Month: August 2016

The day we had spent nearly 3 weeks gearing up for (literally) was now upon us. 

There had been a moving ceremony the evening before in Carson City, Nevada where all the cross-country riders,  complete strangers just three weeks earlier, celebrated our small and huge achievements like a family. 

We also celebrated the induction of our last (but not least) honourary Canadian, Vivian Gerstetter. (pink crocs)

As with every other morning on this journey we were not entirely sure what to expect. This day was different though, plans that had been put in place months, maybe even years, before were now coming to fruition. There was to be a group photo under the Golden Gate Bridge at 2 PM. Press from around the country were going to be in attendance. We were then scheduled to ride, as a group, across the illustrious Bridge at 2:30 PM. Since Colorado, we had been joined by dozens of new riders doing the last leg of the ride. A rough count had us at 200 riders going across the Bridge. But I’m jumping ahead. We still had to get to San Francisco on time. 

Olivia, one of the original 7 Sisters’ Rogue Riders, approached Zandra at the ceremony and suggested we ride to San Francisco and across the GGB as a group again. A wonderful idea. With the welcomed inclusion of Dan and Sofie Ruderman, the group from the first days in Massachusetts, which seemed like a life time ago, were rogue-riding again.  We were also thankfully joined during the ride by one of the Sisters’ staff and ride leader extrordinaire, Lisa Malachowsky, but I’ll get to that in a minute. 

Today’s ride was entirely goal-oriented. Get to the Golden Gate Bridge before 2 PM. California traffic had an entirely different goal – make it as difficult as possible to reach our destination. 

Zandra did an amazing job getting us out of Nevada and past Sacramento but about 50 miles from San Francisco we hit our first traffic jam. 

While we might be very proud, even a bit smug, about how polite Canadians are, it is no match for California traffic. Fortunately, Olivia, our New Yorker who had lived in California, saw the Canadian hand-wringing going on at the front of our group. She maneuvered up to Zandra and yelled “lane-splitting”. Seeing the confusion on our faces she proceeded to ride between two lanes of stopped cars while summoning us to follow. Yikes!! 

Poor Zandra had to hear my panic through our intercom. “I’m not comfortable with this!”, was the understated but rather shrill statement that came out of me. But, seconds later, there I was riding up the middle of two lanes of traffic focussed on Zandra ahead of me and doing my best to alert the drivers by growling my throttle. Pathetic sounding compared to a Harley but the best my Suzuki cruiser could come up with. And while I am loath to make biblical comparisons, I was shocked when the sea of cars parted willingly for our rogue ride along the broken white line. I was no longer a lane-splitting virgin!

Full disclosure here. As much as it felt very daring, rogue, and a little cheeky to ride through the middle of bumper-to-bumper traffic it is actually legal for motorcycles to do this in California. There is a practical reason for this. Many bikes are carbureted, requiring air circulation and cannot sustain sitting idle in traffic for very long without over-heating. 

Regardless, I was very relieved when the traffic started moving again and I could take a break from being hyper-vigilant to being just vigilant. 

My relief was short lived. A few miles ahead the traffic started slowing down again. By this time I spotted Lisa, one of the Sisters’ ride leaders, in her florescent yellow ‘ride marshal’ vest winding her way through the traffic like a professional hockey player with the puck (that one is for you Andy). Zandra caught up with her, exchanged some words and hand gestures and then dropped back signalling me to keep going behind Lisa. At the time, I had no idea that Zandra’s iPhone had over-heated leaving her without GPS. After a few confusing minutes I reached her on the intercom and she yelled “follow Lisa”. So I followed Lisa. 

For the next 20 miles or so (could have been 5 or 500) I stayed on Lisa tail, ducking and diving through the traffic and so focussed that I thankfully didn’t have time to think about what I was doing or the possible consequences of doing it. 

Finally, after what seemed like both minutes and hours, we got off the highway and pulled into a gas station for much-needed fuel and, more importantly, to decompress. 

There were many high fives, hugs and selfies. I inhaled the last piece of my Milky Way to try and normalize my blood sugar. Dawn, a sister rogue rider who was behind me during our lane-spitting adventure, laughed at how Canadian I was with my waving and flashing peace signs to drivers who moved out of my way. All agreed that we had done an amazing job under the circumstances.

While we still had 22 miles to our destination, the tension was now broken. With Lisa leading the pack we arrived at the staging area in the park under the Bridge about 20 minutes before the 2 o’clock deadline. Wow!!!

Great pic of Johanne and Zandra in the staging area. (Photo credit to Tina). Zandra had the flag signed by all the cross-country riders – it will have pride of place in our home. 

Stay tuned for the next post, working title: Shutting Down San Francisco. 

Whatever you ride – ride safe. 

Helen

Leaving Ely with 50+ riders the next morning didn’t feel particularly lonely but facing 317 miles, all on Route 50, seemed more than a little daunting. 

I couldn’t find the name of the photographer to credit for this image but it totally captures Route 50. 

With clear instructions on where the very few fuel and food stops were on the 50, we set out determined to make the best of this long, hot, lonely ride. 

If memory serves me, the first 150 miles were only broken up by a few twisty mountain passes, a quick fuel stop, the wonderful smell of sage and several roadside memorials marking the life of someone who sadly didn’t survive America’s loneliest road. 

At about the half way point, we stopped to fuel up at the Chevron in Austin, Nevada. A tiny gas station with a large selection of “I survived HWY 50 the loneliest road in America” paraphernalia. I bought the t-shirt and even Hippo got in on the fun. As I said, diversions were few and far between. 

Zandra had done her best however to find a few more interesting tidbits along the way including the shoe tree. This was not the original shoe tree as that was chopped down by vandals on December 30, 2010. Who does that??? But the ‘reborn’ shoe tree, just east of the original, did not disappoint. (Albeit, our diversion bar was not particularly high – see above). 

We then spent almost two hours at the Old Middlegate Station restaurant – the only game in town. We hadn’t really planned on spending that long for lunch but with the limited food opportunities on the highway, all the Sisters’ riders seemed to descend on the tiny place at about the same time. With few seating options, we asked a non-rider if we could share his table. We quickly started with the “where are you from?” conversation that should have led as quickly to the “how did you come to being in the middle of nowhere?”  Our pat answer was now Ontario, Canada because we had yet to meet an American who had even heard of Ottawa. They do “know” that Toronto is the capital and that we have a “really hot new president”. 😄 So we were very surprised when this fellow asked “whereabouts in Ontario?” “Ottawa”, we replied and lo and behold he was from Hamilton and his sister had recently retired from the City of Ottawa (where Zandra works). I think we all should have gone out and bought lottery tickets. What were the chances that the guy we would ask to share a table with in this quirky little restaurant on the loneliest highway in Nevada would live only a few hours from us? Bizarre. 

The wall. 

The ceiling. 

The phone box. 

Looks like we not only survived the loneliest highway, we conquered it. 🇨🇦

Whatever you ride – ride safe. 

Helen 

Birthday morning sunrise in Bryce Canyon. 

“Long stretches of desolation abound, be sure to watch your fuel and know you can make it to the next known stop. Take snacks and lots of water.”(Sisters’ Ride guide book)

This was the sage advice given to us before embarking on today’s ride. We were heading to Ely, Nevada and starting the two-day journey that would take us on the infamous US Route 50 or as Life Magazine declared in 1986, “America’s Loneliest Road”. 

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/U.S._Route_50_in_Nevada

At this stage in our ride Zandra had become an expert in finding interesting alternate routes or at least an interesting landmark or quirky roadside attraction to break up the more monotonous miles. 

Alas, alternatives were limited on the long, hot ride through Utah to Ely (pronounced elee), just over the state line in Nevada. This was especially true as we needed to be  cognizant about finding sufficient fuel stops and water. 

Riding into Ely however was enough to break up 100’s of miles of monotony.  Quirky didn’t begin to describe this town. It really was like a scene out of a B-western from the 1940’s.  A casino on every corner and the strong scent of bygone days of grandeur.

We were booked into the Nevada Hotel and Gambling Hall with its 3 story high, buff, neon miner ready to defend us (or brain us) with his pick axe. 

The first thing we noticed when we went to check in was that Nevada has apparently not joined the international movement of protecting its workers and the public from second-hand smoke. The haze and smell coming from the gambling hall put many of our riders off completely. A few were lucky enough to move to another hotel around the corner. 

I’m not sure whether it was because I told the young woman at the desk that it was my birthday or because there was a minor screw-up with our reservation but it seems, after conferring with other riders, that Zandra and I lucked into the best room in the house. 5th floor, non-smoking and a giant four-poster bed that required a running jump to get on. I was delighted. 

After we settled in we went to check out the town. We found some of our folk in an old-school soda fountain and ice cream parlour that seemed far too wholesome for this town. 
Curiosity then led us to a very brief encounter in a restaurant called Racks – apparently a euphemism for game hunters stuffed ‘trophies’. Yeeeckkkk. A picture I will unfortunately not get out of my head anytime soon. 

Heading back to the hotel I felt it was necessary to at least try my hand at gambling. Neither Zandra, nor I, had any experience with the rows of brightly lit, loud machines that lined the room. I tentatively read the instructions and stuck a dollar in the machine. Zandra suggested I press the ‘bet max’ button and I promptly lost my whole dollar. Sheepishly she handed me another dollar. This time I was a little more careful, starting with penny bets and then, as my confidence grew, I moved up to a nickle. When I won 2 dollars and 5 cents I cashed out. Quit while you’re ahead. 😉

Anticipating our long ride on America’s loneliest highway the next day we turned in early. It was a birthday I will never forget and hey – I was up 5 cents. 

Whatever you ride – ride safe. 

Helen

After our adventures in Arizona, two days in Bryce Canyon, Utah brought some off-the-motorcycle relief and time to celebrate with new friends. 

The ride into Bryce Canyon Park was breathtaking – great pic Tina. 

But the ravages of the drought didn’t go unnoticed. Right beside the miles of beautifully maintained bicycle path leading into the national park was a completely dry riverbed. Each hotel since Colorado had notices about the importance of conserving water. 

With our side trip to the North Rim we arrived in Bryce Canyon late on the first night and pretty much ate and crashed. A theme we had come to expect. The next morning brought some welcomed relief from the routine. A bunch of us took a bikers’ holiday and after breakfast jumped on the free shuttle bus into Bryce Canyon National Park. 

Even Hippo came along for the tour. 

(For those following my ride on Facebook you will know that Hippo  has been along for the ride since day 1 and when I get home to Ottawa he will be sent to Aaron in Switzerland to continue his travels as euroHippo.) 😊

After our wholesome fun in the park we went back to the motel for some less wholesome fun.  “Twins in trouble” was Susan Smith’s Facebook title for this photo. Dan Ruderman and Zandra Charbonneau. (Dan is Adeline Van Buren’s grandson and a bad influence on my wife). 😉

July 20th was also the 70th birthday of Adeline and Augusta Van Buren’s great nephew, Robert Van Buren, who had traveled on this journey from day 1 in Brooklyn, New York. We were honoured to also have his incredible daughter Sarah on the ride as well. She got her motorcycle license last fall just for this ride. Robert’s wife Rhonda had joined us in Colorado Springs to continue the journey to San Francisco. 

The following day was my birthday and knowing that we had a very long, hot ride ahead of us I (gently) suggested to Zandra that a small celebration in Bryce Canyon (with cake) might be a great idea. 

Kudos to Zandra (and other supportive friends). We had a great celebration at the local Cowboy Showcase with not 1, but 2, huge birthday cakes. 

Thanks for the great pic Susan Smith. 

On a sadder note, Bryce Canyon also meant saying goodbye to two of our new friends. Barbara had been an original Sisters’ Rogue Rider since Springfield and sadly had to leave us because of the death of a beloved aunt. Mary-Beth had a happier engagement to attend, the wedding of her niece. 

Mary-Beth had ridden with ‘the Canadians’ for some of our most memorable rides. Breakfast with the cowboys of Haigler, Route 66 and the monsoon of Arizona. She had clearly become an ‘honourary Canadian’. (Note that we put the ‘U’ in honour). 

We look forward to meeting up with Mary-Beth in Long Island, New York (I said that with an accent – did you?) and riding with her again on the upcoming (date to be determined) Canada ride. 

Onward to Nevada…

Whatever you ride – ride safe. 

Helen