2023 TOUR - PART 3

 

Early the next morning we parted ways with Yancey who headed north toward Moab while Sam and I headed west on Hwy 95. Along with the previous morning this whole day was the most outstanding riding and scenery of the whole trip. I never tire of riding across that section of Utah with its twisting undulating roads and other-worldly scenery. Sheer cliffs and beautiful rock formations with various colors make for genuine eye candy.

My favorite Duke Sign

Around mid morning we arrived in Hanksville with which I was familiar having stayed there a couple of times in the past. Most of the businesses in Hanksville are owned by “Duke”. It should be called Dukesville. As we pulled into the parking lot of one of Duke’s restaurants/convenience stores, an old man approached us from a vehicle along side us asking where we were from. After replying he said he had been to Lewiston in years past hauling propane. I asked where he was from and he said, “Right here, lived here my whole life”. So I asked him if he knew Duke. He said, “Yes I do. He’s my son”. I said, “Wow, so you’re Duke, Sr”. He said he had started businesses here and he had cautioned Duke that he needed to slow down and enjoy life some before he got old, too. I’ve shown pictures of some of Duke’s signs in the restaurant. The one I always remember from past visits is the one directed to his employees – Work Hard and Be Nice. Meeting Duke’s father was a real highlight for me.

Another Duke sign

We continued west on Hwy 24 through Capital Reef National Park. I believe it was my third time through here but the first time I’d seen lots of people there. We had to go slowly in many places due to all the folks camped near the road. This is more fantastic scenery but a little different from that to the southeast. Much of the road skirts high sheer cliffs similar to Red Canyon except they aren’t red. Shortly before reaching Torrey we took Hwy 12 south down through Boulder and Escalante and eventually to our day’s destination at Cedar City having covered 373 miles.

While in Cedar City I took the opportunity to visit wife Kathy’s close friend who used to live very near us in Clarkston. I am an old man yet not nearly as old as 96 year Mary Jane although she looks younger than I do. I toured her beautiful condo and we had a nice visit.

Mary Jane & me

After an early motel breakfast we were on our way up I-15 a short way before exiting to Hwy 130 west of the interstate. We went only a short distance before I realized I didn’t have the controller for my wired jacket. So we backtracked to the motel and found it on the bed. I had looked over the room before leaving but didn’t see it as it was in a clear plastic container on top of a sheet. Disaster averted, we were back on the road again. Hwy 130 changes to Hwy 257 at Milford and continues up to Hinckley. This whole stretch is not particularly exciting motorcycle wise as it is mostly flat open agricultural country. We bypassed Hinckley and got on Hwy 6 at Delta and proceeded northeast before turning south just before Santiquin. After turning south we took several different roads on down to Moroni where we turned east to Mt. Pleasant then north to Fairview and then east into the Unita National Forest on Hwy 31. Hwy 31 took us southeast down to Huntington where we turned north on Hwy 10 up to Price and a little farther to our day’s destination at Helper. Those directions may make you dizzy but that’s the way it was. This was our second shortest day at 314 miles. I will save the Helper story for the next post.  (To be continued) M/W

2023 TOUR - PART 2

About 6:30 pm while eating dinner at the Subway I got a call from Yancey wanting to know where I was. I had laid out all the journey’s details on a spreadsheet, made a copy of the three days relevant to Yancey’s part, and sent it to him. In pasting the dates in his copy I had gotten off a line. We had talked about a week before and I sensed some confusion, but I thought I had cleared it up by saying we would be in Grand Junction on Monday, his brother Murray’s birthday. He didn’t remember that and maybe I just thought I did. At any rate, there he was a day early. You can imagine how I felt. Yancey had only a little time for this trip as it was. He owns a temp service business that had recently landed a big client that required him to be back, plus he had out-of-town guests arriving. He didn’t know what to do and said he’d let me know what he could work out. 

The next morning after an early breakfast we headed south and then east over to Little America where we stopped for a break. It had already begun to get warm. After leaving Little America we traveled a little farther east to Green River before turning south to skirt the west side of Flaming Gorge Reservoir and on down to Vernal, Utah. By now it was really hot. Then we turned southeast down through Dinosaur and Rangely and then due south to Grand Junction where it was 97 degrees. We had traveled 398 mostly hot miles this day. 

A geocache picked up along the way

We met Yancey at the motel. He related that he had gone over to Starbucks that morning to do some work and when he was ready to leave he couldn’t find his motorcycle key. Naturally he had looked every place he could possibly imagine. So his wife, Kelly, drove all the way over from Denver with a spare key and then turned around immediately to go back to pick up their daughter from basketball practice. Wow, what a day! Hopefully, the bad times were over for Yancey. After all his problems Yancey treated to a great dinner. 

After the motel breakfast we got an early start on the road the next morning heading southwest on Hwy 141 down to Gateway. The country was pretty open and green to this point. Shortly past Gateway we turned due south along the Dolores River and were soon in the Red Canyon. This stretch of road was some of the most fun and beautiful of the whole tour. Unless you were on a motorcycle or convertible you could not get the full grandeur of this road. There were towering red cliffs and mountains that were so close you had to look almost straight up to see the tops. And, of course, the sharply curving highway was a delight to motorcyclists. By the time we got to the small berg of Naturita where we stopped for a break and an unsuccessful attempt for a geocache, my neck was sore from looking up. 

View from Naturita

 At Naturita we turned southeast on Hwy 145 over to Telluride. The beautiful riding continued. At Telluride we stayed on Hwy 145 which turned south through the San Juan National Forest. This route gradually drifts west till we exit the national forest and end up at Cortez. In order to avoid the main roads as much as possible, I had routed us west on County Road G which goes along the southern border of the

Canyons of the Ancients National Monument. Shortly after entering Utah and leaving the national monument we came to an intersection with the Cajon Mesa road which according Sam’s GPS would save us 30 or 40 miles. By this time it had gotten really hot in desert country. He had set his GPS to filter out any roads that weren’t paved. In spite of the previous experience where we had briefly tried one of Sam’s roads near Springfield that immediately turned to gravel and as Sam is rarely wrong, we took the road he favored. Guess what? After about 10 miles or so it turned to gravel. There is no way Yancey’s Honda Interceptor could handle gravel so we back tracked to County Road G. Eventually we arrived at the very hot Blanding, Utah, having traveled 342 miles for the day. This was in total contrast to a couple of years before when Sam and I had arrived at this same motel in a blinding snow storm half frozen to death. After a good dinner we had a great time visiting in the motel that evening. (To be continued) M/W

2023 TOUR - PART 1

 

For many months I had been planning a motorcycle trip over some of the best roads I have ridden in the West. As usual, I included my riding partner, Sam, but this time two of my sons, Clint and Yancey, would also accompany us. Clint lives in Lewiston so he would do the whole tour but Yancey who lives in Denver would meet us in Grand Junction for just three days of the nine day trip. My planning included setting each day’s route, lining up geocaches along the way to use as navigation points and lining up motels. All of this is much easier said than done, especially the motels.

New Triumph Tiger 900

A couple of weeks before our planned departure on June 24^th Clint had a motorcycle wreck that totaled his bike and put him in the hospital. He has wearing good protection gear and fortunately wasn’t seriously injured, just a slight concussion and sore body parts for a while. Nevertheless, it knocked him out of the trip.

The trip did not begin exactly glitch free. We met at Sam’s house early Saturday, June 24^th I led from Sam’s and assumed he was behind me. He always starts out slowly to be easy on his equipment so I thought nothing about not seeing him right away. However, after riding a while down Evans Rd and still not seeing him in my rear view mirror I stopped just before the intersection with Hwy 12. After waiting a couple of minutes I figured he must have gone up Ben Johnson and then down 15^th St. which was probably a better way anyway. So I went on down Hwy 12 to 15^th St. and crossed the Red Wolf bridge to bypass going through Lewiston. Still no Sam. We had prearranged to make our first stop in Kamiah about 65 miles up Hwy 12 so I figured he must have gone on ahead. I was riding at a fairly brisk pace but I still didn’t come upon Sam. Finally I got to our prearranged stopping place and no Sam. Now I was really worried. Just as I was about to send him a text here he comes. He had had some trouble with his ear plugs which had delayed his departure.

After a laugh and a little break we continued east up Hwy 12 along the scenic Lochsa River. It was beautiful and little traffic due I suspect to our early departure. We did encounter some road construction which delayed us a little and entailed some riding over gravel but it did little to dampen our spirits. At the construction we saw this piece of art (pictured) made from limbs in the back of a pickup. We refueled at Lolo, Montana, and proceeded south down Highway 93 to Salmon, Idaho. It had gotten quite warm by the time we reached Salmon. I had a bad experience as we were entering Salmon. There is a tee intersection that slopes down to the left. Unfortunately the slope was so steep that when I stopped to put my foot down my bike leaned so far over that I couldn’t keep it up. So there I was on the ground with traffic lined up behind me. Sam had wisely gone through the intersection so had no problem. Several people stopped to help me get my bike back up. Fortunately, no damage. We had traveled 328 miles this first day.

Driftwood Horse

There was no breakfast served at our motel and we left the next morning before any food serving places were open. The next town was Challis which is 60 miles away. The ride from Salmon to Challis along the Salmon river is a fabulous ride which we enjoyed. We found only one place to eat in Challis which was crowded but the service was good. I had only one pancake which was about a foot in diameter and all I could eat. We continued down Hwy 93 to Arco where we veered southeast on Hwy 28 toward Blackfoot. At Moreland, just west of Blackfoot, we reversed direction on Hwy 39 which is a little back road that runs parallel to Interstate 86 to Aberdeen. Along the way we stopped for a picnic lunch at Springfield reservoir which was a nice shady spot giving a relief from the steadily increasing heat.

At Aberdeen we headed south on Hwy 37, one of my favorites which I discovered many years ago when I was doing my Idaho counties motocaching. It was one of the rare roads that was new to Sam. We passed through Rockford and shortly thereafter the road narrows to the point where it doesn’t even have any lines. At Holcomb we turned east and went through Malad City and Preston before eventually reaching Montpelier, our day’s destination, after covering 421 miles. This was a long day but beautiful riding.(To be continued)  M/W

A VISIT FROM SILAS, OR CHRISTMAS IN JULY

Grandpa and Silas

A visit with Silas, our 21-month-old grandson, was like Christmas in July. We anticipated the fun for weeks, making preparation upon preparation. The visit came upon us, and all too soon it was over. It’s okay. It was time for everybody to get on to the next thing. But transitions have always been difficult for me, and I will miss him. (I will miss his parents, too, but let’s face it – they don’t change as much as he does between visits.)

When I was young, I had lots of nieces and nephews, and I was always eager to play with them. “Don’t rush at the little ones,” my mother said. “Let them come to you.” This proved to be good advice.

The uncles' old Tonka fleet

When Silas arrived, I greeted him, and then I sat down on the porch step. Soon he came up to me and took my hand. “Grandma,” he said. When I didn’t get up, he took my hand again, and I realized he wanted me to do something. I got to my feet, but he was already running (Silas runs everywhere) across the yard toward the barn. I wouldn’t expect one so young to be interested in the barn, but clearly, he wanted to check it out. I took chase, but I was well behind. He ran around the south side of the barn as if he knew where he was going and didn’t stop until he was on the east side where he caught sight of Grandpa’s bright blue 4-wheeler.

Checking out the Tonka dump trucks

“Blue,” he said. “Blue”

“Red light,” he added, pointing to the taillights. “Red light.”

And then he saw it – Grandpa’s overturned Jeep wheelbarrow, its upturned front wheel just waiting to be whirled. “Wheel,” he said, and whirl he did.

The barn is not my favorite place, especially at this time of year. I kept thinking about rattlesnakes and wanting to move Silas away from this area. Just then his mother showed up, and she was successful in distracting him.

As the family left, we agreed that Silas will not need the high chair when he visits again. Mike and I have dismantled it. And Mike took down the netting I put up around the upstairs banister to keep Silas from accidentally slipping through.

The photos here recap some of the highlights of this special visit. KW

Gardening with Grandma

A MORNING WALK WITH GRANDSON SILAS

As Hallie, Mike, and I were heading off for a morning walk, little Silas indicated that he wanted to come, too. Hallie suggested he stay behind with his dad.

“Why can’t he come?” I demanded to know. “That’s why we bought the wagon.” At least, I thought that was the reason.

Hallie and Mike were skeptical because of the gravel road and the steep pitches, but when Silas climbed into the wagon, they acquiesced.

Well, it was the first time – and probably the last – that Silas will be pulled up Plank Pitch in the wagon. Hallie and Mike took turns pulling (and/or pushing) to the mailbox and back. As we returned, Silas decided to walk up the lane, and he didn’t ask his mom to carry him until the steepest part of the incline. KW

CHERRY PICKING BEGINS

Jack & June Dobson with sisters Edith & Cora, 1935

In 1935, Grandpa Jack and Uncle June’s sister Edith visited at the homesteads. She complained to a relative that the families here were “so shut in.” The relative responded, “Why, Edith, you can see for 150 miles from June’s dooryard.” Whether or not this is exactly the case, I often 
think of this during my morning walk as I look out across the fields to the distant mountains. It is isolated, though, and in that sense, I understand what Edith meant.

Winter wheat ripening rapidly

Mike was off on a long bike ride Saturday morning, so I agreed to walk Bess, or rather, I agreed that Bess could accompany me on my morning walk. We set out just fine, but as I reached the bottom of Plank’s Pitch, I looked behind me and just caught sight of Bess heading back home at a trot. I went on without her.

Note Bess digging in foreground

Mike and I made a quick trip to town on Sunday, July 9. I shopped, shopped again, got my hair cut, and packed the food and supplies. Mike had an appointment and his own “to do” and “to get” lists. We were back at the farm by noon on Monday, having been gone not much more than 24 hours. It felt like a week.

Winter wheat 

“No rest for the weary,” though. The cherry tree called us, and we picked two gallons. We decided they could stand a little more ripening, but it troubles me that the birds are eating them now. I have other priorities since Silas and family are coming on Wednesday. If there are any cherries left, Hallie will help me.

Anyway, I sorted the cherries and put two quarts of the ripest in the fridge for munching. The rest I pitted for the freezer. I’ll use them in baked goods, so it won’t matter if they’re a little underripe and tart. I do know one thing – there are more cherries on the tree than we can eat in a week.

We exercise in the mornings now, and before supper, we walk around the pond. On yesterday’s pond walk, Bess alerted us to a rattler in tall grass near the pond. We couldn’t see it. (“Stay out of tall grass,” said my daddy.) Then after supper, Bess alerted again as she patrolled the yard. The rattler was near the cherry tree. KW

[My photos were taken during my morning walk on Saturday, July 8.]

Spring wheat in foreground

FINISHING THE ABANDONED QUILT

Cottonwood Butte in the distance; crop in foreground is spring wheat.

Mike rode into town at 11:00 a.m. last Sunday (July 2), a strong finish to his annual ten-day motorcycle trip. Bess and I were glad to see him. He cleaned and serviced his motorcycle while I laundered his clothes. We returned to the farm on the Fourth and enjoyed the tranquility. (Fireworks make Bess nervous.)

Winter wheat ripening quickly

In 2007, I took a quilt-making class based on the pattern “Turning Twenty Again” by Tricia Cribbs. The pattern calls for 20 fat quarters cut to various sizes, sewn into blocks, and then joined to make the quilt top. The class was not specifically for beginners, but the sponsor assured me that I was capable of doing it.

The class turned out to be a one-day sew-along rather than an instructional event, and my quilt turned into a debacle. The blocks were not square, and I didn’t know how to deal with that. I sewed the blocks together, then took them apart and sewed them back together again. That didn’t work, so I eliminated the worst of the blocks and sewed them together again. Now I had a smaller quilt, which was fine, but it was still wrong. I was upset, and Mike felt sorry for me. Eventually, I decided not to finish it. I stored it and happily forgot about it.

But recently, I heard an expert quilter give the following advice: “Finish your quilts. So it’s wonky. It doesn’t really matter. You will eventually get better, but you won’t get better if you don’t finish your quilts.”

It was music to my ears. My childhood training was to look at each project with a critical eye, so I’m hard on myself when things don’t come together correctly – and that’s most of the time. I’m just not a precision worker, but I love the home arts.

So, when I recently came upon that wonky first quilt, I resolved to finish it. In fact, I was surprised to see that I had already affixed the backing and quilted it. I only needed to square it up and bind it to have a usable porch or picnic quilt, which was my original intent.

And during staycation, I did just that. The experience of finishing was the goal. “No ripping, no fretting,” I reminded myself. I cut the discarded wonky blocks into strips and sewed them together for the binding. I tried my best to miter the corners, and two of them were really pretty good.

Now it’s on to the next thing, wherever that takes me. KW

Looking toward Central Ridge

STAYCATION 2023 DAYS 7 & 8 – FINAL

Friday. I awoke with a start at 5:30, thinking that I had heard Bess whine, but it didn’t continue, so maybe I whined. It was time to get up anyway. I pulled the sheets off the bed and started the laundry.

A beautiful pumpkin blossom

Already the sun was up above the eastern hill. The day will be hot. At 6:45, Bess and I started down the lane. She paused to sniff around a rock, and when I got to the bottom of the lane, she wasn’t with me. I called her to no avail. I decided to walk to the top of the pitch and if Bess still hadn’t joined me, I would return to find her. After all, chief among my few responsibilities is Bess’ care.

“It would be terrible,” I say to myself, “if when I walk back down the pitch she comes along and I have to ascend it again.” However, that would be unlikely. Bess has a timid streak, and she would probably return to the house before seeking me out. And that’s what she did. As I came into the yard, she begged my forgiveness and suggested a game of fetch, but I made her wait while I hung the clothes.

And on this wonderful day, I finished a long-abandoned project – my very first quilt. I’ll tell its complete story another day.

For the afternoon walk, I decided to skirt around the north field as far as I could go. (It becomes impossible on the west edge.) Bess was quite a bit ahead of me as we returned to the house, and when I heard her bark, I knew she’d crossed paths with a rattlesnake and I hoped she was leaving it alone. I hurried as best I could over the uneven ground, taking care to watch and listen. As I approached behind Mike’s shed, Bess was nowhere to be seen, but I heard the telltale buzzing and stopped short to locate the source. I found it and took a mostly useless photo since the snake is camouflaged in the soil. Thankfully, Bess escaped harm. She was waiting in the yard to play fetch. KW

Saturday. Sadly, today Bess and I must return to town. Mike will be back tomorrow.

We took our customary early morning long walk to the mailbox, and I took a few pictures. The fields are ripening quickly, so when we return in a couple of days, the landscape will look different again.

The hummingbirds – at least five and probably more – are draining the feeders rapidly now. Four of them were feeding in peace at one time today – a rare sight because they usually fight each other off. Before I left, I made sure both feeders were full.

The cherries are ripening quickly, and this morning I thought perhaps I should take the time to pick them. However, they didn’t come easily, and the sample I tasted was rather tart. I do think that Mike and I will be picking them when we return. I hope the birds let us have some.

When I opened the Jeep to begin loading, Bess hopped in and made herself comfortable. She probably expected to be reunited with Mike. I didn’t have much to pack – just a little food and our electronics – but it was still six trips back and forth to the house.

It’s simple enough to drive the Jeep, and I can certainly do it. I just don’t understand its “brain” and leave all of that to Mike. It’s really his vehicle. He thought I had enough gas for this trip to the farm, but as I approached town, I realized that IF I got to the house, we might not have enough gas to get to the station. So, I did something else outside my comfort zone. I stopped at the station where we use our grocery reward points and filled up. The pumps aren’t exactly user-friendly, but I figured it out. I didn’t know how to reset the Jeep’s “trip-o-meter.” Oh well.

We arrived at the town house at 1:30. It was hot – 96. By 2:30, my Fitbit buzzed that I had 10,000 steps for the day. (I have reached the 10,000-step goal every day this week.) KW