Daoud (motorcycle buddy) knows me too well. When I had coffee with him last Saturday, he chuckled and noted that I’d already washed the Harley after getting home from my Missoula trip two days earlier. I love shiny things. But I’m ahead of myself. Let’s back up to 12 July. I left Goldendale, WA and headed into the Columbia River gorge. I was backtracking along Lewis & Clark’s final passage on their way to the Pacific in 1804. In the rising heat of my second day on the road, I stopped in Hat Rock State Park for a break. Lewis & Clark described this odd landscape feature, something like a mini Devil’s Tower. The lovely little park is very well maintained, shady, and has interesting signage about L&C and Native Americans of the area. As you roll along the arid expanse of eastern Washington and Oregon, the roads cut through some of the deepest lava flows on earth. Into that basalt, the mighty Columbia has carved a massive gorge that defines a substantial portion of the border between the two states. A stark and fascinating feature of eastern Washington is the Scablands. This unique landscape was formed by the torrent of water released by the drainage (multiple times) of ice-age Lake Missoula. While researching the route for my trip, I stumbled upon a photo of Palouse Falls, which I’d never heard of. I decided to see it, as it cascades over cliffs that are part of the scablands. Out of Walla Walla, I followed Hwy 12 through the pastoral valleys that lead through the small towns of Waitsburg and Dayton. I then turned onto smaller Hwy 261 for 20 miles (32 km) before getting to the cutoff for the falls. This was a two-mile-long gravel road off of what was already a tiny road out in the middle of nowhere. But the park itself was lovely. Very few people were in the park. The Palouse River drops 200 feet (61 m) over the basalt cliffs before continuing towards a confluence with the Snake River downstream. One can easily see that a much larger falls once thundered across here. This plaque was also in the park. Having done archaeology, I’d love to see the sites this plaque refers to: The heat at the falls was intense but it got hotter as I continued on to my destination for the night. When I reached Clarkston/Lewiston around 5:00 pm, it was over 100 degrees (over 37.7 C) and I was still in leathers. I was also near switching to my reserve gas setting for the second time in the day. But I...
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The sum of any journey must be more than miles or else what’s the point of going? My recent trip on the Harley was taken to see friends, put miles on two wheels and, as I repeatedly said, to “clear my head.” Funny thing. My head came along for the ride. More on that shortly. Motorcycle metrics Vehicle: 2003 Harley Davidson Heritage Softail Classic Route: As shown below Distance: 1493.3 miles (2403.2 km) Fuel burn: 37.432 gallons (141.7 liters) Average MPG: 40 Most expensive fuel: $4.099/gallon in Bellevue The Heritage is an extremely comfortable ride. I’ve ridden it for over six hours in a day with little fatigue. The thing that gets the most tired for me is my throttle wrist. For a 700-lbs (317.5 kg) vehicle, it’s also responsive in all five gears, even if it’s not a crotch rocket. Harley Davidson is my religion, given that I have no religion. Seeking sophos Sophos (or sophia) means “wise” or “wisdom” and originally was used to describe anyone with expertise in a specific domain of knowledge or craft. Even a charioteer could be a sophoi. A charioteer I’m not but a dedicated rider I am, forever trying to describe a better curve. But that’s a joy for me. Not like the search for sophos that goes on in my head, which is eternally more problematic. This was apparent the first day out, when instead of clearing my head, it was full of more chatter than usual. View July 2012 in a larger map Some of the chatter involved my choice of route, as in “This route was a stupid choice.” Goldendale, WA, my first stop, is not a 5-Star destination (or even 2-Star). I’d only expected to spend the first night there but I found its rural-small-town desertion a bit depressing. Still, no choice of route can truly be stupid. That’s absurd. Only thinking makes it so; no less true for Goldendale than Denmark. After dinner I decided to ride. The young woman at the Quality Inn told me that the Columbia River was only ten minutes away and that I could ride down to “Stonehedge.” I didn’t correct her. After all, the one on the Columbia is not a Neolithic earthwork but a concrete war memorial that could as easily be called a “hedge” as a “henge.” The Maryhill Stonehenge is a full-size, astronomically-aligned replica of Stonehenge located in Maryhill, Washington (Wikipedia). It’s impressive, as was Samuel Hill’s motivation for building it. Each day of the trip brought its own gifts and challenges. I’ll post more about that in the coming days along with more pictures. However, I’m...
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