Forgotten River Towns Tour
Send this Article to a FriendI learned quickly that it's damn near impossible to ride a motorcycle in the snow. The snow would cover my visor so I couldn't see the road, and as soon as I wiped it away, I was blinded again. We pulled slowly to a stop on the side of the road and Cyrus told me he couldn't see a thing (he didn't have the luxury of a visor, just glasses and a handkerchief).
I looked over my shoulder and saw a building a few hundred feet behind us, the only thing in sight. Cyrus turned around and headed for the parking lot, and as I started to turn around in the middle of the road, my visor covered up with snow again. I came to a stop and tried to put my left foot down, but not being able to see the ground, I misjudged its distance and lost my balance. The bike tipped slowly onto its left side, coming to a rest on the left foot peg.
I was now in the middle of US 50 on a curve in the road, immobile, blind and deaf (I had earplugs in). "This sucks", I thought. I flipped my visor open, and luckily was able to pick my bike up, which was quite heavy with all the extra gear loaded on it. I jumped on and took off down the road. As I parked the bike, a semi truck roared by at 50 mph. All said and done, things probably could have gone worse.
The place we'd stopped turned out to be a tavern called Major's Place, which worked out nice. It had been a stop on the Pony Express and was owned by a guy who'd been a Major in the Spanish-American War. We covered the bikes with a tarp, ordered some hot chocolate and started warming up.
We were both pretty soaked, and the lady that worked there was nice enough to put some of our gear into the dryer. We shot some pool and had a couple drinks, waiting for the snow to stop and our fingers to thaw. Eventually it cleared up and we got back on the road. No more snow, but it stayed extremely cold and wet as we made it over the next pass to Ely, Nevada. We'd both had enough of the cold and found a room for $35. We were able to pull our bikes underneath an awning to get them out of the weather.
The next day was better. Still cold, but at least the sun was out. My fingers went numb regularly and I'd try to warm them up on my engine, one at a time. As it turns out, that's not good for my gloves. We rode through a lot of small towns, frequented by people traveling via motorcycle. I always enjoy riding through the desert. It's so peaceful for something that takes up so much space.
That afternoon we made it to Reno, but we continued into northern California where the scenery changed considerably. I'd been looking forward to this part of the trip for a long time. The vast forests and mountains, small towns and clean waters are just my style. We stopped at a general store and managed to strap a box of beer to the back of Cyrus' bike for the ride to Cold Creek Campground, somewhere on 89. We chilled the beer in the creek and set up camp. We were the only ones there; it was perfect.
The next day we rode through Lassen national park, which still had lots of snow, but the roads were clear. I never expected to be riding in conditions this cold, and we hadn't even made it out of the states yet. The elevation dropped to 560' above sea level as we headed towards Redding. It was a dramatic change from where we'd been riding. It was very dry, and everyone seemed to grow fields of dead grass.
From there we headed west on 299, back into the hills. The road snaked upwards and along the Trinity River, which was a lot of fun. Its curves were banked, so we could corner at higher speeds. I'd love to live up in those hills and work in Redding so I could ride that road every day. The Trinity River was spectacular. Bright blue and clean, running through a tall canyon. It looked like it would be perfect for a canoe trip.
The only thing I didn't like about California was the gas prices. At the time of our trip, California had the highest prices in America at over $5 a gallon; Alaska was second. And you don't even want to know about Canada.
