Fort Klamath to White Salmon – Where’s the gas station?!?

August 7, 2013 – We rejigged today’s ride a bit. The original plan saw us doing over 600km, much of it hard, twisty, mountain roads, and a chunk through Crater Lake National Park. But we’d spent 3 hours or more exploring it yesterday, so we took out a map and decided to cut some off of the plan. It was too much. If it had been day one it would have been OK, but this is day five and it was just too much to ask of tired bodies. So we snipped off about 125km and called it a good ride.

We crawled out of bed early and made our freshly ground organic coffee with organic cream and organic cane sugar, and ate our organic yogurt with our sustainably manufactured biodegradable spoons. We made some organic porridge in the microwave, and I found that, to no personal surprise, I still hate porridge. We packed our organic plums and organic eggs away for later, along with our organic tangerine juice.

When Kirk was taking a shower I could hear meowing and looked out the window to see our friendly neighbourhood farm cat sitting outside announcing his presence to anyone who might be within earshot.

As we sat on the front step of our little room, I said to Kirk “This is the kind of place you drive by on the highway and assume that white trash lives there, isn’t it?” He just started laughing and said “And that’s exactly what we look like sitting here this early in the morning, on the wooden steps, drinking our coffee (from old Corning-ware cups) watching the world drive by.” There were a few sprinkles of rain, we could tell it had rained overnight because the world just smelled a little nicer, a bit damp and fresh.

We sat there and listened to a mourning dove coo, heard a donkey braying in the distance, and enjoyed the twittering of some little song birds in the bushes. This is a strange little community, but it’s peaceful. When we were almost ready to go, we worked together to push the bikes out of the deep gravel in the carport and out to the better packed driveway. When I went to pick up my kickstand puck a little frog hopped across the gravel and stopped for a moment on the puck.

Today’s starting anxiety was fuel. We hadn’t filled up in Crater Lake, assuming (incorrectly) that there would be gas in the place we were staying. Instead, we had been informed that the nearest gas was 15 miles either direction. So we headed off South-east towards highway 97 and (hopefully) fuel. At the junction of 97 we turned North and after a short distance I pulled off. Kirk stopped and I noted that the sign had indicated that the next community of note was 44 miles. There was NO way I would make it that far!

We pulled out the map, consulted the iPhone, and concluded that we had to head South and hope. A ways on we stopped at an RV park/market and Kirk went in to ask. Two miles South. My fuel gauge was blinking furiously at me, but we made it.

Whew. Anxiety gone. Back in action and a decision to keep the tanks topped up, particularly if we were heading off on a side highway.

Abandoned gas station at Beaver Marsh

Highway 97 was as dull as one can imagine. Straight, boring, mind numbing. We pulled out at a former community called Beaver Marsh. Like so many other places we have passed through, the gas station is shuttered and the stores are abandoned. It’s sad. It’s a sign of the times. Our fast paced society is killing small communities that depended on a slower, less efficient world. It’s a bit depressing.

In a small community we stopped for fuel, and asked for some directions to find highway 61 and then 46, The Cascade Lakes loop. The woman went in to ask, and came back and said, it’s the road right here. Literally we just had to pull out of the station and turn left. She said her boss told her to warn us that the deer were plentiful and problematic. The fires and smoke have been pushing them forward and they are taking out drivers regularly. We thanked her and rode off with our eyes swivelling and our heads on perpetual pivots.

Looking down the road on the Cascade Lakes Highway

The road was fantastic! Perfectly paved, and oh so empty. We had a fire patrol truck behind us for awhile, until we pulled over to take some photos of the burned out forest. It was eerie riding through it. We came to a viewpoint and the fire patrol was also there. The four young forestry guys were looking for smoke from recent lightning strikes and told us it was hard to see the new fires because of the existing smoke in the area. The area burned out in 2003 in a massive blaze that saw 2300 people fighting it, and over 90,000 acres burned. One of them also waxed poetically about his Ninja and wished us a safe ride, after also warning us of deer in the area.

Burned out forest

The rest of the ride provided vistas of wonderful open meadows, huge lava flows, volcanic cones, peaceful streams visited by fly fishers, and many conversations with other travellers. The only deer we encountered was dead at the side of the road with a vulture feasting on it. I didn’t see the deer, and Kirk didn’t notice the vulture until it flew off when we startled it. Individually we each see about half of what there is to see, together we manage to see more 😉

A peaceful rest stop

Mount Bachelor (volcano) and Sparks Meadow

Mount Bachelor (volcano) and Sparks Meadow

Eventually we arrived in Bend and were pleasantly surprised at what a lovely city it is, at least the parts we rode through. We rode into downtown and stopped in dedicated motorcycle parking (free!!) and had a coffee and ham and cheese filled croissant at a local coffee shop. When we went back to the bikes, the owner of the BMW 1300 sport touring bike also returned to his bike and we had a good chat. Our jaws dropped when he said he’d been a lifelong Harley rider and just switched to this bike a few weeks ago, and then mentioned that it had 185hp! WOW! He has lived in Bend for 8 years and is leaving for other parts as he says that the city was great, but that it has gone downhill and that crime has become highly problematic since the economic downturn. He also mentioned his disgust at the fact that it is more or less winter for 8 months of the year and that a riding season in barely 3 months.

And then we were back on the road.

On the way out of Bend we stopped at a light and the white haired driver of a pickup truck yelled out to Kirk “How much is a bike like that worth these days?” When Kirk told him, he got all misty eyed and told us of his 1967 Bonneville that cost him $1700 back in the day. As the light turned green he wished us safe riding and drove off. All the older men love Kirk’s bike. All the young guys like mine. Funny.

The Speed Tax Collectors were thick and looking for donations. We didn’t provide any income for them. The road was also a bit nasty with ruts created by thousands of rigs weighting down the pavement. I hate those ruts, because you can’t see them, yet they toss you around if you don’t stay perfectly in the middle of them. Be rode on through Redmond and into Madras where we fueled up. We noticed that all the gas stations in Oregon seem to be full service but when it comes to the bikes, they come over, ask what you want, how you are going to pay, set the pump up, and hand you the nozzle. No one ever assumed that they would fill the tank, and that was nice.

While we were in Madras we noticed three smoke plumes ahead. Two small and one large. Fires burning, more smoke in the air. On the way up the hill and out of town, we could see that the two small ones were either side of the highway, and very close to the road. The large one was a ways off. We could also finally see Mount Hood to the North, and Mount Jefferson to the West. We stopped to take a photo of Mount Hood and when we looked back, we watched one of the fires suddenly explode into action. The smoke turned from white to black, and the flames could be seen through the belching smoke, higher than the houses nearby. Whatever had caught fire wasn’t good.

Grass (and definitely something else) fire a few minutes after we passed

Massive grass fire in the distance

Mount Hood

We headed on, and then the road dove heavily downward into a massive gorge. We kept hoping for a viewpoint to pull out in to take some photos of the fabulous cliffs above, but it never materialized so we have no shots of the fabulous scenery. Down in the bottom was a place appropriately named warm springs. It was a furnace down there! As we rode on we were passed by a convoy of forest fire trucks heading back the way we had come. Then it was up and out and onto the rangeland above, where the winds tried desperately to push us off the road. But after the Oregon Coast, it was a cake-walk and we laughed at the efforts Mother Nature was throwing at us.

Mount Hood National Forest is gorgeous, the road through is fantastic, and the scenery is wonderful. I think this mountain is my favourite in the chain simply because it has such wonderful sweeping lines and looks everything that I think a volcano should look like.

Mount Hood

Into Hood River, a stop to stretch, then down the hill and on to White Salmon. But one last curve-ball to be tossed at us.

The Hood River toll bridge.

We rolled up, paid our $1.50 for the two bikes, and headed onto 1.4 km of the most horrific metal bridge imaginable. Apparently we were paying for an amusement ride that was designed to scare the living shit out of me. Speed limit, 25 mph. No problem, definitely wasn’t going over that one by much (OK, we did 30 mph) because the thing was tossing the bikes all over the place. I watched Kirk’s bike slip and slide in every direction, and knew what I must look like to the driver behind me. It took every fibre of mental strength I had in me to NOT take a death grip on the handlebars. Breathe, release the pressure, put it all in the legs, grip the tank, push on the footpegs, do NOT grip those bars, let the bike wander, it’s OK, it will come back as long as you don’t fuck with it! My elbows were literally shaking with the effort of keeping the tension out of them. And when I finally crossed onto pavement again I know the driver behind me saw my shoulders go up, and then sink down in relief.

When we pulled over all I could shriek was “that was the worst F8%$!##! bridge EVER! I don’t EVER want to go over that again. Nothing can possibly be as bad to cross as that was! Give me horribly grooved pavement any day, please!” Kirk just laughed and agreed, it was awful, and said he didn’t think there were bridges like that around anymore. I remember one in Savonna that was like that, but it’s been gone for years. Honestly, it was the worst stretch of “road” I’ve ever been on, in anything!

Crosswalks in White Salmon, Washington

After a breather it was a short haul up the hill to White Salmon, parked the bikes, quickly downed two Black Butte Porters, a shower to wash the sweat and stickiness away, and then out to the local brewhouse (Everybody’s Brewing) for dinner and a couple more beers. I was hoping to catch up with a guy I know in the area, but family came first and we didn’t connect, but his suggestion of this place was still great. We sat outside on the deck and the super warm evening breezes washed around us. This place doesn’t cool down much at night.

Great pub!

White Salmon is a cool little community up on the hill above the Columbia River. The area is famous for its winds and the windsurfers and kite-surfers come here from all over the world. I stayed here about 15 years ago when I came down to teach a lab technique to someone in a nearby government research lab. We stayed at the same place I’d stayed then too, The Inn of the White Salmon, but it is under new ownership and has been totally renovated. It’s nice, but it doesn’t have the old school charm it used to have, and the breakfast room is gone.

We wandered down to the local grocery store and grabbed a bar of dark chocolate and a bottle of wine for in the room to round out the day. In the grocery store two things struck us as humourous – Snapple gets its own nameplate in an aisle (must be popular with the surfer crowd), and there is a “Beer Cave”.

Snapple gets its own heading?!?

Beer cave!!

Tomorrow is a shorter day, so we will probably laze about here for a bit before heading onward. Might take a ride up to the Bonneville Dam, maybe watch the windsurfers on the Columbia, might just browse the local shops after breakfast. Who knows, we’ll figure it out in the morning. All we know is that we are glad we are out of Oregon if for no other reason than the fact that the area we were in is now under severe weather warnings for thundershowers.

Here is today’s track for Google Earth viewing. About 475 Km.