
My mods to it were basic done in my garage. Front fork springs changed to progressive wound coils. Rear shock replaced with after market, better adjustment. front fork brace. Aluminum skid plate, Might not have been a necessity for this trip. Free flow intake and exhaust. Steel braided brake lines, better feel. Assorted guards for brake reservoir water pump and stuff. I upgraded the frame bolts and the connection between the front and rear frame loops.Contrary to a lot of advice from the KLR community my modifications stiffened it up and eliminated flex. one train of thought is no fork brace and soft suspension. I opted to wire the spokes at there cross points to make the wheels more rigid.. I regretted none of the mods none.
I Central America predominately Mexico, maybe because there is more of it, you encounter speed control device called "Retardo".  These are large speed bumps that slow trucks and buses to a stop. If you traverse them at speed it can launch the M/C into the air, the following suspension compression can be very stressful to the bike. The KLR negotiated these several times with no resulting damage other than luggage attachments.
OK soap box away ,rant over back to the blog. If your still with me thanks for the attention and merry Christmas,

Day 6 Dec 24

On the road early, no hassles to Nogales. Its as close to an open border as I have experienced. On the Mex side the border leaches direct me to an insurance agent. I was told by others that have done this trip that its mandatory. I tried to comparison shop but came up with only one guy at the border that would sell M/C insurance.I planned on no more than 7 days in Mexico, it cost me 10 dollars a day, payable in USD cash, no haggling the price. I was never asked for proof at any of the stops by police or army. I wish I would have research this more. I did call Gieco and AIG for advice and they indicated mandatory and only available at border. I left the border and less than an hour south was a government roadside stop for passport stamp and tourist cards. Mandatory and not much of a problem. At this stop was an insurance agent that i did not check out but maybe he could have given me straighter answers than the border scum.
Nobody gave me advice about the fact that from the border to Guemos is a no hassle zone, that means they don't check vehicle registration or paper work. If you pass this zone and don't have the correct documents your bike can be confiscated! Normally you have to retrace your steps to the agent who is just south of Guemos and obtain papers (vehicular permisio)
It was not a big issue but I think I should have carried a bit more cash. Of course in different pockets in different places. I found that sometimes I needed strategically stashed 20$ bills. They would have eliminated the trip to an ATM and the exposure of the bike to an unguarded parking spot. On the occasions that I had to leave the bike it was handy to have a cable lock for the helmet, It also doubled for the sleeves of the jacket, and a tank bag that I could carry with me. Once I left the helmet and jacket cabled and on the way back I remembered there was a couple of wrenches in the pockets, they were there when I returned. On the other hand I had a flash light disappear from a zippered tank bag pocket while I was holding it, just distracted. I think security is a great topic for discussion and my Internet discussions with people did not prepare me for the reality.I survived, to this point.
On to Guemos, bureaucracy sated. The toll roads made it easier to eat miles. Here there called Carrillo Cuado, as apposed to Carrillo Libre. Aarrived with about 45 minutes of daylight left and I got a room and went for food, 600 miles on the odometer. in my search for food and drink I spotted a couple of bike outside a watering hole and stopped. There I met a couple of expats who started a conversation, nice guys. If it wasn't for them I would not have known about the vehicle permits and they gave me some good advice about some towns I should pass up. The towns to avoid can change on a whim and the current advice I think is the best. They had been here for a few years and said I made a mistake by not hanging out in San Carlos, I think they were right and would do that if in the area.

Day 5 Dec 22

Destination today is a place called Pleasant Harbor, Just north of Pheonix. Its my only planned stop for more than one night.
Phil Jerry and there little dog Dixie ( P&J and D) are snow birds who summer in the High Cold and Lonely, read northern Washington, and winter in Pheonix area in there RV.
Kingman disappears in my mirror and its south on 93, the first 2 lane black top,white line fever. Uneventful trip just grind away, still didn't finish till the last 15 minutes of daylight.
Its really appropriate that this is called Pleasant Harbor. Being with P&J and D is like being back in the nest, Good anchorage with good ground tackle barometer steady.
Tomorrow will be a welcome day of rest with some laundry to do. Its time repack and eliminate some luggage. No more long johns. What to do with the water proof liner for the riding gear? Border crossings will require that paperwork be in a handy location. Good day to reevaluate organize before Mexico.

Day 4 Dec 21

God spoke to Noah "NOAH" and Noah said "Huh". God said "NOAH" Noah replied "Am I on Candid Camera".
On the road at sunrise and connected to I5 south, the miles melted away. The weather man said there was a break in the pineapple express and the rain had a 20 hr period of easing up. The prediction was for a storm coming in to drop the most rain accumulation in recorded history. The record breaking weather event would be for a three day stretch and I might luck out by sliding through  during a lull in the storms.
At Lost Hills I left I5 and headed east to Bakersfield, It started to rain hard. I recalled the decision at Cottage Grove, Where I could have taken the coast route and if I had it would have put me in the middle of the worst of this storm. In 8 hours California was going to experience mud slides, road closures and traffic jams that only Noah could relate to.
The storm up to this point had reeked enough havoc that the evidence was still obvious. I was off the freeway and on surface streets, at one intersection I couldn't judge the depth of the water and waited till a 4-wheeler crossed before I committed to the forge. Standing on the pegs the water came up just above the plastic bags covering my boots, wet feet now. I had forded a stream in Bakersfield Cal.
Up the Grape Vine and crest Tahachapi Pass. The rain really started coming down now. At about 60 to 65 MPH I could tuck down behind the wind screen with my face mack in the blast of air over the screen and it kept the face shield clear of water droplet visibility was not bad, and ergonomics were tolerable because I distributed some of my weight on the tank bag. On one normally dry river bed between Mohave and Barstow, on a divided Hwy I encountered a stretch of road where the visibility was confusing. The sand the water the road were all the same, the bike seemed to feel different. It seemed to be slowing down but not really. I finally registered that the road was covered by water the riverbed had become a lake. I was creating this spray - splash behind me that was gaihugic (big). At that speed I was out of the hydrofoil about the time I realized what was happening and I really could not testify as to how big the water hazard was. I am sure others have done it, and was really lucky to have had no traffic around me. The spray from a cage or a truck could have easily knocked me off the bike if we had entered at the same time unexpectedly.
The next time I experience a Gravity Storm, an event often occurring around a keg of beer late at night when the bullshit flows. I will be able to say "No shit I road my bike across the great Mohave Lake"
I arrived in Barstow just at dark in a hard rain, soaked to the bone, it was going to be a job drying out. Motel, rest, supper, warm, sleep.

Day 3 Dec 20

This to will pass.
I got a good fresh start at first daylight and was feeling positive about the day ahead. After all I had made about 7 degrees of latitude south, California was on the horizon and it never rains in California.
Only a few miles down the road and I was starting up a pass that was going to crest above 4000 feet. Of course it started to snow but I get through this and its only 400 miles to Sacramento where I have a safe haven at Rick and Donna's. That's Terry's sis and brother in law.
Well there was to be many an obstacle twixt here and there.
The snow out of Ashland was a challenge but never developed past single tracks of wet pavement. I dropped some elevation and the snow disappeared. On the flats there was a bit of high winds just before Weed. As I said before the bike was a compromise on side wind stability and it is tiring tensing against the buffeting.
The wind abated a bit just about the time the CDOT (Cal. Dept. of Trans.)set up a road block diverting cars that were two wheel drive and advising them they could not proceed without traction devices. The implication is that it could get bad between weed and Shasta, right. They waved me on through.
The road turned to snow with wet tire tracks then at about 3500 feet it went all white, then hard snow and visibility decreasing. I am thinking that I am close to summit and conditions should improve after, its the last pass I'll push on a little farther.
The snow increased and the ruts got deeper. I couldn't climb out of the right hand lane rut at times, it was at least real difficult. My riding technique here is to weight the pegs as much as you can it allows the bike to squirm under you and you have a better chance of accommodating its lack of traction. I don't contend I know what I'm doing its just what works for me. Standing on the pegs at about 15 to twenty MPH is complicated by the snow build up on my helmet visor, I have to wipe it off with my left hand every few seconds.
I am in the right most rut when one of my cleaning swipes revealed the sign that indicated summit. Alright now I can drop some elevation and get out of this stuff. WRONG. It got worse I had to go even slower , the 18 wheelers with chains on were passing me. The slush was smacking me and ice was building up on the bike and fairing and my chest.
Again at about 3500 ft it started to rain, black ribbons of wet pavement appeared in the wheel ruts and if I tucked behind the wind screen the air pressure generated by about 40 MPH helped the visor stay clear.
I don't know how much time had passed, I am sure my perception was a life time longer than the reality.
It was the last challenge of this type and I had a couple hundred miles to Rick and Donna's safe haven.
I stopped in Redding for coffee and a warm up. The severe soaking and thermal degradation at Shasta was still effecting me. The 65 MPH speeds and the 50 degree temp was still sucking body heat from me.
I remember talking to a sailor in Hawaii who fell off his boat in the middle of the Pacific half way on his passage to Hawaii. His wife and brother in law were crew, they saw it happen and did everything hey could to stop the boat. They threw anything that was in reach that would float overboard, life rings, lines, a cooler, cushions. He was in the water watching the boat get smaller and collecting some of this stuff. the swells and sea conditions contributed to them not stumbling on him for 9 hrs. He survived. The point is he related to me that hypothermia was a major concern. In 70 degree water for that time span his mental capacity had diminished greatly and his muscles wouldn't cooperate. When he saw the boat he thought it was a hallucination, but yelled at it anyway.
Now as I recall that tail I am looking for my exit, the one after the Sacramento Air Port, 99n to Marysville. Now which way does that throttle twist to slow me down? Then I'm on the ramp to the stop sign. there's no stop sign on the 99n ramp! So I turn left and find myself going the wrong way on the road leading out of the Air Port. Hypothermia sneaks up on you. I stop off the road opened up my clothing checked the pocket warmers, they had ran out of O2 and hardened. I massaged them into heaters again and put them under my turtle neck next to my carotids.I could feel the black riding gear absorbing heat from the sun. I was there for about 20 minutes a 20 minutes that would have been better spent earlier.
I held the speed down reducing the wind chill and started out again. It was about 15 miles to Rick and Donna's. Safe haven, hot shower and at 4Oclock a 45 Minute nap in a warm blanket I was exhausted.
No Excuses for how stupid some of this was, but a comment. When you establish an itinerary you complicate the issues and increase the risks. If you sail to the next port or climb a mountain under deadline pressure you make risk management more difficult.
I know this and still set a priority to see Rick and Donna before they left for Xmas Holiday. Slipping that little thing in was damn near suicide.
Mia culpa Mia culpa Mia Maxima culpa.

Day 2 Dec19

"YOU BOUGHT THE TICKET TAKE THE RIDE"
We had a great time last night visiting with freinds and extended family. Because I was going to be on the road this was my Christmas. Terry was spending hers with her daughters family, we would be together in spirit.
I started stirring early and was donning riding gear about 6am. I planned not to ride in the dark but this is my back yard and I know these roads well. We got a traffic report that I5 was having problems so I opted for surface streets for the first 50 miles.
Terry John Deby and Rod gave me a nice send off, There is an inkling about leaving a safe harbor that haunts you at times like this. Its not a fear, its more like an awareness that this is your decision.
Hugs kisses well wishing all around and I was outbound to the freeway to make connetions. At the turn on to the ramp my low beams failed and I thought OK switch to high and fix it in the day light. On the ramp the high beam failed. I took mthe first off and then lefts to the oppisite direction and back to Johns. The household had started settling in after my departure and could not believe I was back.
A flurry of activity ensued and the bike was dismantled. Fuses were checked circuits checked. We finally found a broken ground spade on the headlight bulb. Inside the plug. John had a DRZ400 in the garage and we canabalized the bulb from it. I had planned on uing a 80-100 bulb and johns was the stock amp 50-80 but it would get me started.
Its now 9.15am and i'm repacked and on my way, the KLR has a range thats more than the 200 miles I had on the tank so I thought I would make Salem and fill the tank there. I went on reserve a little before I thought I should and filled at 240 miles with 4.2 gallons. that means I have a very substantial reserve.I was riding along pondering the advantages of shortening the pick up tube, thus extending the main tank miles and shortening the reserve tank miles and decided the prsent status was adequate. After all the main tank would last longer than my bladder.
200 hundred miles, no stops, then water in, water out,gas and go. I-5 soputh bound ,do that 3 times a day and you eat up maps. I was actually hoping for 400 mile days not 600.
It is cold and I have so many clothes on that John and Rod had been teasing my about a new handle, RIP VON ZIPPER. Actually a character from Annette and Franky beach movies. I carry the ashes of my departed son around my neck in a vial. Matt was getting warm and warmer and then hot. I had packed disposable pocket warmers in strategic pockets to help minimize heat loss. I thought maby that was contributing to this discomfort. A hundred miles into this and I had to stop again to investigate this source of heat, it was getting uncomfortable.
Six zippers and I was at the vial, there was a red mark on my chest as if the heat was slight irritant. No biggy.I moved the vial and thought I would try the road again. I was at a quicky mart and took the opportunity to use the head.
No urgency here just precautionary urination. while i was releaving myself I squeeked out a little fart.SHIT MY PANTS! Well i proved the adage about over sixty not trusting dry dreams and wet farts.
Seventeen zippers in so many seconds later I was on the throne experiencing evacuation cataclismic. I personaly know government employees that would have gone on disability from such an event. Yes it would have crippled a lesser man.
Now i'm sitting, pants around knees, gaze fixed on an unholy sight. What was to be done? Out came my leatherman and I cut the underwear off, threw them in the garbage and started wiping. The mess had been contained in the underwear. Nice start 150 miles and only 5000 to go.
This section of I-5 is boring. Seventy indicated is sixty five true speed and holds the tach at just shy of five grand. Its 40 degrees f and at this speede the wind chill is a factor. I've got t-shirt long johns sweater rain liner and riding gear on the top. Long johns denim trousers rain liner and riding gear in bottoms, the underwear wasn't a factor here. The top zips to the bottoms of the riding gear and has the pads that have almost become standard, elboes hips knees shoulders and spine pads.
The pocket warmers work well but I found out that after an hour they would start to starve for O2. They would cake up and get hard then stop producing heat until I massaged them into granuals again. there normal life was over 8 hours, I was so air tight. I had put plastic bags over my shoes and electicians tape was securing them on.The foot protection served me well and I did hit some real rain.
I have been mulling a decision that is coming up for months. At Cottage Grove I can turn west and follow the coast down or stay on I-5 and try for southern latitudes faster.
W. F. Buckly said "Where there are no options there are no problems". The coast was going to be a longer route with a greater possibility of wet 45 degree weather with some winds off the beam. Winds can be a hassle with a bike with this high a center of gravity and this weight{relatively light for this application}.
Straight south would be less miles but greater chance of bad passes this time of year. ODOT did not predict bad weather on the passes and temperatures were supposed to be in the high 30's.
I opted for I-5 at the last second, I could make ashland before dark and that would be close to 400 miles. After the other delays I thought it was closer to my goal.
With about 100 miles to go, just before Wolf Creek there is a pass elevation about 2000 feet. As I approached this pass it started to snow. It was sticking on the sides of the lanes but the tire tracks were wet pavement. At the exact summit the wet pavement disapeared and turned to solid snow, the traffic stopped, a parking lot and the snow was building. I'm looking at all these people sitting in there cars with there heaters running and snow is building. I started splitting lanes imediately. idling along at 10 15 mph,left side, right side, beteen lanes, whatever it took to drop elevation. I made it to clear traffic in about 45 minutes. I made it into ashland just before dark. The hotel had a parking lot pub with a good restuarant and a open mike night with pretty good talent. I was in bed early relaxed rested fed.

Day 1 Dec 18

I left P-Low mid morning going to P-Town, Terry was going to leave a little later and we would meet at a friends house there. I was following the weather reports closely and new I had the possibility of bad weather.The weather doesn't usually sock in and stay bad for more than a few days, if it did I would delay.
I encountered about 20 miles of snow around Shelton, no real traffic problems as can sometimes happen when others on the road are not used to the conditions. The motorcycle was handling and running like it did in the shakedown runs, no surprises. The run down took about four hours and some change, usually I can make it in three an a half. The snow did slow me a bit but it was slushy and an inch deep. At 440 pounds the bike was getting adequate traction if I held the speed to reasonable.John was waiting with the garage door open finishing up last minute prep for their employee Xmas bash Terry and I were staying the night but were gong out to a local pub to meet other folks. There were plans to meet with a few younger friends to congratulate each other on making it to another Christmas season.All was well and Christmas was cheery. Early to bed and start the real trek in the morning.

The chapters by day

The chapters of my adventure will be posted in a serial manner of days in sequence as I recall them. Generally the trip took 15 days with one day of layover with P J& dixie in Pheonix, so 14 days of riding for 5000 plus miles. I think some of the readers may not appreciate some of the language, I have tried to tone it down a little. the reality is I did clean it up. Communication skills being what they are vulgarity is often resorted to, by everybody.