About Larry

I live in Bandon on the southern Oregon coast and I've been riding for a long, long time, years, decades. We won't go there kiddies but believe me, it's been awhile. During that time I've done most of my riding on the road with occasional off-road forays, most of which were intentional. Some weren't. Until just a couple of years ago I'd never ridden a hack - that's sidecar to those who aren't familiar with the lingo. I figure riding a hack up Alaska's infamous Haul road all the way to Deadhorse should top off my torture tank for quite awhile.

About Mac

Mac hails from Robins, Iowa and has been riding bikes longer than most people have been around. He managed to torture his old BMW past the 100,000 mile mark and presently rides a Yamaha FJR. His newest ride, a 2008 Ural Patrol is waiting on the dealer's highest shelf until the flood waters recede after which they'll assemble it and turn it over to him. The fact that he's heading to Alaska for his first journey on a new rig should tell you all you need to know about him...

Saturday, August 9, 2008

August 7th - Back in the USA!

Lillooett was already baking as I left town early this morning. I had a brief continental breakfast at the Gold Panner Hotel, said goodbye to Jay and his wife and headed up the canyon on highway 99. The road is rough but the scenery is beautiful so I rode slow, stopping often for a last view of this mountainous area. A doe was standing so close to the road at one point I could have touched her nose when I rode by - at a very slow speed of course. Everything went pretty smooth until I reached the area south of Pemberton and there the road construction began in earnest. This lasted nearly all the way to Horseshoe Bay and was particularly bad in the area around Whistler. Like most things though, it eventually ended and I rode on to the border crossing at Blaine, WA where the waiting lines in both directions seemed unending. This seemed odd considering how short they were when Mac and I crossed over just a few weeks ago. When I finally got to the booth the girl asked the usual questions, checked my passport & bike license and sent me through.

The weather continued to be scorching hot so I watched for a campground sign as I rode down
I-5 towards Seattle. Just below Bellingham I saw a kid pushing his HD chopper so I pulled over to see what's up. His tank was bone dry he said so I donated a gallon or so to the cause. What a kid, he was sporting more facial hardware and tattoos than I've seen in quite awhile. All of that aside, he was grateful for the benzino and when his bike started I headed south again. My payback for being snotty to the old HD geezer in Dease Lake a few days ago. Mr. Nice Guy...

Spotting the sign for Wenberg State Park located 20 or so miles north of Seattle I chose it for my final night's camp out. The basic tent sites run $19.00 - sorry, no change for a twenty so I donated the extra buck to who knows who and settled in for the night. Next morning I awoke to the loudest snorer on the planet, honest to God I've never heard anyone pump air like that guy and eventually I heard his wife jab him (or whatever). He let out a bellow and a few snorts, then went back at it again. Clean living?

While eating breakfast I was visited by one of the local camp kitties begging for food. From the looks of her she wasn't missing very many but I'm a sucker for beggar cats so I fabbed a bowl out of aluminum foil and passed over the remainder of my milk. She drank down two rounds, then took a break mid-way on number three. Happy kitty.

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