From ibmwrNoSpam@NoSpamworld.std.com Mon Jul 28 23:11:24 1997 Date: Mon, 28 Jul 1997 20:20:59 -0600 From: Steve Aikens Organization: PC Solutions, Inc. To: bmwmcNoSpam@NoSpamworld.std.com Cc: dscNoSpam@NoSpamzianet.com, dnortonNoSpam@NoSpamibm.net Subject: BMW: Ridin' The Rockies - Trip Report Reply-To: Steve Aikens Ridin The Rockies. Just got in from Paonias Top O The Rockies Rally. Couldnt have been better, IMO. But thats not why I jot this down. After the rally Sunday the 20th, I blasted off to the West to go East, to meet up with Don Cameron, to go West, To go South. Went to Salt Lake City (why Salt Lake? Why not? Good fun roads and I had time to kill) via 139, 40, 189 and then over I-80 to Rock Springs. Headed North for the Bighorn Mountains and over into Buffalo. I-25 South to 387, 450, 16 to the local road that runs through Wounded Knee and the Badlands and up to Wall, I-90 to Murdo - Where I was treated to a not-so-nice *VERY* severe storm that offered me some pretty unpleasant hail and the suggestion that I "SEEK SHELTER", which I did. This really seemed like the place to stay - quiet, very clean, cheap motel. So quiet you could hardly hear the damage being done by the storm outside - well into 9:30 the next day. Got outta there while I could and did the last 89 miles to Chamberlain, SD, where I was to meet Don Cameron the 23rd. Well, here I was a day early! Why? Well, seems that while I had planned to ride North on 287 from Lander, WY and over to 16 to do the up the mountain - down the mountain thing through the Tetons and Bighorns - my super-spectacular Valentine One went on vacation at Lander. I got on the phone to Valentine Research and they offered to UPS Red Label me a loaner until I could get home and send it in for repair (excellent service - they even apologized for the failure). The only place I knew Id be was the motel in Chamberlain and without the help of a good radar detector, I had no plans to ride anywhere further than I had to or slow down (nope - no chance of that happening). So Instead of 287, I did 26, 20, 16, in the interest of time. I rolled into Chamberlain and went to register at the motel and get on the phone to my good friend Paige Ortiz of Aeroflow. Seems on the way to Chamberlain I got into a construction zone (no one working but two lane traffic.) at about 120 mph along a pretty deserted stretch, I was passed by a semi doing an easy 90 mph the other way and my windshield folded in the wind blast, leaving me with two nice cracks in the middle of the shield, about 2 inches from the mount. Worked out just fine. Being a day early - time was my friend . Paige Red Labeled me a new shield the next morning (wanted to send me two - so Id have a spare, just in case but I had no way to really carry a spare shield the way I was traveling). Two minor problems resolved with no bullshit - just "tell me where to send the replacement for tomorrow morning". This is what its like dealing with reputable companies. Deciding my rear tire looked a bit worn at that point, I called BMW of Sturgis and ordered a tire for installation in the morning, note: if you ever think youll need a tire while on the road, always call ahead to be sure theyll have one there for you. I was going to blast up to Mandan BMW (near Bismark, ND) for a tire but he **does not stock tires for the R11RS**!! A call to Sturgis and the only tire in stock for the R11RS was the Michlen 90X - no chance in Hell - Lyle overnighted in a Bridgestone so hed be ready for me in the morning. Got the windshield on and just rode around the Chamberlain area till about 4 and headed back to the motel. Right on cue, Don shows up about 5, ready for a beer and dinner. Dons lovely (redheaded) bride, Marylou, is the current President of the NEA (talk about a glutton for punishment!!) and she had a meeting in Lake Geneva, WI. She flew in and Don, ever the gentleman that he is, offered to ride his motorcycle over from Deming, NM, to have dinner with her. Deciding he could be gone a little longer and needing a vacation to regain some form of sanity - remember, he is in the motorcycle business, sanity is a rare commodity - he called and asked if Id like to meet him somewhere in South Dakota on the 23rd and wed shag over to Missoula and check it out. I got a hold of our own "Classy Guy" Dick Taylor and got an invite for coffee when we got there. We split for Sturgis BMW and got there about 10:00. Lyle had my tire, they popped it on and we were gone. Well, sort of. I caught up with Don after about five miles on the Interstate and reminded him that Missoula - actually, the entire State of Montana - was **West** of Sturgis, not East - East would be Rapid Cityand the direction we just came from... Heh, Heh!! The run to Missoula, from South Dakota was a blitzer down the Interstate and just fast. We decided not to go on into Missoula until morning to give us some time to piddle around in the morning, check out the rally site, and go to the Chamber of Commerce for motel inf., etc. I gave Dick a call the night before to arrange a meeting time with him for breakfast. He buzzed on over to the restaurant and had some orange juice with us before taking us on "the nickel tour". After the Chamber and the rally site, he took me over to the Viet Nam Veterans Memorial there in Missoula. Its a beautiful life size bronze sculpture depicting an angel taking a fallen soldier to the heavens with plaques naming the fallen Montanans. When you get into the area, this is a Memorial worthy of a visit to pay your respects to and remember the valiant men and women that paid the ultimate price to support our country by following the orders of our government. At any rate, Missoula is a first rate community with excellent facilities. If you go up there for the rally, youre in for some fine riding country. If you go up another time, drop the "Classy Guy" a note and have him visit with you over an OJ and show you around. He truly is a "Classy Guy" (Thanks Dick). Out of Missoula we hit 93 through the Bitterroot Forest (Great road but under construction for about 30 miles on the South side of the peak) then 28 to I-15 and then 30 to Soda Springs, where we found a terrific restaurant in an old remodeled house. Its a Mexican food place owned by a young woman that has a hell-of-a good recipe for salsa. Place is called Panchos and has really good steaks. Stayed on 30 to 189 and I-80 over to 414, 43, 191, and 40 at Vernal, to Dinosaur. From there, 139, 50, 141 note: 141 is the most beautiful canyon road you can find. However, be prepared if you cant run 190 miles on a tank. Theres only one gas pump from Whitewater to Dove Creek (at Naturita) - and it was closed when we went by. After stopping for the night in Cortez, Don and I parted. I took 666 to 550, then 44 to Bernalillo some I-25 and I-40 to Tijeras, 337 down to 60 and blasted back in to Clovis by 2:00. Total trip smileage for me was right at 4,700 miles. Whered it get me? Right back home, so I can start planning my next move. With few exceptions, every road I took had something different, and exceptional, to offer. Ill have to see how I can do this again soon. I did a lot of roads Ive already been on because I could and they are special in some way. But with no real timetable, its easy to just wander off to parts unknown and see where you wind up. This is a spectacular country we live in. Get out and see it when you can. Temperatures? Ranged from 99 down to 36 in Soda Springs, Id. Rain? Lots when it did - normally with hail. Thats hard hail - not that wimpy soft centered stuff %^{ Wind: plenty. If you head up that way, expect it all. I did two to five bottles of water a day - bring a big enough water bottle to get you and a friend through the heat safely and youll have enough for yourself. Bring good quality cold weather gear - I prefer Gerbings, any time of year. Remember, I went at the end of July and wore both the pants and the jacket under my Aerostitch, with the thermostat set at >. It was cold on an RS. Don, on his RT, was well suited up but had good protection from the electric billboard in front of him. When you wanna go again, Don??? -- I don't suffer from insanity.....I enjoy every minute of it! Steve Aikens, Clovis, New Mexico steve.aikensNoSpam@NoSpam3lefties.com My BMW URL is http://www.geocities.com/MotorCity/4323/ Don't drop by very often, it never changes. From ibmwrNoSpam@NoSpamworld.std.com Mon Jul 28 23:31:21 1997 To: bmwmcNoSpam@NoSpamworld.std.com Subject: BMW: Top of the Rockies -- YATR -- Resend X-Juno-Line-Breaks: 0-29,31-107,109-204 From: markcrowderNoSpam@NoSpamjuno.com (Mark A Crowder) Date: Mon, 28 Jul 1997 23:14:29 EDT Reply-To: markcrowderNoSpam@NoSpamjuno.com (Mark A Crowder) Having been properly chastised for not de-spaming this the first time around, hereitisagain. I'll get this juno/msWord thing figured out yet ... ;) -- mark Top of the Rockies -- YATR Wednesday, 16-July-1997: Sometimes things work out. Not usually, though. Just sometimes. One of my pet peeves is people who say "Things usually work out for the best." I usually reply by asking for some ID and saying "Oh, I see. You ARE from a different planet. That explains everything." Murphy and I alternate between active combat and cold stares. As far as I can tell, this situation hasn't changed since I drew my first breath. Oh, I keep getting better at tripping him up and mitigating the consequences when I can't, but he never really goes away. Or looks away. Or sleeps. But I'm not complaining -- it does tend to add opportunities for adventure. But the bike is whole and well, I am whole and well, and I ask for and get time off. Sometimes things work out. After work, I get some laundry going, tidy up the yard a bit and decide on an extensive pre-flight inspection. I rarely find anything, but it always lowers my tension level a bit. Two loose fairing screws are the whole of it. About this time I catch a whiff of ozone. I'd plugged in the razor to top up the charge. Somewhere along the line, though, the charger decides it's had enough of this one-sided relationship in which it gives all of it's energy to the battery and starts keeping a little extra for itself. I figure Murphy's been whispering in it's ear, because intentional self-immolation is usually preceded by grandiose statements supporting some cause or other and I hadn't seen any such. Murph, you're getting senile son. You KNOW I have another razor. Strike one. The packing goes quickly -- I staged everything last night. A look in the fridge reveals some fruit and bagels. That should keep my going late. When I was in Boy Scouts, before you were allowed to carry a knife, you had to show, under scrutiny, that you could operate one safely. The reward was a Tote-N-Chip card -- sort of a Concealed Carry License for a knife. If you were seen to do something un-safe, a corner was torn off the card -- and when the fourth corner was removed, you had to re-qualify. As the knife slid through the bagel and into my finger I thought that this was one of those "special" occasions when the scoutmaster would have called me up in front of the group and simply torn the card in half. Better this time, Murphy, but no bones, arteries or veins -- and you haven't managed to separate me from my first aid kit in twenty years. Strike two. As the sun goes down, the heat starts to break -- it's now a nice, cool 91F. The traffic is light, but it still takes over 100 miles for the "Dallas Glow" to disappear in the mirrors. I've got plenty of time, so the only "hurry" is to escape the Texas heat before noon the next day -- a pretty easy proposition when starting from Dallas. So, when the "yawn" thing starts with just over 200 miles behind me, I pull into a motel and get a few hours sleep. Thursday, 17-July-1997: It's been a long time since they were common, but I can still recognize the outline of a Plymouth Grand Fury over mile away -- and is still screams COP! "Nonsense" I think, they haven't used `em in years. Only they do. It's a sheriff's car. Intellectually, I know you have to set your watch back a couple of decades when entering small-town Texas, but it still surprises me sometimes. This bike still amazes me. She and I have been together for just over a year, but I'm still surprised at how well she eats miles. "Come on baby, eat this road." "Gomp" comes a little echo in the back of my brain -- a sound not unlike Homer Simpson eating doughnuts. She does other things well, too. But I'm NOT surprised at that. An early lunch in Clayton makes up for no breakfast. This is my first trip with a Camel-back, and it's quite a revelation. How did I ever get along without it? Drinking while underway makes traveling in the heat a piece of cake. One thing, though, how do you non-chalantly fill it up? I have just the bladder and tube (I carry it in the tankbag), and while filling it from a pitcher of ice- water, I got some very odd looks from the other diners. Upon re- examination, with just the bladder and tube, it DOES look a bit like .... errr ... well, something else ... Gomp. Raton. Gomp. Walsenburg. It's been raining off-and-on since Raton, and starts to pick up a little as I head north on hwy 69. It's cool, and there are hints of pine and cedar in the moist air. Nope this is definitely not Texas. As the valley opens up, I'm treated to a spectacle -- lightning begins hitting the mountain tops on both sides. I slow down and take it all in. It's a magic carpet ride through a tremendous natural floor show. Sometimes things work out. Gomp. Texas Creek/hwy 50. Gomp. Salida. It's early, but I don't want to ride Monarch Pass or Black Canyon/hwy 92 in tired/dark mode so I stop in Salida and get a room. As I head out for the obligatory bug-removal, I fall in behind another R11RT with a really slick-looking trailer rig. As luck would have it, it pulls into the bug-removal establishment as well. Sometimes things work out. It's rider is Rod Dawsey. He and his wife (Chris) have been touring for about a month and are slowly working their way back to their home in Ocala Florida. The trailer rig is a very clean installation rather than the highly invasive- looking Reynolds I'd seen before. Rod says the whole thing can be installed or removed in about fifteen minutes. While I have no interest in touring with a trailer, I think pulling a one-rail trailer and a dirt bike would have massive pose value. :-) Friday 18-July-1997: After breakfast with Rod and Chris, we exchange information and part ways, as they are headed east and I west. The new shocks have done wonders for the handling. Monarch and hwy 92 go by with nary a hint of bobble, wobble, or scraping undercarriage. One thing, though. If anyone knows the highway crew that cares for 92, tell them I'll gladly pay for their enrollment in TSA (Tar-Strippers Anonymous). Their work made for some exciting moments. I figured I would have to ask directions to the rally site when I got to Paonia. I needn't have worried -- there are a steady stream of bikes coming into town, and I follow them to the site. Even if not for that, Paonia isn't big enough to hide very many bikes -- and there are a lot of bikes. The site is a well-shaded city park and fairgrounds, and is an excellent layout for a rally. After registration and setting up camp, I go Trolling for Presidents -- and nearly trip over Ed Guzman. Not that Gooz is particularly small or unobtrusive, but he was sitting in a kermit chair and was well camouflaged by cigar smoke. I'm draining a beer with Ed when a slim, good-looking woman approaches. Red hair, red leathers, red boots, red helmet, red T-shirt, red motorcycle. Though I've never met Voni Glaves in person before, her identity is not in doubt. She begins setting up next to us until Ed mentions he snores. Nice going Gooz. ;-) [begin snippet/bandwidth reduction mode] Howard Schultz works a story nearly as well as ...er...well, I'm sure there's someone he's nearly good as. ;) With beer added, the stories are even good the second time around. With Tennessee, Kentucky and Irish whisky, and both blended and single-malt scotch still in reserve, it'll probably be some time before I O-D. Steve Aikens and "The Woman" have an endless supply of invectives, truisms, one-liners, blow-guns and peanuts. Ira Agins spins a good yarn -- some of which are apparently true. And Eric VanDenHoek. Eric, that story about which parts of your body you can poke needles in because the lighting strike killed the nerves has to go. Not that it's not fascinating and all, but it reminds me of this substitute teacher with the "dead" arm that used to ... NO! I'm not going to start that! AAAAkkkk! And then there was Rob Lentini. Rob, I'm really glad to finally meet you. That thing about the booster for the R1100RS with the nuclear, plutonium driven reactor using deuterium as reactions mass sounded good, but I think you'll get a lot of heat on your legs. Now I'm sure that'd be fine with K- bike riders, but R11 folks aren't used to that. And do you really think you can get it all started with just an autolight spark plug? Well I suppose we'll know soon enough with all the people you talked into trying it. I think I'll hold out for the production version, though. [end snippet/bandwidth reduction mode] Sunday 20-July-1997: (I didn't really skip Saturday, but it all kinda blurred together) I have pancakes with Texas Prez's Mark Rooney, Geoff Adams, Bob Smith and Tara Ribas. They are all intent on getting home today, so start the blitz right away. I'm harboring other intentions, but get packed up and on the road pretty quickly as well. I meet Paul and Voni Glaves and [memory parity error] at a gas stop, and we hook up for awhile. It was kinda fun folowing and taking in the sights for a change. Paul, sorry if I was crowding you, but you're a smooth rider and easy to follow. We split at the hwy50/69 junction and I pretty much back-tracked the route up. At least until I got to Dumas, where I stopped to don rain gear and call Dad. I'd noticed that the route wasn't far from western Oklahoma, and decided to drop by if possible. Sure enough, it was, so I rode out and we had a good visit. Sometimes things work out. Monday: Rode to Dallas. Parting thoughts: most common bike question -- Is that a factory color? most amusing bike question -- Why does your charcoal canister have a little gold knob and say "Penske". I thought I'd ride more and BS less. I didn't. I don't care. Geoff Adams and I live about 25 miles apart, but we've never met less than a hundred miles from home. The road up Capulin is a 400 degree decreasing-radius left hander This Internet BMW thing is really cool. Thanks again Joe This rally is already on next year's calendar I'm still waiting for Strike Three Mark Crowder Garland, TX markcrowderNoSpam@NoSpamjuno.com We're the ones your mother warned you about From ibmwrNoSpam@NoSpamworld.std.com Mon Aug 4 07:03:20 1997 Date: Mon, 04 Aug 1997 05:46:32 -0500 From: gdaltonNoSpam@NoSpamInfoAve.Net (gene dalton) Subject: BMW: An Alaskan Trip To: bmwmcNoSpam@NoSpamworld.std.com Reply-To: gdaltonNoSpam@NoSpamInfoAve.Net (gene dalton) An Alaskan Trip ( Part 1 of 2 or 3 Parts) On August 1, 1997, I completed a 14,000 mile round trip to Alaska. I was accompanied much of the way by Ken Bates, my long time riding buddy from Nankin, Ohio. The primary, but by no means sole, method of transportation was my 1990 K75RT and Ken's 1996 R1100RT. A summary of the methods of transportation and miles logged on each is as follows: Method Miles motorcycle 9,500 rental cars(2) 3,000 ferry 1,000 train 200 borrowed car 300 Ken and I agree to meet at the Super 8 Motel in Minot , North Dakota on June 30. I leave my home in Shelbyville, Tn. on June 25th, a few days early, to attend a reunion at Wind Cave National Park in the Black Hills of South Dakota with some fellows I worked with in the 1960's when I was a part-time park ranger, part-time student, and full time goof-off. The following is a detailed, long-winded, probably boring account of our trip. June 25-Leave Shelbyville, Tn. home and spend night with friend in Hillsboro,IL. June 26-On the road. Spend night with friends in Winner,SD June 27-Arrive Hot Springs,SD(near Wind Cave) and spend 3 nights with friend. June 28-Attend reunion and have great time. Man, those guys I worked with in the 60's are really starting to show their age. June 29-Lounge around friend's house and quickly wear-out my welcome. June 30-Arrive Minot,ND 5:30pm and Ken is waiting for me in the Super 8 parking lot. He got in 30 minutes earlier and has already checked us into a room. July1-Canada Day! We cross border at North Portal, Saskatchewan and are promptly greeted by heavy rain, temps in the mid 40's, and occasional lighting strikes much to close for my comfort. Stop at road-side cafe for coffee and to warm-up. Fellow coffee drinker wearing fecal matter splattered rubber boots, well-worn bib overalls, and cap with "Nothing Runs Like A Deere" decal, tells us he has watched Weather Channel all morning and assures us "you'll be out of it in 15 or 20 miles". We leave. 250 miles later between Moose Jaw and Saskatoon clouds start to break-up and rain stops. We spend the night in Saskatoon. July 2-A glorious riding day.The skies are a brilliant blue and the Prairie Provinces are lush and green as only an abundance of rain can make them. We spend the night in Whitecourt, Alberta. July 3-A young couple that has just come down the Alaska Highway takes our picture at "0" mile marker at Dawson Creek. They say the Highway is in good shape. Just "a little construction at Steamboat Mountain". We start up the highway and arrive at Fort Nelson about 4:30pm. Its early but we decide to spend the night here as its been hot for the last 150 or so miles. We've been wearing to many clothes and are exhausted. We should have ridden further. July 4- An eventful day. We leave Fort Nelson under cloudless skies and 50 miles later arrive at Steamboat Mountain. It's raining as we enter the construction zone and start the climb up. Near the summit the road starts to level off. We have not had any problems yet. Pull in behind line of vechicles stopped behind pick-up truck with "Follow Me" sign on tailgate. Lady driver of truck motions us to the head of line and says "Fellas, I've got some bad news and good news for you. The bad news is the road crew spread a layer of clay and gravel on the next 200 yards and with this rain its really, really, slick. The good news is the decent on the west side is in better shape and its only real slick. If you had come across yesterday afternoon you would not have had any problems as this rain only started last night." We startout and it immediately becomes apparent we are not going to keep up with her even though shes only driving at a snails pace. We pull over on the shoulder and motion for her to go ahead. The only way we know to get thru this mess in one piece is to sit on the bikes and walk them thru one step at a time. I open my visor as its fogging up from heavy breathing and am attacked by a swarm of black flies. I can't take my hands off the handlebars as I'm on the ground if I do. Who the hell's idea was this trip anyway? We finally arrive at the west slope and look down a mile long, 6 or 7 percent gooey mess grade, that's suppose to pass for a road surface. There's a 90 degree turn to the left at the bottom. We start down still walking the bikes one step at a time and break every rule taught by motorcycle safety instructors regarding the use of the front brake on slick surfaces. 30 minutes later we are at the bottom. The road surface improves and we ride in a more or less normal manner for the next three miles when Hurray! Hallelujah! and Praise the Lord! we get out of this horrid construction zone and back on a paved road. Pull over on shoulder of road and, using soup spoons from our mess kit, scrape mud from under fenders, spokes and rims of wheels, brake calipers, boots, pants, and virtually any other surface exposed to daylight. Continue on to Watson Lake and while having lunch Ken says"The clutch on my bike is slipping. Whenever I'm running at about 4,000 rpm and roll hard on the trottle, the motor revs up and I lose power." Big Time trouble in River City. It starts with an "s" and it rhymes with "bad deal" and it stands for "leaking seal". We both know that replacing transmission or engine seals is not a job to be undertaken along the side of the road with the BMW supplied toolkit. The nearest BMW dealers are about a 1000 miles back in Edmonton and about the same distance ahead in Anchorage or Fairbanks. We have little choice but to continue on, hoping the clutch will hold together. We spend the night in Whitehorse. ********************************* End of Part 1. If I don't get to many flames for using up to much band width I'll transmit Part 2 in the next day or two From ibmwrNoSpam@NoSpamworld.std.com Mon Aug 4 17:32:39 1997 Date: Mon, 04 Aug 1997 15:19:37 -0500 From: gdaltonNoSpam@NoSpamInfoAve.Net (gene dalton) Subject: BMW: Alaska Trip-Part 2 To: bmwmcNoSpam@NoSpamworld.std.com Reply-To: gdaltonNoSpam@NoSpamInfoAve.Net (gene dalton) An Alaskan Trip (Part 2 of 3) July 5-Cross border into Alaska about 1pm. Stop at Tok Visitor Center and obtain copies of all flyers, maps, advertisements, etc., etc.,available for pilgrims to The Last Frontier. Take Tok Cut-off and arrive at GlennAllen, AK where we spend night in barracks type hotel originally constructed for Alaska pipeline workers. Call BMW dealer in Anchorage and get recording advising they will be open next Monday between 3pm and 6pm. July 6-Take side trip to Valdez and back thru GlennAllen, arriving in Anchorage about 5pm. Check into modest, but exorbitantly priced, motel and make mental note to locate campground in Anchorage area first thing next morning. July 7- Check into City of Anchorage owned Centenial Park Campground. (Off and on, it will be our home for the next 12 days.) Arrive at BMW dealer at 3:pm. Ken describes problem to service manager and mechanic. Eyes roll back in their heads and they tell us replacing transmission seal is a major, major, repair and that this is the busiest time of year.(Note:Over the course of the next several days, after observing the number of bikes parked in their parking lot awaiting service and repairs and getting a first hand look at the number of parts removed from Ken's bike laying around the mechanics work area-the transmission even has to be disassembled to replace the seal-it becomes obvious they are not blowing smoke in our direction.) " How long will it take?" "6 or 7 days-if your lucky." We weren't. Check out rental car No. 1. July 8 thru 14-Take trip to Seward(best chili I ever ate was served at the Main Street Cafe in Seward); ride train from Anchorage to Whittier and then take cruise ship into Glacier Bay(spectacular scenery): drive to Fairbanks and on up to Arctic Circle, with stops along the way at the Last Frontier Rally( saw John from Mississippi and Lyle and J.C. from Louisiana-it was good to hear some southern drawls that far away from home) and Denali Park(disappointment). July 14-Back in Anchorage at BMW dealers. Bike is not ready. We say "When will it be ready?" They say"Dunno. It'ii be ready when its ready". July 15 and 16-Visit every museum, tourist attraction, geographical point of interest, and Wal-Mart--K-Mart in Anchorage area.(highly recommend visiting City of Anchorage Museum and Lake Hood float plane base with museum located nearby.) 5pm- Back at BMW dealers. "When will it be ready?" Small ray of light breaks thru long dark tunnel. "Maby tomorrow afternoon by 6:pm." July 16-Take trip down to Kenai and Russian Rivers to see salmon run. 5pm-Back at BMW dealers. Bike not ready. "When?" "Tomorrow, at Noon--maby" July 17-Noon. Bike not ready. "When?" "This afternoon by 6:00." 6pm. Bike not ready. "Will be done by 8pm." Leave Ken at BMW dealers and return to campground. If he is not back at campground on his bike by 10pm , will go back to dealer and pick him up. 9:30pm-Ken rides into campground. July 18-After logging 2,400 miles, return rental car to agency. On the Road Again! Headed for Haines, AK to catch ferry that leaves for Prince Rupert, BC at 8pm Saturday(7/19). Spend night at Kluane Wilderness Village, Yukon Terr. Good accommodations and food( at modest prices), run by friendly folks. July 19-Fate takes a hand. Stop at Haines Junction, Yukon Terr. for gas and breakfast. Harley rider named Bill Perkins pulls in behind us. Strike-up conversation and he says he is leaving on the 8pm ferry tonight and has a cabin booked. Offers to share cabin with us. We quickly accept. 1pm-Arrive Haines and go to ferry terminal to buy tickets. Ride back into Haines to see largest eagles nest on planet(slight exaggeration) and visit museum. 4:30pm- Ride back to ferry terminal and go inside waiting room. Ticket agent comes out and says British Columbia salmon fisherman have blockaded harbor at Prince Rupert(have ferry trapped inside) and our ferry is going to Bellingham, Washington, instead of Prince Rupert. We are disappointed as we had planned to ride from Prince Rupert, down the Canadian Rockies, to Vancouver and Seattle. On the otherhand, a real good deal for us as we get a $444 ride for $216. I wouldn't know it until the following Wednesday(7/23), but the God's of Fate had smiled in my direction. I mean smiled like in a big "ear to ear grin". 8:30pm-Leave Haines on the ferry headed for Bellingham with interrmediate stops in Juneau, Petersburg,Wrangell, and Ketchikan. July 20- 1:30amStay up to see Juneau. Can't see anything as its pitch-black and ferry terminal is 3 or 4 miles from downtown. Have fitful nights sleep in cabin. To stuffy. No ventilation. Stop at Petersburg and then Wrangell. Short stops. Get off ferry for about 30 minutes at Wrangell. 8pm-Arrive Ketchikan. 3 hour stop. Bill, Ken and I get off ferry and walk around. Ketchikan averages 155 inches of rain per annum(yep, thats right). For some unknown reason the stars and moon are out when we arrive and remain so during our visit. 11pm. Leave Ketchikan for non-stop 38 hour ride to Bellingham, Washington. Take sleeping bag and Thermarest to open-air solarium on top deck and sleep in fold-down deck chair. Have wonderful nights rest with plenty of cool ocean air. July 21- 6am. Awakened by cries and shouts from German tour group who were also sleeping under solarium. A group, herd, flock, school,covey, whatever, of whales are passing alongside the ferry. To hell with the whales. Nothing disturbes my sleep. Rollover and awake at 9am. ************************** End of Part 2. Stay tuned for Part 3 From ibmwrNoSpam@NoSpamworld.std.com Mon Aug 4 18:58:30 1997 From: "Terry Turnbeaugh" To: "Village Idiots" , "IBMWR" Subject: BMW: NW Trip Report - Long Date: Mon, 4 Aug 1997 16:16:53 -0600 Reply-To: "Terry Turnbeaugh" Presidents and Idiots, Linda and I just got back from 17 days on the road. With no major mishaps, beautiful weather, and beautiful places, we had a great trip. After the rally at Paonia, we set out across the "Loneliest Highway in the U.S." or at least that's what the signs say. It may be the loneliest, but in my book, it sure beats the interstate. Between the long flat stretches there are little mountain ridges with a few twisties to keep things interesting. We ate at Mom's Cafe in Salina, Utah. This famous cafe was featured on a cover of National Geographic, but the food was only so, so. One of the things that struck me when I walked in was the wooden office desk about midway back in the room. A rather imposing matriarchal figure was sitting there doing paper work and keeping a guardian eye over things. A customer who had just walked in inquired of "mom" about a smoking section. She fixed him with her best "eat your vegatables" look and dismissed him with a "not in Utah!" Oooookay. We ditched the loneliest highway outside of Sparks, Nevada and headed up US 395 to Susanville, CA, up through the Lassen National Forest and to Mount Shasta. The anicient volcanic activity in this area is obvious and the awesome nature of it is on display with Lassen Peak and Mount Shasta. After visiting with friends at Shasta, we dropped south to Redding so we could take CA 299 to the coast. What a gas! 299 is a bit like the Lolo Pass Road in Idaho, but twice as long. Highly recommended! The plan was to take the coast road all the way to the Columbia river, but we didn't make it. The redwoods were magnificent, the coastline was beautiful, but the swarms of motorhomes, campers, and minivans finally drove us away just above Lincoln City, Oregon. We spent four days in Seattle. What a great town! As I have noted before, it reminds me of San Francisco. We ate fresh fish every single day and I tried to sample as many of the local brews as possible. My favorite was the Double Black Stout produced by After leaving Seattle we traveled north into British Columbia on Hwy 99. The road between Whistler and Lillooet is very . . . well, interesting. It winds through the Canadian Rockies - narrow, sometimes rough pavement, few guard rails, 13% grades - a delight! The mountains seem different than the ones I am used to here in Colorado. The mountains there seem sharper and more rugged. And the glaciers are indescribable! I have got to get back there and spend some more time. We dropped down into the U.S. at Roosville (U.S. 93). Customs was a real pain. Getting into Canada was easy - Canadian Customs accomodating. U.S. Customs, well, that's another story. All of our belongings were thoroughly searched. I guess "scooter trash" warrants a close inspection. I do love Montana. The "reasonable and prudent" limit on day time speeds is enlightened. Against my better judgment we took a tour through Yellowstone Park. We were charged $15 per motorcycle to see a burned out shell of what used to be a magnificent park. If you haven't seen the park since the fire, don't go now. You won't recognize the place. What really makes me angry about the cost hike is that it was unnecessary. If Congress could keep its hands off the money generated by the parks and allow that money to be used for upkeep and improvement, there would have been no need to raise the rates. So essentially Congress is making us pay for their neglect and mismanagment! [Seething!] Like I wrote above, we had a great trip. The bikes ran good (we averaged about 46 miles per gallon for each bike) and the weather was outstanding. In fact, in spite of the accuracy of Ira Agains' meterological predictions for the summer of 1997 (you'll have to ask Ira), we only needed to put our rain suits on once (for the rally at Paonia). Terry Turnbeaugh Aurora, CO USA ******************************************************************* WARNING!!!!! This post was submitted by a Village Idiot. Coherence is neither claimed nor offered. ******************************************************************* From ibmwrNoSpam@NoSpamworld.std.com Tue Aug 5 15:11:45 1997 Date: Tue, 5 Aug 1997 13:23:23 -0500 (CDT) From: Rand Z Rasmussen To: bmwmcNoSpam@NoSpamworld.std.com Cc: susan bornsen Subject: BMW: Last Ride (touring essay) Reply-To: Rand Z Rasmussen LAST RIDE By Rand Rasmussen At the time one never knows which ride will be the last of the season. This is especially true if, like me, you ride until the snow flies. Instead we studey the paper, listen to the weather forcasts and plan each fall ride a day at a time, hoping that it will not be the last ride but stealing ourselves aaginst the possibility that it will be. It is 1993 and I am living on a farm outside of Faribault, MN. It is a Sunday morning and I awake to a gorgeous mid-November day. I drag all of my cold-weather riding clothes down to the garage and fling open the large door, squinting into the bright sunlight flooding the room. The /7 is a little slower than usual to fire up this morning, owing to heavy oil and temperatures which dropped below freezing last night. I let the bike idle/warm as I put on my $1.50 rummage sale snowmobile suit (the poor rider's aerostitch), neck muff, shades, helmet and mitts. Finally, feeling like Poppin' Fresh, I am ready to go. Is there any feeling in the world which compares to that first lurch of forward motion which accompanies the start of a ride? In Stephen King's novel _Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption_ Red says "I find I can't sleep or hold a thought in my head. I feel the excitement that only a free man can feel at the beginning of a long journey, whose conclusion is uncertain." with a whole day ahead of me and nothing to guide me but my own whims, I feel that feeling too. My dog, Maggie, races me down to the end of the two-track, quarter-mile driveway. I stop at the end and bid her goodbye. The bike is running evenly now, and I switch off the choke. I turn left onto the blacktop and head for the esses which lie between me and highway 60. I take the curves gleefully and with ease at some 20 mph over the posted speed limit of 50, leaning gently left, right, left then straight again. I am beginning to wonder where I should ride. In the study of human behavior there is a concept known as "option paralysis" which means, simply, that when one has too many good options from which to choose one can waste the opportunity by not choosing any. Anyone who has ever cycled in southeastern Minnesota has experienced at least a twinge of this. Long ago I learned to overcome option paralysisby simply getting on and riding, and making all of my choices on the fly. For me, at least, it beats sitting at home poring over maps and planning. Recently I saw a perfectly silly little survey entitled _The Ten BEST Motorcycling Roads in America_. What made me scoff at this ridiculous list is that there is no such thing. How about highway 38 from Bigfork to Grand Rapids, MN? Highway 1 from Ely to the North Shore of Lake Superior? The "Kathryn" highway in North Dakota is one of my favorites. "Best" is in the eye--or in this case the grips--of the beholder. The only title I will accept for this peice of scurrilous pap is _The Ten Best-Known Motorcycle Roads in America_. Still, anyone who has traveled highway 60 east from Mazeppa to Wabasha, MN would have to rank it high on their list of fun roads, and that is where I seem to be headed. The eastern light is bright in a sort of autumnal way. The air coming up under my face shield is brisk and tinged with smells of late fall, but I am warm. I am still west of HWY 52 cutting alternately through rolling famland and small towns. Lots of farmers still in the fields. Everything is gold. I pass country churches with people coming and going, but I am in church too. Finally I see the entrance for 52 at Zumbrota. I turn right onto the downhill ramp and pick up speed until I am again at 60 mph. Six miles later the ramp to HWY 60 east is fun; curvy with a hard left sweep. Now the land is rolling more; a promise of things to come. Thirty miles per hour through Mazeppa, then Zumbro Falls. This town signifies the demarcation between rolling prairie and the bluff country along the Mississippi River. I descend into shadow caused by the steepness of the hills. I adjust my butt in the saddle, take a deep breath, and the sudden hard-left is upon me. Twenty five MPH? Yeah, right! Left, right, down shift, up shif: I appreciate the torque Max Fritz has provided me. I use the engine to slow down on the steep downhill grades, but some of the hills top so quickly that I feel like I could get air by carrying just a little too much speed into them. I cross a wide valley floor using the straight away to pass several tracktors hauling round bales. Briefly I wonder what would happen to me if one of those bales took leave of the trailer hauling it. Little time to dwell on that morbid possibility as I am around them in seconds. Now I start the long final climb which will leave me at the top of the world, overlooking the Mississippi spillway which separates Wisconsin and Minnesota. My front teeth are cold from smiling and I cannot imagine anyplace on earth I would rather be at that moment tha on HWY 60 east in Minnesota. "Ten Best Roads" indeed! I've got news for that pollster: the best motorcycling road in the country is which ever road I am on on a beautiful Sunday in November. The sound of the motor grows heavier owing to the steepness of the grade as I climb and climb. Now right and up; now left and up. Finally I see what I have been waiting for; the scenic turnout in the road ahead. I roll into the turnout and shut off the motor. The quiet is sudden and pleasant. The view is spectacular and encourages quiet thought. I find myself wondering how long it will be before I can find work in Fargo and be near Susan again. I look at my bike in awe and wonder, thinking of those German craftsmen and women who built it in 1978 when I was just a college sophomore. I wonder if they are still woking at BMW. I find that I have stopped wondering where I will go from here. the decision has been made apparantly without my even being aware of it. I will continue east into Wisconsin and take HWY 25 into Menomonie. And, after 20 or so minutes, that's exactly what I do. I switch on the gas, start the motor and start doen the hill toward Wabasha. In fact, the hill is so steep that I wonder if I would have needed to start the bike at all. If you have seen the monie "Grumpy Old Men" you have seen Wabasha, as a portion of the movie was filmed there. I stop in Wabasha and buy gas and shed some clothing. The time and temp. clock says that it is 50 degrees at 10:30 am and 60 seems likely today. Soon I am back on the road again. Nearing Menomonie I quit the highway and take some of the county roads leading into the hills. I am glad I am familiar with these roads or option paralysis would threaten to strike again. In Menomonie I stop for lunch. I park the bike and lock my clothes in the bags and my helmet onto the hook under the seat. I graduated from this campus in 1986 and being here brings back many memories. I walk around enjoying seeing old things and hearing the voices of ghosts of the past. Eventually I wind up at the student union. It is Sunday after all, and there is not much going on. I watch the Vikings, getting spanked as usual, on one of the lounge televisions as the afternoon slips pleasantly by. Four O'clock and I should be leaving. I pick up a sandwich, chips and some huice for the road. and walk back to where my cycle is parked. It is still so warm that I am able to ride with just my jacket on for now, so I leave my suiit in the bags. The sun is now to my right as I head south on 25 toward Durand. I stop ther and put on my riding suit as the air has lost all of its heat with the departure of the sun. Now much of the road is in shadow. I cross the river and climb into the bluffs, riding a lot slower than I did this morning. It is no longer a time for swooping and diving, but for getting home safely in the dark. At Zumbro Falls I stop near a foot bridge over the Zumbro River. I get out my supper, dangle my feet over the edge and listen to the quiet while I eat. Two deer come to the water's edge to drink almost directly below me. They do not even notice me above them, although I am enjoying them very much. I hear the tink-tinking sound of the engine cooling off and I beegin to feel the cold myself. I get up and add my rain suit to my outfit before moving on. It is now truly cold; in the 30s, I'm sure. Back up 52 and left onto west 60. I am now back out on the prairies and glad of it. I pass through Kenyon and six miles later turn right onto Jacobs Avenue S. Back through the esses, this time at 20 mph below the posted speed due to frost and dark. I can see my driveway in the distance and I see the wrm glow of Maggie's eyes as she runs down to meet me. She races me back up the drive and it's nice to have someone so happy to see me again. I shut off the motor and get stiffly off of the bike. I open the big door and push the bike inside and Mag and I head into the house together. I can't resist turning and looking one last time at my bike. Tomorrow it may snow, but tonight I'll have pleasant dreams. *It did in fact snow that night and it was my last ride of the season. From ibmwrNoSpam@NoSpamworld.std.com Tue Aug 5 18:31:15 1997 Date: Tue, 05 Aug 1997 14:38:48 -0500 From: gdaltonNoSpam@NoSpamInfoAve.Net (gene dalton) Subject: BMW: Alaskan Trip(Part3of3) To: bmwmcNoSpam@NoSpamworld.std.com Reply-To: gdaltonNoSpam@NoSpamInfoAve.Net (gene dalton) An Alaskan Trip Part 3 of 3 July 22-8am-Awaken after another restful nights sleep under solarium. 1:30pm arrive Bellingham. The TV stations are on hand to tape our arrival. Apparently the blockade has made the news in the "lower 48".Bill Perkins splits away from us for a ride across across northern Washington, Idaho and Montana, where he will pick-up his wife, continue on to Oshkosh, Wisconsin for the Fly-In, and then return to Sturgis for bike week. He has been a very congenial companion during our 3 day ferry ride. Ken and I leave Bellingham headed for my cousins home in Bay View, Washington. We stop at a convenience store were Ken calls Cascade BMW in Kirkland(Seattle area), Washington, to schedule a back tire change the next morning. 3pm-Arrive at my cousins unannounced and uninvited. He and his wife are shocked to see me ride up on a motorcycle and speechless when I tell them were we have been. They quickly recover, roll out the red carpet, and invite us to spend the night. We don't hesitate in accepting and have a very pleasant visit. July 23-Another eventful day. We leave my cousins at 8am. At 8:45am shortly after turning on to I-405 and ,100 miles from the ferry terminal at Bellingham and 10 miles from what proves to be a top-notch, "A" No. 1, BMW dealer, I roll off the throttle, roll back on and hear a "clink". A second roll-off/on results in another "clink", and a third results in a "Clank", "Bam", "Thud","Grrrr"with the motor reving up as if the transmission is in neutral. I coast over to the side of I-405, and say to Ken"I think my driveshaft just failed. Call AMA's Mo-Tow service when you get to the dealers." I while away the time eating blackberries which are growing in abundance along the I-405 right-of-way and am sitting on the shoulder of the road, picking blackberry seeds from my teeth and silently pledging to eat lots of salmon caught by British Columbia fishermen, when the tow truck arrives. We load the bike and head for the BMW dealer. My tummy is a little upset, probably from eating to many blackberries. We arrive and almost before my bike is unloaded the owner, service manager, and a mechanic are looking over the bike and diagnosing the problem. The mechanic rolls it in the shop and returns in a few minutes. He says " Your driveshaft didn't fail. Your final-drive disintegrated, however the back spline on your drive shaft is so worn the driveshaft needs to be replaced too." Upset feeling in tummy turns into a sinking feeling. "We will have a cost estimate by 5pm" 5pm-Eyes glaze over and lower jaw drops to chest high level upon glancing at cost estimate. "Do you want us to fix it." I nod my head in the affirmative as my vocal cords and throat muscles are now paralyzed and I can make no sound. "If the parts come in by late Friday or early Saturday, we can have you out of here by Saturday afternoon." I nod my head again and walk away. Ken and I decide to split-up. We're already running behind schedule and he is going to start running short of medicine he must take for various medical problems if he doesn't start back to Ohio home tomorrow. We part company early the next morning, still the best of friends after 10,000 miles and 25 days on the road together. Riding buddies like that are hard to find. July 24-Bikeless in Seattle. Check out rental car No.2. Look at map and decide to drive around Olympic Peninsula. July 25-Complete drive around Olympic Peninsula and return to Cascade BMW at 5pm. " The parts have arrived. We should have you out of here tomorrow afternoon." July 26-11am-Return rental car after logging 800 miles and walk over to BMW dealers. 1pm-Pay bill. Walk to phone and call Allan Greenspan at Federal Reserve. Tell him to expect an up-tick in Total Consumer Credit Card Debt when he recieves his July report. Advise him not to raise interest rates based on July report as,hopefully, credit card debt will level-off in subsequent months.(pure fabrication-but you knew that-didn't you?) 2pm-Rolling on I-90 crossing the Cascades. Spend night in Spokane. July 27-Leave I-90 at Coeur d' Alene, Idaho and take side trip across Going-To-The Sun-Road in Waterton/Glacier International Peace Park. Spectacular scenery. Can't remember seeing anything comparable in Canada or Alaska. Spend night in Great Falls, Montana. July28-Boogieing across Montana on US 87 at speeds in the 80 to 90 mph range. Driver of aging, well used, pick-up truck waves as she passes. Boy, what a beautiful day! Blue skies and knee-high lush green grass, dotted with dark green pine trees on hillsides with no buildings to mar view as far as the eye can see. White-haired couple in Ford Taurus wave as they pass. Hummmm, this Montana country was made for 1100/1200 series BMWs,not K75s. Spend night in Hot Springs, South Dakota with friend. Next day plan to ride diagonally across Nebraska on State Hwy. 2, spending the night in St. Jo/Kansas City area. July 29-6am- Its raining hard. Turn on TV and Weather Channel forecaster says this storm system has resulted in the deaths of 4 or 5 persons in the Fort Collins area and will continue to move across Colorado, Nebraska, and western South Dakota. Have sudden, uncontrollabe, urge to take tour of Black hills. Borrow friends 1967 Ranchero and take leisurely, all day drive around Hills. July 30-9am-Leave Hot Springs under cloudy but rainless skies. Arrive Winner, SD and spend night with friends. Go to bed early as have highly ambitious plan to leave Winner at 4am and ride straight-thru to Shelbyville, TN home. July 31-3:30am-Its raining. Go back to sleep. 8am-Leave Winner under cloudy skies which turn into cloudless skies at Spencer,Neb. and remain so the rest of my trip. 6pm-Arrive Chillicothe, Missouri and spend night. August 1-7am-Leave Chillicothe. 5:30 pm-Arrive Shelbyville, TN home. Step off bike, kneel down and say prayer for having great, accident free, trip and arriving home safe and sound. End of Trip Report Well, if you are still reading this and will spare me a little more band width, I'll answer a few questions you didn't ask but I'll answer anyway. (Caveat- All answers are subjective and opinionated.) 1. How was riding on the Alaska Highway? Not bad. Not bad at all. Except for the construction zone at Steamboat Mountain, which, unfortunately, we went across during a rain, the constuction zones were not diffcult at all, and there were sections of the Highway, especially in the Yukon, were we could run 75 to 80 mph for mile after mile with no fear of damage. Ken made this trip in 1984 with his wife and another couple in a van, and he couldn't believe(for better or worse-depending on your perspective) the straightening, road improvements, and ROW widing that had taken place. 2.Would you make this trip a second time? Well, Errr, Hummmm, maby, but not anytime real soon. A lot of the "newness" and sense of adventure would be missing from a second trip and its a long way to Alaska. Once you get there the roads are limited, at least for a touring bike, and are by and large heavily traveled in the summer. Its a fantastic one-time trip, however. 3.What was the most welcome/unwelcome sight you experienced? The most unwelcome sight--the signs that said "Road Construction Ahead". The most welcome "End Construction". Well almost. Some time "End Construction" signs up there just mean you gotten out of the worst construction and a have few miles to go to get back on a paved surface. 4. What was the biggest surprise(s)? Here are a few (a) Encountering very few flies and mosquitoes in Alaska and the Yukon. We didn't have to use the bug spray, deet, or mosquito coil a single time in these areas. I don't know if it was just a good year or where we camped or stayed or what but insects weren't a problem for us.(In British Columbia, however they almost carried us off a night or two.) (b) The green landscape and mild temps at the Arctic Circle. The landscape at the Circle almost reminded me of the Tennessee hills in the spring and I was comfortable having my picture taken at the Circle in a "T"shirt. (c) The number of RVs in Alaska for the summer. Ken and I agreed that when we got back to the "lower 48" we wouldn't have to worry about getting behind any RVs because they were all up in Alaska. To illustrate, the newest Wal-Mart in Anchorage has a huge parking lot an they just turn over about half of it to RVs for overnight parking and it seemed to be full when we were at the Wal-Mart. 5.What was the biggest disappointment? Probably Denali Park. The 8 hour round trip ride we took into the park was in a "Blue Bird" school bus; the scenery wasn't any better than what can be seen from many of the public roads in Alaska and the mountain was fogged-in when we got to the Eielson Visitor Center, 66 miles back into the park traveling primarily on a one lane gravel road. All this was compounded by the fact that we hadn't eaten since 6:30am; didn't have any food or drink with us when we got to the Eielson VC at 11:45am as Ken had assured me there were snack and pop machines at the VC but we were lucky to get a drink of water; and faced a 4 hour ride back-out on the "Blue Bird" before we could eat. I was about to tell the bus driver to call "911" when a couple sitting next to us realized our predicament and gave us some peanut butter sandwiches, cookies, and pop from a cooler they had been lugging around. We got to talking to them and found out they had been in Alaska since May traveling in a 30+ foot motor home pulling a car. I remembered those peanut butter sandwiches everytime after that when I pulled in behind a line of RVs traveling about 35 miles an hour on a curvy road, and said to myself, before mumbling dirty words under my breath, "There's probably some pretty nice people in those RVs". 6.What was the most timely purchase you made before starting this trip? Membership in AMA's Mo-Tow service. My Cross Country membership lapsed last year. I was talking to Vonnie Glaves at the Branson Blitz about towing services and she said she had Mo-tow and was satisfied with it. A week or two before I left for Alaska, I remembered that conversation, called Mo-Tow and signed up. Little was I to realize at the time how quickly I would recover the $25 membership fee. 7.What piece of gear did you buy for this trip that you found the most useful? A "Jo's U-Pac". Great for carrying lots of gear on long distant rides. Seems you can always stuff just one more "on the road" purchase into it. 8. Did you see any Harleys? You bet your sweet life we did and none of them were broken down and very few were being hauled. Many came thru Centennial Campground in Anchorage while we were staying there and it was obvious from talking to the owners they held up well on the Alaska highway. The only apprehension was getting a rock in the drivebelt system going thru the construction zones, although none we talked to had this experience. I'm ashamed of myself for making all those little snide, cutesy, remarks about Harleys and will refrain from doing so in the future. 9. Can any biker make this trip? I think so. All you need is (a) a dash of determination (b)an iota of ingenuity and (c) a credit card(s) with lots of available credit. Well, thats my story and I'm sticking to it. I've been a member of this list for about 18 months and feel a little guilty because l've been a lurker and haven't contributed much in the way of trip reports or other posts. I can say with certainty, after attending a few IBMWR gatherings that there are more riders in this club than any other I know of. Hope you enjoyed this report and I plan to see some of you at future events. Gene Dalton From ibmwrNoSpam@NoSpamworld.std.com Tue Aug 5 23:47:49 1997 Date: Tue, 5 Aug 1997 21:26:08 -0700 (MST) From: D&J To: bmwmcNoSpam@NoSpamworld.std.com Cc: jimr80gsNoSpam@NoSpammontana.com Subject: BMW: Ride Report - Going-to-the-Sun Road Reply-To: D&J File this ride report away for when you are next in Missoula. Sunday morning, riding partner Jim Morrow on his obscenely new GS, and myself on my '86 R65, decided to worship the Great Architect of the Universe in the midst of His creation, as is fitting. Left Missoula, Montana and headed north on a glorious day. Not a cloud in the sky. But cool enough so that I have my electric vest, which I bought second hand from someone on this list, turned on. Only bad thing was the #45 sunscreen that kept running down into my eyes. Ran up the west side of Flathead Lake, which I recommend over the east side. Did not stop at the buffalo jerky/sausage store. A great place. Have stopped there and loaded up on lean buffalo meat many times in the past. We are running at about 72-73 mph the whole way (well, maybe a little bit faster now and then). Jim thinks this is great because his grossly inaccurate speedo shows that he is running at 85. Almost made it to West Glacier without incident, until: I was leading and we were slowly working our way through a string of slow cages on a two-laner. You know how when you pass a cage they will sometimes speed up a little? I've never thought much about it. I figure it is just an involuntary reaction and that as soon as they realize what they are doing they slow down. But, every once in awhile you run across someone who, even though they are stuck in a long line of cages, *doesn't want to be passed*. I think these people have a serious small-penis problem. This guy, and wife, in a UV from Alberta, didn't want to be passed. I could sense it as I passed him and pulled in. Maybe he was trying to show his wife that in spite of his previous hasty performances in bed he was still a hell of a guy. A moment later when Jim passed him he pulled up right on my rear wheel and attempted to keep Jim from pulling in in front of him. I slowed down to create a little room for Jim and turned around and gave this guy the finger. (Since he was from Canada, an extremely civilized place where only nice people are allowed to live, I knew he wouldn't have any guns or pepper spray.) So, on to Glacier Park. Lots of people. Lots of cages and RVs. But, enjoyable nevertheless. Stopped at Apgar, just inside the park, and a guy in a small pickup stopped and asked about, and admired, my bike. He didn't even look at Jim's GS or say anything about it. Made my day. But then, if you are going to ride a bike that makes it look like you are humping a giant toad how can you expect people to do anything but turn away in embarassment? Since Jim had never seen it I thought it was only right that he should lead on Going-to-the-Sun Road. Can't tell you about the Road. You have to see it for yourself. It's kinda like Imax, only better. Best way to see it is to ride east up to Logan Pass, turn around and ride back down to the bottom, stopping at every turnout to look at the views and the waterfalls, and then, if you have time, ride up it again. Real best way to see it is to do all of the above stoned or on acid. (I never said that!) Met lots of motorcycles. My arm was getting tired from waving. Right away I am able, with my superior deductive powers, to determine that something is wrong. None of my old Harley buddies are waving back at me. Then I realise that it is because I am riding with Jim who is wearing a helmet, and one of those orange stripey vests, and has a windshield. I know that I have been demoted to motorcycle nerd. In spite of that I keep on waving away. I've been doing it since 1945. I'm not about to stop now. If waving ever dies out it won't be because of me, it will be because there are just too many damned bikes on the road. The parking lot at Logan Pass was full but they let us in on our bikes. I parked next to a nice looking R100RT from New York. As I was walking (slowly, we're at 6,600 feet here) into the visitor center to get my stamp I was accosted by a man with an English midlands accent who said, "How was Paonia this year?" My lightning-like brain, even though it was low on oxygen, was able to discern that he had seen my Top O'the Rockies t-shirt. In my oxygen deprived stupor I forgot to ask his name. He had been to Paonia many times, but not this year. We had a nice chat about Paonia and bikes and New York. He asked if I was going to Fontana and I said it was a bit far for an old fart like me and he said that he would be going since it was only 1,100 miles for him. Ah, well. Youth. What can I say? As we ran down the east side from the pass we were following a few cages and we went through the only tunnel on this road. It's not very long. It's carved out of the solid rock. While we were passing through the tunnel this cage in front of us keeps blowing his horn, a lot. Right after we get through the tunnel the car in front of him, a big new sedan, comes to a complete stop, in the road. So we all stop, and this gentleman semi-emerges from the driver-side window and waves his arms around a lot. He then drives on, and at the first pullout, pulls out. I can't resist and so I stop to speak with him. This turns out to be a little difficult, since he and his wife are on holiday from Italy and they speak only Italian, a language I have not mastered yet. Drawing on my vast repertoire of arm-waving I am able to tell them that the guy with the horn wasn't honking at them and did not in fact want to kill them for some mysterious driving infraction, as would have been the case in Italy, but that he was only honking his horn so that his kids could enjoy the echo. After riding on a few miles farther I was able to talk to the horn-honker when he turned off at a campground. He was from Hawaii and was feeling really bad about having upset the people from Italy. I told him what had come down and he was grateful to know, and we talked a little bit about Hawaii, where I have lived off and on since 1954. I think there is now one more person who knows that not everyone on the road is some asshole from Trenton. Who knows, they might be some asshole from Alberta. Finally left the Park and suddenly we are in prairie country, Big Sky country. I love that first time you come up and over a hill and get that first view of nothing but miles and miles of prairie. But then I was born here. Maybe the thing that turns you on is that view of the skyline from the bridge. In Browning, which is a Blackfeet town, we ride through a construction zone that is all gravel. Right in the middle of this we see the blue and red strobes flashing ahead, and as we arrive at the scene we see a humongous RV, with trailer attached, lying on it's side. This RV was made by Honda and was called a Gold Wing, and there were a couple of helmets, with attached curly-cords, lying in the gravel and a bunch of water bottles and other crap lying about. We didn't stop to find out about the RV driver and passenger but it looked like it had been a low-speed low-side crash, with maybe a fractured clavicle or two as a worst case. Now we are bombing through deserted prairie country. Hot. We stop for water and sunscreen often. In Bynum, a dusty tiny cow town, we pull off and have a drink of water. While we are stopped this gigantic diesel dually pickup pulls up in front of us, very close, nose to nose, kinda menacing, and two guys who look like Mennonites get out. We've got Mennonite colonies here in Montana. These guys have big German barrel chests, beards without mustaches, high-pocket pants with suspenders, and straw farmer hats. They have wide-open friendly faces, like you might see in Eastern Europe and they have a young boy with them. Turns out they are just interested in us, the same way you would be interested in a giraffe walking through Times Square. We had a nice chat. I asked them if they were Mennonites and they denied it but I didn't believe them. However in Montana it's not polite to inquire too closely into other people's business. I still recall my father, who was born in the Red River Valley in 1888, asking strangers, "What name do you go by?" because so many people who came west were running from something and had changed their names and it was not wise to inquire too closely about their origins. Maybe these two men belong to the group of Mennonites who have departed from the one true faith and are now evangelical Christians. Who knows? The young boy's name was John. Nothing wrong with being named after Jesus' favorite apostle. In Choteau we see a really sad sight. A U-haul truck being driven by a guy from Seattle who is moving to Montana. Pass through tiny dusty Augusta, where my mother was born in 1905, and head out on a road I remember as having a couple of miles of gravel in the middle. Turns out my memory is all shot to hell and this road in fact has seventeen miles of gravel. This is where I encountered, and conquered, the notorious 4 mph Dead Man's Curve, of which I wrote earlier. I won't say that I was hoping Jim, on his brand new GS, would tip over in all this gravel, while I sailed through, but the thought might have passed through my mind. I admit it, I'm an evil bastard, and if you're smart you will steer a wide course around me. Finally, after climbing over Rogers Pass, arrive back in Missoula, totally wasted from the heat and the road. 450 miles or so. I never keep track. While I'm sitting in front of the TV, having a glass of red wine and telling my wife about the great day I've had, a yellowjacket crawls out of my blue silk bandanna and bites me three times on the back of the neck before I can dispatch him. I guess he was taking revenge for all the members of the insect kingdom I had killed that day with my bike and sunglasses. It was only fitting. All in all a very nice day. The only thing that could have made it better would have been to have had a little gal wrapped tightly around my back the entire time. Oh well. Dick Taylor - Classy Guy hetchinsNoSpam@NoSpammontana.com Live and lean. From ibmwrNoSpam@NoSpamworld.std.com Thu Aug 7 15:48:54 1997 Date: Thu, 07 Aug 1997 09:59:24 -0400 (EDT) Date-Warning: Date header was inserted by WIZARD.FIRN.EDU From: "Gregory D. Pink" Subject: BMW: Trip Report Part 1: Help, I'm stamping and I can't stop To: MMCornettNoSpam@NoSpamaol.com, bmwmcNoSpam@NoSpamworld.std.com Reply-To: "Gregory D. Pink" X-No-Archive: yes After subjecting myself to 10 weeks of graduate level classes and academic bureaucracy I had to get away, way far away. The thought of spending a week with Mike Cornett in the pursuit of national park stamps was just the ticket (stamp?). Visiting friends along the way made this thought all that more enticing. So, when Friday rolled around I became a kid at Xmas waiting for morning and the presents. The nice thing about growing up is that you no longer have to wait. I couldn't, wouldn't so I left 8 hours early. This would prove to be a mistake later, but not a biggee. It is very difficult to get lost between Tampa and Dayton. Put the bike on I-75 and twist the throttle. Construction in Florida is starting to wind down which was a good sign. A short 14 hours later I was pulling into the Cracker Barrel south of Cincinnati where I made an offering to Jon Diaz. I was hoping that the motel would let me in early so that I would be coherent when Mike arrived. With any luck, the Wright Brothers site would be open in Dayton also. I hit Dayton a little after 8am. Without the directions from Mike, I never would have found the site which is an area of town on the verge of reclamation. If this had been Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday or Friday, the site would have been open. But, heh, it's Saturday and they're sleeping in. Oh well, I wandered over to the motel to plead my case. "Sorry, you can't get in until 1 PM." I should have waited to leave. Back to the site for some waiting and bike polishing. Would you do that if you had a car? It turns out that the Wright brothers had 6 bicycle shops/printing shops in the area. Last year I was at Kitty Hawk, so the tie-in was neat. One of the most difficult tasks they encountered was shipping the planes, tools, parts between the two sites. They would eventually choose to remain in Dayton for most of their experimentation. It's still early and an idle mind is a terrible waste. Mike is fond of telling everyone how he coerces free pie out of waitresses. This has happened on many occasions and is probably due to his training as a communications professor. I couldn't pass up the opportunity and went to a local grocery store to buy several slices of pie. I left one with the ranger at the park, the motel clerk, a gas station attendant(unfortunately, Mike didn't use this station) and the motel room. Everywhere Mike went, he would get free pie. He didn't make the connection until he got to the motel room. When he did it was too late because I ate his last piece of pie. :-) Morning came and I was in serious stamp mode. Mike had about a billion more stamps than I and that must end. How could I close the gap when we were riding together? I'd just have to ride longer. We were at the Indian Mounds in Chillicothe, Ohio when they opened. I've been here before and is the nicest collection of burial mounds I know of. These mounds are about 2,000 years old. Onward to West Virginia. If you happened to be a driving instructor, you are desperately needed in West VA. Is there a connection between inbreeding and driving ability. "My wife is not only my sister, but she's my driving instructor and I love her. Yup." We followed a horse trailer that caused me to laugh so hard that I almost fell off the bike. The driver had left a window in the trailer open. The horse was doing his best dog imitation by hanging it's head out the window. Whenever the horse did this, it got a view of these two motorcyclists chasing him. His eyeballs almost popped out of his head and he ducked back into the trailer. Horse memory must be rather short as this process was repeated about 1 minute later and several times while we were following. We stopped in Glen Jean for several stamps at the Gauley River National Recreation Area. After making a wrong turn (this is getting to be a bad habit) I caught up with Mike at the Visitor's Center. They were waiting for the Amtrak train to come by as this is, apparently, a big deal. They have some great bridges crossing the river in this area and we stopped at the longest single arch bridge in the world. Onward to New Geneva, Pa. and the Friendship Hill site. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out why this was a National Historic Site. Albert Gallatin, owner of the home, was the Secretary of the Treasury under two administrations, but didn't really distinguish himself in a way that would earn him a national park. There is a neat holographic presentation in the visitor's center. We found it necessary to move on to Fort Necessity (ugh). This is where the opening battle of the French and Indian War took place and marks the site of George Washington's only defeat. Mike was ready to head to his friend's house and I saw my first opportunity. The Johnstown Flood Site and Allegheny Portage Railroad Site was just up the road about 100 miles. I could do this and then I wouldn't have to come to this part of PA ever again as long as I live. No, I'm not fond of PA. Maybe once they discover how to build roads, my feelings will change. We won't talk about the speed limits on back roads. I couldn't decide where the park would be for Johnstown. I knew the location on a map, but would it be where the flood came through the city or some other site. They picked the best location, in my opinion. It's on a hill overlooking the man-made lake that caused the flooding when the earthen dam gave way. From the top of the hill you could get an impression of the depth of the lake and the amount of water (the lake is no longer there). The enormity of the destruction can then be understood. Over 2,000 people died as a result of the flood. Close by is the Railroad Site and the location of Horseshoe Curve where the railroad bends back upon itself. The visitor's center is first class and contains a full size locomotive within the building. Well, I better go find Mike. After losing the directions to Mike's friends I finally pulled into the driveway of a fabulous house. In the front yard, 20 deer were grazing and their house overlooks the Blue Ridge. I'm out of my league here. They were gracious hosts and stuffed us until we burst. It is said that if you snooze you lose. I was happy to be losing that night. Greg "Bounce" Pink Reindeer Riders BOOF-(it's time to accept my advancing age and decreasing intellect) Beeline Beemer BMWOCF IBA SOD #4 *************************************************************************** * "I ride, therefore I am." ***** R1100RT->Descartes-The Continent Killer * * ----------------------------------------------------------------------- * *Greg Pink->The Pink-man ----------------The Continental Breakfast Killer * ***********************pink_gNoSpam@NoSpampopmail.firn.edu **************************** From ibmwrNoSpam@NoSpamworld.std.com Thu Aug 7 17:30:44 1997 Date: Thu, 07 Aug 1997 23:10:54 +0200 To: bmwmcNoSpam@NoSpamworld.std.com From: Carlo Ratzersdorfer Subject: BMW: The Sunner Ride, Part one. Cc: vidiotNoSpam@NoSpamusaa.net, europrezNoSpam@NoSpamtwinight.org Reply-To: Carlo Ratzersdorfer X-No-Archive: yes Excuse the typo's, I'm using Sandro's puter. Question, what is nicer then smallish roads in France on a lazy summer afternoon ? The answer is fairly simple and also quite elaborate. Samllish roads on a Beemer called Lady Maggy, on the first day of your summer holiday, knowing that at the end of the ride, you are meeting some dear friends, Idiots, and BOOF's to boot. That what was in my head on the road to Lausanne when I rode of after my return from the States. Started from Antwerp at 12.30 and got to Lausanne at 19.30 after a totally exhilarating ride. Went from Antwerp to Brussels-Luxemburg-Metz-Nancy via the motorway - no booing please- then the Nationale to Epinal-Vesoul and Besancon, onwards to Pontarlier and Vallorbe where I crossed the border to Switzerland. This is the road that gives you the optimal mix of speed, sweepers and VERY enjoyable country. The bends are FUN to take at full speed, and pray that no cops are around. In any case, I used the camelback I'd gotten in the States to the hilt. I was in leathers and it was warm. One of the best purchases I've ever made, xcept that this one was given to me as a present...:-) I drank while riding and that made a hell of a difference. Stopped only for gas and a sandwich. As I said, I reach Lausanne after 7 hours, not bad at all, considering I hadn't ridden in almost 6 weeks since EP2. Day 2. Have to be in Geneva for some interview. I warned the people I didn't want to be too long, cuz I would be in riding togs, thus warm. Expedited matters in a jiffy, and remounted. Rode towards the French border. I'd decided to spend the night in Malbuisson where I'd meet the rest of the crew the day after. Decided to take a road recomended by a friend who knows his stuff about riding, Daniel for those of you who met him. Took the road from Geneva towards Sainte-Claude, city of Pipes and diamonds for tourists. The pipes are beautifull and not too expensive. However to get there, you pass the Col de la Faucille. The first Chapagne road of this trip. Hmm... Went in this bend kinda fast and it worked, next one juuuust a bit faster.... Holy SHIT !!!!! They have put tarstrips on the road. I almost lose it there and then. Adrenaline surge, SWEAT, and forge onwards, let it be a bit slower. Ride on towards Ste.-Claude then, sticking to the tail of a local, stop at a traffic light, strike up a conversation, offer him and his pillion a drink and thanks for the trajectories. Was fun to follow him. Not too bad for a flatlander like me he said...:-) Meanwhile I detect a trace of oil on my lefthand sidebag. Shit the headgasket has been changed in May. SHIT it's the inner cylinder head gasket that is dripping. Not too badly though. Cellular to Belgium and Selbach. Check the oil level regularly, and ride on he says. If the engine temp is OK, you're ok too. Right on, butt I have no petrol left. My reserve light has been on for the last 50 klicks... I enquire after a petrol station, none in the immediate neighborhood, have to trun back. Me ? Trun back ? NO WAY ! I press merilly on. Arrive in Mouthe, riding on fumes, stop at the petrol staion, and start the procedure of filling up. Then I almost die.... Across the road I see a creature arriving towards me that looks vaguely familiar. IT -he- wears blue white and green leathers by Schwabenleder, sport a beard..... YOU GOT IT FOLKS !!! Georg Schaaf, I'm freaking out. Here in the middle of nowhere, I meet someone I know, on a ride in the other direction. Had a quick and welcome coke with Georg and his pal, and rode on towards Malbuisson. Unfortunately the hotel was fully booked for the night. However, the owners also have another hotel in Mouthe... So back I rode..... Got a room, a shower, a smile from the receptionist/waitress. And sat down for food and drinks... Ever tried Pontarlier ? Anis aperitif, a lot milder then Pastis in taste, but as potent. Then a quart of white local wine Arbois, and another of red of the same. Petit probleme, I'm completly pissed. Trouble looms. The food was delicious, the wine great, and the waitress very nice too thank you. Boy was I sick. In any case I didn't sleep a wink all night. Got up and hell the weather had turned compltely. It was pouring. No riding or only minimal today. Stayed in. Got a phone call from Malbuisson that Duner Tor had arrived. Rode a quickie to join him and took him back for lunch in Mouthe. I had promissed the waitress, who happened to be a student at Strassbourg University for a ride. The roads were full of dung and mud, very slippery. Not very good. At 5PM she got free so we went for a short spin, and a coffee. I rode back to Malbuisson where a familiar sight greeted me. The Blauwal Diesel was there, Sandro in conversation with Duner. We only were waiting for Frank and Annemarie to arrive. Called them up on the cellular, they were still two hours away. We decided to wait till 21.15 for them, and they arrived immediately after that, soaked, tired and happy. They had left at 3.30 PM rode, kinda fast. We had a GREAT meal. Very recommendable address to be added to our list of good food places. Michel Tannieres, Malbuisson. Remember the name. Carlo, BOOF #23 Village Idiot, on the cellular 24 hours a day... From ibmwrNoSpam@NoSpamworld.std.com Mon Aug 11 13:40:10 1997 Date: Mon, 11 Aug 1997 13:13:15 -0400 (EDT) From: Art Campbell To: Beemer List Subject: BMW: BOUNCE bmwmcNoSpam@NoSpamworld.std.com: Admin request of type /\bsubscribe\b/i at line 3 (fwd) Reply-To: Art Campbell X-No-Archive: yes A forwarded message. Bounced because the "Volvo" word was used in the first 5 lines. Cheers, Art Art Campbell artcNoSpam@NoSpamworld.std.com ArtCampbellNoSpam@NoSpamcompuserve.com "... In my opinion, there's nothing in this world beats a '52 Vincent and a redheaded girl." -- Richard Thompson No disclaimers apply. DoD 358 ---------- Forwarded message ---------- Date: Mon, 11 Aug 1997 10:01:00 -0400 (EDT) From: ibmwrNoSpam@NoSpamworld.std.com To: ibmwrNoSpam@NoSpamworld.std.com Subject: BOUNCE bmwmcNoSpam@NoSpamworld.std.com: Admin request of type /\bsubscribe\b/i at line 3 >From ibmwrNoSpam@NoSpamworld.std.com Mon Aug 11 09:59:58 1997 Return-Path: Received: from world.std.com by europe.std.com (8.7.6/BZS-8-1.0) id JAA21653; Mon, 11 Aug 1997 09:59:50 -0400 (EDT) Received: from wizard.firn.edu by world.std.com (5.65c/Spike-2.0) id AA05726; Mon, 11 Aug 1997 09:59:23 -0400 Received: from dialup.firn.edu (PLNTCAS1-1.firn.edu) by WIZARD.FIRN.EDU (PMDF V5.1-6 #19056) with SMTP id <01IMB5K22814000NV7NoSpam@NoSpamWIZARD.FIRN.EDU> for bmwmcNoSpam@NoSpamworld.std.com; Mon, 11 Aug 1997 10:03:48 EDT Date: Mon, 11 Aug 1997 10:03:48 -0400 (EDT) Date-Warning: Date header was inserted by WIZARD.FIRN.EDU From: "Gregory D. Pink" Subject: Trip Report Part 4: Help, I'm stamping and I can't stop X-Sender: pink_gNoSpam@NoSpamPOPmail.firn.edu To: MMCornettNoSpam@NoSpamaol.com, bmwmcNoSpam@NoSpamworld.std.com, lgfcoNoSpam@NoSpamerols.com, EsquireTedNoSpam@NoSpamaol.com Message-Id: <01IMB5K2Q3XM000NV7NoSpam@NoSpamWIZARD.FIRN.EDU> Mime-Version: 1.0 X-Mailer: Windows Eudora Light Version 1.5.2 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" It was going to be a tight day. My friends don't understand why I push so hard to clear out on area. They say, "You'll be back." I'm not so sure and would rather subscribe to the Aerostich philosophy, "So many roads, so little time." Besides, it's not like New England is right around the corner from Florida. With this in mind, I got out of Attleboro early. It seemed like old times with Mike snoring away and me hoping on the bike. If the early bird catches the worm, why is he so far ahead of me. All I've got is a mouthful of dead worm. I wanted to be on Cape Cod by 8am. The park wasn't scheduled to open until 9, but you never know. The weather was beautiful and I'd rather be riding when the sun comes up than just about anything else. Traffic was light as I slabbed across the state. It was beginning to dawn on me, which makes sense, being dawn and all, that New England doesn't have any billboards. At least there's not many. What an enlightened idea this is. After living in billboard hell for the last 9 years it sure was nice to see the scenery and not where the next McDonalds was. It's 8am, I'm in Cape Cod and the visitor's center is closed. But wait, there's a janitor cleaning the floor inside. I put on my best puppy dog face and asked if he would stamp my passport. Unfortunately, the stamp was in the bookstore and he couldn't get it. Fate was kind as the bookstore operator walked in at that moment. There are tough stamps and easy stamps. The one's along the coast qualify as tough stamps for me. They aren't easy to get to and usually involve a lot of tourist traffic on two lane roads. I had just got a hard stamp in the easiest way possible. As I was leaving I talked to a ranger who was a former prosecutor in Cleveland. It turns out that he lived about 2 miles from where I did in Chatham (Medina). A lot of retirees are working for the park system, which is fortunate because our parks really need them. The next stop was in Newport, RI and I immediately fell in love with this city. I didn't want to leave and fantasized about moving here. Then I thought about winter and reality raised it's logical head. As god as my witness, I will never shovel snow again. At the Touro Synagogue I got the next stamp. It's an unassuming building that represents the oldest synagogue in the US. Time to head to Boston. I had this all planned out. Boston would be as easy as Philly or Manhattan and I'd be out in a hurry. HA! Again I say HA! My exit came up, I got off and the first sign I saw was DETOUR. They're joking, aren't they. Yes, we've all heard the horror stories of the one way streets in Boston, but this must be like child birth. You don't know what's it's like until you experience it. Thanks to poor planning, I arrived just before noon, lunch hour. I hesitate to tell you how many laws I broke trying to find my way around. Taxi and busses only, I think not. No parking, pllllleeeeeaaaassssee. Don't hit any pedestrians, well, I guess even I have my limits. Riding by some construction I saw the familiar National Park sign out of the corner of my eye. It's amazing how nicely a fully loaded touring bike drives down a sidewalk. Around the corner, the sidewalk made for a nice parking spot. This was the main site in Boston (Boston National Historical Park) and contained info about the location of Paul Revere's House, etc. There is only one stamp here though. Getting to the African American Site would have been easier if it had been in the Congo. I knew where it was, after wandering around I could almost see the street. The one way stuff was killing me. One way streets in the rest of the world remain one way for their entire length. In Boston they change direction whenever they feel like it. I could see the street I needed, but the street I was on changed directions. After, literally, 1/2 hour of wandering I got to the street I needed and it was closed due to construction. Well, it was closed for cars, trucks, busses. The bike fit around the barricades very nicely, thank you. The site represents a break with the white churchs in the area and became the center of the African-American community in the area. I needed to make some time. I headed to the Cambridge area for Frederick Law Olmsted, the designer of Central Park and the Capitol grounds. Next, I stopped at John F. Kennedy and headed to the Longfellow House. I was in the middle of Harvard and could feel the brain power of these kids. Being a teacher at a fairly upscale high school, I'm amazed at how few of our kids are accepted by Harvard. We've got some pretty bright individuals. Longfellow's house is well hidden. There is only a small sign on the front and no directions in the area. I had several people tell me it was right around the corner and still missed it. "One way streets to the left of me, one way streets to the right, the boxer did shudder." I was finally getting out of town and heading to the Minute Man Site. The visitor's center right off I-95 was closed for construction (this is a joke, right?) and the other center was 6 miles away in Concord. Directions would have been nice. Signs would have been nice. Time was getting tight and I still had two stamps to get. I guess I'm not going to make it to Bill Shaw's place for dinner. The Lowell Connector had an awful backup. Is lane splitting allowed in New England? Probably not, but stamps is stamps. I enjoyed this site in that it's contained in old, restored factory buildings. There is a great deal of information about cotton processing and industrial technology. Time for Springfield. It looked as if I would hit Springfield just before closing if I wicked it up. I enjoyed the rural nature of the ride through central Mass and arrived 15 minutes before closing, ala Larry Fears. But what is time anyway. Apparently 4:45 means a different thing to me than to the rangers. THE PLACE WAS CLOSED. The 'hours of operation' sign was mocking me. I would later call the site and have them mail me a stamp since I was there during normal operation hours. Time to hit the Big Apple and head on to Larry Fear's pad in DC. The RT was acting up. Both the clutch switch and the neutral switch went bad at the same time. With some fiddling of the shift lever, I could get it started, but this could be very, very bad. At a service plaza in NJ I almost couldn't get it started. I'd have to go to Bob's tomorrow and toss the stamp hunting for the day. After a few wrong turns and an escort by the local police I finally arrived at Larry's and was grateful to be hitting the hay. Greg "Bounce" Pink Reindeer Riders BOOF-(it's time to accept my advancing age and decreasing intellect) Beeline Beemer BMWOCF IBA SOD #4 *************************************************************************** * "I ride, therefore I am." ***** R1100RT->Descartes-The Continent Killer * * ----------------------------------------------------------------------- * *Greg Pink->The Pink-man ----------------The Continental Breakfast Killer * ***********************pink_gNoSpam@NoSpampopmail.firn.edu **************************** From "Don E. Denny" Date: Mon, 1 Sep 1997 09:17:17 -0500 (CDT) Subject: BMW: Alaska trip Gary Sosnick asked about riding to Alaska. I planned a trip to Alaska in 1954. My life got in the way and I postponed til 1995. Due to the time to ride from Illinois to Alaska and that we would be riding 2 up I altered my plans. I figured a week on the road getting there under some bad road conditions might affect our enjoyment of Alaska. We flew to Anchorage and rented a GS from Alaska Motorcycle Adventures. Keith is a fromer Indianapolis transplant and was very helpful. We travled using B&B's. Seemed to be the most economical and got to meet a lot of people. Seldom met a native Alaskan, most conversation centered how long ago they had left the lower 48. If you are interested in more details and cost and what to or not to do let me know. We have debated getting a camper to travel in the winter. So while we where in Alaska we rented a camper for 5 days. Enjoyed it but not our cup of tea. Don From "Terry Smith" Date: Thu, 11 Sep 1997 10:12:29 +0000 Subject: BMW: Some Observations from the Road, Part I (Long!) Part I. September 9, 1997 Woods Hole, MA Prezzes and LDRidrers, Thoughts. Ideas. Opinions. Long days in the saddle provide lots of opportunities for observation. I've just returned from an 8,200 mile two-wheeled adventure that included visits to the Iron Butt start and finish with the Three Flags Classic sandwiched in between. Rather than a trip report, which others can do far better than I, this is intended to be a collection of notes, opinions, and 'whatevers' told roughly chronologically and covering my 14 days on the road. OVERVIEW Departed Cape Cod, MA on Friday, Aug. 22; arrived in Lisle, IL on the 23rd; departed for Nogales, Mexico on Monday, the 24th (after the IBR start); ran the 3 Flags Friday through Monday; journeyed back to Lisle on Wednesday, Sept 3; enjoyed the finish of the IBR at Laurel BMW on Friday; straight home on Friday/Saturday. SPARK PLUGS (BMW) (meaning 'This is about the way the bike ran'. If you don't have a R11 feel free to skip to the next section.) To continue the spark plug saga....I had to schedule a 24,000 mi service the week I was planning to depart 'cuz some tires I had ordered were hung up by the UPS strike. Picked up my '96 R11RT on Tuesday evening from my local (well, 90 miles away) BMW dealer and was very unhappy with the way it ran on the way home. Lots of vibration from about 3,800 RPM up. The next morning I posted my complaint to the IBMWR list and promptly received three replies that the synchronization must be off. I talked to the service manager that morning and he said they'd would check it out as soon as possible. Given my impending departure I set up an appointment for early Friday afternoon. The plan was to leave home fully loaded for my trip, stop at the dealers to have the mechanic look at the bike, meet my friend Pete Withers (Iron Butt entrant) there in mid-afternoon and ride together towards Lisle along I-80, stopping about halfway to Chicago for the night. When I arrived a concerned mechanic greeted me. He said a bad synchronization diagnosis puzzled him since he had the bike in perfect sync on Tuesday. He then took the bike for a test ride and validated that the vibration was 'excessive'. Into the shop and onto the lift, check the throttle body sync (without pulling the panels, BTW). Synchronization was perfect! I had brought some Champion 430's in to the dealer on Monday and asked him to install these during the service. John (the mechanic) then suggested that maybe the plugs were the problem although he couldn't imagine why, unless they were detonating. He pulled the Champions (they looked perfect) and threw in a set of Boschs. I then took the RT onto the 'test circuit'. While the vibration was still there at certain RPMs (a resonance really), the situation was much improved and the bike felt about 'normal' (hey, twins vibrate!). Also, a new knocking/rattling sound that I had noticed at idle had disappeared. Bottom line - the Champs didn't work for me; also, the smoothness of the R11 motor is very sensitive to various permutations and combinations on setup and tuning. IRON BUTT (Start) Arrived mid-late afternoon on Saturday. Lots of bikes were already positioned in the 'motorcycles only' back lot of the Hilton. Met Jon Diaz who was running the tech inspection, several of the Butt volunteers and many of the riders. My brother, Gregg, has ridden the Butt five times, has finished four, and, until the '97 Butt, held the total mileage record. Unfortunately, he couldn't compete in this year's go-round because of a bunged up knee. Point is, since everyone knows my brother, meeting people was easy (also got to go the Banquet and other events on Gregg's 'ticket'. Thanks, Gregg!). There was an excellent cookout/buffet at Laurel BMW on Saturday, the rider's meeting and the pre-rally banquet and then, finally, Monday morning arrived. Lots of adrenalin flowing in the parking lot. Van Singley (BMW Funduro, an AMI BMW instructor) admitted that he hadn't been this 'pumped' since his motocross racing days. After bunches of group pictures of the various mc brands entered (w/riders), a group prayer, and the handout of part 2 of the Leg 1 bonus packets, the riders were underway! I departed about 20 minutes later - all butt a few of the entrants had already left for Gorham. Seemed a bit lonely and very strange to be off riding alone headed for I-57 and Cairo, IL. Even for a non-participant the Butt can be emotional! TIRES (BMW) The shop had mounted a set of Bridgestone BT-57s for the trip. My experience to date has been on Metzler rubber - two ME Z2 rears (about 12,000 mi each); two ME Z2 and one ME Z1 front (I'm only getting about 6,000 mi out of the front tires). The front BT-57's have a much 'rounder' profile than the Z's and, hence, turn in faster. Handling in dry conditions (and the little bit of wet I encountered) was outstanding. On the 3 Flags (see 'Roads' in Part II) I got to use all of the tire. All in all, superb handling, but I've never had a complaint with the Metzler's either. On the other tire issue - longevity - the BT 57's score is about the same as with the ME Z's. After 8,300 miles (a lot of it on the slab) the rear is badly flat-spotted (looks like the top of a chopped-off pyramid if you can picture it). The front is scalloped, but not too badly. They may make 12 K miles in terms of tread depth, but the profile of both tires is pretty much toast. Bottom line. IMO the 57's are a touch better in the handling department and about the same wear-wise (although I think they've got a little more tread depth) as the MEZ2s. The difference is not significant though, so the choice of Z2's or 57's pretty much will depend on price, availability, brand preference, etc. I'm going to try some BT-54s next, and then the Dunlop 205s. There must be something out there that will give the R11 rider a little more mileage without sacrificing the terrific handling of the machine! BTW, of the non-GS R11's entered in the Butt (two or three I think, including a really neat police R11RT), tires chosen were either the Michelin Macadam or the Dunlop 205s. At the end of the rally the tires on the R11's that I had a chance to look at were fairly badly worn, with scalloping evident on all the fronts. Given that the IB bikes had done at least 8 - 11 k on the rally and some extra miles getting to Lisle, it's clear that either the Michelin or Dunlop should provide a few more miles than the Metzler's or Battlax 57's. We'll have to see on handling. FOOD Jon Diaz suggested I try Lambert's restaurant in Sikesville, MO, my overnight on the first day out of Lisle. Lambert's is known as the 'home of the throwed rolls' which means, literally, they throw hot, chewy, tasty dinner rolls to (or at) you if you so much as raise an eyebrow. This is from anywhere in the cavernous dining room as the "Hot Rolls" wagon is trundling through. Add to this bread extravaganza, truly gigantic portions of tasty food, tons of side dishes (fried okra, stewed tomatoes, etc., etc.), good prices, and a festive atmosphere and you have one hell of a dinner experience. Recommended! CARLSBAD CAVERNS After crossing Texas on US 82 (a 'recommended road' (tm)' for the portion west of I-35), I arrived in Carlsbad, NM and the Carlsbad Caverns National Park. For $6 you can take a fascinating walking tour of about 2 1/2 miles; enter the caverns by the natural entrance, hike down about a mile of passageways to the 'Big Room' some 800 feet below the surface, and then stroll around a circuit through several cavernous (sorry!) rooms which provide a wonderful spectacle of limestone formations (stalagtites, stalactites, etc.), shimmering pools, and colorful mineral deposits. Follow this up with the sunset lecture and viewing of the exodus of a half million Mexican free-tail bats from the cave on their nightly foray for insects and you have a truly memorable experience. Highly recommended! _____________________________________ TO BE CONTINUED..... _______________________________ Terry Smith IBMWR, BMWMOA Woods Hole, MA CDROM, AMA tsmith2NoSpam@NoSpamwhsun1.wh.whoi.edu '96 R1100RT, '84 R100RS ________________________________ From gdaltonNoSpam@NoSpamInfoAve.Net (gene dalton) Date: Sun, 21 Sep 1997 20:43:57 -0500 Subject: BMW: Golden Aspen Rally This past week I attended the all-brands 28th annual Golden Aspen Rally in Ruidoso, New Mexico. Ruidoso is located at about 7000 feet in the beautiful pine and juniper covered Capitan Mountains. It is a laid back tourist town with a 1940's and 50's atmosphere and has not become as urbanized and gentrified as some of its better known and more frequented rivals in the mountainwest. Sking, throughbred racing, a nearby casino, and a lovely alpine setting are its principal attractions. In my opinion, it is an ideal site. The new Convention Center was headquarters for the rally. I saw a good representation of BMWs in the parking lot and on the streets but Harleys and Goldwings were the predominant types of bikes observed. This rally is much smaller than Sturgis, Laconia, and Daytona and did not have the hectic, elbow to elbow atmosphere of those rallies. Last year there were about 3500-4000 rally registrants and another 10,000-12000 day pass attendees for its 5 day run. I don't know what this years final attendance numbers were but I would guess they were close to last years. I left my home in Shelbyville,Tn. early Tuesday morning and arrived at the River Ranch Campground near Rudiso about 2:00pm Wednesday. This campground had been recommended by IBMWR president Steve Atkins and a fine recommendation it was. It was located about 12 miles from the Convention Center, was owned and operated by a motorcyclist who coincidentally happened to own a campground, and had many shaded campsites along a river which ran through it. Campsites were only $6 per night and shower and other facilities(club house, pool table, and TV lounge) were very good. Later that afternoon, I bought a $5 day pass and made my customary tour of the vendors. Visited for a few minutes with Steve and his SO Becky,the blowgun lady, who were also vendors. They seemed to be doing a brisk business and I,in fact,bought a blowgun from them. Leaving the rally, I then took a ride up the twisty road to the ski lodge near the top of 12,000 foot Sierra Blanca Mountain and had planned to ride the ski lift to the top but the lodge was closed when I arrived. Nevertheless the views from this road are spectacular as it climbs to about 11,000 feet before a short descent to the lodge. On Thursday I made a trip to Carlsbad Caverns and took the 2 hour, self guided, walk in entrance tour. Awesome best describes Carlsbad. This was my first visit. I had been in a few other caves but nothing to compare to Carlsbad. I also joined the "Adopt-A-Bat" program. My $5 adoption fee got me a picture of my adoptee, a certificate of adoption, and a booklet containing information about the importance of these beneficial and gentle animals. I also bought a NPS passport and got Carlsbad as my first stamp. Since I'm so far behind the big boys(no pun intended) in this contest, I think I'll just visit my local rubber stamp maker Monday morning and have some stamps made-up. I'll show Mike Cornett and Greg Pink how to collect alot of stamps in a hurry and not have to ride to many miles to do it. On Friday I had planned to visit the space museum at Alamogordo,the Roswell UFO site(to see where they actually visited us),and the Lincoln County Courthouse(this is Billy-the-Kid country), however there was a message on my answering machine Thursday night that some out-of-state friends would be coming by the house on Sunday so I started back home Friday morning arriving in Shelbyville late Saturday afternoon. The trip to and from Ruidoso was a long, boring, run mostly on I-40, US-60,and US-70 and any description of it would only be worthy of a quick trip to your delete key so I'll skip any of those details. Many thanks to Steve Akins for encouraging me to attend this rally and for advise on things to do and see in the area. I recommend this rally as a fine alternative to the regular BMW type rally. The location and facilities are excellent and there are many attractions and points-of-interest in the Ruidoso area. Date: Sun, 28 Sep 1997 15:37:28 +0100 From: Nick Horley Subject: BMW: The best roads in Europe Returned home yesterday from a brief tour through France, Germany, Switzerland, Italy and Spain, and just ploughed through over 1500 postings, so this report will be brief! Accompanied by my Suzuki RF-900 mounted friend Joss, I took off on my R1100GS nearly two weeks ago. Our aim was to get down to the South of France to see the Bol d'Or, Europe's greatest 24 hour bike race, using only twisty minor roads with great scenery. The autoroute, autobahn, autovia and autopista were to be shunned, tourist traffic and heavy lorries were to be avoided. Starting with the Channel Tunnel to get us from home in England to the continent, we did a 2800 mile loop across France via Burgundy and the Jura mountains, touched on the south west corner of Germany, crossed Switzerland via a few high Alpine passes, sneaked over a couple of Italian Alps, carried on down through the French Alps to the Mediterranean, stopped off at the race, traversed southern France, crossed the Pyrenees into Spain through the Vall d'Aran, dropped south a few hundred miles to the mountains of El Maestrazgo, and cut north west across two or three more mountain ranges to the Atlantic port of Santander where we took ship for the 24 hour cruise back to England. We spent nine days on the bikes, averaging around 300 miles, or about 3000 corners per day. In France and Switzerland we passed hundreds of other bikes on the road, many of them part of the 100,000 strong Bol d'Or crowd. We raced everybody we saw, and each other, and wore out a complete set of tyres. I had the pleasure of dropping not only Joss, but also just about every kind of Ducati, GSX-R, CBR, YZF and ZXR in production. Much of the action was captured on a video camera taped to my pannier. The only bikes I couldn't pass were two Fireblades - but they didn't get away from me either. Neither of us crashed, but we had a few heart in the mouth moments on gravel patches. My sidestand, replaced only three weeks ago due to wear, snapped, causing lots of expensive cosmetic damage. My newly fitted third gearbox was beautifully smooth, but after a 120 mph blast 1500 miles into the trip the bike suddenly started vibrating a great deal. At over 100 the effect on my hands was sometimes very unpleasant, and left them tingling for hours at the end of the day. Otherwise the 3 year old, 40,000 mile GS performed stunningly well. The Acrybre screen, which looks standard but is 4" higher, reduced fatigue and kept the bugs off my visor. My new Harrison 6 pot calipers reintroduced me to Jap sports bike standards of braking, but without having to junk the ABS. And the suspension and torque proved to a lot of other riders that sports bikes are redundant on real world roads. What about the roads? Well, I'd already been round France, Spain and Italy a few times, so I knew how good they can be. But I hadn't been to Switzerland before, and had always wondered why everyone raves about it. Surely, I thought, the roads will be choked with traffic and the food will be boring. Yup - Switzerland is the pits. Call me antisocial, but I won't go back. However great the corners are, I don't enjoy them when scores of other bikes are dawdling along, wasting the best lines. And I don't enjoy mountain views unless I get a sense of exploring the world's wild places; how can you have that when there's always a tour bus at the top? And as for taking a guided motorcycle tour to the Swiss Alps - I'd rather go to the dentist. If that's your idea of a bike holiday, get a life! I'm in two minds about telling you where the best roads in Europe are; I want them to myself! But I know that no more than one or two of you will have the gumption to go there, so here goes: it's not France, although she comes a very close second, it's deepest, darkest rural Spain. Not long ago Spain was reputed to have some of the worst roads in Europe, and it still does. But entry to the EEC released huge grants for roadbuilding, which is crucial to the Spanish government. Cut off from each other for centuries by more mountains than any other country in Europe (yes, you read that right), the Spanish have regional loyalties rather than a strong national identity. So even in the most craggy, remote, depopulated backwater you'll find glistening new tarmac, snaking through canyons and over mountains, the endless sequence of perfectly engineered constant radius curves cajoling you into getting your knee down at 110 even if you've never tried it in your life. Oh and by the way, there's probably no greenery to stop you seeing all the way through the corner. And not a single car for ten minutes at a time. And no radar traps. If you're not a Basque terrorist, and you're polite when asked for your passport in the random roadside ID checks, you'll have little to fear from the police. And the scenery is so beautiful that it's hard to keep your eyes glued to the road for very long. Now and again, as you're starting to believe that you've been sucked into a computer game, the road abruptly changes back to a devious, unpredictable thirty year old washboard surface, and then you're glad you're on an R1100GS instead of a 916SP. And you look around and appreciate that you're in one of the most primitive parts of Western Europe. At times the landscape is so striking, so powerful, so intimidating, so moving, that you start to believe that people can disappear into it. Remember Tolkien, and imagine the rocks and trees watching you... At the end of a day of hard riding, where are you going to get a good shower, an edible meal, and a soft bed? You don't speak much Spanish, and the people you've passed in the villages are wary of motorcycle-mounted strangers. Their idea of luxury is simply having enough bread, ham and cheese to eat. Haute cuisine is not on their agenda. Never fear, the government has the solution again. When the car appeared in the '20s, the Spanish government decided that it could be a valuable tool for promoting inter-regional fraternisation. To encourage travel they established the Paradores, a national network of hotels within a day's drive of each other, then about 80 miles. Most of the hotels are converted from mediaeval castles, convents and the like. There's even one in the Alhambra, one of the world's greatest palaces. Many of them look breathtaking from the outside, and they're all very comfortable and well equipped on the inside - attractive rooms, CNN, minibar, direct dial phone, sophisticated restaurant, English-speaking staff. If that's not enough, they're even marked on Michelin road maps, AND signposted as soon as you enter town, and they cost around 35-50 UKP a night, for two. The ones away from the major tourist centres are run at a loss, so go soon before they're privatised. So don't be put off by rural Spain's apparent unsophistication. Armed with no more than a tourist handbook (the Rough Guide to Spain is good) and a Michelin map (preferably the 1/400,000 scale), any fool can have the motorcycling holiday of a lifetime on their first visit, with zero local knowledge. You can't rent bikes there, so if you can't bring your own bike rent one in England. It's one day's ferry ride away, on a comfortable ship with proper restaurants, a pool, a cinema and sometimes clay pigeon shooting off the deck. Boats go from Portsmouth to Bilbao and Plymouth to Santander. The coastal area around the ports doesn't have much to offer bikers, and the far north west has even more rainfall than Wales, so head south or east fast. It's hard to believe that this much fun can be legal - do it now before the Brussels bureaucrats wake up to what's going on! Date: Tue, 30 Sep 1997 12:02:31 +0000 From: Richard Alves Subject: BMW: Restricted K1200 & Edelweiss vs Bosenberg Tours Steven J. Puig wrote: > Is anybody riding a restricted, 98hp K1200? What's it like to ride this My wife and I just completed the Edelweiss Med-Alps tour. No one on the K1200's was complaining about any lack of power. > Does anyone have any pros or cons regarding Edelweiss. However, Edelweiss also seems to be more structured than Bosenberg and we're looking for flexibility in our tour as well. Aside from the nightly accomodations, you can be as flexible as you care to be. Their ONLY request was if you are going to miss an evening meal, please let one of the guides know. You can follow a guide or go on your own. You can follow one of the suggested routes, or make one up yourself. We had a thoroughly enjoyable time, and for us it will be a definite repeat. - -- Rich Alves ===================== '88 R100RT, Brunhilde '97 F650, Liesl Date: Wed, 1 Oct 1997 13:34:21 -0600 From: torsNoSpam@NoSpammcn.net (Duner Tor) Subject: Re: BMW: BMW TRIP TO GUADALAJARA Info needed >Hi all, > I know a lot of President on the list have traveled in Mexico. It has >been a long time since I was down there and know many things have changed. > Myself and a friend are going to the BMW Rally down there in 2 >weeks and I >would appreciate any tip or suggestion on our trip. > We are planning on crossing at Laredo and spending the night in >Saltillo, >before going on down to Guadalajara. > >Hey, anyone else headed in that direction? > >TIA, > >Bob Smith ***Armadillo Rider*** >Tyler, Tx. >bomarNoSpam@NoSpamtyler. ================================ Suggestions; 1..Buy your insurance at Sanborn's in Laredo and avail yourself of their excellent,free guidebooks. 2.Spring for the toll roads. Pull up to the toll booths in tandem.Sometimes they'll only charge for one vehicle because there's only 4 wheels. 3. Make sure you stop at the border on your way out to turn in all the paperwork. In Laredo it's not obviously marked where to do this, so it's easy to sail across the Rio Grande before you know what's happening. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Duner Tor Bozeman,Montana '96 GS "Assface" '95 LT '93 KLR '97 Bandit 1200 Date: Wed, 08 Oct 1997 23:01:03 +0100 From: georg.schaafNoSpam@NoSpamt-online.de (Georg schaaf) Subject: BMW: Alps, or what to do on a long weekend. Hi all restless riders! Just to let your mouth water I'm going to tell you the story of my long weekend in the Alps. I could escape from work at 6pm on Thursday - so much for a early start. Loaded my R100R an got on the Autobahn southbound. Near *Heidelberg* I stopped at a friend of mine. Friday morning turned out to be cold an so we put our long underwear on. The ride to *Basel* was quite uneventful. Only 2 traffic jams to muster up. By the time we reached the Swiss boarder the sun was out and the temperature up in the low twenty degree Celsius. No need for winter gloves but for sunshades. Big grin on our faces as we engaged in our first twisties. Via *Sursee* we found a small road to our first "Pass" *Glaubenbuelenpass* (1611m). Slowly first but with each mile faster we rode downhill and got the swing. Perfect weather and no traffic. *Grimselpass* (2165m) was next to come. Boy, we had fun! Before we reached the top we tangled up in sort of race with each other. New tires and the first time on my old airhead after a year had to be managed. I needed a while before I was able to bent her down like in old times. >From *Brig* we took the road to *Simplonpass* (2005m). This "Pass" is not as beautiful but has a very good paved road. Sunshine awaited us in "Bella Italia". From *Domodossola* leads a nice road to *Malesco* and then bikers heaven is close at hand. A really narrow road with uncountable curves and bends leads us to our destination *Cannobio* at *Lago Maggiore*. Before dusk we build up out tend with the help of our fellow bikers with are allready there. As we are in "Pizza-Country" one of our mates ordered a table for ten and we had a decent dinner before we got further in our testing of "Lambrusco" a delicious red wine. Merrymaking lasted long into the night. (Nice description for getting pissed wouldn't you agree?) Getting up in a tent is always more easy than in a comfortable hotel bed. And getting on the road is more easy if you are on your own instead with a group of ten riders. Anyway before noon we got moving towards *Malesco*. You know the fabulous winding road. A Honda Pan European, a Triumph Daytona T 595 and my R100R took the lead. Race time. No problem to chase the two in front of me. And good luck for me to pluck in my ear protectors as the Triumph is terrible loud. But the sound is somehow nice and fit the bike. From time to time we wait until the rest shows up. Fun fore everyone. We split in *Domodossola* as some of us wants to ride the *Simplon*. The rest is bound for *Val Antiorio*. After a bit of searching our scout discovers the right way and we ride on to *Riale* and *Lake di Morasco*. The valley is a dead end and so we had to turn back. I scouted a bit gravel road alongside the water reservoir while my mates relax in a cafe. As I stop in the parking lot my front wheel blocks in the sand and no SSU for me. And the bunch of them giving applause for my stunt. Happy me because there is one helping hand to get the RSD again. No damage done only to my reputation and a hot "Cappuchino" heals that fast. On the way back we ride our favorite road again. Overtaking cars is a bitch if they don't support you. Concentration has to be on the road all the time. A snake crosses the way and the "Moto Guzzi" in front of me brakes hard where I thought him to accelerate. Some surplus of adrenaline on my side. You better check your breaks before coming to the Alps. A bit of beach party is taking place as we arrive back at the campground. Wine and roasted chestnuts for free as courtesy of the owner of the camp. After it got dark we found our way to an other "Pizzeria" and had the same procedure than yesterday, only with some more people. Temperatures are in the middle twenty's even at 9pm and we sit in the open and enjoy our meal. These Italian Prezzes are some of god's favourite folks! Living in that sort of climate. I put the blanket of silence on our other activities that evening. One of the sad things on such a meeting is the time when all of us have to depart again. Sunday morning we packed our bags and said good by to our fellows. A friend of mine and I have to more days to spend. In good mode we find our way along the shores of *Lago Maggiore* to *Verbania* where we take the ferry to the other side. there seems to be a bike gathering at *Laveno*. Hundreds of bikes are on the road as we progress via *Varese* to *Como*. Not one of the recommendable roads of the area. Along the *Lago di Como* we have to fight with the heavy traffic. But you have some great views over the lake. Weather turns out to be hot today. We headed for *Sondrio* an it is there that we decide to make a detour. Yes the circumstances are perfect to see the *Pso. d. Stelvio" again. The plan to stay at EP3 hotel are abandoned. Instead we turn towards Swiss and back to Italy via *Pso Forcola di Livigno* (2315m). We enjoy every mile. And if you are in the area make sure you refill your bike before leaving *Livigno* again. Cheapest fuel in Europe! A narrow tunnel brings us back to Switzerland again. Great acoustics on acceleration in the tunnel. *Ofenpass* (2149m) is great to ride. The road towards *Umbailpass* (2501m) is in terrible condition and for some miles even gravel road. Not to nice to ride on. But a coupe of miles later we are top of *Stilfser Joch* (2757m). What a view. Our bikes are not the only ones on the parking area. It seams that more bikies are not working on Monday. Just before dusk we reach *Merano* were we find our self a hotel and call it a day. Excellent day today. October is one of the best months for visiting this part of the Alps. The breakfast buffet turns out to be the fist delay for the day. But on the "Autobahn" towards *Bolzano* we make up for it. Heavy traffic in town is slowing us down again. But as soon as we found our way to the *Val di Tires* pure fun starts again. And there is more rubber to be spend on the roads. It's the wrong time for *Pso. Nigra* (1688m) because the sun on our eyes makes us blink. Via *Karer Pass* we blast towards *Canzei*. Uphill to *Pso. di Sella* (2244m) followed by *Pso di Gardena* (2121m) and *Pso di Campolongo* (1875m). Make sure you have your camera and enough film with you. Fresh tires and break pads I mentioned earlier on. This is overwhelming. A Helicopter ride would be fun too. After a "Cappuchino" we are bound for *Col di Lana* , *Pso. di Falzarego* (2105m), and *Pso di Valparola*. A narrow road via *Pso di Erbe*(2004m) lead us to *Bressanone* No traffic at all makes this kind of tracks perfect for riding and enjoying the scenery at the same time. Last "Pass" of the day is *Jaufenpass* (2099m). Downhill I had to go ahead and figure out how to let my old lady work me into a sweat. Big grin on our faces. Such days are seldom enough. A pension is found soon in *St. Leonardo* to find a open "Pizzeria" is not as easy. But in the end we even get our usual tasty dinner. To say good by to Italy is always hard. It is raining in the morning and we have to find our way to *Timmelsjoch* (2509m). Visibility is down to 30 feet and headlight isn't cutting the fog well. My pair of glasses and the visor on the helmet are not helping anymore. Washing the face in the morning proof as unnecessary. Our average speed goes down to 20mph. Nothing to see than white cotton-wool. But in the end luck is on our side again. 600ft below the top of the "Pass" on the Austrian side weather is fine again. Out of the rain gear and in riding mode again. Mind the speed traps and other expensive road violation. *Hahntennjoch* (1884m) is the last "Pass" before we enter Germany again. Fife hundred kilometer (312miles) later I'm home again. Fifty km before I reached my garage it starts to poring down like hell. My bike an me got washed to the surface. Even with my rain suite on I manage it to sit in a puddel. But I'm in good mode as I speed through the heavy curtain of rain. Passing cages with pity looking drivers behind there steering wheel, unable to know the joy I feel. How long until EP3 ?? I count the days to be back in "Bella Italia". Regards - -- - --- georg.schaafNoSpam@NoSpamt-online.de (Koblenz, Germany) Date: Wed, 08 Oct 1997 22:24:51 From: Larry Fears Subject: BMW: Rally Virgin Deflowered Tarbutt Rally adventures: Elsie has already given us an excellent account but I thought it might be interesting to hear my impressions as a new comer to the endurance rally scene. Riding long distance is something that I have been doing more and more lately and after this past x-mas and the Reindeer Ride I knew I was hooked and I had to go to the next level. It was purely fate that shortly after this Herbie published the details of the Tarbutt rally. I still remember that as I was writing the check and filling out the paperwork I was questioning my sanity. :-) But after I was at the start of the Iron Butt I found I couldn't wait until the Tarbutt. Friday morning Elsie and I met in Springfield, VA for the run down and the hightlight of the trip was making it on the same tank of gas. No big deal for some but I just had an 8.5 gallon tank built for my KLT and I was beyond excited about being able to go 305 miles without touching feet. :-) I spent most of the trip down wondering what the hell I was going to do to win this rally. This may seem bold but I don't know how to do it any other way. I set out to win but refuse to get upset if I don't. With that said my second place finish was a complete surprise to me as I figured that a top five finish was going to require a 1300 - 1400 mile run. The way it was it turned out I was way to conservative with my planning as I returned to Greenville almost 2.5 hours early. But I get ahead of the story. After the riders meeting on Friday night I headed back to my hotel room and sat down with the rally pack and the map and kind of just stared at it. Fortunately for me I had emailed Mike Stewart before the event and he gave me what was to be the best advice of the rally. He told me to forget all else and just sit down with my map; circle the checkpoints, bonus locations and write their points next to them and a route would come to me. Believe it or not he was spot on. Prior to the rally I had looked at the contestants and knew it was going to be a competitive event but thought I might have two things to my advantage. The first is that I regularly (once or twice a month) stay up for 24-30 hours and knew that I could do this run without stopping for sleep. The other was that I am willing to log more time on the bike. My whole focus during this event was to minimize wasted time. If I had to be off the bike it had to be for a bonus point or gas. Eating? Hell that is why I bought a Duotech. Besides I love the looks I get from cagers as I pass them doing 80 eating a sandwich. :-) Anyway the help of Elsie Smith during the planning session was the finishing touch of a great planning session. The next morning I awoke before the alarm and got the bike packed up and tried to contain my nervous energy. As it came time for me to depart I hit my 24 hour clock and the countdown began. The first leg required a run to Elizabeth City with possible bonus locatons along the way. I decided to forget about bonus points on this run so as to give me more time for some bigger points later in the run and after using some backroads suggested by Richard Bernicker I made fantastic time to E City. As I pulled into the gas station the first 3 riders to leave the start where getting ready to leave. As Elsie told Rt 17 was under construction but was also dispatched by me with some agressive use of the passing afterburner. The funniest of the passes was when I was annoyed with a mini van and dropped what I thought was one gear to pass. As it turns out I somehow dropped it into first so that when I popped the clutch and goosed the throttle the front tire came clear of the pavement. I don't know who had a more surprised look on their face me or the kid in the backseat of that mini van. :-) Next was a run to Mt. Airy. Along the way I stopped for the bonus at the Country Doctor museum, Lizard Lick town hall, and the Cracker Barrel bonus in Burlington. This bonus required you to get a receipt with a menu item on it. Being a veteran of Cracker Barrels around the country I knew I could get a takeout menu item at the register. The only thing that slowed me down was having to explain when I told her I wanted to order a soda, pay for it but didn't want it. :-) After a stop at the Durham bulls baseball park I realized that I was way ahead of schedule so I was in the unhappy position of trying to figure out what to add to my run so as to not waste my time. As I blitzed up the freeway towards Mt. Airy I saw the signs for Old Salem and decided to turn off at the last minute. Herbie is a sneeky bastard because this bonus asked what was God's Acre and what date was the first easter service. No problem but I didn't get off the bike and just wrote down the first date on the plaque. Lucky for me I looked at it again before I took off because I had written the wrong date. Sneeky Herbie, sneeky! From there it was off to Mt. Airy for the timed receipt and a trip to Floyd's Barbershop. I almost blew off this bonus as it was only 15 points but I grew up on Andy Griffith reruns and I HAD to see Floyd's barber shop. This turned out to be the second place clincher as the 3rd place finisher, Mike Gasper, decided to blow it off and he was 10 points behind me. So for at least until next year's Tarbutt I get to ask him if he has had a trim lately. ;-) On to Asheville and I am way early. I'm within 20 miles of Asheville and it is only 5:15. A quick glance at the map says it is the Batcave bonus. Now I enjoy twisties just like everyone but not when i am trying to make time. But it worked as I burned up the necessary time and made it to Asheville about 6:35. From here I head south and begin my turn west. I pick up the Hendersonville 95 point bonus and streak east as the sun sets. I too had to stop and ask directions at the drive in then the NASCAR track. From there I buzz down 38 into SC and on to Myrtle Beach. It is approaching midnight and I am flying by now. I finally roll into Myrtle Beach via 501 and I stop to get a receipt for proof. At this point my perverse side takes over and I decide that my "proof" is going to be a receipt from the XXX adult store I see on the road. I haven't been in one of these in years and I waste too much time making my magazine selection. Big un's finally wins out and it is back on the bike to discover I had wasted my money as I needed a GAS receipt. Oh well, I got a good story out of it and a nice christmas gift for someone. :-) After I leave MB a stop at Colemans seafood restaraunt in Calabash gets me 158 more points. At this point I fire up the 110 watt PIAA's and the night turns into day. God I love these things. Apparently too much as the combo of the lights, stereo and heated gear conspire to drain the battery, unknown to me. I stop for the required receipt in Wilimington and as I climb back on the bike it gives one pathetic crank and won't start. My heart falls. I have been having a great run and I can't believe it. Hell this is a BMW I say to myself. Start damnit. As it turns out the rally gods are smiling on me as one lane over a tow truck driver is parked. 10 minutes later and I am on the road. I streaK north and towards Greenville. As I head up 40 I see the exit for the Moorefield Battlefield and a 105 point bonus. Yes I knew that the place closed at 5 p.m. and it is now 3:30 a.m. but I HAVE to try. :-) I get down there and it turns out that I would have to break the gate to get in. I begin to ponder the idea of being caught for trespass. But I brighten when I remember that I don't have this stamp yet for my passport. Sure I'll have to B&E the visitor's center but in for a dime in for a dollar. :-) I'm happy to report that reason won out and I head back to Greenville. I get back 2.5 hours early and curse my conservative planning. A quick glance at the map shows I have more than enough time to run out to Bath and the bonus at Thompson church. As I ride back I figure I did ok for my first rally and I am pretty sure I will be in the top ten. As I already said you could have knocked me over with a feather as Herbie announced me as second. What did I learn? Well contrary to popular belief there were but a few times that I went more than 20 mph over the speed limit. Coincidetally it was in 1990 that I learned from the NC state troopers what happens when they get you for 105 mph. Go straight to jail and pay your $200. I was determined not to have a repeat. I also learned that I was way conservative in my planning and in the future I would rather have to lop some points off rather than try to add them when I am on the run. All in all I had a great time and especially enjoyed getting the chance to meet several of my fellow list memembers. I think everyone had a good time and I am looking forward to next year. But first the '98 Butt Buster. Larry Fears lgfcoNoSpam@NoSpamerols.com '93 K1100LTA "Blue Max" '85 K100RT "Gumby" R.I.P. '92 Mazda Miata "Half Cage" Gaithersburg, MD AMA, MOA, BMWBMW, SOD #5, Reindeer Rider BMWBMW Rides Chairman, Rolling Broccoli Rider *** "This whole working thing really gets in the way of my riding."- Me*** Date: Sun, 19 Oct 1997 01:12 +-200 From: b.harrisonNoSpam@NoSpamibm.net Subject: BMW: Turkey Crossing Saturday, October 18, 1997 Selcuk, Turkey Turkey Crossing Travelling by ferry has been a major theme of this trip and, having put my motorcycle on probably 20 or 30 ferries since arriving in Europe, I thought I had seen it all. But that was before yesterday's trip from the island of Rhodes in Greece to Marmaris, Turkey. I should have known I was in for trouble when the lady at the ferry office couldn't tell me which day the ferry would travel from Rhodes to Turkey. There are hydrofoils, or "flying boats" as they are called, every day, but they are too small to carry vehicles. The "big" boat that carries vehicles and passengers travels daily during the summer but on a "less frequent" basis in the fall and winter. It was the specific definition of "less frequent" that interested me. After two days of checking back at the ferry office I was told that there would be a boat on Friday, almost certainly, or at least probably, and that there was space still available for me and my motorcycle. On Friday I arrived, as I had been instructed, precisely at 1:30 p.m. to check-in for my trip. The problem was that I couldn't find the boat. The port of Rhodes is quite a large place and does a fair business with the cruise ships that ply the Aegaen. On Friday there was one of the largest cruise ships I have ever seen in my life tied up at the port along with a dozen other ships that had looked big the day before but were now dwarfed by the Grandaddy cruise ship at the end of the dock. It was so huge that I kept expecting to see airplanes catapulting from its decks but instead all I saw was an incredibly long string of Italian tourists departing the gangways, destined for the souvenir stands of Rhodes Old City. Finally I gave up and, showing my ticket with the name of the boat scribbled on top, asked at the Coast Guard station where I could find my ride. They said "its the blue boat over there," and pointed me off in a new direction. But I still couldn't find any blue boat, just huge Cunard cruise ships and flying hydrofoils. I started to panic because the 2:00 p.m. departure was quickly approaching and this would be the only ferry to Turkey for the next week. I must admit that I had a certain preconception of what this boat would look like based on my previous experiences with ferry boats in the Greek islands. All the others were huge ships with giant cargo holds, big enough for trains and trucks, and hundreds of cars and motorcycles. When I finally found the blue boat that was to take me to Turkey, it was no more than 75 feet long. I realized that I had walked right past it several times, looking up at the towering ships around it, thinking it was some sort of work boat or tender. It was a fishing boat originally, the best I could tell, and the rear deck, where the nets used to be, was now cleared so that cars and motorcycles could drive onboard. They said it had a capacity of five cars but unless they were those little clown cars like you see in the circus, I couldn't figure out how you could get five of anything on this boat. There were three customers for this particular passage: me, a german guy riding another BMW motorcycle, and a Canadian family making a year-long trip around the world in a Renault minivan. Once we got all three vehicles on the boat, with little room to spare, I got busy scrounging up some rope to tie my bike down so that one good wave wouldn't hurl it to the ocean's depths. The crew of our ship were three young Turkish guys wearing blue jeans and T-shirts. None of them spoke English but they were nice and gave me a big piece of rope which I lashed to the railing, then to my bike, then to the Renault minivan, in an attempt to make the whole affair stable. Before I knew it we were off, headed into a stiff 20-knot breeze on our tiny boat with a huge Turkish flag billowing out behind us. The passage was only about two hours and I had a great time talking to the Canadian family and to the German motorcyclist and fretting over my bike every time we hit a particularly substantial wave. But it never tipped over and before long we were pulling into Marmaris. In the customs office we were required to fill-out all manner of paperwork to insure that our vehicles were actually ours. It was one of those places where it seemed like there were three times the number of workers needed to get the job done and still the job only got done about half as fast as it should have. Each office had an identical portrait of Kemal Ataturk, the founder of modern Turkey, on the wall but there was only one guy with the official rubber stamp we needed to proceed on our way. So the German, the Canadian family, and I all waited patiently for each others stamping to take place, knowing we would soon be on our way. Finally around 5:30 p.m. we were finished stamping and free to go. I headed straight for a bank to get some cash as I had no Turkish currency. Right away I found an ATM, an oddly modern sight in the midst of the chaos that is Turkey, and inserted my card. Throughout Europe this has been my primary means of getting cash and it has worked flawlessly in every country. But this Turkish ATM just sucked up my card and started beeping and flashing dire messages in Turkish that I could not comprehend. I immediately panicked and ran into the lobby of the bank for help. It was about 6:00 p.m. on Friday but luckily the bank was still open. I found a teller who spoke some English and explained that the machine had just devoured my card. "Yes," he said nonchalantly, "that machine is broken." "You'll have to come back on Monday to get your card." I'm not sure if it was my scream that scared him, or if it was the fact that I began hyperventilating uncontrolably, but in either case, the teller realized right away that I didn't like his answer. Before long I had other tellers, then people that looked and acted like managers (i.e. they weren't working, just walking around trying to look important) asking me what the problem was. I told them again and again and before long they were unlocking the machine to retrieving my card. Once I got it back, I kissed it and put it back in my wallet, amazed by my luck in seeing it so quickly. My destination for the night was Bodrum, a resort town about 100 miles up the coast from Marmaris. After a quick stop to buy a road map I rode through the mountainous coastline, adjusting to a new language on the roadsigns and new signals and driving habits. The ride was uneventful and by 9:00 p.m. I had found a hotel in Bodrum and was sitting down to a late dinner in a cafe across the street. The lady at the hotel said the cafe was good but I knew I was in trouble when I saw a sign in the window advertising "Authentic English Fish and Chips" and the menu had, in addition to hamburgers, a "Ploughman's Lunch." I certainly hadn't come to Turkey to eat English food, so I ordered a grilled chicken kebab and struck up a conversation with two Irish girls and a Welsh couple who were sitting nearby. They were pleasant and the Welsh guy made a big fuss over how good the fish and chips were. I just ate my chicken kebab and tried to keep my mouth shut. It was warm and sunny on the coast in Bodrum this morning. I went back to the cafe across the street and had an "Authentic English Breakfast" of eggs, bacon and toast. After three months of bread and Marmalade for breakfast, it was a welcome change. I walked the town this morning and saw all the major sites my tour book had to offer by midafternoon. So I decided to head on to Selcuk, near the archaeological site at Ephesus, late in the day. Ephesus is one of the greatest archaeological sites in Europe and I have been really looking forward to seeing it. During the ride from Bodrum, the road passes quickly from the resort areas to the poverty-stricken reality of the Turkish countryside. A BMW motorcycle loaded with touring equipment must still be a rare sight here because I got more strange looks and attention here than I've gotten nearly anywhere else on my trip. In the villages, at every traffic light, groups of little kids would crowd around me, smile and wave, and look intently at the gear strapped to the motorcycle. They never bothered me or the bike and they never tried to steal anything, they just wanted to see the stranger who was passing through town. For most of the trip, the road passes through cotton fields where all the cotton is still picked by hand. Its harvest time now and the fields were full of workers, the grass and straw huts where they live lined the road for miles. Most of these huts were simple affairs of straw and mud with dirt floors, but some were made of old discarded lumber and others were covered in sheets of plastic to make them more watertight. I stopped along the road, as the sun was setting, to take a picture of these shanties and before I could get my camera out I heard the shouted greetings of a group of young boys who lived in a little village of straw huts. "Hello" they yelled in English and waved at me while their mother stood nearby. When I turned around again, they were standing right next to me. They had crawled through a culvert under the highway to get over to my side of the road to see me and my bike. There were three little boys, the oldest about eight and the youngest about four. I took their picture while they posed obediently. I carried away the image of the youngest boy, with eyes as big as saucers and a filthy face, stuffing figs into his mouth as he stared and smiled at me driving away. The ride up from Bodrum was only about 100 miles and I found a hotel recommended in my guide book pretty easily by riding my motorcycle up the middle of a pedestrian-only street, a stunt I have pulled, sometimes intentionally, sometimes unintentionally, more often than I care to admit during the course of this trip. But I'm still having trouble adjusting to Turkish currency. It just seems like Monopoly money to me. When I checked into the hotel here tonight the guy at the desk showed me the room. It is pretty nice compared to most places I've stayed. It has a private bath, a balcony that looks over the garden, clean towels, and a telephone in the room for connecting to the internet. When I asked him the price, he said "2,500,000 lira per night, breakfast included." It took me a minute to calculate that this is about $14. I said "fine" and proceeded to dismantle the telephone jack and connect my computer for the call to IBM's POP in Istanbul. After I got my messages I headed out to dinner, finally finding an authentic Turkish restaurant, which was a welcome site after my experiences in Bodrum. I had lamb with rice and potatoes, a salad, wine, dessert, and turkish coffee, all for less than a million and a half lira, about $8. It was fantastic. There was an American guy in the restaurant, a retired IBM'er from Boulder, Colorado, who was travelling in Turkey for a few weeks. We talked over dessert and Turkish coffee as the restaurant was closing. But now its after 2 a.m. and the effects of the Turkish coffee are wearing off, so I'll bring this note to a close and head to bed. Tomorrow I will tour Ephesus and maybe search for more good Turkish food. Or maybe I'll ride back out into the countryside instead and see if that little boy has any more figs he's willing to share. Date: Tue, 21 Oct 1997 09:35:17 -0700 From: Nancy Evelyn Gold Subject: BMW: Death Valley Report (Part 1/5) Ride Report: 4th Queer Biker Invasion of Death Valley, Oct. 11-13, 1997 The Queer Biker Invasion of Death Valley is an annual event "disorganized" by Michael Psycle Bettinger. The three day ride starts in San Francisco then crosses the Sierras at the highest driveable point in California (Tioga Pass) then down to the lowest point in the U.S. (Death Valley) and back to the Bay Area via Bakersfield. Michael's route covers some of the most wonderful motorcycle territory in California. It's 1000 miles of beautiful scenery, curves from challenging to long and fast, and deserted straight roads. This year was my first year on the ride, not my last. The Week Before Going on a 3 day motorcycle odyessy takes planning. I convinced my best buddy Hillary (BMW R1100RT) to join me on the trip then made hotel reservations in Bishop and Bakersfield. There were two issues left to be resolved; getting the bike ready and watching the weather. The earliest winter storm in memory dumped cold rain on the Bay Area and snow down to 6000 feet in the Sierras. This meant keeping an eye on the weather and hoping for the best. My motorcycle, a 1993 BMW K1100LT was designed for exactly this type of trip, but any machine is only as good as it's weakest part. It was time for an oil change and to remove the break-in oil from my new transmission (long story). I also needed to change the worn rear brake pads. While picking up the parts and oil at CalBMW I noticed my rear tire had a lot of wear. One of the staff explained that the roads in Death Valley are pretty coarse, he added that my tire would be bald by the time I got home. On Wednesday night I replaced the brake pads. Thursday morning I took my bike in for a new rear tire and to replace the rear brake fluid. It was raining Thursday in the Bay Area, it was snowing in the Sierras. Tioga Pass was now closed. Friday, October 10th Tioga Pass opened late in the day. Things were looking up but there was still a chance of snow. The oil still needed to be changed and I needed to pack and prep the bike. I had a very busy day at work and it wasn't till after 5:00 that I could even think of starting on the bike. I took the bike out for a small run, came home, got out the oil bucket and started to work on her. Only one problem... my #8 metric allen wrench was missing, the one needed to remove the oil plug and the transmission fill cap. Off I go to Orchard to buy a replacement (a big $1.67). I got home about 6:30 and it was already getting dark. Out came the shop light and about an hour later my baby had new crankcase and transmission oil. (BTW, Spectro SPL Synthetic Gear Oil smells really rank after it's been used!) I ate a light dinner and did a quick packing job. One saddle bag liner and my back seat bag were almost filled. I set the alarm for 5:00 AM and turned in at 10:00. ------------------------------ Date: Tue, 21 Oct 1997 09:35:23 -0700 From: Nancy Evelyn Gold Subject: BMW: Death Valley Report (Part 2/5) Saturday, October 11th Got up, panicked, showered and finished packing. I put on a pair of leggings, ski socks, jeans, t-shirt, over shirt and my short boots. My chaps remained in the other saddle bag for the moment, it was only 58 F, I could deal without my chaps. By 6:30 AM I was putting the last of the stuff in the bike. Grabbed the camera kissed my girlfriend and took off to meet Hillary for the ride to San Francisco. I needed to leave at 6:30, I pulled out at 10 of. Two miles from home I realized I forgot my tall boots, back home then a mad dash to Hillary's place. Hillary was still finishing loading when I got there. We left her place at 7:30 for a race up 101 to San Francisco. The meeting time is 8:00 AM, we make it with 10 minutes to spare. There were close to twenty bikes on Castro waiting to leave, we actually pull out at 8:30. I took the time to introduce myself to some folks and change into my tall boots and chaps. This would prove to be a good move. The first check of the road conditions found Tioga Pass closed again. Michael called to find a 50% chance it will be open by the time we get there. The good news is that the weather is clear... cold, but clear. We headed toward the pass for lunch, Michael would make the final call after lunch. We made our way to the Bay Bridge and I turned the CD changer up to the tune of Cheap Trick's cover of "Magical Mystery Tour". South on 580, East on 205, then East on 120. On route I learned a very interesting feature of this ride. It really is disorganized, people pass each other almost jockeying for position, the slower riders fall back and the faster ones that know the route take off. No one seems to cop an attitude though. Just outside of Big Oak Flat we headed up Old Priest Grade. From the ride map: "It's a great little twisty old road and will save you from being stuck in back of some truck or RV for five miles.", this may be so, but we were stuck behind some pretty slow cars and pick-ups. The steep grade and slow speed really heated up my engine. We stopped for gas in Big Oak Flat then had lunch at PJ Cafe. Tioga Pass was still closed as was Sonora Pass (CA 108). There were three choices: head south to Bakersfield and reverse the route, head south and then back up US 395 and miss the Sierras, or head North 170 miles out of the way and take Carson Pass (CA 88) to Monitor Pass (CA 89) to US 395. The vote was for North, beginning the most challenging ride most of the riders had ever done. We headed North on CA 49 to Jackson. Hillary wasn't behind me when we pulled out of PJ Cafe. I assumed she'd pass her way up to me as she'd done before. When we stopped in Jackson for gas Hillary and two other bikes were no shows. I started to worry. (It would turn out that Hillary didn't have enough notice that we were leaving and fell behind enough to miss a turn, she had to find a map) Before heading up 88 I added a sweatshirt to my many layers. Michael lead the group out of the Chevron station in Jackson. I wasn't quite ready so I ended up a few minutes behind. There was a bit of car traffic on 88 as it headed toward the city of Volcano. One by one I passed them, I was the only rider from the group in sight. The road started to climb as I noticed a small amount of snow in a few shady spots on the road. The temperature began to drop and those little patches of snow turned to a light covering on both sides of the road. I was careful to watch my speed in shady areas, I didn't want to encounter any ice. I finally meet up with some of the slower riders, I passed them and continued up road. I don't remember the exact turn I came out of but pretty quickly I was struck by the awesome sight of deep snow everywhere but the road. The mountains were spectacular but I couldn't just look at them, there were more important matters to deal with, like staying alive. It was now in the thirties and my heated grips alone were not enough. Snow was falling from the pine trees in big clumps. When I pulled off to switch to my ski gloves I shook my head and snow came off my helmet. This was unique... There can't be too many days in the year when you can ride a motorcycle through freshly snow covered mountains. In spite of the cold and danger, it was worth every minute to me. >From nearly the time I left Jackson I was playing Steely Dan on the CD changer, I had a four disc set. The music was keeping me calm as a occasionally screamed "THIS IS INSANE!". I'm a fairly experienced rider, I knew two things, how to deal with the conditions, and why I shouldn't be. I passed the Kirkwood Ski Area to see the group on the left at a small gas station and restaurant. I got the camera out to take a picture of my bike in the snow, NO FILM!. It was too cold for me to consider getting a roll from the store, I just wanted to get to a warmer area. I decided to press on ahead of the rest of the group. A few other riders did the same. Coming out of Kirkwood we climbed a little before starting down near the high point of the pass which also had very steep drop offs. There was slush and ice on the road. It seemed like I came out of the snow pretty quickly. The temperature didn't get too much better (from a low of 31.9 to the low 40s) but the road was clean and dry. I meet up with one of the other women on the ride who wasn't sure where to turn, I kept her in sight up till the turn off to Monitor Pass on CA 89. 89 was a wonderful road, it was mostly empty and the sun was warming me to some extent. It was the "golden hour" and the shadows were breathtaking. One day I'll go back and fully enjoy the curves, I was much too cold and tired from the snow to go very fast. US 395 came up on me by surprise, there was very little in the terrain to tip off the road was coming to an end. I was very happy to see that I was out of the mountains. I headed south toward Bishop where my hotel room was waiting for me. As I entered Walker I saw the fast folks pulled over and fueling up. They left a few minutes before I did, they had been stopped for only a few minutes. As I finished tanking up the rest of the group pulled in. The three missing bikes were still not with them. We all spent about 20 minutes warming up and they still did not show. After everyone left I stayed for a few minutes looking up the road with my motor running hoping to see Hillary pull in. I gave up and started back down 395. There were few people on the road and I quickly caught up to the group. As the sun set we were passing the few cars and at times each other. Some of the riders began to slow down around dark. It was getting colder. I focused on making it to Bishop, every time I saw a sign indicating the mileage to Lee Vining I did quick calculations based on my speed. I thought that Bishop was 15 miles south of Lee Vining, when I got there I discovered I was wrong. I had 60 more miles in the dark and near to below freezing temperatures. I pulled off to take my sun glasses off, it was so cold I shivered as I fumbled with my clear glasses. At this point many of the other riders passed me. I also got my scarf out and wrapped it around my neck with my gloved hands. I was cold and alone on the highway occasionally passing up another rider. My scarf would not stay put, I must have looked like a World War II pilot. I didn't want to remove my gloves again, I pulled over once to re-stuff my scarf but it still didn't work. There was no where to stop for miles, I had to press on. About 20 miles outside of Bishop I found a rest area. I had just passed another couple of riders when I pulled in hoping for some warmth. A few folks were already there. As I took my helmet off one of the guys told me that the hand dryers in the bathrooms were great. I scanned the area as he talked and noticed no warming area, in fact when I got to the rest room it was unheated. The hand dryers did indeed become my friend, the nozzles could be up turned to blow out air up the back of my jacket. It was better than nothing. A note on bathrooms: Unlike men, women have to get more clothes off to do what we need to do. If I couldn't just unbuckle my chaps and pull them down a bit I would have gone insane. The butt on the ice cold seat was bad enough. I wrapped the scarf tightly and tucked it into my sweatshirt. I pulled the hood up, tightened it and placed my helmet over it. This would give me just a bit more wind protection for the last 20 miles. It was about 8:00 PM when I pulled into Bishop. I went to my hotel and checked in still in full leathers and helmet. I asked the front desk to give Hillary a key when she showed up and went up to my warm room. I had the same feeling I used to get when driving my car through Vermont snow storms right before the roads became impassable. It felt like I was the last person that could make it through the weather and that anyone after me would be stuck. I hoped that the missing riders had pulled off for the night. Most of the group was staying 15 miles south in Big Pine. There was a group dinner planned. I could not find the energy to go, the last thing I wanted that night was to get back on my bike. I was physically exhausted. I got some fast food, took a quick shower and went to bed by 9:00 PM. ------------------------------ Date: Tue, 21 Oct 1997 09:35:27 -0700 From: Nancy Evelyn Gold Subject: BMW: Death Valley Report (Part 3/5) Sunday, October 12th I woke up at 2:00 AM and Hillary still was not there, I figured at this point she was somewhere safe. I tossed and turned for an hour or so and fell back to sleep after a little bad TV. At 6:00 AM my phone rang and my two alarms went off, it was time to get up. We were leaving Big Pine at 8:00 AM, this gave me 90 minutes to get packed and on the road. A long shower was followed by layers of clothing. It was cold outside, very cold. I started to wonder what would happen to my motorcycle in this temperature. Thoughts of the operating temperature range of my oil and coolant ran through my head. When I got out to the bike of the thermometer read a little over freezing. I was very worried the bike wouldn't start. With the bike packed and me bundled up I hit the starter button. The bike strained as it tried to start, it seemed more stiff than I did the previous night. On the second try she sprung to life. I gave her a couple of minutes to warm up then mounted up for Big Pine. As I pulled out on to 395 I was joined by five other riders that had stayed in Bishop. It was funny that we all separately decided on the same time to leave. On arrival in Big Pine I found out that Hillary and the other MIAs decided to pull of in Bridgeport for the night. This put them 100 miles north of us. The message was that Hillary would meet us in Death Valley at noon. I took a couple of minutes to top off my tank. The K1100LT has one nasty bug, a small gas tank. I have at most a 175 mile range. I didn't eat breakfast. Major lesson number 1: Always eat light but nutritious meals when touring. This mistake would catch up to me by the end of the day. I also didn't take in a major amount of water that morning. Major lesson number 2: The desert will evaporate water in your body that you didn't even know you had. The wind in any temperature will do the same. Always drink plenty of water. For long distance riding, buy a Camelbak. This mistake would also catch up to me. About 8:15 AM we headed south on US 395 to Lone Pine where we turned "south" on CA 136. The road is in pretty good shape and was empty. Our speed picked up as we rode across the desert. The tires of the bikes ahead of me kicked up the light dusting of sand on the road, it looked like a cartoon. 18 miles down CA 136 it becomes CA 190 east, this is when we began to enter the Panamint Valley. Michael pulled off at the Panamint Overlook, a beautiful view down to the valley floor some 5000-6000 feet. The wind was extremely strong and my size and the bikes fiberglass make for a great sail. I didn't even dismount, I just continued on to the next gas stop. The road went from being fairly straight to downhill twisties. At the bottom of the pass on the right there was an outpost of sorts, a motel with two gas pumps and a shop. The driveway was slightly uphill and gravel. Both pumps were for 87 octane regular unleaded. The few of us there were also shaking our heads at the $2.00 a gallon price but soon discovered that their generator was temporarily down and there was no gas. The rest of the group started to pull in to fuel up. We were told things were be running in a few minutes. I asked Michael if there was another station up the road. Stovepipe Wells was another 20 miles, the group decided to press on. The temperature was now in the high 60s, a change of about 20 degrees from just 15 minutes before. I took off my chaps and changed my gloves before leaving. As I mounted up with the last handful of our group the attendant came out to tell us the generator was running. It didn't matter at this point, I hoped to find better fuel. The Panamint Valley floor was long and warm but we would have to cross another pass at about 5000 feet. For a few minutes I would regret shedding the extra layer of clothes. As I descended into Stovepipe Wells the temperature climbed. There's one gas station in the "town" and even though the price was $.20 less than the last station they still had only 87 octane. I didn't want to fill-up with anything less than 89 (92 being the norm for my bike), but I did anyway. It was 10:30 AM and I took off my over shirt and thought about getting out of the leggings under my jeans. The thought of taking off my tall boots (Doc Martin 10 holes) was too much, I could live with the extra layer. It was now over 80 degrees. When I opened my mouth to talk to someone I noticed something strange, I was loosing my voice. I finished off my water (remember Lesson #2) and went to buy some juice and something to eat. My stomach could only handle a couple of granola bars and some juice (which went down in a blink of an eye). Before leaving for Zabrinski Point I drank some more water and only stopped to avoid cramping. Our objective was to be at the point by noon for a group photo. I left a little ahead of the main pack and soon caught up to a few other riders. There were few cars on the road, our pace picked up. Along the way there were many signs indicating Sea Level, it was funny that after every one of them we continued to descend. The lowest point on CA 190 is a little less than 200 feet below sea level, still almost 90 feet higher than the lowest point at Badwater Basin. The speed limit dropped to 45 which indicated that a town of some sort was about to appear, sure enough, there were the handful of buildings that make up Furnace Creek. One of those buildings was a real Chevron station with 92 octane fuel! A couple of faster riders were already there and decided to use the 40 minutes before noon for lunch. I decided I just wanted to get to the point and hang out. It was a few miles after passing the Furnace Creek Resort, a large reddish, orangish, greenish building with palms trees, that I found the Zabrinski Point parking lot. I pulled off to find a few riders already there, some of them had come up from Los Angeles. I couldn't believe I made it! For a while we hung out and chatted then walked up the steep path to the point. It was about this time that a tour bus full of folks from the United Kingdom showed up. At the top of the point folks lit cigars and Michael banged a drum. Most of us made it, Hillary and the other MIAs were no where in sight. It was a little after noon that I heard the distant sound of a boxer, sure enough, it was Hillary and her R1100RT pulling into the lot. After she got her helmet off and started up the hill I yelled "You're alive!", she yelled "Young lady, where have you been?". We all gathered for the group photo. Everyone piled up their cameras and we talked one of the tourists from the bus into taking a picture of us with each camera. As he cheerfully played photographer we gently ribbed him about being from Britain. With the pictures taken we mounted up to have lunch in Furnace Creek. Michael said their were sandwiches that could be eaten outside. When Hillary and I investigated we discovered they were pre-packaged. We opted for a sit down lunch at the restaurant. Hillary and I caught up on the previous day over an edible lunch. There was an entire pitcher of water on the table but I did not make enough use of it. (Lesson #2) After lunch I shopped for a few souvenirs in the store, what I did not buy was a bottle of water. (you get the picture?) About two thirds of the group had left by the time we got out of the store. Even though I had most of a tank I went to the Chevron to fill up. I had two reasons: topping off when there's 70 or miles between gas stations is never a bad idea, they had 92 octane fuel that I could use to bring up the octane of the stuff already in the tank. Helpful hint: The Furnace Creek Chevron does have premium fuel but it's only available at the "RV and Truck" island. We left Furnace Creek back tracking on CA 190 to CA 178 (to Trona). Outside of Stovepipe Wells I had to pull of, I could barely swallow. When I started to talk to Hillary I found that I had little voice left, I was dehydrated in a big way. I drank the last 20 ounces of my water supply then filled it back up at a drinking water hose (this was a radiator fill/rest area on 190). I had no plans to drink this water unless I really needed it. We passed a road with a sign point to "Warlock". I wasn't sure if this was our turn off, it took 12 miles for Hillary and I to find a place to pull over. Michael's instructions said we had a ways to go, our turn was Panamint Valley Road. Panamint Valley Road had the consistency of coarse sandpaper. It was very straight with a few dips and curves, our speed picked up quite a bit. BTW: you may notice I never mention our actual speeds. This is for a reason. I started to worry a bit about my tires, they are V rated but very soft. With my load and speed overheating was possible, I had visions of the road ripping my tires to shreds. About 13 miles down the road it comes to a "T", to the left was a warning sign about vehicle sizes, etc... The right was the correct direction. From 190 to Trona was 50 miles of nothing. When I got home I looked at the map and found that the Warlock turnoff would also have gotten us to CA 178. It would have saved a few miles and been more interesting. It may have been more challenging than some of the riders could handle. The distinguishing feature of Trona is a chemical plant that runs down the entire east side of town. The smell of sulfur was overwhelming. The first gas station we came to, the Chevron, was closed. Luckily the one other gas station in town, Texaco, was open. Some of the riders were already there. I was getting tired and my voice was still getting worse. I bought a soda and a large bottle of water, I should have bought something eat. The soda would help my blood sugar, but not for long enough. For the ride through Ridgecrest Hillary and I left later than most and were by ourselves. 178 joined CA 14 for a short time before breaking off east to Lake Isabella. As we left 14 we found newly paved road that glistened in the late afternoon sun. We slowed down until we were off of the new pavement. It didn't feel oily but I wasn't taking any chances. CA 178 becomes a wonderful road with changing scenery as it leads to the lake. After a tight downhill hairpin we started to pass up a few of the other riders, this seemed to be a theme since Death Valley. Our pace was fast enough to catch up to the slower riders but not quite as fast as the fastest group. For most of the trip I was dealing with other issues, like snow, I hadn't been too interested in running the twisties like I do at home off Skyline. After passing the lake the road turned to a four line freeway. We stopped right off the Bodefish exit so I could drink some more water. There is a very wide driveway of sorts right at the bottom of the ramp that over looks the river. It was getting dark and Hillary took off her sunglasses. My sunglasses are photo chromatic so I was able to leave them on a while longer. Moments after returning to the freeway we crested a hill and the low sun hit us. Hillary quickly pulled over and put her glasses back on. As we crested another hill there were red signs that said "Danger". It took me a few moments to read them through the glare, they were warning people not to swim in the area. It was at this point that the road dropped back to two lanes for a series of downhill twisties. It was almost impossible to pass the number of slow moving cars in the canyon. The scenery was wonderful but I found myself having to work extra hard to make it through the corners at the varying speed of traffic. I worked my way up to Julia who was on a Magna that wasn't suited for this road. Hillary was still several cars behind me when I saw an opening and passed up to clear road eventually catching up to another rider. Major Lesson #3: When riding with a large group try to stay with riders/bikes evenly matched to you. It's a lot less work when you don't have to modify your riding style. The ride veterans already knew this and left early, not knowing the route I didn't often ride out in front of Michael. I made quick work of the twisties but the disappearing light had me looking for a turnoff to take my sunglasses off. It wasn't until CA 178 came out of the hills and opened up to a long straight-away that I could pull off. Hillary blew past me a minute or so later, Julia started to pull over to check on me, I waved so she'd know I was okay. About 3 miles ahead I would see Hil' and Julia pulled over. I came in behind them and Hil' got ready to pull out only to wait a moment to to talk to Julia. By that point I was back on the road and Hil' needed to pass a few cars to catch up. She pulled along side me at a stop light and asked, "Do you know where we're going?". I did... for the most part. We were staying at the Motel 6 in Bakersfield. I knew that we needed to head south on CA 99 and exit when we saw the Motel 6 sign, all I saw was a billboard telling us to exit at California Avenue, I didn't see the actual Motel 6 sign. It was now dark and after exiting the ramp I had no idea where to go. Luckily I had printed out a map of the motel area with Automap before I left home, a quick look at it told us that we overshot the motel by two blocks. It also showed an easy way to get there without making a few U-turns. We pulled into the parking lot to find most of the other riders already there. What a relief, we made it. The little Motel 6 office was packed with riders and a few normal folks too. It would be about 15 minutes of waiting in line craving a shower and a hot meal. The front desk person was nice and pretty efficient but it surprised me when she turned down an offer of assistance from one of the other employees. Hillary popped her saddlebags off, I gabbed my bag liner and rear seat bag and we headed up to the room for a shower and a change of clothes. Dinner that night was at Carrows around 7:30 PM. We took over the entire back room, about 30 of us. The manager had one overworked waitress handle the entire room. This lead to a few messed up orders, checks and more than a few runs up to the register to get beers. I was really hungry and quite beat, a big heavy meal was in order. Against my better judgment I ordered a T-Bone with mashed potatoes and a cup of soup. It took over twenty minutes for the food to start trickling to the tables. During the wait I thought about a beer several times, it wasn't until Hillary got one that the thought became an urge and I got up to hunt down a Corona. The beer was Ice Cold and the perfect drink after the long day on the road. My soup seemed like the greatest I've ever had (clearly not, but I was hungry) and when the steak arrived it was devoured in moments. The potatoes and gravy were much like the beer, ice cold, but I realized there wasn't much I could do about it. There was talk of going to the only gay bar in Bakersfield. Hil' said she was going and I thought about it. As soon as we returned to the room we both realized that the magnetic attraction of the beds was too much. It only took 15 minutes of T.V. to put us both out cold. A few hours later I awoke with a leg cramp, my first in years. Too much time in the saddle I guess. ------------------------------ Date: Tue, 21 Oct 1997 09:35:30 -0700 From: Nancy Evelyn Gold Subject: BMW: Death Valley Report (Part 4/5) Monday, October 13th The phone rings at 7:00 AM, it's Tom Bodett telling us we've won a hundred grand! He killed the moment by saying he was joking and it was time to get up. Departure was at 10:30 AM. Enough time to eat and pack without hurrying for the first time during the trip. We showered, dressed, packed and returned to Carrows for breakfast. The staggered arrival of everyone aided our waitress in providing great service, she even flirted with some of the women. I headed over to the Shell station around the corner to fill-up and check my tires. The rest of the group met at this station before heading off on the last leg of our three day trip. We headed north on CA 99 then south on CA 46. The next 90 minutes of riding would be some of the most tedious of my life. 46 is straight, flat, and full of RVs and cars. The only benefit was that we were doing a forced 55 MPH when we came upon a CHP cruiser on the side of the road, radar and all. At CA 33 we turned north and headed for Coalinga. This was boring and scary, we encountered about a dozen combines heading south (taking up a little more than their one lane) and a few tractors heading north at a snails pace. I was worried about my leg cramping up again and with the lack of scenery I was getting tired. I'm also sure the dehydration of the previous day took a toll on my system. Coalinga found me irritable and tired. We eat lunch at Perko's on CA 198, I ordered a banana in hopes of stopping the cramp and some pancakes because that was the only thing on the menu I thought I could stomach. The cheap corn syrup I was served with them ruined what little taste they had. I only ate the banana and drank a lot of liquids. Three riders showed up towards the end of lunch, they had missed the 49 turn-off and had to double back on 99. That wasn't the main reason for the delay, they didn't have an RV in front of them on 49... the CHP officer got three for the price of one. We packed up to leave Coalinga and I debated if I should just take a quick run up I-5 to get home. My head hurt, my body hurt, and I was miserable. After some thought I decided I wanted to finish the route. One of the riders on a Katana took Hillary aside and tried to convince her that I wasn't fit for the curves ahead. He added that our "big bikes" would be a problem. Hillary explained that we know what we're doing when it comes to twisties (we started "Low Flying Women" and ride the Santa Cruz Mountains a few times every week), but he was unconvinced. I took four Advil I bummed from another rider and decided I would just take it at my own pace and choose an easier route later if I needed to. I ended up running tail gunner for the group that Michael was leading. 198 is a pretty nice road, I was in no big hurry and I took the curves nice and slow. At the top of a hill about a mile before CA 25 there was a Sheriff in a Blazer. This was pretty odd, no one could go over the speed limit at that point in the road, too much curve. It was just before that point that I completely came to life. I was feeling better and had the itch to get moving. There was only one problem, my suspension was set for the long straights and I was bottoming out in some of the curves. After our turn north on CA 25 a began to hunt for a pull off. I left the group, cranked my shock a couple of clicks and tried to figure out why my CD changer started skipping after we left Perko's. Within 5 minutes I was off in hot pursuit of the rest of the group. For the first time in the ride I was on my own and ready to run some twisties. CA 25 isn't even in the same class as many roads I ride but it was a mixture of stuff that kept me on my toes. Within 10 minutes I had the group in sight. It took another 5 minutes to come up their backdoor. A nice long straight-away appeared and I took the opportunity to pass up to third position. Michael was keeping a moderate pace but May (in second position) and I had different ideas on lines of travel and braking. It was a few miles later that Michael picked up the pace a little and May didn't match his speed. I moved up the second position and Michael took off. We were moving at a great pace with the rest of the pack a few clicks behind us. A good long straight section came along at about the time Michael started to back it down a bit, I took off like a bullet. With a quick glance in the rearview I saw Hillary pouring it on to pass the group (she was pretty far back) and one of the other riders on a R1100GS behind her. The three Beemers carved up what was left of the twisties and flew into Hollister. It was a wonderful note to end the ride on. At the first stoplight since we left Coalinga we found Julia, Michael pulled along side me within a minute. We all stopped at the Chevron station to fuel up and say our good byes. I wished I was better at names and had gotten to know everyone. Some I knew only by riding style, others I hung out with at stops or eat a meal with. I hugged everyone I could and promised to return next year. Hillary and I set out for US 101 through the awful traffic of Hollister. The smell of garlic filled our helmets and I was able to tune in Bay Area radio stations. A few minutes later a sign said it all: "Santa Clara County Line", I stood up on my pegs and let out as much of a yell as my nonexistent voice could muster. I was home. Heading north on 101 I looked forward to seeing my girlfriend and sitting on my own couch. Hillary headed home as I got off at my exit. We made it! I pulled my bike into the garage and went into the house to find our house mate watching T.V. I talked her ear off for a while with stories of the road. It was great to be home. Date: Tue, 21 Oct 1997 09:35:33 -0700 From: Nancy Evelyn Gold Subject: BMW: Death Valley Report (Part 5/5) Epilogue The trip took it's toll on me and Chloe (my bike): * 5 days of fatigue and 3 days of no voice * Bike had caked on dirt and muck requiring two serious cleanings * 2 of the CD Changers dampers failed, it needs repairs Total travel costs: $225 including fuel, meals, hotels and souvenirs. Pre-trip costs: approx.: $320 The three day trip was one of the greatest vacations I've had in years. I paid for the trip in physical pain and emotional challenges, I was paid back with a stronger sense of myself and a restored connection to my spirituality. This was my first multi-day tour. Everything till now has been one day or one day traveling to spend several somewhere. I plan on more trips like this in the future and I will join Michael next year for both the Spring Kickoff ride and the Death Valley ride. There are a few things I want to do differently: * Be in better shape for the ride * Eat better and have snacks with me * Use a Camelbak * Carry maps of everywhere we're going My equipment needs a few upgrades: * A radar detector is a must * GPS would be nice * A larger seat bag is needed * Better fuel management is something to look into * It's time for a taller windscreen * I need to look into a new saddle in the future I can't thank Michael enough for "disorganizing" the ride. Even though the ride is very loose, it takes a lot of work and energy to make it happen. He is a great asset to the Bay Area queer and motorcycling communities. ------------------------------ Date: Thu, 30 Oct 97 11:40:00 PST From: Caroline Hoets Subject: BMW: BMW spotted in Cape Town This is the first time I have posted to this list, so, up front, if I make a botch, please excuse me. Saw the above parked in a side street in Cape Town last Friday, it had "CANADA" pasted in large letters across the fairing, so I had to go over & say "Hi" to the riders. Turned out to be Grant & Susan Johnson who are travelling round the Americas, North & South, Europe & Africa. They have done most of the States, Europe and have come down Africa. They started in Cairo, had to fly some of the way, and rode from Nairobi to Cape Town. They have a neat map painted on one pannier to show their intended route & progress so far. It was really great to chat to them!! They have a friend in Canada, John M??? who is a Prez, so John, you're friends are in great shape, look like they are having a great time!! They said they would be flying with the bike to Rio from here, then intend covering South America. BTW the Cruiser made it's appearance in Cape Town a month or so ago. Today's morning paper has a write-up with a stunning photo. Seems the reporter really likes this bike!! He says:- "BMW have done the cruiser market proud with this machine, their first foray into a market dominated by Harley-Davidson ...... it costs a formidable R86,000 [around $18,000], but you get a lot of bike for your money. For a start it buys you neck-wrenching, traffic-stopping looks!!" and there's more of the same. I've drooled a couple of times over one on display at our local BMW Pavillion, really nice.. :-) Caroline Date: Sat, 15 Nov 1997 12:20:53 -0800 From: Scott Lee Subject: BMW: ss_1000 trip report You may recall my message from 2 weeks ago on a failed Bun Burner Gold, and how I vowed to try "baby steps" in documented ld rides, starting with an ss_1000. Well, friday Nov. 7 I succeeded in doing an SS_1000, with an elapsed time of 15.5 hours. I just now got around to the documentation part (organizing receipts and witness forms, map copy, etc.) for submittal to the IBA, and figured that this was as good a time as any to hack together a "minimalist" trip report. If tales of grand vistas, people met and wild Hunter Thompsonesque experiences are what you want, delete now. All I will do is summarize a few lessons learned and the route taken... THE PLAN: Leave L.A. at about 7:30 A.M.; as an ss_1000 should only take 16 hours or so, this would require no "sleep deprivation" riding. Regular body sleep rhythm should be acceptable. Route from L.A. to Barstow--> Kingman --> Flagstaff --> Phoenix (with an extra loop to Paradise Valley to visit some friends & run loop miles up over 1000) --> LA. return via I-10. WHAT HAPPENED: I followed the plan, with a minor change; as I approached Flagstaff, I realized that the stopover in Paradise Valley (Phoenix) would cost me too much time to make it home by midnight- surface streets, "visit" time, etc. would cost me time and energy that I did not want to give away. So, I stayed on I-40 past Flagstaff and continued on to exit 233, (I wanted to goto "Two Guns" as my turnaround, but the gas station there was shut down, no receipt or gas there..) where I was Officially in Winslow, Az. This was my "turnaround" point, at 4:30 p.m. Arizona time. I should add that at this time I was at ~7500 feet elevation in high desert at sundown-got real cold real fast!! Phoenix, here I come!! Traffic on the I-17 from Flagstaff to Phoenix is an eclectic mix of Big Rigs, uninsured "undocumented immigrants" (the pc version of illegal aliens..) in vehicles of questionable mechanical integrity, and Sedona worker yuppies blasting home to Phoenix in their Saabs, SUV's and IROC Camaros. At sundown. The speed differentials were enormous, and the road is twisty enough to be interesting but straight enough for speed, with high speed dense traffic. Another "17" comes to mind, the road from San Jose to Santa Cruz; real similar in traffic pattern and topography....I was relieved when it straightened out into the northern approach to Phoenix.. WHAT I LEARNED (well, some of what I learned..) 1. Get gas at Texaco or Chevron- their pump receipts give both date and time. 2. No coffee in the morning before leaving-took all morning to get my bladder and the gas tank "in phase" i.e. same stop for filling gas tank and emptying bladder.. 3. Power bars and gatorade, alternated with iced tea and salty stuff, will keep the energy/caffeine levels balanced, while staving off hunger. 4. I want/need an Aerostitch Darien. Maybe a Roadcrafter, but probably a Darien. Soon, Santa.. And my present cold weather gloves are definitely dead (too many years/miles on them, they are just no good any more). I'll be in San Bernadino tomorrow, so a stop off at Chapparall for Tour Master elite whatevers (usta be $120.00, now they are surfacing for $90.00!!), and silk liners, will happen.. 5. Auxiliary fuel tanks are a Good Thing, and mine is on the way.. 6. Little of the "stuff" I brought along did me any good, but I won't leave home without: a. Rain gear (see (4) above)- it keeps it from raining when I bring it.. b. 1 Litre water bottle, granols bars, ..< = new to packing list> c. Spare clothes & overnight "stuff" just in case d. Cold weather layers-thermal underwear ( the cotton inside/wool outside kind..), sweatshirt, electric vest, wool socks, neck warmer,.......... e. Maps of all adjoining states, in case I get inspired to go to Denver or something.. Do I want to do it again? Nope, next time it'll be further/faster; a bun burner or Bun Burner Gold, probably a straightforward Bun Burner. Las Cruces, New Mexico, is a little over 750 miles away, round trip shouldn't be too bad this time of year..Maybe next weekend.. Scott Lee Somewhere in L.A. NOT #e, GOB #48