The TGPCHPCMY2KMR+10, otherwise known as POPCORN, ride quickly reacquainted me with driving on the right side of the road and riding on a motorcycle. As soon as I was dropped off from the airport, having just come back from a summer in Australia, a vacation in Vanuatu, the Trans-Australia Expedition, and a tour of New Zealand, I jumped on my bike and headed to Corvallis to pick up Emily. She was to be my passenger on this epic ride. My bike, The TARDIS, after hibernating for four months in my parents garage, actually started and ran admirably.
Pulling out of the garage, the weather already didn’t look particularly friendly.
This photo is of Emily donning rain gear somewhere near Yamhill, Oregon.
The TARDIS loaded with gear.
The bridge across the Columbia River in Astoria.
Working on mending Emily’s torn rain gear with zip ties.
A bevy of PCs in Port Angeles stopped for coffee.
I love this yellow PC although I’d never turn my white PC any other color.
Fixing a busted mirror on another ’89 PC that took a low side spill in some twisties. The rider was a-okay and not even shaken.
In Toledo, close to Mount Saint Helens, we stopped for lunch.
Getting ready to mount The TARDIS (yes, from the proper side…).
At the campground at Bagby Hot Springs with Emily, her boyfriend Brandon (not pictured), and a smudge pot burning things it wasn’t originally designed to burn.
Between Saturday and Sunday I went on a wild ride from Corvallis down the Pacific Coast and Redwood Highways to Point Reyes Station and back up I-5 to Corvallis. The total distance was 1280 miles give or take. I did the whole thing in 36 hours with 11 of those hours being used for rest in Point Reyes Station.
Originally I had planned to go over the Cascades and slip down the east side into Nevada and eventually to Death Valley. However, due to pass conditions and an inclination to go along the coast, I went down the 101 toward San Francisco. It’s a good thing I did because otherwise I’d be in the middle of Nevada with a bad oil leak right now.
At around Klamath, California I suddenly lost power going up a hill. Pulling over and putting the bike up on its center stand, I found that an itty bitty oil leak on my left crank case had become a much larger leak. It took about a quart of oil to bring my bike back up to full. After that I was off and down the road again.
Driving through the redwoods at night on the freeway south of Eureka, California was an amazing experience. There wasn’t one piece of straight road for probably 40 miles. The two lanes of southbound tarmac were wide-open, beautifully marked with reflectors, and perfectly banked for 65 MPH travel. I only saw a couple other cars on that entire stretch of road. It felt like I was playing some retro-futuristic video game. It was so, so awesome!
Getting gas in Ukiah, the gas station worker challenged me to an arm wrestling match. She was in her 60’s. In the end she relented and gave me my change.
In Petaluma I got lost and ended up driving in the wrong direction. I had a lovely tour of the salt marshes between Petaluma and Napa though. Finally I figured out which way was west and rode into Point Reyes Station at 330am. It had been a long day of driving.
The next day I got out of Point Reyes Station late in the day and headed off to I-80 and then to I-5. Somehow I missed a turn and had to go through Sacramento. It was a good thing I did though because when I got to Redding, California, the guy at the pump behind me turned out to be a fellow PC800 owner. He had tailed me on the freeway for 50 miles in his car waiting for me to pull over for gas so he could say hi. It sounds like I might be going back to Redding soon to trade Art my windshield for his windshield.
Going over the pass on I-5 I was reminded how much the roads in Oregon suck at night. It took quite a bit of concentration to stay on the road and in between the lanes. I often tailed semi trucks to follow their brake lights. Maybe someday Oregon will get with the program and put reflectors on the roads.
I rolled back into Corvallis at 1am. The tip of my right thumb is still numb, my right hand is physically weak from using the clutch so much, and my right foot is numb on top. I also lost seven pounds during that ride. I stayed hydrated the entire time with a 100 ounce Camelback water bladder tucked in my backpack. Who knew motorcycling was so demanding?
The parts to fix my bike are on order and should be here in a week or two. The job will probably take about six hours to complete. I can ride the motorcycle until then but I will be keeping it within 100 miles of friendly garages where I can park it until I can go and fix it wherever that garage happens to be. My AAA towing plan covers up to 100 miles. 🙂
I stopped for gas many different times during the trip. The gas stops are listed below:
Waldport, OR: 139.1 miles, 3.027 gallons, 45.95 mpg (This also included the ride from Waldport to Corvallis and up Marys Peak from the day before)
Port Orford, OR: 136.6, 2.854 gallons, 47.86 mpg (Lots of wind down the coast)
Klamath, CA: 109.3, 2.352 gallons, 46.47 mpg (I was fighting some nasty winds coming down along the 101 in Oregon)
Miranda, CA: 120.2 miles, 2.687 gallons, 44.73 mpg (Too much fun on the freeway through the redwoods!)
Unika, CA: 100.2 miles, 2.105 gallons, 47.60 mpg
Point Reyes Station, CA: 137.4 miles, 2.993 gallons, 45.90 mpg
Arbuckle, CA: 140.1 miles, 2.973 gallons, 47.12 mpg (not bad for doing 75 on the freeway for most of the previous tank)
Redding, CA: 109.1 miles, 2.673 gallons, 40.8 mpg (I was doing 75 on the freeway on the whole tank to Redding. I also had a small over-fill of a few ounces.)
Yreka, CA: 95.0 miles, 2.406 gallons, 39.48 mpg (I was pulling up the hills at 65 mph or faster out from Redding)
Grants Pass, OR: 81.3 miles, 1.816 gallons, 44.76 mpg (I went over the pass and was going slow most of the way due to poor road markings)
Cottage Grove, OR: 115.9 miles, 2.492 gallons, 46.5 mpg
Along the Pacific Coast on my Pacific CoastIt was pretty windy through this section. A storm was rolling in.At the California borderWhere I slept in Point Reyes StationMy motorcycle with before I put the gear back onMy bike has some brake dust coming off of it. Looks like I'll be due for some new brakes soon.The oil leak.Gearing up for the ride north.Sondy went on a short ride with me before I headed out of town.
This morning I got the strange idea to practice riding on gravel and dirt roads with the PC800. After procuring some maps from the local Forest Service office and requisitioning two one gallon gas cans, I set off on an adventure. My original goal was to navigate some sketchy back Forest Service roads to reach Deadwood, Oregon via Paris, Oregon. In the end I took a wrong turn and thought I was somewhere else. It turns out I made it to Paris but didn’t realize it. It’s probably a good thing because otherwise I’d still be out there riding, trying to get back to Corvallis.
About five or six miles of the route was on “road” that was overgrown with brush and only demarcated by the cut in the hillside and by two ruts from trucks that had passed that way long ago. From the looks of things, I was the first vehicle down this sketchy road since at least the fall. Once I decided to commit to it there wasn’t much turning back. The road was too narrow to turn around on and even if I had, I wasn’t convinced I’d get enough traction in the mud to go uphill.
Coming down out of that mud and mess I found a nice paved road that I decided not to take. My map said the road didn’t exist. Pro-tip to anyone venturing into the Siuslaw National Forest: the forest maps that the Forest Service sells are crap. Get the BLM map of the area for more detail. Carry the Forest Service map though, too, because sometimes the two maps don’t agree. In fact, after getting off the county roads and onto the forest roads, the two maps were either at odds or one or the other simply didn’t have a road listed on it.
The shittastic road I came down. This view makes it look nice and passable. Let me tell you: It wasn’t.
The Tardis parked while I try to figure out why I can’t figure out where I am on any map.
After riding up another dirt road I found myself in the middle of a logging operation and decided I should probably turn around rather than try to get the PC800 with its street tires and street shocks through a muddy mess. The ruts from the logging trucks were a foot to two feet deep.
Back down the paved road I found another paved road. There weren’t any signs. This road wasn’t on my map either. I decided to go left. After a while, two trucks full of chopped wood passed going the other way. They looked like backwoods loggers getting off work at the end of the day. And they waved and smiled at me *real* big. I decided they probably knew the way out and I should follow them. That or I was going to find some people who like to hear people squeal like pigs.
Some time and several sketchy small settlements (the kids didn’t all look quite right and the adults weren’t all there either) later I found myself out on Highway 36 about 20 miles outside of Alsea. In the end I was lucky enough to have a good sense of direction and to remember the cardinal rule of travel in the Siuslaw: When in doubt, follow the water downhill. Eventually it either ends up at the ocean or in the valley.
The ride was about 140 or 150 miles give or take. My odometer and Google Maps disagree on the matter. I’m guessing that their map info isn’t 100% accurate out in the middle of nowhere. Also while I did buy gasoline, I can’t calculate my fuel economy because I didn’t catch how much gas I had put in before I filled up the two gas cans. Next fill-up I’ll figure that out. The gas cans came with me as a precaution in case I got to the very end of the route to find a tree across the road or whatever. That way I knew I could make it out one way or another.
Another minor note: My Heat Troller seems to be malfunctioning. Tomorrow or Thursday I am going to have to take a look to figure out why I couldn’t get heat out of my gloves this evening.
And for those who were hoping to here about banjos and chainsaws in an explicit sense, sorry. No such luck. The banjos and chainsaws were in metaphor only. But had I stopped and asked, I’m sure several of the people along the way had one or the other in the back of their pickup trucks right next to the sawed off shotgun.
One final word: Every time I go for a ride on my PC800 it is like falling in love with motorcycling all over again. Along big boulevards, down freeways, twisting through country roads, up and over mountains on forest roads, down logging paths through the muck and grime… no matter what I throw at this bike it keeps on working and is as happy as can be. Honda got it RIGHT with this design. Say what you will about its looks (I think it’s beautiful), but never say that this bike can’t perform. And further, worrying about a breakdown is at the very far back of my mind. The PC800 just goes and goes and goes. I’m so happy with my bike 🙂
NOTE: It seems that Google Maps has decided to screw up the route map that I traced out. Dunno why it’s doing that. Anyway you get the general idea of the route. The only thing that shouldn’t be there is the small loop down near Paris, Oregon.
