If you give Hammond half-a-second to organize a ride, you will swear he begins with the letter "G" and goes no further. This moderately inclement Spring run was all about going to the Flying L ranch in Glenwood. I've stayed there four times and I'm still not sure just what a "Flying L" is, but I am sure if there is a road to get there, Hammond has found it by now.
Starting off at the Costco gas bay had me pulling up for fuel while watching quick moving riders get between what could have been a motorcycle domino show. There was some small damage to a windscreen but that was quickly fixed and the rider had caught up to us by the time we made it to Desert Aire. We chose the basin route as it was seen the driest because the multiple weather forecasts from respected sources watching precipitation from here to Tampa Bay thinking that the dry route was probably the best route seeing that after the best route that there probably was not going to be a dry route!
And who wanted to show up at the ranch soaking wet, especially with the swimsuit model shoot that was promised to go on. So onto the Vernita bridge, Mabton, Bickleton (had an exceptionally nice lunch there), and then arriving in Goldendale to gas up and figure out how to kill a couple hours on our way to Glenwood. Hammond took us on a nice route down the Centerville highway where we connected to Highway 14 and then shot up Highway 142 following the Klickitat River. He kept talking about going over the top to Appleton and mentions some dirt road that was probably akin to a goat trail for most of us riding 800+ pound motorcycles so we talked him out of that and just went on along the Glenwood highway to our destination.
Pulling into the ranch, the first thing that was noticed was how empty the parking lot was. The original idea was to have the run of the Lodge main building, but we were willing to give that up for a model shoot. Now we find out that that wasn't a model shoot but a women's retreat (makes me wonder just how far Hammond would go to get us in Glenwood in April). But that became brighter because we found out it was a wine and chocolate women's retreat, but only two women showed up to attend! So this was going from a high, to a low, to a high, to a low. I thought there would at least be wine and chocolates aplenty from generous attendees!
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| It's as lumpy as it looks |
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| Outsiders have to eat at the little kids table |
Oh well, Hammond picked up three cabins for our groups to stay in so I bunked in a cabin with John, Mots, and Hammond. Throwing my gear on the futon, We met back outside and decided our next run for grub.
The restaurant in town had closed so we decided to head up to Trout Lake and try a place there. So we took the trout lake highway and zig-zag a number of places on really good roads to arrived out a small local eatery there, the Trout Lake Country Inn. Being Friday, the Clam Chowder was hot and sourdough bread bowl with a good salad and a cold local draft beer hit the spot. We ended up eating in the Dancehall portion of the restaurant, and I'm sure the reason for that was to save the front tables for the locals in their dining pleasure of not having to eat around some eclectic out-of-towners. I'm pretty sure we even got a separate menu!
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| Camp town ladies don't even come back here to this area |
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| Donner, party of one, your snowbank is ready |
After dinner, everyone took off and as I got to the five corner gas station I realized that I didn't pay too to much attention how I rolled in. and as I turned left at the station I missed my turn and continued going straight north where I discovered two things; 1) the road to Randle is closed with snow and 2) the snow level begins at 3800 feet, where I had to turn around. Spending about 40 minutes trying to figure out where my turn was to get back to the road that was poorly marked I ventured south until I hit gravel on the Sunnyside Road, and looped back to Trout Lake. I finally surrendered my guy card and ask somebody for directions. Coming back into Glenwood I decided since there was no wine to be had at the ladies retreat I had better pick up a bottle of my own.
While pulling in, Don had decided that the old horse stables would be a good place to park the scoots and arranged with the proprietor for us to fit in all we could. I called dibs on a cement padded corner and parked Mistress for the night and went off for an introduction to my wine.
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| Yes, and it's good |
You wouldn't think that a Spanish wine called Jellybean with the screw-top would be any good, but the blend of blackberry, cherry and a smooth cocoa finish was a pleasant surprise for the end of the day.
One never knows where conversation will go with such a diverse group of men, but the end of the evening landed with a religious discussion of biblical proportion (pun intended!). I think it could've gone on to the wee hours of the morning but we finally had to wrap it up so John and Mots could get some sleep in the next room! Even though I take a different path than Terry, it was a conversation forged on an obvious mutual respect that being friends bring. It was nice that we didn't agree, didn't have to agree, and yet we could end the evening without an unkind word. This is why I ride with these guys, they accept a Buddhism-inclined pagen like me (even if they question my attempted level of desire removal while riding a BMW).
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| "Just point and shoot" |
Woke up at 0-dark-30 with someone rustling around for coffee way early before dawn, so over the head went the blanket trying to sleep a bit before a nice wholesome breakfast at the ranch chuckwagon, and then off to see what curves we could lay into (I actually got enough lean into a corner the previous day to scrape some cowling off the lower tupperware... I don't even want to think about the angle it took to do that) so we headed down to BZ corner and then down the 141 to White Salmon, on the 14 East to Dallesport and into the Dalles for the next leg.
197 South to the Tygh Valley, over the 214 (Sherars Bridge Highway), down to Maupin, and over back to the 97 where we lunched in Molly B's Diner. Rain and snow were prominent on the thought of "round the mountain" Hood route, so we decided to go back to the Dalles (a bit slower courtesy of a generous deputy and his "slow-down" hand motion) and see what more we could encounter in WA.
Just outside of Lyle, I pulled over into a trailhead rest area for a break and put my key up on a slanted paper towel holder. Realizing it was going to slide off, I stacked my gear in a clean corner near the door and when I went back to pick it all up... no key. I moved my gear outside and checked the restroom ten times, no key. Shook out every piece of gear, no key. Emptied the trash can and put the trash back in, no key The only thing I could think of was it was on my person while over at the loo, fell in the toilet, and was flushed away. My backup is always attached to my person, so I put all my gear on (after shaking it out for the 20th time) and with my spare, rode off.
Heading West again on the 14, I caught up with some of the crew and they were going to go on into the storm. Hammond and I agreed that when we hit rain, we were going to loop back and see about going "over the top" to Appleton. Old Hwy 8 to Canyon Road was sweet but the rain hit, so we geared up and took it easy the rest of the way over to Appleton and the famous "1.8 miles of well maintained gravel", which it was, and on into Glenwood and the Flying L for evening meal.
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| That's right... John smiled for a photo! |
Getting off the gear and telling my story of the lost key to John, he told me of the time he lost a key through a hole in his riding pants as I went shook out my gear again, but no key. We talk some more about the memory being the first to go as we engaged Mots and Hammond with the story, so after they left John and I were talking about how retracing steps may not show the lost item, but surely shows where the lost item is not. Inspired by such discussion, I began taking apart the layers of my jacket and there in the rain liner layer in a velcro pocket was my key... just enough gap to slide in, not enough to shake out. Thanks John! Later, several of the crew came up in the mess truck and brought half a cow and franks the size of a policeman's truncheon that they happily took to task (I passed on the good picnic feast, just don't eat that anymore) and shared stories and jokes around. Back to the cabin to finish my wonderful wine and chill with music.
Another 0-dark-30 morning (don't these guys sleep in???) and I was moving by 6:30 with my blanket and coffee on the couch, spending a few minutes meditating and collecting the good karma of my friends around me for the prep for the ride home. Breakfast, rally point in Goldendale, another in Toppenish where I bid my adieu anxious to get home to Mrs. RedTigre and took off to the freeway. Found me a rabbit coming out of Yakima towards Ellensberg and followed that Audi well enough to make it to E-berg in 15 minutes from the Firing Center. Hit rain coming into E-berg, beat it the first part of the pass, then 36°f and snow flurries at the summit.
Nice ride, good people, plenty adventure... what's a Beemer to want for?
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| Ahh... Mistress looks happy! |
**footnote** One of the conversations with Mots went to "what is the next bike"? I am 99.9% sold on a 2010-2012 K1300GT when the time comes and Mistress is out of steam. With only 109,500 miles on her and 10 years riding this model (it's a Beemer, what did you expect?) Mistress is still just broken in, but gets heavier every year. One day there will be a Mistress II, and I know who she is.
