From Frisco to Idaho

Wow, it seems like ages ago that I was in Frisco. I probably should have stayed at Nicky B’s, but I headed North and got a room. The next morning I stopped at a Walmart for supplies. When I was walking out I saw two old dudes checking out the bike. One of them was excited. He hadn’t seen a Triumph in a long time. We talked for a while then I introduced myself, “I’m Pat.” The excited guy said, “I’m Tom.” I said, “I know. I really liked your show.” It was Tom Smothers of the Smothers Brothers.

Tom had a 650  Bonnie back in the ‘good old days’ as he called them. I should have gotten a photo with him, but the Hirschfeld will have to do. Here is a more recent photo of Tom receiving an award from Steve Martin.

From there I hit the coast. It was rather cold and the clouds were hugging the coast making it even colder. These cows didn’t seem to mind as the enjoyed their  prime real estate.

I found a nice campsite right off the coast and enjoyed some of the local beverage as I chilled in my hammock.

The Russians are coming! The Russians are coming!

Actually they were already here. Below is Fort Ross, a Russian settlement during the 1800’s on the California coast.

This guy is a weapons expert at Fort Ross. He showed me how they loaded and fired these old rifles. The man loves to talk. You could keep him going all day.

This is the cove where the Russian settlement would dock their ships.

This is a dead Russian duck.

These blue jays are always the first to pick at a campsite once the people leave.

This is the Sea Ranch Chapel.  It was created for individual prayer and meditation.

The clouds were lifting a bit at this point.

I pitched tent under these redwoods. This is at a private campsite. The one in the Redwood Forest was filled. A couple from Sacramento, Rudy and Dana invited me to have dinner with them. After many a truck stop sandwich for dinner it was nice to have some grilled fish. 

In the redwood forest you have to kick back and have a good look at the monsters.

And maybe fly around a bit.

There are bigger Redwoods further North but of the 3 roads headed East in northern California, I had already traversed the other two. So I skipped the BIG Redwoods (that I visited last year), and took the very twisty Route 36 inland.

I turned on Route 3 and headed North. I was in dire need of gas. Fortunately there was a pump here in Douglas City, (population 60).

This hotel was a stop for stage coaches back in the day.

Mount Shasta.

I crossed into Oregon and saw this guy enjoying a place called Colliding Rivers.

Then I found a great campsite. As I was pitching my tent I could hear bagpipes playing in the direction of the river. I went to investigate and found this guy, Cliff, playing away.

There were a number of these bug shells around the river. The shell are like you find when the locust transforms. But I can’t imagine what the thing looks like now. It’s big. Like 2 inches long! Big for a bug.

I took a day trip to Crater Lake. I didn’t plan on coming here since I visited last year. But after decideing to spend two nights at the campsite it made sense to ride the 100 miles to the crater.

There was more snow here than last year. I decided to recline on a snowbank for this shot.

I stopped, hoping to photograph this vulture sitting on a fence post in front of the flag mural, but he was camera shy. What a wing span.

Clearwater Falls was between the crater and the campsite.

When I returned from the crater my neighbor was hammered. He has been on the road since May bouncing around from campsite to campsite. He said he had been living with his daughter but that didn’t work out. This guy was a Vietnam Vet, a former air traffic controller, and a former Vegas pit boss. He had Paris Hilton vomit story which was cool.

The camp host Jake, said the tree to the right (in the photo below) is one of the oldest trees in all of Oregon.

Believe it or not, this is a two lane road. It was confirmed early in the ride when an unyielding pick up truck passed in the opposite direction.

Besides being narrow the road was filled with debris, like trees…

…and falling rocks.

Along Route 242 I passed miles of lava beds.

This fire near Sisters, OR was getting out of control. By the following day you were not able to see any blue from the same spot as it grew to over 4000 acres.

The Painted Hills. I love this place. I have to pack it up for now. I’ll write more when I get a chance.

One Response to “From Frisco to Idaho”

  1. Thank you for continuing on this journey, and taking us along. I’m dreaming of making my own cross-country trek next year, if I can get a few weeks off of work. You photos and notes are very inspiring. I may have to trade in my Speed Triple to so it though…

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