Chapter Nine

I tried something a little different with this one... I *tried* to write it in the present tense. It didn't work out very well. It turned out to be a lot more difficult than I thought. I don't think I'll try to do that again.

Friday, May 31st, Noonish...

We finished early at school today so I find myself wandering around the base looking for something to do when I realize that I am feeling a little hungry. As luck would have it, the galley just happens to be open at the same time. It's a rare event when those two events coincide. I decide to take advantage of this happy occasion. After all, I am paying $250 a month for the "privilege" of being allowed to eat there. After a rather hum-drum meal (at least my belly is full now) I need to find some place to sleep it off... I think that's probably why I don't eat much, if at all, when I am traveling. It puts me to sleep. I figure I can head back to the barracks and take a bit of a nap.

Friday, May 31st, 1545...

After a couple hour nap I wake up and hang around the room watching TV. Man am I ever bored!!! I take a look at the books I got yesterday on the Rivers and Lakes in California and the Recreational Activities in San Diego County. I know I want to go somewhere this weekend, but I'm not really sure where, just yet. The more I look at these books, the more I know I have to head north. I find the landscape of the Sierra Nevada's a lot more appealing than the all-brown-everything I see around here. It's getting on about 1900 now and I have made up my mind. I'm going to head up to the Kern River area and see if I can still fool a trout into taking an artificial fly. does it matter that I don't have a fishing pole or a license yet? Not a lick... I figure I can pick 'em up somewhere along the way.

Okay... I've got a destination, of sorts, and all the camping gear I'll need. Now all I need is a good night's sleep and I'll be on the way. Wait a minute... I just had the equivalent of my typical good night's sleep... I have nothing else that I have to do tonight. Nothing to tie me here until tomorrow morning. Why not leave now? As I sit here trying to convince myself of a good reason to wait until morning to leave, the only thing I can think of is, "It is dark." To which I answer myself, "So?? You've seen this area in the daylight, why waste time now? The sooner you leave, the longer you can spend around the river."

Twelve minutes past 8 p.m. and I am starting the bike. I guess I convinced myself that it would be okay to go tonight. My loose plan is to take I-15 north to State Highway 395 and on to points north. As I am leaving the Greater San Diego Area I see an exit sign for "Old Highway 395"... Highway 395?? Old Highway 395?? Ought to be about the same thing, no?? Let's go for it...

I'm cruising along a dark, two lane winding highway that appears to parallel the Interstate. "Lovin' Every Minute of it" as the song from the 80's says. I'm not making quite as good time as I would if I were out on the Interstate screaming along at 80 mph, but who cares? This is much more relaxing and enjoyable. Occasionally I come across a stop sign or a traffic light...

What's this? The street signs are no longer saying "Old Highway 395"! They are now saying "Mission Road"... Somehow or another I left the highway. No worries, I'll just stop and ask for directions... I could just turn around and go back until I figure out which way is what, but this looks like a nice town and the leg stretch will do me good. The young lady behind the counter at the gas station tells me that I did, in fact, leave Old Highway 395 a few miles back. It turns out I am in the town of Fallbrook. In order to get back on Old Highway 395 I would have to go back to one of the stop signs and turn left and cross the Interstate. I don't recall seeing any signs pointing the way when I went through there, but there it is on the map she is showing me, big as day. As I am walking back out to the bike I suddenly realize just how carefree this excursion is... I didn't even bother to take a map with me... Typically, when I travel, I have every stop, every turn, every inch of ever mile planned out to the closest second. I take it as a matter of pride to be able to hit every one of my "checkpoints" within a minute or so either way. No so on this trip. This is very unusual for me.

It happened again... Somehow I find myself no longer on Old Highway 395. This time I am in Temecula. As I walk into the gas station looking for directions I see a young man behind the counter and an older man wearing a security officer uniform. They are engrossed in scratching off the gray wax covering the prizes on their scratch off lottery tickets. Neither of them become instant millionaires so they turn their attentions to me. "How do I get back to Highway 395?" I ask. The old man answers rather rudely "You gotta go to San Diego." I am now beginning to understand that "Old Highway 395" and "Highway 395" have absolutely nothing to do with each other. The old man wanders outside while the kid behind the counter helps me out with the map. Eventually the old man comes back in and tells me he used to ride... "Harley's" he says... About this time I think he's going to start regaling me with the typical "Old Man Motorcycle" stories of "how dangerous those thing are" and of all the times he had to "lay it down"... Not this time, though. All he says is, "Where you headed?" I tell him I am thinking of going up to Lake Isabella. All of a sudden he kinda goes limp. His voice becomes soft and he's no loger the rude, grumpy old man. He says, "My dad is buried at Lake Isabella. Maybe I should go up and see his grave. I haven't been there since they covered him up in 1967." Sometimes when you think you are lost, you aren't. You are precisely where you need to be.

I soon come to realize that I would never get anywhere by taking Old Highway 395 so I decide to get back on I-15 and go until I come across the "Real" Highway 395. Up on I-15 people are still driving like nutballs. I'm going along at 80 mph (in a 65 mph zone) and still getting passed on both sides... About this time I'm going through east Los Angeles and all of a sudden here comes a CHP car flying up from an on ramp with his lights on. Eventually he starts criss crossing across all 6 lanes and has us all slowed down to 40 mph. COOL!! I'm involved in a rolling roadblock and have a front row seat!!! I'm about 40 feet behind the CHP cruiser and there's nobody between me and him... Here's comes a MotoCop to help him out... Okay... Now that we're all slowed down, now what? I expect at any moment to see a high speed chase come up on an on ramp or something... Any minute now... Something's going to happen... Several minutes have passed and still nothing has happened... Okay, guys... This is getting boring. What is going on? Huh?? What's this?? They've turned off their lights and sped off into the darkness. NOTHING happened... What a let down. Oh well... Traffic around me is starting to wick it up again. Better get a move on...

Finally!! There's the exit for Highway 395. Better stop to get some gas. From what I recall of the northern part of 395 (Northern California and Southern Oregon) there's not a whole lot along this road. While I am here I better get a little note book to put notes to myself in ao I don't forget when it comes time to write the Travelogue. I've already forgotten a couple things I wanted to mention on this trip alone. Don't remember what they were, only that I wanted to mention them. Hmm... Little less than 2½ gallons of gas... That works out to roughly 45 mpg. Not bad at all. Back on 395 and I am surprised to see the speed limit is 65 mph. I figured it would be 55... Okay, I'm ready to take on the twisty winding road. Doesn't seem to be too many twists or turns. Seems mighty flat and straight, actually. Very flat and straight. As I come upon a truck doing his maximum allowable speed (55 mph) I move over into pass position but there's a set of headlights coming the other direction so I wait... and wait... and wait... Three minutes have gone by and the "set" of headlights finally show themselves as two separate cars. Damn!!! This road is flatter and straighter than I thought... Finally... the cars go by and as I pass the truck I can't help but think how silly it is to have different vehicles traveling different speeds on the same road. It's like that on the Interstate as well. Even in the areas where the speed limit is 70 mph, "Trucks and Cars pulling trailers" are limited to 55 mph. I wonder what the real reasoning behind that is... Having so many different vehicles traveling so many different speeds can only be a recipe for a collision. You have those folks who are going to to the speed limit regardless of the conditions. You have those who are going to do 20 mph over the speed limit, again regardless of the conditions. If that weren't bad enough, to engineer in a distinction in speeds is only asking for problems...

Ought to be about getting to the turn I need to take if I want to get to Lake Isabella any time now. From my limited recall of having glanced at the map a couple hours ago it seems like it should be along here somewhere. There's a gas station, I'll stop and ask for some help. "You missed it about three miles back." The guy says, pointing to the map. As he's talking I notice another road on up ahead that wiggles and wags its way through Sherman Pass. "Could I take this road here? It looks like it goes all the way through." "Nope. That's probably not open yet." he replies. My ears perk up. Visions of Highway 4 from years ago come flooding back. Sounds like my kind of road. "It might have opened this past weekend. There's a sign at the highway telling you if it's closed or not." "What about campgrounds?" "There's Kennedy Meadows on up there a ways. Has some nice campgrounds." Why not? Let's do it. "Nice road, paved all the way through." he says as I leave... On my way out, I consider filling up the gas tank but I only have 75 miles on this tank and the $1.789 price tag is just a little high... No worries, I have plenty of gas...

Back on the road and closing on the turn I am looking for the "Pass OPEN/CLOSED" signs but I don't see any. Passing many signs at the "bottom" of the road I slow down so I can take them all in. I've been on the road for about six hours now and my eyes are getting tired. I have to focus on each sign so I can read them. These aren't the retro-reflective highway department signs that you can read from a mile away. They're the "rustic" Forest Service signs that are carved into wood. I still don't see anything about the pass being open or closed so I'll just continue on until I cannot go any further. What's this??? The road is turning?!? Whoo-Hoo!! I finally found the twisties I had been looking for... Too bad it's so dark out here. Can't really see around the corners too well and with that wind blowing so hard I have to keep the visor down because of all the dust and dirt blowing around. Oh well, it's an unfamiliar road, it's dark, there's critters about... might as well take it slow. About the third or fourth tight turn the back tyre breaks free. Nothing real bad, just a bit of a skid to the side. Damn, that felt like ice. It certainly is cold out here, but not nearly cold enough to have ice on the road. It's then that I notice the entire road is dusted with a fine layer of dirt. In every corner is a little pile of it blending in perfectly with the surface of the road... I knew there was a good reason to go slowly. After a while it becomes a game to predict whether or not the tyre (and which one) would slide in the turn. Several miles later here comes a sign "Welcome to Kennedy Meadows" Okay, now where's that campground. There sure are a lot of private homes up here. Mile after mile go by and still no campground. Whoa... What was that??? some kind big brown sign. The kind they use for marking campgrounds. Let's go take a look... "Fire Safe Area" in large yellow carved out letters on a brown background. Now what the hell does THAT mean? Does it mean that it is "SAFE" to have fires in that area? Does it mean that if there IS a fire, this is a safe place to go? Is there some big gray metal box with a combination lock on it that they keep the fires in when they aren't using them? HUH?? Where did that last one come from? I must be getting tired... This *looks* like a campground. I don't see any of the usual amenities (fire places, outhouses, etc) Let's look around. Damn! this ground is soft, almost dumped the bike leaving the pavement. Upon closer inspection I see that the surface is about three inches of very soft fine sand, almost dust. Better be careful where I put this thing, I cannot even get enough traction from my boots to back up the bike... Driving around the area I can see where other people had made camp fires but there's not a soul around. The place is completely deserted. That looks like a good place to put the tent. I park the bike and find a VERY good use in the thick dust for the "side-stand support" that A&S was giving away last weekend (Thank you A&S!) and shut down the bike.... ... ... ... ... It takes a few seconds but now I realize that horrible noise I hear is coming from my own ears. It is so very very quiet here that all I hear is the ringing in my ears and the blood rushing through them. It has been many years (far too many) since I have been so completely isolated. The last time I can remember being so far from anyone else and the nose associated with civilization was in 1994 (i think) when I went camping in the Sierra Nevada's. I had a four-day pass and decided to spend them alone. It didn't last long because the entire forest caught fire and I spent the next 72 hours working with the Red Cross at the Bear Valley ski resort caring for the folks who's whole lives were destroyed by the fires.

Eventually the ringing and rushing subsides and the voices in my head stop to take a breath and I start hearing the noises of the forest at night. Anyone who thinks a forest is quiet has never really been there and just listened. I won't be needing the air mattress on this stop so I'll use it for a pillow. The sky is absolutely clear and the stars are out. The moon is about ½ full and lighting up the forest around me just well enough that I don't need my flashlight to set up camp. Soon enough I have the tent set up and one last check of the bike assures me it will still be upright when I wake up. I try to use my cell phone to make a call but there's no signal available here at all. Not even a roaming signal. Just as well, a phone conversation would break the silence anyway. It's 0330 and I set the alarm (volume set to low) for 0530 in case I have early morning company. Time to sleep! In the morning I'll head on over the pass to Kernville and the Kern River, maybe... Maybe I'll just play around in this area.. Who knows? My only concern right now is getting back to San Diego in time to go to school Monday at 0700.

All-of-a-sudden my eyes are wide open. The sky is brightened and I think I overslept my alarm. Rooting around I find it and look at the time. 0529, eh? Nope. Didn't over sleep the... BEEP BEEP BEEP.... I had woke up about 30 seconds before the alarm went off... I need to have my internal clock calibrated, I guess. I'm really not sure why that happens. It happens far too often to be just a co-inky-dinky. I routinely wake up just before the alarm goes off. It doesn't seem to matter what time the alarm is set for, or how long I've slept. Perhaps someday I'll find a use for it other than cheating myself out of 30 seconds of sleep every night. I take a quick look outside and I still don't see anyone out and about so I figure I can afford another hour of sleep. I reset the alarm and drift back to sleep. Before I woke up the first time I was having a rather vivid dream about riding motorcycles (go figure). This time I dream about flying airplanes. Neither dream made much sense but they were quite detailed. Even in my sleep I am traveling. You'd think it was in my blood or something.

The air up here sure is a lot more dry than I have become accustomed to... Having lived in a tropical environment for the last 4½ years I got used to the 80-100% humidity. My sinuses are telling me I am no longer in that tropical environment. Last night (earlier this morning) when I went to sleep it was about 45-50°. I was quite comfortable during the night but now it is starting to get hot in the tent. The sun is shining down on the tent and heating it up. Chalk it up to poor camp site selection. Just as well, I don't want to hang out here all day anyway. It takes me very little time to tear down and pack everything on the bike. I shatter the calm by starting the engine... Well, maybe "shatter" isn't the right word. I am, after all, on a BMW... "Disturb" I think would be a more appropriate description. Inspecting my tracks from the night before I see that I was let alone during the night. There were no visitors to my camp site. Good to see my internal "alarm system" wasn't broken after all. I did watch a pickup truck drive by on the road about 100 yards away as I was setting up camp, but that was the only other sign of human life I've seen for hours.

I still feel like trying the pass so I make a left turn and bid my camp area a fond farewell. Stopping when I did was a good idea, I think. About all I saw in the dark was the road and the occasional tree or two. The road continues to climb and get more and more twisty. As it does the country side around me gets more lush and more beautiful. Occasionally I see through the trees some of the most rugged country I've seen in a long time. This was a good choice of ways to go. Last night, as I was going up Highway 395, I spotted a coyote standing along side the road. I was really surprised that I didn't see any deer up till now. I figured those hoofed rats would be out in full strength trying to commit sideways under my motorcycle tyres... I stop a few times alongside the road to gander over a meadow or valley in places I think there ought to be deer out for an early morning breakfast but don't see anything. There's hundreds of Thirteen Striped Ground Squirrels (also known as Thompson's Ground Squirrels, I think) criss crossing the road in front of me, doing their best to approximate the shape of a pancake under my tyres or cause me to crash. I am happy to report that none of them were successful. As I am zig-zagging up the mountain side thinking that this is one of the best roads I've been on in a LONG time I come around a right hand turn and sure enough, there's five of those hoofed rats that I was looking for last night. I stop long enough to snap a few pictures as four of them cross the road in front of me while the fifth goes back down into the trees. (Probably with the plan of jumping back out in front of me as I leave) Time to get moving. Slowly leaving the area keeping an eye out for the fifth deer I realize that I am starting to get a little low on gasoline. A quick calculation reveals that I might not make it to Kernville. I certainly do not have enough to return to the last station I passed last night (the one that I thought about filling up at) so I really do not have much of a choice. I still don't know if the pass is open or not. This is getting exciting now, buddy! From here on I go into "Maximum Economy" mode. No fast starts, keeping the throttle as smooth as I can. When I come to a long downhill I shut the engine off and coast in neutral. I notice that when the engine is shut off the speedometer doesn't work. Neither does the odometer. Interesting...

Finally... I arrive at the summit. 9,200' in elevation. There's been snow alongside the road for the last ½ hour or so but the PASS IS OPEN!!!! There's a Forest Service guy keeping his truck seat warm in the parking lot so I roll on over to talk to him... He tells me it's clear all the way down but... "The cows are out so be careful!" I thank him for the warning and ease my way to the precipice that marks the summit in the road. It's down hill most all the way to the Kern River from here. 16 miles according to the roadside sign. Then about another 15 miles to Kernville. Around 31 miles to the nearest gas station and I've already gone over 180 miles on this tank. Given the mileage I've been getting I should run out of gas about 10 miles before I reach the gas station. This is going to be close. At least I ain't bored anymore!

If it can be possible, the west side of Sherman Pass is even more awesome and beautiful than the east side. The expansive views and absolutely rugged landscape opening out before me are beyond description. I've got the camera hanging around my neck and am trying to take pictures as I coast down the road. Eventually I reach the bottom of the hill and need to restart the engine. The Kern River pops into view and I am immediately bitten by the Fly Fishing Bug. I have GOT to get my license and find a fly rod... As I tool down the road toward Kernville the river gets more and more inviting. To the unwary, this river looks like an excellent place to go swimming, but I can see the swirls and twirls in the "smooth" water that tell of a lot more going on below the surface. I think it was Merl Haggard that swore in a song to never swim in the Kern River again because that's where his "little darlin" was lost. I can believe it. Looking at this river through the eyes of a "city dweller" I can only see a series white water rapids separated by segments of smooth, calm pools beckoning the uninitiated with a Siren's Song of easy swimming. This is a dangerous river, if only because it is so deceiving. It seems to be running a little high. I've never seen it before, but now and then I see areas of willows and small trees being washed over by the running water. It isn't anywhere near the high water mark, about 15 or 20 feet higher, but it is running fast. The rafting and kayaking companies are doing a booming business this weekend. There's a never ending parade of inflatable rafts full of "dudes" marching their way down the canyon. The road is crowded with full loads going up the canyon and empty trailers going back down. Oh well, if I run out of gas along here it shouldn't be too difficult to find a ride into town.

There it is!! The gas station comes into view and it looks like I'm going to make it!! As I roll up to the pump and shut down the engine I note that I have 198.3 miles on the trip odometer. That doesn't include the unknown number of miles I coasted with the engine shut down. Okay, moment of truth... How much gas can I fit in the tank? Pump... Pump... Pump... SNAP... Huh?? Full already??? Only 4.1 gallons?? I still had nearly ½ gallon of usable fuel left in the tank?? This cannot be! Sure enough, it is full. Lessee... 198.3 divided by 4.1... Carry the 2... 55.65 miles per gallon???? WOW!!!! This is really great! I'm beginning to think this bike really likes the altitude... I wonder how many miles I coasted and how that would effect the mileage calculation if they were figured in...

Cool.. This place sells fishing licenses... How much? $30.45??? Wow... The California Department of Fish and Game is sure proud of their fish! That doesn't even include any of the various "special" stamps that one is required to purchase for different reasons. Has it really become that expensive to manage the Fisheries department? I guess I've been out of the loop too long, eh? At least I am allowed to purchase the Resident License (Military Exemption) and don't have to pay the $80some for a non-resident license... One thing I gotta give 'em. They've come up with the foresight to provide you with a duplicate at the same time you get the original... Actually it isn't quite a duplicate license, rather it is an "Application for Duplicate..." that is a carbonless copy of the original. I guess there's a lot of people losing their licenses around here.*

Now that I am licensed I need some gear... I don't see any fly poles here so I continue down the road until I come across the self-proclaimed "best sport shop in Kernville"... Their selection of fly rods sure left a lot to be desired. They had a grand total of Two. Both were in the form of "kits" where the pole, line, reel, backing, leader and even hooks were included. I settle on the cheaper of the two ($45 vice $51) because it was already set up with the line and ready to go. I think I should have chosen the other one. Out the door and down the road I go... Thirty miles up river later I finally find a nice secluded area. This isn't really the Kern River any more, it's actually one of the feeder creeks, but it is in the "Artificial Fly, Barbless Hooks Only" area. Just what I wanted. Trying to put the pole together I realize my mistake in choosing the pole I did. It is an 8' three part pole but I cannot get the middle part to fit into the lower part. They are the exact same size!! They will NOT go together. AAARRRGGHHH!!!!!!!!! Okay... Take a deep breath... Relax... Put it down and take a nice long look around.... Okay. try again... It STILL won't go together!!!! AARRRGGGHHH!!!!All right... time to use my head... What would McGyver do? (don't really know. I've never been able to actually sit through an entire show, but I've been told that I would make a good McGyver because of my ability to improvise) Let's take stock of the situation. What do I have at my disposal. I have my motorcycle tool roll, my Army Issue C-Ration can opener (that almost didn't make it through security at the airport in Hawaii) and not much more. I figure if I can trim the bottom end of the middle section back far enough it will eventually reach a point in the taper that it will fit into the bottom section. So I lay it across the opening of the bottom section to see just how far back I have to trim it... Turns out I'll need to remove about a foot (and an eyelet) of the middle section to get to the point where it will be small enough. That is unacceptable. Now what?? Then it hit me... Using the can opener I cut a split down the side of the middle section that allowed it to be squished just a little bit. Enough that it was able to be FORCED into the bottom section. It sure as hell isn't pretty and it will never stay in there well enough to be able to flip it back and forth to get a 50 foot cast out of it, but at least now I have an 8' fly rod. Time to finish putting it together. What the heck?? The reel is mounted backward. Okay. Swap it around... Aww Geez... Now the line is wrapped the wrong way. Okay... Another deep breath... Just make it work and get a fly tied on... Not wanting to pay the $2.05 a piece for the fly's the had for sale at the Outdoor Store I decided to rely on what came with the pole... I sure hope these fish are hungry. These are some weird looking fly's... In a matter of minutes I am at the stream side flipping the fly alongside a likely little riffle. Sure enough, these fish are hungry. In no time at all I am pulling a "monster" six-inch Kern River Rainbow Trout off the hook. This is what it is all about. I only wish my fly rod was fully functional so I can go down to the "main" river and practice my technique...

*Looking at my license now in the comfort of the barracks room I see that, despite my best attempts to follow the law, I ended up being a criminal after all. It states on the back of the license under the area for the special stamps "This license must be displayed at or above your waist while fishing." I had mine in my pocket... Oops!! No wonder the damn things get lost so easily.

The rest of the morning and early afternoon is spent wandering around the area stopping now and then at a likely spot and enticing some little fish to strike my fly. It's about 1400 and I have a choice to make. Do I want to stay another night or should I head back to the barn. I decide that I liked the road over Sherman Pass enough that I wanted to return that way. I also liked my camp site so I'll stop there and stay the night, if I feel like it... So off we go! Back down the river gorge, hang a left at the Sherman Pass Road (J41 is the only name I can find for it) and up, up and away! Having a full tank of gas sure makes the travel different. I found myself stopping along the way to take pictures of the various different interesting plants for Tamara. I hope they turn out. I really need to get a hold of a USB cable to get the pictures out of the camera. Crossing the pass and coming back down the other side I am now entering the area I went through last night in the dark. All around me is a burned out forest. At first glance, for as far as they eye can see there is nothing but fire damage. Most of the trees are still standing, but they are dead. Their needles brown, their trunks black. Hillside after hillside nothing but desolate death and destruction. Really quite depressing. Then I start to notice signs of life. Small trees sprouting up here and there. Wild flowers, previously prevented from growing by the shade of trees now, stretching out the their full glory in the unrestricted sunlight. Some of the taller trees, while burned and brown at the bottoms, are still showing signs of life near the top... Some of them still have green needles. At one point I come around the corner and the entire hillside is covered with dead standing black trees, but the ground is blanketed with millions of tiny purple flowers as far as you can see. I had to stop here to take pictures... I only hope the pictures can do the scene justice. I don't think they can. No picture could ever capture that scene properly. As I get further down the road I begin to see evidence of the battle that was waged against the fire. The line of demarcation is not so clear cut as one might think. There isn't a place where the damage just stops. This road was obviously used as a fire break. The right side of the road is decimated, the evidence of the heat can be seen on the trees on the left side of the road. The sides of the trees facing the road have their needles turning brown. Not really noticeably so at first, but the heat from the fire obviously crossed that 50' or so enough to damage the trees on the other side. Occasionally there's evidence of the fire having jumped the road in places. A single burned tree here, a blackened area of grass there, but for the most part the road was the "line in the sand" that the fire was not able to break. You've really got to hand it to the folks who fought that fire. They did a hell of a job.

I got so caught up in the scenery that I blew right past my intended camp site. Now I am back down at the bottom of the hill stopped on a bridge crossing the Little Kern River. Hey... There's a fish swimming around down there... Good a spot as any to stretch the legs and wet a fly. Twenty minutes and a couple fish (Little Kern River Golden Trout) later I'm back on the road. By now I have decided to go ahead and head on back to the barn. It is at this point (getting back on Highway 395) that I am very happy that I didn't wait until this morning to leave. It was bad enough to travel this road after dark when I couldn't see around me. Going through there now, in daylight, I see what it was I missed in the dark. Absolutely nothing. There's mile after mile after mile of nothing but brown dirt, dead brown plants, sagebrush (which somehow manages to be brown too) broken only by the occasional scraggly tree (Joshua trees I think). As boring as the scenery was, I really didn't have time to ponder it too long. The wind was blowing and gusting so hard I was having to concentrate on keeping the bike in my lane. I don't know how fast the wind was blowing but I'll be damned if there weren't a couple gusts that actually blew me FORWARD in the seat. I was doing around 70 mph at the time!!

The rest of the trip back is pretty much uneventful with the exception of the one incident in Riverside. Seems the wind was just a little too strong for a truckload of oranges... There were thousands of oranges all over the side of the road. The smell of citrus in the air was strong and there was a news crew interviewing a CHP officer on the shoulder...

Finally, back at the base, it's about 2130. I am sore, tired, and stiff but not regretting the trip at all. After I unload the bike I stagger up the three floors to my room. I decide to take the time to send the "Travelogue - Intermission" message. I apologize for screwing up and making all the email addresses visible. Like I said, I am tired. Time to sleep.

Sunday, June 2nd 6:56 p.m.

Wow... Did it REALLY take me four hours to write all that? I was interrupted for a little over an hour by a phone call from my sweety. (No problems, my fingers needed the rest anyhow) Today was nothing but a "screw off" day anyway. Leaving this morning to go get Brunch at the galley I noticed my rear tyre is VERY wore out. No more trips like yesterday until I get baby some new shoes.

On to next chapter

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