Texas Part Duex: 9/21/11: Austin and Farewell

Last day in Austin!  Skipped our regular breakfast so we could ensure a big lunch.  Instead of eggs and the works we had left over apple crisp paired with a few bites of Rudy’s cream corn.  I think my whole life revolves around food intake.  Especially in Texas.  (My waistline agrees.)   

Today we hit the road to University of Texas, home of the Longhorns.  Our mission:  to stand where  Charles Whitman (Texas Sniper) stood, to gaze upon the little spots below the tower and see what he saw.  On August 1, 1966 Whitman murdered his mother and wife before spending over an hour in the tower shooting at people below.  Thirteen people were murdered and 31 were wounded at the Tower alone.  By the end of the week the total death toll moved up to 16.  

Unfortunately, as with Waco, the University doesn’t appear to be very proud of their killer.  No signs, no memorials we could spot, and no roof access except for tours on the weekend.   Oh I tried, though.  (hmm, didn’t I try to get on the roof the other day at the hotel??? Another pattern emerges.)  

We parked at the Longhorn Stadium (not it’s official name) and walked through campus to the tower.  Campus is beautiful, despite the mass amount of construction taking place.  They must have acquired a large donor.  Once we got to the tower building we tromped inside like we owned the place.  We noted stairs which we passed by...it’s a calorie conservation thing.  There are two elevators near the middle of the building which are kind of scary.  Leading to the elevators is a long hallway with a metal detector at the front (hmm, anyone learn from their past?).   

Photo from the bottom of the UT Tower, that's one large Tower..maybe that's why they call it a Tower???

Sign that immobilized Jen

At the rear of the long hallway, in between the elevators is a sign that reads:  Elevators for authorized personnel only.  At this point Jen (AKA Yellow Belly Chicken) and I parted ways because she didn’t want to get on the elevator since we weren’t “authorized.”  I’m a firm believer that as a tourist I’m entitled to at least a few “Oops, I’m sorry, am I not supposed to be here?” statements.   I jumped on the elevator with a man (whom I will call Tex so he doesn't get fired) who was going back to his desk on the 15th floor (damn, I just outed Tex!).  I chatted him up and asked if there were windows on the top where I could take photos.  Tex said, “It’s frowned upon.”  But, me, well, I just smiled politely and said I’d come all this way to take just a few photos.  Tex then invited me to get off the elevator at his floor and stood with me while I was taking some photos from the window, just in case someone came and wanted to know what I was doing.  Nice guy.  I said thanks then hit both the up and down elevator when Tex turned his back.  That way, I figured the direction I went was in fate’s hands.  When the elevator stopped I pushed the button for the highest floor I could go, which was 25 (two floors below the top).  

As the elevator went up I started thinking of excuses for why I was up there...the only one I thought would be convincing was “I’m looking for Tex” since, well, in my Oregon Ducks baseball cap and shirt, I clearly wasn’t a student (way to think ahead, I'm a criminal mastermind).  I peeked out the elevator door when they opened, saw the coast was clear, then jumped out and hustled it to the windows.  Snap, snap, snap, photos galore.  (I am such a rebel, feel free to live vicariously through me).  

View from the 25th floor of the tower, UT

I am amazed at how awesome of a shot the Texas Sniper would have had to be to kill anyone, let alone injure as many as he did.  (I supposed that's what a sniper does, eah?) I don’t know if I am supposed to be impressed with an act of such violation, but really, if you consider it, WOW (kudos to the American military and it's training)!!!  

Back on the ground floor I found Jen.  She’d apparently been playing tour guide to some freshmen, pointing them to the registrar’s office.   I’m sure that was much more rewarding than taking the elevator up!  (Take a risk, make a memory!)

Stubbs grubb...mmm mmm good (sorry Rudy,  I cheated!)

Next stop:  Stubbs BBQ for lunch.  Sure, we went there a few days before but we just bought stuff and had a drink.  This time, lunch was in order.  We both ordered two meats (brisket and ribs) and two sides.  My sides were mac and cheese and mashed sweet potatoes.  Jen had sweet potatoes and cheese spinach (which I’m sorry to say tasted like shrat to me).  The mashed sweet potatoes were awesome, with a hint of cinnamon and topped with walnuts.  Heavenly.  The brisket was good but the ribs rocked.  (I hate to admit it, but they were better than Rudy’s, don’t tell him.) Jen was having a hard time finishing her meal and I had to break out Rule #1 (leave no bbq behind) and she choked down the remaining bites like a good sport.  I thought she was going to hurl for the next few hours but as far as I know, things stayed down.

From Stubbs we headed for Rudy’s to get gas and some bbq for the road.  I ordered 4 pounds of brisket and one pound of smoked turkey, Jen ordered a pound of brisket.  Crazy as it sounds, I came prepared with a fold up ice chest/bag to bring food home.  I know, I have a problem.  Maybe there’s a group I can join for my Rudy’s BBQ addiction.  

At the airport, the excessive meat proved to be a bit much as I had to remove stuff from my bags to make weight.  Doh!  Still, it was worth the agony of dragging around my carry on full of extra stuff.  I wasn’t leaving without my Rudy’s.  

Texas Part Duex ends.  Another adventure will start soon, Ireland and Scotland in October.  Until then,  may laughter and fun be on your mind and may every opportunity to step outside your comfort zone bring you one space closer to the ...oh shrat, Jen’s looking over my shoulder and I can’t write while she does that.  RUDE.  So, my words of wisdom will have to wait.  (Consider this a temporary reprieve.)

As Jen would say, “Whatever.”  

Cheers all.  Thank you, Texas, for accepting me and tolerating my childish behaviors yet again!  See you soon law dog, see you soon!  

Texas Part Duex: 9/18/11: Salado, Austin, & San Antonio

Woke up in the Holiday Inn (which is good since that's where I went to sleep) to the sound of doors slamming in the rooms next to ours.  At 6 AM.  Damn.  Dozed off and on until around 8 am when I just couldn't bear the thought of keeping those cinnamon rolls lonely in the free breakfast zone.

Once on the move we headed toward Austin to make our way to San Antonio.  My only wish was to stop at the Snake Farm along the way but we were easily sidetracked by a Cabella's that sprung up out of nowhere.  I screamed at Jen to take the exit we were almost passing, which she did with a bit of frustration.  I didn't know what the big deal was since she'd been driving like that the entire time.  Geez.  All I've heard thus far on the driving portion of the trip is, "Where do I go?  Which way? Where?  How?  These roads are stupid.  Which way? Which way????"  Keep in mind we have a GPS and me pointing the way...both of which have malfunctioned.  It's not my fault I keep programming the wrong address into the GPS.  I mean, who calls a road FM2548???   In Oregon we call roads by actual names.

I love Cabella's.  The only thing more exciting to me than Cabella's itself is a Cabella's with a sale.  Jen went ape shrat crazy trying on clothes and ended up spending a lot of money.  This from the girl who, as we were walking in, said, "I'll just play on my phone while you look around."  Silly girl.  Cabella's is for everyone.  Everyone COOL that is.

Rattlesnakes..their pens stink.   Scary.  

From Cabella's we headed to Animal World and Snake Farm (http://www.exoticanimalworld.com/) where Jen wanted to see some exotic animals, like armadillo's.  I informed her the armadillo wasn't exotic but she seemed set in her ways.   The last trip I took to San Antonio was with my friend Cher.  We passed the Snake Farm and shivered, thinking, "Thank Gosh it's closed!"  Later I saw the same snake farm on an episode of Dirty Jobs with Mike Rowe.  Being a Mike Rowe (and Dirty Jobs) fanatic, I decided if I ever came back, I was going to stand in the place that Mike Rowe stood.  (Not at all stalkerish.  The thought was of love, I assure you)  At Snake Farm the first animals we saw were some box turtles.  One was upside down in the pen, so Jen tells the guy the turtle is upside down.  He says, "No, he's not."  Jen, who always has to be right, says, "Yes, the turtle is UPSIDE DOWN."   The man says, "That turtle is EXACTLY where he wants to be."  So I look at the turtles and see they ARE really close.  I say, "So, um, the turtles are...making a baby???"  The guy smiles and says, "Yes, in fact, the turtle starts out on top of the other turtle and when penetration happens, the turtle flips backwards off the female and lays upside down while they are doing it.

Turtles mating.  I know, I've hit an all time low.  Even turtles need their privacy.  

At that point we found there was too much information being given out.  However, I did find it rather entertaining that I'd asked two days in a row if a baby was being made (first at Waco and now at the zoo).  I hope that's not going to be a repeating theme.

After the Snake Farm we headed toward San Antonio.  Nothing all that exciting happened there until we were in the Marriott's bar, drinking our complimentary margarita (which by the way was WEAK) when it started pissing down rain and storming.  San Antonio hasn't had rain in about six months.  Amazing, considering in Oregon we get rain almost twice a week in the summer and almost every second in the spring and winter....and sometimes fall.   We Oregonians are prepared for the rain.  Texans, well, let's just say, no so much.  The storm was so awesome it shut down the cable television for a spell.  The noise was deafening as the rain crashed into the roof and walls.  Suddenly it's raining INSIDE.  Rain is leaking down through the walls and all over the floor.  I'm thinking this is totally cool and I want to run up to the roof and scream, TOP OF THE WORLD!  as thunder and lightening crash around me.

No roof access.  Bums.  

There was a guy sitting next to us who apparently is doing some work here in one of the hospitals and was trained initially as a nurse or something.  He was saying he didn't think going on the roof was a good idea and I told him since he was trained if anything happened I'd just come down and see him for medical attention.  He kindly pointed eastward and said, "The psychiatric hospital is over that way!"  That got quite a few chuckles but frankly didn't sway my opinion of the task at hand.  We took the elevator up to the highest floor, Jen held the doors open so I wouldn't get locked in (safety first) and I skipped up two flights of stairs to the roof access doors.  Rainwater was dripping all around the doors and I could hear the lightening.  I was so ready to go!

Damn Marriott thinks locking the roof doors will save someone's life.  I guess it could be true.   No entry for the stupid on this date.   I'll have to save my TOP OF THE WORLD scream for some other storm.  I'm praying it happens within the next few days or it will be too late for Texas.

Tomorrow is all about San Antonio and Jen's desire to see the Alamo (which I've seen and been sufficiently bored with) and the Riverwalk (which I've seen and been even more bored with).  Somewhere along the line we'll hit Chuy's for texmes (thank you Lord) and head back toward Austin.

Bring it on, Texas.  I'm praying for more storms and a more cooperative hotel roof.

Salado, TX Mr. & Mrs. Sean Taylor's Wedding 9/17/11

First and Foremost, CONGRATULATIONS TO METTIE AND SEAN TAYLOR!!!!

When one of your friends (who happens to be younger than you by...um...a little...or cough...a lot...cough!)  gets married it is a happy occasion.  That's even true for me, who happens to live part time on Bitter Alley in the town of WhyMarry?  Yesterday my good friend, Mettie (aka Cher) stood before God and all to profess her love for Sean (aka Sonny) Taylor.

The Groom and Groomsmen 

They tied the knot at the Tenroc Ranch (http://www.tenroc.com/) in small but quaint Salado, TX.  I flew half way across the country with a friend to see the event and I must admit I am glad I did.  The venue was beautiful.  And frankly, I've never been at a wedding where I heard guns being fired in the background during the vows.  But, it's exactly how I imagine my wedding would be if I ever found Mr. Right instead of Mr. Right Now.  The bride and the groom both showed up.   There were moments of laughter, beauty, and my favorite moment:  the Father of the Bride's toast.

Mary Catharine and Delton presenting Mettie to Sean

I was finally able to meet some of the people I've been listening to Mettie talk about for years.  It's always great to put a face to a name.  Or a name to a face.  I've know Mettie for probably 8 years.; we met when we both started working for an insurance company.  I'm still there but Mettie has moved on (a few times) to greener pastures (or brown if you consider the fact that she moved back home to Texas).  I've been lucky enough to watch Mettie grow and succeed through law school, and I've listened to countless stories about boys and men (as she's done for me).  I've had the privilege of watching Mettie in love and in heartache.  Mettie has always been an inspiration to me.  She has always been the one person who I wish I could be more like.  And, truth be told, Mettie is the only person I know of who can wear white on her wedding day and actually deserve to.

Mettie's family is awesome.  Mettie's Dad is a quiet, hardworking man who was smart enough to marry the world's most wonderful woman, Mettie's Mom.  If I could choose my parents, I would choose hers.  They are both friendly, caring, considerate, compassionate, funny, supportive, and accepting.  The toast Dad gave (I may as well just claim them both since they probably aren't going to volunteer) was so beautiful I almost shed a tear.  Wonderful.  Simply wonderful.  Lucky Girl, that Mettie.  Very lucky in love and in family.

Mr. & Mrs. Sean Taylor (aka Sonny and Cher Taylor) Sept. 17, 2011

Texas Part Duex: 9/16-22/2011 Mettie's Wedding

I promise and swear this is my last trip to Texas this year.  I'm in the Austin/San Antonio area with a friend from high school (weird that I've know her for over 20 years and she's still talking to me) to attend another friend's wedding.  If you're the counting type that means I have at least TWO friends!  My first trip in August was on the moto, Runkle, and was to visit Sonny and Cher's place (aka Mettie and Sean's) and they are the happily engaged/soon to be miserable married couple.  (I kid!  Kind of.  Since I've never been married I'm not sure it would be miserable but I do note that most marriages end in divorce so...oh wait, not the thing to mention on the eve of a wedding.)

Anyhoo, my friend Jennifer and I flew to Austin today.  Our flight took us to Seattle first (because I always pick the flight that will ensure I get to see the most number of cities, or, as most of you will recognize, I'm cheap and I don't mind flying in the opposite direction for two hours if it saves me a few bucks).   Once in Seattle we had an hour layover (time to cruise through the airport so we can experience Seattle) where I met this lovely guy sitting next to me.  We bonded because I shared my napkin with him.  I'm nice like that.  It did turn out a little freaky when he stood and continued to talk to us about his pending trip to Tennessee and his road trip back to Oregon with his friend and the friend's two year old Golden Retriever.  I was really interested in talking more about the dog and less about the man and his friend.  My kindness only goes so far.

A big mountain.  (Perhaps Ranier)

The plane to Austin was packed.  I always try to sit behind the wing so I can watch the flaps go up and down and be one of the first people to see the fluids pouring out.  I have this dream of my 15 minutes of fame going something like this:  Television cameras pan in to my beautiful pearly whites as I say, "Well, we were just flying real normal like when all the sudden I saw this huge amount of liquid squirting from the wing and then we dropped about ten feet before the pilot corrected."  In my dream the pilot always saves us and I come out with the best story since I happen to be the only person obsessed with watching the wing looking for leaks.  It's like a public service.  I should get to fly for free because of my diligence.  And, truth be told, I could really use that 15 minutes of fame.

See that weird shaped cloud in the back???

The flight from Seattle to Austin was uneventful except for the stranger sitting next to us, whom I will call "Dick" for obvious reasons.  This man was intent on leaving his cell phone on during the entire flight and even when asked three times to turn it off, he ignored the attendants.  I was about ready to grab that phone and slap him over the head with it since I was frankly frightened.  Fear makes you do strange things.  Surely the plane will go down if even one cell phone is left on.  That HAS to be why they tell us to turn them off.

By the grace of all goodness we flew without a hitch and landed with a few bumps but safely (no thanks to Dick).   Once off the plane we hopped in our fancy Chrysler rental car (I pushed for a convertible but the lady didn't think I was all that entertaining.  I do much better with men who are about 70 and looking for love) and promptly went what I thought was the wrong way.  The GPS and the cell phone's mapping system seemed to be contradicting each other.  The weather, a balmy 92 degrees, was a delight, and with Jennifer driving (and me alternating between whiplash and seatbelt burn due to said driving) I was happy when we saw a restaurant worthy of us stopping.

Our first choice (due to the availability of margaritas) was Chuys.  An hour wait wasn't going to work for either of us since we hadn't eaten all day except around 7 am (the worst airport burrito you could ever experience) and we were hungry enough to eat baby kittens (I'm not too proud to admit it).   We ended up at my favorite place (wait for it....) Rudy's BBQ!

This was Jen's first experience with Rudy's.  I don't think she was impressed with the fact that Rudy's is actually in a Shell Station.  And it's clean and good but not exactly up to her high standards.  But, the service was spectacular (free samples, can I get a horray!) and the guy helping us was adorable (for a twelve year old).

The verdict is in.  Rudy's is "good."  Great.  Fantastic.  Just the review I expected.  "Just good."  Gebus, someone take that girl out and teach her about BBQ and what's good and bad and what is THE BEST DAMN BBQ ever.

Jen's first thoughts on Rudy's  "It''s Good."  Me off camera:  Head hung down in shame.  

Tomorrow we attend a Bride's Brunch in a church (probably Mettie's way of ensuring we don't catch fire once we enter her wedding chapel) and then the wedding at 7 pm.  I'm looking forward to watching Mettie walk down the isle with a man who I think is perfect for her (does he have a brother??).  Jennifer and I are going to head into Austin during the day and see if we can find something pertaining to motorcycles so I can get my "fix."  We passed a Harley dealership on the way here, I shutter to think that may have to do.  Research is needed.

And for those keeping track, the Holiday Inn Express has passed the "Jennifer Test" for bed bugs.  None evident behind the headboard, on the mattress, behind the t.v. or on the night stand.  It has also passed the "BMWGSGIRL Test" and has no bodies under the bed and no peep holes in the ceiling.  Whew.  Who knew traveling could be so high stress???

Truer words were never spoken, written, or slapped across the back of a gas station.   

Ride Log 14: Texas: Day 13

Current location:  HOME
Total distance traveled:  4145 miles

I woke up in Ontario, OR (which is good since that's where I went to sleep) and realized the room was dirtier than I thought. I have allergies to dust mites as well as to various plants, so I was sniffling nonstop.   In a rush to get out of there I showered at warp speed and threw on my dirty clothes from the day before (my socks almost walked out by themselves).  I loaded up the bike and hit the road around 8:00 AM.  My first stop was the Love's fueling station for a little breakfast (I know how to live!) and some ice.  There was ice for my camelback at the hotel but I wasn't willing to risk it.

At the gas station I met a nice guy and his wife who were riding two up on a Harley, just returning from Sturgis.  They were very proud of their trip and about Sturgis in general.  How precious.  They didn't ask if I was alone (so maybe people from the West coast are more observant?  I'd been asked the day before about ten times if I was alone, followed by the standard, "Oh you are brave!"  As if there are wild people all over the country waiting to find a lone female rider and do unspeakable things. See, my paranoia has limits.)

Preferable over the Budget Inn?

I took Hwy 20 from Ontario toward Burns.  Burns will fool ya.  Don't get gas at the first place you see, instead go into Hines (about a mile away) where they actually have gas stations that have new pumps.  I had to wait for the attendant to manually add up the purchase before mine and hand write a receipt.  Imagine my dismay when around the bend I see gas stations that actually have the ability to take a credit card.  Damn it.  I also found another place to sleep along the route, which would have probably been better than the one I chose (look left).

From Burns I rode toward Christmas Valley on US 395.  This is where Hank (GPS) started getting all stupid.  For awhile he told me I was on an unpaved road (good for me, finally Runkle sees something besides asphalt) and then he stopped working all together, telling me to take non existant roads to nowhere and then politely telling me to turn around and head back the way I'd come.  After that the power kept flashing off and on.  If there is one place you need a GPS to work, it's in the middle of nowhere, which I can safely say is where 395 is located.   This was a cool stretch of road but is open range (like most of the smaller roads I'd traveled on during the trip).  Of course, in Oregon when they say "open range" the cattle are so smart they can read and they actually take to the roads.  I had some great photos of this, but my expensive camera died the day before (thanks Nikon).

There was one point where I was worried about my safety as I slowly pulled up to a herd in the road.  I wasn't that frightened, having passed some earlier..until I saw the largest arse ever.  I stopped behind it about 20 feet and when the animal turned it's head it was a bull (hence the large part) with horns that could have gone right through the bike.  It looked at me and I could tell by the way it's eyes were glaring that this was not a good time to remind him about all the beef I'd consumed in Texas.  The ribs I had left in my camelback (kept cold by the ice) were pork so at least I had that going for me.  I wasn't sure if I should go by quickly, slowly, or at all.  Since he didn't seem to have any intention of moving I started to slowly ride by when the bull on the side of the road started heading onto the tarmac.  I was essentially riding between two animals that could have crushed me on accident and my paranoia, kept at bay briefly, sprung a leak and I was mentally watching them "horn" me to death.  I could think of worse ways to go, especially since my diet of beef was probably going to kill me eventually anyway.

I eased my way into LaPine around 1:00 PM and stopped at the Taco Bell for lunch.  I was going to transport it back to the house and eat while relaxing on the deck so I needed a Pepsi to compliment this gourmet meal.  I don't have a cup holder (want one, dork gage just hit the red) and trying to get the Pepsi back to the house in one piece gave all the locals something to laugh about.  I made it, though, and pulled into the driveway full of awe that I'd made it that far (to and back from Texas, not due to the Pepsi, although I'd say that really was a Pepsi Challenge.  hahahah  Okay, I'll stop)

Once there I thought about Trout who in my mind was alone and sad because I wasn't there.  I got back on the bike and hit the road again, heading toward my final destination of Aurora, OR and home.  On Highway 97 through Bend then onto Highway 22 toward Salem I rode 55-60 mph which seemed slow after my previous day of 75-80 mph. I marveled at how the mountains in Oregon still have snow, how the sun seemed to shine brighter (but not be that hot) and how a familiar road gives you a sense of contentment.

The view from Bend, OR to Sisters, OR

The last 100 miles of my trip were the most challenging.  Perhaps it is because they were miles I've done a million times, perhaps because I had to use the rest room but didn't want to take the time to stop, or perhaps because I knew I was nearing the end of my journey.  Whatever the reason, my arse felt like someone had paddled it relentlessly over the last thousand miles and no movement on the seat was making things better.  I moved up and back and sat straight and slouched.  I leaned and even tried to just take my mind off it by imagining what I was going to eat for dinner (exciting, eah?)  Nothing worked.  Near the last ten miles from Woodburn to my exit I felt relief wash over me as I counted down the miles and told myself I'd already gone over 4,000 miles, ten more would not hurt.

Pulling into my driveway I checked the GPS and saw I'd ridden 4,145 miles over the last two weeks.  Others have ridden farther, ridden faster and ridden better.  The sun was shining, my plants were all alive and the garden was tended (thanks to my landlord and neighbor!).  I threw on a pair of shorts and flip flops and jumped in the car without even unloading the bike, anxious to pick up Trout before my motivation failed.  I drove the thirty minutes and picked her up.  She licked me and jumped up to kiss me repeatedly (not a good trick to show a dog when you have friends who are shorter than you).  When I opened the front door she ran out and jumped right in the car, tail wagging and eyes glistening (maybe I imagined that glistening).

Trout at "pick up" time.  She jumped in and wouldn't get out!  

 It was then I realized that over the last 4,145 miles I'd traveled, there were so many beautiful things I'd seen; so many mountains and drylands, waterways and freeways.  But the one view I would not want to live without was the one view that warmed my heart and made me smile, time after time.

That view could only be the one from home, with Trout laying in the grass or playing in her pool, me on the porch in a comfy chair sipping on a cold drink remembering the time my journey took me solo to Texas.

Thank you all for coming along with me.  I hope you enjoy home as much as I do.

As always, Be safe.

Ride Log 13: Day 12

Current Location:  Ontario, OR

The past is but a memory...and another shack

Miles from home:  415 miles
Distance from Torrey, UT:  603 miles
Food:  Left over ribs from Utah and Cheetos (I've slipped since Texas)

From Torrey, UT I let Hank (the GPS since the bike is Runkle) tell me where to go.  I ended up riding west on 24 to Hwy 89.  This stretch in Utah was much better than the Arizona portion.  Curves,  farmland for views, and small quaint towns blessed the path.

More of this view to look forward from Torrey, UT on Hwy 24 toward SLC.  

Highway 89 between Richfield and Provo, UT:  Not bad at all!

Hwy 89 fed into the interstate (15 then 84) for hours and hours.  The interstate is a great way to travel if you're into traffic, wind, construction and large towns.  Awesome.  The only good thing I found about the stretch of interstate through Salt Lake is the HOV lane and the fact that the interstate allows you to completely bypass the city.  However, Hank (GPS, keep up, people) led me astray (even on the interstate) and I ended up doing a few loops in a part of town before finding my way back to the interstate.

I thought about stopping in Twin Falls, ID for the night (430 miles from Torrey, UT) then thought if I could make Twin Falls I could certainly make the other side of Boise (only 129 miles farther).  Once I got to Boise I figured the Oregon border was only about 60 miles more so I may as well make a run for it.  It didn't hurt that my dog sitter was sending me texts showing photos of Trout buddied up to her kids. Nothing motivates a dog mom (me) like seeing your only child loving someone else.  (Trout the traitor)

Around 7:30 PM I crossed into Oregon and wondered if I should just keep going.  Ontario, OR is right on the border and it's not the nicest of places.  Last year we camped in an RV park that was the worst place I've ever seen.  I still have nightmares.  I filled the tank and headed to the Budget Inn since it looked inexpensive and was near the gas station.

I parked outside and walked into the Budget Inn to be greeted by a nice man who's first question was "What year is that bike?"  It made me wonder if he was asking for resale value.  I got a room anyway and once inside realized I'd have been better off at the RV park.  The nonsmoking room had cigarette burns on the carpet and blankets.  The AC was a wall unit from circa 1970 that was loud and only had one speed.  The toilet didn't flush right.  I actually put my own pillow on the bed and pulled the comforter off completely, wondering how many cooties were on it.  The headboard hit the wall with every movement (I didn't even want to think about that) and towels were off white/tan (and not on purpose).  As I moved my stuff inside a praying mantis decided to hang out on the door, giving me a glimpse of the bugs I could look forward to.

I thought about leaving, just packing up and heading to a campground then I thought about the last 600 miles (and my aching hands and my iron butt that is NOT iron at all) and figured I'd sleep well, regardless of my surroundings.

The next day I was headed to LaPine to stay with the parental units...a fresh bed, a hot tub, a deck and two dogs to greet me.  I was almost home and the one thought I had was I hope I don't get in a wreck this close!  (Paranoia really never leaves, does it?) 

Ride log 12, Texas Day 11

Current Location:  Torrey, UT
Distance from home:  around 1,060
Distance from Lubbock:  832 miles
Food situation:  Dismal.

I stopped in Torrey, UT out of pure desperation (I'm tired!).  I've been on the road for about 12 hours, although probably only on the bike for about 10.5 after my many stops for photo ops and to buy a cowboy hat for a friend.  Skipped lunch today since I kept waiting for something to peak my interest...apparently after gorging myself this last weekend in Texas a burrito from the gas station was sufficient.  I'm at the Days Inn which was about 90 buckaroos for the night (a discounted price and the last room left).  I passed up camping despite the good views because I'm a chicken but also because I had no water.  I filled up my camelback in Albuquerque and sucked it dry about 100 miles ago.  Moto mojo is turning black again.

My mojo was bad starting this morning at the hotel when I went down for breakfast around 6 am only to find a couple empty nesters hogging the waffle maker.  I mean, really, do you need to stuff five waffles in your face while people are waiting?  And guess what?  Only white bread.  Who eats white bread anymore?  I ate a half a bowl of raisin bran and hit the road, ready to swear off hotels and free breakfast. (I like how I'm disgruntled about a free service. I'm such an ungrateful Dork.)

From Albuquerque, NM I stayed on Interstate 40 to Gallup which was about 120 miles of traffic and annoying drivers.  I had decided to keep to Interstates when I set off this morning then after about ten minutes actually on the Interstate I decided back roads, despite the fact that they take longer, would be more appealing.  In Gallup I bought a cowboy hat and then lost my bike keys.  (It's scary that I just KNEW that would happen at least once on the trip so I had a spare.)  I ended up finding them after about 15 minutes of searching.  I then went to the post office to mail the hat.  They wanted my first born child and my dog for shipping costs.  I thought the dog was excessive so I ended up strapping the hat to the back of the bike.  I look totally cool now.  (It's going to be THE thing to do in a few months, you mark my words.)

Road construction plagued my route (491 N to Shiprock) and made for delays about every fifty miles.  Of course, once I got going I was stuck behind a line of cars and missing some good curves.  From Shiprock I went into Colorado then backtracked on Highway 60 to ensure I hit Four Corners, where Colorado, Arizona, New Mexico and Utah all meet at the, duh, corners.  I thought it would be cool to say I was in all the places at once.  In reality it was just an extra 30 minutes out of my way.  But gee, I can mark that off my bucket list now.  (And that's what life is all about, right?)

From Four Corners I took a small route (41, which turns into 62) which was actually quite nice.  Lots of turns and twists.  I ended up near Blanding, UT and veered onto Highway 95 toward Natural Bridges National Monument and Glen Canyon National Recreation Area.

Glen Canyon, Utah

I'm going to share a secret with ya'll.  The Glen Canyon area is the prettiest, most spectacular thing I've seen thus far (and it feels like I've been to hell and back).  I found myself at a loss for words after using my quota of "holy shit" and "wow".  I eventually reasoned with myself that if there ever was such a thing as "God's Country,"  Utah would be it.  The sheer cliffs and columns were borne to perfection by the wind and rain.  The colors were spectacular and varied,  the views breathtaking.  In sections it was as if someone had built a Lego mound and pushed it down. The rock was flat and square.   There were big pieces and little pieces.  Other areas had round rocks that made me think of giant chocolate marsh mellows (I have a food fascination).   It was amazing.  Simply amazing.  Other locations appeared like chocolate frosting, whipped smooth and fine.   I imagined the smooth parts were giant's bellies and if I looked closely enough I would occasionally see faces or hands built into the rock. (Of course that could be in part to my overactive imagination.)  Ya'll can have Zion (which I thought was remarkable) and Moab and all the others.  I'll take Glen Canyon.

I do not kid when I say just when you thought it couldn't get any better, it did.  I think the most mind blowing thing was all that beauty and the dryness then turning the corner and seeing the Colorado River flowing through it.  I hope one day you all get to view such a place.

Glen Canyon with the Colorado River 

After riding to the edge of the Glen Canyon area I was in no rush to move quickly.  I wanted the memories to last and twisting the throttle seemed like pushing them away.  Finally I sucked it up and moved along...toward Capital Reef National Park.  Oh, and trust me when I tell you that this is also one stretch of road you do not want to miss.  It was curvy and twisty and most assuredly helped to make this day of riding the best one yet.

I'm hoping to be in Bend/LaPine, OR by Friday and frankly I'm getting frustrated that I've traveled so far and don't seem any closer to the end.  Today's beauty make up for it but still I'm ready for my bed and to see my Trout again.  I'm debating on heading straight for Twin Falls, ID (430 miles on the interstate) or monkeying around with different, smaller roads which will increase my miles and time.  I guess I've nothing but time.  And after all, this is God's Country, remember?

Ride Log 11: Texas: Day 10, Westward HOME

After staying up too late last night I slept in with Roxie laying at my knees.  It didn't feel right to disturb her.  So, I slinked out of bed around 8:30 AM and found some git-along in my get n go.  I left Lubbock around 10:00 AM  (it takes a long time to pack 64 ounces of BBQ sauce and spices along with t-shirts and hats plus all the stuff you came with!).  I started the day with my cooling vest and figured rain would come shortly thereafter.  Of course, when you want rain you don't get it.  I baked my way across Texas and to Clovis, NM.  The roads were nothing to write home about:  flat and dry with heat pushing it's way from the asphalt to your boots.  I stopped when the spirit moved me, quickly realizing that after a week of riding eastbound the home trip would be slower because my arse started hurting after about 30 miles.  From Clovis I went northwest toward Albuquerque.

I stopped and did a walk through the Billy the Kid Museum in Fort Sumner, NM (since I'd passed the place he lived in Lincoln, NM, it only seem fair I stopped at the place he died).  I don't have many historial concerns (i.e. I don't give a shrat) but, I was impressed to see historical items relating to Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday (Tombstone is my favorite movie ever and yes, I know it's a movie and Doc Holliday probably wasn't as awesome as Val Kilmer was in his prime).  There were a lot of pieces on display: pistols and shotguns, irons and kettles, wagons and stoves, glassware and everything in between.   If you are a history buff it's well worth the $5.00 admission charge.

Herse wagon with a child's coffin inside

After the museum I put the rubber to the road and finally started seeing some mountains near Albuquerque (thank goodness).  Tomorrow I'll have some scenery to knock your socks off.  Today, you're stuck with Billy The Kid's remnants and my photography skills (which are lacking).

This was interesting, a calf was born with extra legs sticking out it's side.  Kind of gross.

Can you imagine packing these heavy pots around ? No wonder those women were tough.

It being my birthday (I don't look a day over 52) I had earlier decided to grab a hotel in Albuquerque and cut my day short so I could enjoy some quality hotel time (i.e. I'm too damn old to ride so damn far).  I'm in a Days Inn within walking distance to a restaurant.  Worked out great, until I went over and was informed it was an all you can eat affair.  Can you imagine what it feels like when your stomach turns around and walks out of a place and the rest of you is still inside?  My stomach agreed to go inside if I'd just get a plate to go.  So, I grabbed some roast (what is it with me and the cow?), mashed potatoes and gravy, corn, and a garlic biscuit and headed back to my hotel.  I think it's the best birthday ever.  Thank goodness my stomach has been stretched over the last week or I'd have had to cut out the biscuit.

Tomorrow I head northbound, toward Salt Lake City (maybe I'll run into Ely, riggghhht) or farther west.  My only plan is to enjoy the ride and to remember these are the best days of my life.

Ride Log 10: Texas Days: 7-9: Lubbock, Dallas & Fort Worth

Current Location:  Fort Worth, TX

Friday night to welcome me to Texas we headed right to a BBQ place in the sticks called Cagle Steaks.  It wasn't the best place but since I refused to put on jeans in the heat (around 104 degrees at 7 pm) they conceeded we should go someplace less fancy.  Cagle Steaks was like an adventure park with a saloon and a gift shop and rustic boardwalks.   All I can tell you is it was around $19.00 per person and we ordered steak that came with a baked potato.  There was a "buffet" full of baked beans, potato salad, peppers, and other assorted goodies which we piled high on our table.  The entire table was full of food and we all sat and ate until it felt like we were going to puke.  I'm not kidding when I say the word "purge" was mentioned numerous times.  By males and females.  Texans know how to eat and eat well!

After an awesome night's sleep on Friday night in a comfy bed (how could I not sleep well with a calf in my belly and a potato farm keeping it company) I didn't want to wake up at 6:45 AM on Saturday morning.  But, I somehow managed and Sonny, Cher and I jumped in the car and drove the 5 hours to Fort Worth/Dallas.  Call me crazy, after six days on the bike somehow riding in the car for 5 hours one way didn't sound that bad.  However, it was a LONG drive.  And, as some of you may be aware, Texas is the place for good BBQ but scenery, well, that's where Texas falls short.  At least this time of year, when the temperatures are high at 109 and low at 100.  The grass is brown and sharp as needles and the green only comes from trees that seem to be reaching out to you in order to suck the water from your pores.  Along the route I saw cows, fields, some more fields, and gas stations.

DISCLAIMER:  Before you read any more I should warn you.  There are several reasons I LOVE Texas but its a toss up which reason would be first on my list.  I think the people are awesome.  The Southern charm and manners is a welcome change from Portland's rush and rudeness (yeah, I said it, suck it, Portlanders).  But, the food, oh the food, the BBQ, the TexMex, the great burgers and steaks, the green chilis and the tea, well, that's what I focused on during this trip.  So what follows is a quick look at Dallas and Fort Worth via food.

Chuy's Fajitas and green chili salsa

In Dallas we hit Chuy's (http://www.chuys.com/)  for lunch.  We found Chuy's about five years ago when Cher and I took a car trip from Albuquerque, NM to San Antonio, TX and some guy I'd met suggested it.  Chuys is now and has been since,  one of our favorite spots...hand rolled tortillas, spicy and flavorful Hatch green chili sauce, the margaritas and the salsa fresca...I may turn the bike around right now. If there's a Chuy's within a 100 mile radius, I'm making the trip.  Come temperatures that melt your boots, floods that threaten to take your bike away, and crying babies, I'll be there.  After gorging ourselves so much we could barely walk, Cher had to go to a dress fitting (yeah, great idea, stuff a bunch of food in yer gullet then head to do a fitting, heeheheh).   Sonny and I drove around until we found Chocolate, a shop in a trendy part of Dallas where we proceeded to stuff more crap in our mouths (how? I have no clue, but trust me, it was a bad idea).  We each had a banana and mango smoothy and a piece of hand made chocolate.  Mine was peanut butter and jelly chocolate.  I think I still have some mango in my spleen since it wouldn't fit anywhere else.  We picked up Cher (who waved away her piece of chocolate, a huge glob of chocolate covered peanut butter).  Of course, eventually she caved in and the glorious chocolate was consumed.

BBQ from Railhead, Fort Worth, TX

After eating enough food and chocolate to feed a small army, we headed to the hotel where we were forced to take naps in order to prepare for dinner and the evening's festivities.

After a fitful two hour nap I still wasn't that hungry, but I was able to force myself to eat since we were going to a place called Railhead BBQ (http://www.railheadonline.com/ ).   This place was a little dirty but the food was  really, really good.  When I say dirty, I mean the place needed someone to actually walk around and pick up the mass amount of napkins and straw covers that littered the floor.  They needed to wipe down a table or two and the bathroom had toilet paper instead of paper towels for you to dry your hands on (but perhaps that's how they tell who washed their hands..those who walk out with bits of TP stuck to their hands and faces).  Still, I'd go back in a heartbeat. I mean, you can't get this food in Oregon!  (By now you've probably gotten the idea that I like BBQ??)

From Railhead we went to...wait for it...Billy Bob's.  Now, I'm not much for Texas nightlife (or any nightlife that doesn't involve a couch and Trout snoring at my feet) but Cher and Sonny thought it would be cool for me to experience a honky tonk in Texas.  So, they procured some tickets to Billy Bob's Texas, THE LARGEST HONKY TONK IN THE WORLD! (http://www.billybobstexas.com/).  You know how some people say they're the largest, or the best, or the biggest, or the hottest, well, Billy Bob isn't a liar.  It was like walking into a freaking small town.  There were so many bars, pool tables, live bull riding, and a concert area.  It can accomodate 5,000 of your favorite cowboys and cowgirls...which to me means it will hold me, Cher, Sonny, and 4,997 strangers whom I don't care to meet.   We didn't eat while there (I know, shocking!) but we did get tickets to see David Allan Coe perform.  He's an oldie but a goodie and I like to think I was able to watch one of his last concerts (mainly because I'm a firm believer that if someone needs to be helped to his chair and then mumbles his way through a concert, he should retire).  But, I enjoyed Mr. Coe's songs and am still devoted to him enough to want to submit his lyrics to my boss when the time comes  (Take This Job and Shove It as written by Coe and sung by Johnny Paycheck in 1978)  (Oh, and take note, I was a little kid then...way little....tiny...almost not even born...)

Yucatan Taco Stand, Fort Worth

The next morning I hung out in the hotel (no, I wasn't turning tricks) while Sonny and Cher went back to Dallas.  I was an angel and ate a tiny zuchinni muffin and had a glass of milk for breakfast. Truth be told I was too lazy to go get something better and I was saving room for lunch.  Which, as it turned out, was a good idea.  We stopped at the Yucatan Taco Stand on the way back to Lubbock.  YUM.  (Sorry, I started eating before taking the photo, oops, got a little worried my expanding stomach couldn't go a full four hours without food.)   After Yucatan I was glad for the five hour car ride back to Lubbock...it gave my belly time to stop screaming.  I mean, I haven't eaten so much food in such a short period of time since, I dunno, maybe two weeks ago.  I need to learn to pace myself.

Back in Lubbock we were all pretty tired and still full, so instead of going out we stopped and got some pizza to bring home.  We ate pizza like there was no tomorrow (and at this rate of food consumption there were serious concerns) and Sonny and I watched "The Jerk" and laughed our arses off while Cher walked around and made faces as if Sonny and I were 12 years old.  Pointing out that "The Jerk" is a classic didn't seem to add any good light to the flic.  Hmm...weird.

The next day was Monday and Sonny and Cher (both respectable with jobs and everything) had to go to work.  I took the opportunity to lay around, read a book, do some laundry (which had to be hung on the line...outside...in the 105 degree heat...so by the time I got a load up I was ready to relax while the sweat poured into my eyes and my brain came back down to room temperature, which was near 97).  I met Cher for lunch and had one of the biggest, thickest burgers ever.  I did errands after lunch, riding around on my moto (sans jacket and pants..I mean, I had shorts on but no protective layers) because it was so hot outside I thought I'd keel over at a stop light.   Back at the house, sunburnt from the mere ten minutes of ride time, I decided it was safest if I just kicked back on the couch with my Kindle for the rest of the day.  I mean, I wouldn't want to burn any unnecessary calories.  It takes a lot to keep this round figure.

I told them to pose, it's not my fault Cher is molesting Sonny.

That night we all trekked over to Rudy's BBQ (http://www.rudys.com/) for my farewell meal.  Rudy's BBQ, to me, is the holy grail of BBQ.  I don't care what you say,  I will never love anything as much as I love Rudy's.  (I'll probably have to marry someone named Rudy just so he doesn't get jealous.)   Rudy's is actually a "country store" and has gas pumps out front and a small store inside where amongst some of the best rubs, spices you can find are basic supplies...like antifreeze.  Don't let the store fool ya.  Rudy's is primo numero uno in BBQ.  I actually order the stuff and have it shipped to Oregon.  A steak, potatoes, ribs, chicken (whatever you fancy) isn't complete without a dash of Rudy's Rub.  Come over sometime, I'll prove it to ya'll.

The problem with Rudy's is I never know what to get.  It's all good.  Creamed corn, smoked turkey, jalapeno sausage (to put spice in my life, the server said), brisket, potato salad, baked beans, a smoked potato (lathered in meat, cheese and butter), and sliced white bread.  So we all over-indulged yet again.  It was worth it.   We rolled back to Casa Taylor and sat around talking and playing with the dog, Roxie.

Special thanks to Sonny, Cher, and Roxie for making my Texas stay wonderfully fattening and fulfilling.  I can't wait for mid September when I head to Austin (I'm flying and shall do so shame free since my arse will still be numb).

Ride Log 9: Texas: Day 6

Location:  Lubbock, TX
Distance from home via routes I rode: 2075 miles
Distance traveled in the last week:  2300 miles (includes riding around Portland prepping)
Approximate fuel cost:  $150

Planned on a great night's sleep (aw...the best laid plans)...  I didn't plan on being the biggest yellow bellied chicken in the south.  The campground at Valley of Fire was deserted except for the camp hosts and myself.  You'd think that would be a good thing.  However, it was there that my paranoia hit an all time high amidst the glorious scenery and secluded hilltop.  I pulled my tent under the metal building that housed the metal picnic table perching it between the metal posts of the outbuilding.  I parked my moto in front of the table, thinking that would block some of the wind since I was literally on top of the bluff with a 360 degree view of all the mountains.  As dark approached I questioned my reasoning of camping in a spot with no gravel (since I wouldn't hear footsteps approaching) and be forewarned of any unwanted guests (since we ALL know there are serial killers running rampant).  Then, as the wind picked up and the flaps of my tent smacked the picnic table making me feel like I was in a wind tunnel, I sat upright and still, thinking I could hear creatures scurrying outside my tent.  It wasn't until I thought I heard the zipper being pulled that I finally laid down and rolled into a little ball covering my head with my moto jacket, thinking at least I wouldn't have to SEE the boogey man coming for me.  I started to question if I should shoot first, through the tent (and possibly ruin my new tent) or if I should actually wait until I saw the white of my would-be killer's eyes (or red, if it were an alien).  I uncurled myself and finally slept until I had to get up to pee.  What a pain in the ass that was.  I sat up, my bladder about to burst from waiting so long, and put an ear to the side of the tent.  When I didn't hear anything I grabbed my headlamp and weapon (aka stick left over from a Starbuck's cake pop) and slowly undid the zipper of the tent and peered out into the darkness.  By chance I looked up and saw the beautiful sky and thought surely the devil would be sleeping.  Now, as if worrying about animals and crazy psychotic men isn't bad enough, I realized there would be creepy crawly bugs and snakes just laying in wait for me on the asphalt.  I had to turn on my headlamp and scan the ground in front of me to ensure it was safe since I was barefoot.  Then I started thinking that if the crazies (besides me) weren't asleep and were just waiting for signs of life, I'd surely just given them a precise location via my headlamp on where to come to kill me.  I did my business and dashed back inside the tent faster than Trout eats rotisserie chicken.

I thought I should have camped closer to the hosts, then I started to wonder if maybe THEY weren't the serial killers.  I was not safe anywhere.  Back in the tent I looked at the stars through my tent window and then thought, why can't they make a material that we can see out of but no one can see in to?  Wouldn't camping be so much more fun?  I could see the danger coming from far away!  As I looked up to the sky I noticed the lightening had started in the distance again...and ya'll should remember at this point I'm in my tent under a metal building near a metal picnic table near a moto on top of a hill?  Yeah.  Great stuff.  I finally feel asleep after exhaustion hit and my eyes were so heavy I could fear no more.  Of course, before I did, there was a brief moment where I wondered if the animals would come and eat from the garbage can right next to my tent, maybe a grizzly?  He could grab the rotten bread then realize there was some chunky meat in the tent...

View from the other side of my tent

Once daylight blessed me and I thanked the Heavens I made it through the night, I unzipped the flap on the tent to look upon all the glory that is nature and quickly fell back asleep.  Around 8 I woke up again and started clearing my camp and stowing my gear.  It was then that the camp host came riding along in his four wheeler.  His first question was, "Can I ask why you didn't camp down on the grass where it's comfortable?"  Not wanting to sound paranoid (since the real reason was because it was down in the gully and my screams wouldn't travel) I said, "The view!"   He and I spoke for probably a half an hour about the campground, my yellow belly behavior the night before, and where the best food was in Roswell.  As I was ready to roll the rains were upon me again.  Someone hates me but the camp host thinks I'm the funniest "biker" he's ever met. (I've never considered myself a "biker" and frankly, it doesn't sit well.  I mean, aren't biker's tough and macho and not afraid of the wind while camping???)

On suggestion from the camp host (Earl), I headed for breakfast in Roswell to the Cowboy Cafe.  Earl had told me the weather would be HOT once I got about twenty miles down the road but I resisted my cooling vest since that had worked so well previously (so well in calling the rains, that is).  I passed Lincoln (home of outlaw Billy the Kid) where they were having a festival in his honor, but it was too early for the bbq to be done so I pressed on.   About two hours later I rode into Roswell, NM.  I was happy to be there and excited to see the UFO Museum, since Roswell is so famous. (And I'd ridden the ET highway so i sensed a theme.) I stopped at the Museum and paid my $5.00 entrance fee.  Inside were mostly written documents hanging on the wall relating to the famous sighting and other abductions and the like.  You can really just get all this information from the internet and save yourself the sweaty, 105 degree ride into town.  But, if you happen to be in Roswell, the UFO Museum seems like the tourist place to visit, so just go with it.

I lunched at the Cowboy Cafe which is at the east end of town (another MUST stop, locals only hangout!) As I was getting ready to go inside I knew I'd found the best possible food place when a cowboy walked by and said, "Ya'll best get inside and cool yerself down!"  The place was tiny and packed wall to wall with cowboy hats and wranglers.  The waitress asked if I didn't mind sitting with someone else and despite the fact that I'm normally not that social, I told her I didn't mind if they didn't mind.  I ended up sitting with a couple (I'll call them the Roswell's) who lived about 15 miles outside of town who were some of the nicest people I've ever met.  We talked about my journey, their kids, their ranch and the famous Roswell UFO Festival.  As I suspected, the locals tend to stay away from the main stretch in town when the festival occurs, July 1-4, and my hosts claimed they were sick and tired of the whole UFO thing.   Turns out Mr. Roswell was a retired trucker so he was able to give me great advice on what to see and do on my way home.  Oh, and just so you know, I ate the battered catfish with fries, home made slaw and hush puppies.  My belly misses the Cowboy Cafe.  It was a fantastic experience (food and the company).  On my way home I'm tempted to go back the way I came, just to pass through Roswell and hit the Cowboy Cafe again!

Cher and Sonny Taylor, my Lubbock pal's.

After lunch I hit the road and quickly felt the heat from the bike searing through my Aerostitch AD-1 pants.  I kept going, on and on, until Lubbock boomed in front of me like a mirage.  You can't imagine the feeling of relief when I pulled into town and then stopped in front of Sonny and Cher Taylor's house, which was my destination (Not their real names, but a close resemblance, see photo.)



After six days of straight and twisty roads, hills, mountains, dry plains, green brush and dead grass, cows, alien sightings, limited traffic, and countless hours of moving back and forth on the seat, attempting to find comfort where there was none, I was there.   I was happy I'd made it...but I'd be lying if I told you I wasn't wondering how much it would cost to ship the bike back to Oregon and fly!

Ride log 8: Texas: Day 5

Current location:  Valley of Fires State Park, Carrizozo

Distance from home:  1806 miles

AZ 260 out of Camp Verde, finally some twists and turns!

From Camp Verde I hit the pavement going east on AZ-260 toward Show Low.  This section of road led me through the Apache-Sitgreaves National Forest and the White Mountains.  I must admit my earlier disappointment with Arizona waned and by the time I'd ridden a mere 50 miles I thought to myself, "This part of Arizona does NOT suck!"   AZ-260 (which later becomes 60) is perhaps the best part of Arizona I've seen and is a fantastic motorcycle road.  The flat, straight roads of the previous day were replaced with curves and lush greenery (and trust me, I don't think of lush greenery when I think of Arizona) that seemed to go on and on.

I stopped for lunch in Springerville and for the first time in the trip I actually took the time to eat in a local watering hole.  If you are ever in Springerville stop at Los Dos Molinos (the two grinders) http://www.losdosmolinosaz.net/ at the east side of town (trust me, you can't miss it, it's one of the few places to stop).  The restaurant has been around since the last 1970's and serves only fresh ingredients.  Their slogan is "Some like it hot."  And trust me, it's HOT.  They serve two kinds of salsa with their chips and place a pitcher of ice water on the table at the same time.  It's needed.  The first thing I thought when I tasted the red salsa was "HOLY HELL!"  I could feel my face redden and little  tears forming in my eyes.  It wasn't pretty.  The waitress, J, was very friendly and suggested the pork burrito with a side of beans.  The beans aren't refried as "if they are done right the first time you don't have to refry them!" I have to admit I had to get a side of sour cream after testing a few bites to help "cool" the fire on my tongue.  The pork was huge chunks of perfectly seasoned goodness and the beans, well, the beans were the best I've ever tasted.  Amazing.  They have locales in Phoenix and Mesa.  If you pass this place up you will never forgive yourself.


After lunch the roads got flat and straight again but the view was fantastic while the sun was shinning.

Somewhere near the AZ, NM border

 I meandered over to Highway 380 toward Roswell, NM where I wanted to stay the night.  The heat had not been an issue but in Camp Verde I'd donned my cooling vest just in case.  It was probably due to my vest that I hit storms again.  This time, the storms were not beside me, but directly in front of me and appeared to go on and on.  I had the presence of mind (and enough experience with my bad moto mojo) to remove the cooling vest and put the rainproof liner in my vented jacket before riding into the darkness ahead.  After about half a mile my leather gloves were soaked through and I'd ridden through some weather that would even disappoint a fish.  The rains, thunder, lightening, and blackness continued for miles off and on.  When the wind arrived I almost laughed out loud.  My luck sucks!

As I continued toward Roswell the rains let up and I decided I'd stop in Carrizozo, NM instead of Roswell since I had plenty of time.  I passed the Valley of Fires Recreation area and was blessed with a view that made my mouth drop open like I was being spoon fed chocolate.  I rode about two miles past the camp ground and decided life was too short to wake up in a cheap motel when I could wake up surrounded by mountains in the distance and lava flows.  I turned around and headed back to the campground.

View from my camping spot at Valley of Fires Campground

Camping was $7.00 and the facilities were clean and well maintained.  It was, in fact, better than the RV park I'd stayed at previously.  I could almost live in the bathroom.  Showers were free!  The view was breathtaking and included a nature trail through the lava flows.  I hunkered down and planned on a great night's sleep.

Bathroom/shower area at Valley of Fires (see, they are awesome!)