Travels with Blanche DuBois 2014: A Pas de Deux

This section is for people to post trip writeups and pictures AFTER the trip is over.

Moderator: Moderators

User avatar
Dr. Strangelove
Double Lifer
Posts: 1996
Joined: Sun Aug 07, 2005 2:40 pm
Location: #488Livin' in a Poor Man's Shangri.La

Re: Travels with Blanche DuBois 2014: A Pas de Deux

Post by Dr. Strangelove »

The Woodsman damn near sparkles in the morning sun as I pack up and say goodbye to all things Crescent.

Image

Coffee in the room and cellophane wrapped pastries constituted the "breakfast" at the Woodsman, though looking back on it now, why didn't I go to the Mohawk? Shoulda coulda woulda. The sometimes story of my life. You can never get too many "honeys" from a buxom waitress, Unlikely heroes emerge throughout one's life. Gandhi, Mandela, Broderick Crawford. Yes, they all liked to be called Honey by a buxom waitress. I'll bet the Broderick would've gone back to the Mohawk, got a mess of eggs and bacon, real coffee, "for a man." and all with shined shoes, coat and tie, and hat.

Image

But, I fall short of Broderick Crawford's wardrobe, stature, and girth, and attitude, and well, most everything, except liking to be called Honey. I hit again the Dalles California Highway, aka US 97, north bound toward Bend.
Through Bend (and I suppose now "Bent") I follow 97 toward Redmond where I will take a right to cross the Evergreen State in the direction of places with names like John Day and Enterprise, places I've formerly only seen in promos for national ralleys and always seemed so distant, because they were. Not now though.

I follow US 26, pass through John Day, then take OR7, enjoying nearly perfect conditions of no traffic, beautiful roads, partly cloudy skies and 70 degree weather. I know it's not always this way, but count your blessings, right? I wind up for the evening in La Grande, Or., a town that was forced to change its name (from Brownsville...there was already a town that had dibbs on the name), but chose wisely, choosing the name given the area by Frenchie Charles Dause, thus named for the area's beauty.
I stay at The Royal Motor Inn, nothing fancy, nothing Royal, but comfortable and clean...and cheap. It is a mom and pop place, but I only saw mom and only at check in, the desk was empty the rest of the time. I'm thinking there is no pop.

Image

Image
something for everyone

Image

Image

Image

I hit Tripadvisor for restaurant recs, and spy the Golden Harvest, just a block or two away. I have a bit, well two bits of my Redbreast, and I walk on over after seeing the sights of La Grande. The Golden Harvest is sort of a hole in the wall, but better than that. A hand painted sign boldly proclaims:
Best Asian Food in the NorthWest
I kinda doubt that Seattle and Portland might not possibly have a better place?
(The food was good though)
Glass fronted, it is twilight lit within, Chinese music plays, that ding ding-ding-ding-ding medly that is heard in every Chinese Restaurant.
I am greeted by the lady on the left (this is not my picture, but I have it on good authority that the guy in the picture? the one with the "cake?" He, in the next moment, and I wish I had this picture, he puts every layer into her face, and she never loosened her grip on the festive balloons!).

Image
So, the lady on the left is the proprietrix of The Golden Harvest and is just so chatty as to beat the band, she's bubbly, effervescent, the ginger ale of charm.
You on FaceBook, she asks?
What I say is Yes,
what I am thinking is that it is a waste of time, mostly the domain of 30 something moms.
You like Us on FaceBook, Look Golden Harvest, you LIKE us!
OK, I will, taste untasted. I will like you. And seeking the path of least resistance and having been with strong women all my life, while awaiting a menu, I get the Like thing out of the way, so that when Cio-Cio San returns I can ingratiate myself, having Liked the Golden Harvest on FaceBook.
Cio-Cio San returns and just beams when I tell her I've ALREADY Liked the Golden Harvest.
She hands me a menu, but it is only a distraction from the "special of the day," and that is "white fish" and the stuff you see with it.
I throw her a curve.
"What is the 'white' fish?"
Trouble and care cross Cio-Cio San's face. Perhaps she's never been asked this before...was it a challenge, disrespect from the Occident? But, we swamp people treat our seafood with respect and "white" fish covers a whole lot of territory and I am curious. We'll eat anything, but we want a name on it
I don't know, she gets out, but assures me she will find out.
She returns, but does not know, comfortable that it is indeed "white fish."
I've just ridden from the crotch to the left shoulder of the US of A, I'm ready. I order the White Fish. And it was delicious, yum, gimme more!

Image
Aside: I hate food pictures, they always seem to look like garbage, so for me to include one speaks something, but it was good, and if in La Grande again I would again drop in at the Golden Harvest.

I retreat to the Royal Motor Inn from the Golden Harvest, He!! I feel richer already! Life is good, ya know? And tomorrow the weather still looks good for Rattlesnake Grade and on to the Palouse. The stuff of motorcycle dreams.
'09 Schwarze Blanche DuBois
Well, don't do that-Hippocrates
machew01
Quadruple Lifer
Posts: 651
Joined: Sun Mar 20, 2005 7:14 am
Donating Member #: 345
Location: Crumpler, NC USA

Re: Travels with Blanche DuBois 2014: A Pas de Deux

Post by machew01 »

Dear Dr.,

Dadgummit. I should have known better than to start reading your trip report right at bedtime. Oh well. I can sleep over the weekend. Thanks for sharing!


mac
User avatar
Dr. Strangelove
Double Lifer
Posts: 1996
Joined: Sun Aug 07, 2005 2:40 pm
Location: #488Livin' in a Poor Man's Shangri.La

Re: Travels with Blanche DuBois 2014: A Pas de Deux

Post by Dr. Strangelove »

:)
Thanks, Mac. Hope this finds you well.

John
'09 Schwarze Blanche DuBois
Well, don't do that-Hippocrates
machew01
Quadruple Lifer
Posts: 651
Joined: Sun Mar 20, 2005 7:14 am
Donating Member #: 345
Location: Crumpler, NC USA

Re: Travels with Blanche DuBois 2014: A Pas de Deux

Post by machew01 »

It does! Let's make our paths cross.

mac
User avatar
Dr. Strangelove
Double Lifer
Posts: 1996
Joined: Sun Aug 07, 2005 2:40 pm
Location: #488Livin' in a Poor Man's Shangri.La

Re: Travels with Blanche DuBois 2014: A Pas de Deux

Post by Dr. Strangelove »

Mac, Sounds good!

Sorry for the delay, but since I've been here I have had an external drive failure and had to reformat and restore my hard drive. Ugh, fortunately I am backed up out the wazoo and lost nothing. I keep all pictures and music on an external drive, backed up on another, and keep my internal drive just for OS and apps, and I back that up. The external was a bit more of a problem, but I now finally seem to be back up and running.

The next morning and Mom of the Royal Inn was no where to be found in the office. There was something edible, can't remember what now, and there was coffee...sort of. It was dark brown and warm and took Splenda and "creamer" into solution. Is that powdered "creamer" really supposed to be made by Sherwin Williams? I drank two cups, and headed out. I headed out OR 82, the Wallowa Lake Highway, a very pretty road, lightly trafficked, sunny warm and heading toward a place I see in reports sometimes, Enterprise, Or. Turns out LaGrande is on the Oregon Trail. It also turns out that the remains of the Oregon Trail is Interstate 84 or at least part of it.

82 puts the BU in bucolic, and in a short time arrive in Enterprise. It's ok, I suppose, but somehow I expected more. I think the residents may feel the same.

Image

I ate breakfast at The Red Rooster, a local joint on the main drag that seemed, as Tripadvisor would claim, “Nice local place, good food" and “Glad we Stopped!”
I had bacon and eggs and whole wheat and a couple of big mugs of coffee. Real Half and Half (the dairy product, not the "service"). Hard to go wrong with that, and the Rooster delivered. I never eat bacon at home, but on the road it breaks into the top ten of food groups.
Image

I heard a discussion recently, I think on N-P-R-La-De-Da, about why bacon smells soooooooooo good to sooooooooo many people. Turns out that bacon has well over 100 aromatic compounds, while most foods have only a few. So, when it comes to bacon, there's something for everyone, 'seppin' for maybe I.S.I.L, but I'll bet even those guys, when they take a break from their "day job" could go for some bacon. I like mine crisp and crunchy and the color of Coca Cola. I think the worst thing about bacon is that it always leaves you wanting more. Everything in moderation, except bacon. Bacon is so popular that it even makes it into metaphor: bring home the bacon; to save your bacon.

In the bathroom this is on the wall. Are fisherman stories ever funny?

Image

I walk back to Blanche, patiently waiting and am on to one of the destinations of the trip, The Palouse. But to get there I choose to travel by Or 3 and then Wa 129, otherwise known as Rattlesnake Grade. This is definitely an out of the way place and as much as it is out of the way, it is similarly gorgeous. Don't tell anyone. I am just telling you. A beautiful road winding up and down and around and over and left and right through emerald green mountains in 60 degree weather with just the threat of a sprinkle. Riders wax on its beauty and sheer fun and its meditative quality and all that's true. And it drops you in Idaho, eventually, a stone's throw from The Palouse.
Rattlesnake Grade

Image

Image
Rapeseed in bloom

Image

Image

Image

And at the end of the day I find myself in maybe my favorite town of the whole trip

Image

I check in at the Best Western and while unloading a woman about 50 (ish) comes up to me and remarks that I am a long way from home, I agree. She tells me she was just "in Louisiana." Oh, Where?
"New Orleans."
Aside: New Orleans is "technically" part of "Louisiana," but there are a couple of definite sections/cultures in The Bayou State. There is South Louisiana with it's Cajun culture, Catholic, French, Italian, German, Creole, Af Amer, a real gumbo, and in that gumbo, New Orleans is a sub set. Then there is the rest of the state and that is more "akin" to Mississippi, East Texas, Arkansas, ie rural, Protestant, Anglo Saxon and Af American. Think Duck Dynasty vs Ellen DeGeneris or Emeril (not a native, but close enough); jerry Lee Lewis vs Satchmo. A bit of a culture clash. New Orleans is an island in the south.

So, when I hear hear "New Orleans," I think, not Louisiana, New Orleans, and I ask the first question every New Orleanian asks, Where did you eat and why were you there? We talked restaurants, neighborhoods, had a nice chat. She was down here with her "spouse (her word not mine)" who happened to attend the same girls' high school as my wife, Dominican. She was now visiting her family in Colfax, long fingers indeed.

I attend to my Redbreast Irish Whiskey deficiency and head out, down Main Street in Colfax, Washington, to the nicest place, with the nicest people on what has thus far been a very nice trip. A local mom and pop diner, The Top Notch Cafe.

Image

I walk past the multicolored round stools, and as I do so I squeeze past what at first glance, and second. looks to be a street person. I see an old red bike through the window, basket in front, loaded with cans. His gaze follows me to my booth and I remember thinking, I just want to eat, I don't want to be hit on for money, my "city" was showing, in retrospect my charity was not.
Twilight pours through the big front window and fluorescent tubes provide the fill in lighting, an occasional 60 Hz flicker. I grab a booth.
"Charlie" is chatting it up big time with a young couple at the booth three down from me. They have a little girl who is more interested in her fries than anything else. I eaves drop and the conversation is not financial at all, but just chatter and as I listen I begin to get some greater insight into Charlie. He's happy, he talks about nothing really, but he fills a lot of space doing so, punctuated by soft laughter and parenthetical smiles. His speech is labored and slurred some, but bright and wholesome. The couple keeps the conversation going and match him smile for smile. He looks my way and I look back a bit, but still avert my gaze after 1,2,3 seconds. Charlie has lots of challenges in life and for some reason, on this early evening, almost raining, in Colfax Washington I get to observe what an accident of DNA can mean. There but, etc etc etc.
His hands are misshapen, both of them and he holds them in sort of a T. rex style, and he illustrates his conversation with gestures as the couple continues to chat right back and sometimes I hear advice given and well received by Charlie. It is a funny feeling because I know the "Christian" thing to do is be a mensch, but the easy selfish thing is to stare at the menu, get a green chili cheeseburger, root beer, be aloof. But I continue to observe, feeling weirdly guilty and doing nothing, not that there was anything to really do, but I knew what I had been thinking. Not a proud moment. And I was mentally back pedaling away from my steps entering the Top Notch
Mom of The Top Notch is an attractive 30 something, takes my order, friendly, smiling, warm. Pop is her husband, fry cooking, conversation going from Charlie to couple, Mom to Pop, Mom or Pop to Charlie, laughter, and me watching it all and feeling invisible to myself, or wanting to feel invisible or want to feel so visible that I do cartwheels.

Image

The couple pays, they say their goodbyes to Charlie and there are just a few people left in the Top Notch, a couple up front, another near the front and me.
Charlie starts walking back and I've decided that should he stop it would be my "turn" to "love thy neighbor" in this most tangible of ways. It shouldn't be this hard, huh? And it's not. We exchange smiles and nods as he walks past me to a stool behind me. Charlie and Pop and sometimes Mom are laughing about something. I finish, Mom brings my check, I stand at the register to pay.
"Look, I want to put something extra on this for the young man down there to have something to eat."
Mom says, " Oh, that's Charlie, he lives around the corner and was in a bad accident, left him like that ("like that" being serious physical handicaps and significant brain damage). He's in here all the time and we feed him," all this with such a warm smile. She wouldn't take my money. So, I said, " then I am putting this on here for you to help y'all out with all that." That she took, with another warm smile and a thank you, but somehow I thought I should tell that whole place, The Top Notch, Thank You. So far from home, such a long solo ride, and to come on to this little human episode made me think about not who I am, but why I am, and why we all are. Maybe it sounds saccharin but this was maybe the most memorable moment of the whole trip. Usually on these solo rides there's something that stands out, and this was it...out of the blue, the dichotomy of how I walked in and how I walked out. I'm not really sure what I learned, but I know I learned something.

I walk back to the Best Western.

Image

I see a van in the parking lot advertising a photography school, turns out there was a photography group who had come to Colfax to shoot from Steptoe Butte-el 2500' above the surrounding area, just out of town, where I had been told to go, where the Palouse can be viewed in full glory.
I google the name of the group, find it, look at their seminars, see what they were seeing around here and plan my route to mimic theirs. Actually, the homework I had done was mostly correct, but I was able to fine tune a bit.
The deal is you should get on top of Steptoe Butte around dawn to watch the play of shadows on the glacial prairies.
From Wiki:
The peculiar and picturesque silt dunes which characterize the Palouse Prairie were formed during the ice ages (Alt and Hyndman 1989). Blown in from the glacial outwash plains to the west and south, the Palouse hills consist of more or less random humps and hollows. The steepest slopes, which may reach 50% slope, face the northeast. The highly productive loess ranges from 5 to 130 cm deep.[8] Large areas of level land are rare.


I am there by 615am, the sun just peaking over the horizon. I am probably the last photographer there. They were all out with their tripods and everything. I am the only one on a motorcycle. I have probably come the longest way to be here right now.


Image

Image

Image

Image

Image

Image

Image

Image

Image

Image

Image

Image

Image

Image

Image

Image

Image

Image

Image

Image

Image

Image

Image

Image

Image

Image

Image

And by 730 or so the show was over and it was time to go home, as in all the way home. From here on out it would be make tracks. I could take the scenic route, after all I was crossing a continent, so there were different ways from A to B, but the general direction was home, down and to the right.
'09 Schwarze Blanche DuBois
Well, don't do that-Hippocrates
mnnden
Basic User
Posts: 587
Joined: Thu Mar 17, 2005 6:22 pm
Donating Member #: 0
Location: MN

Re: Travels with Blanche DuBois 2014: A Pas de Deux

Post by mnnden »

Amazing, incredible, the words are probably overused & misunderstood, but hay, it's all I got, Thanks, I don't know that I have every enjoyed a report more. jmop
We all gave some,
Some gave all.

Anonymous
User avatar
Dr. Strangelove
Double Lifer
Posts: 1996
Joined: Sun Aug 07, 2005 2:40 pm
Location: #488Livin' in a Poor Man's Shangri.La

Re: Travels with Blanche DuBois 2014: A Pas de Deux

Post by Dr. Strangelove »

Thanks again for the so kind words. Sorry been away for a bit, mtg in Boston (love Boston), and then...wait for it...hard drive crash. Fortunately, I am backed up to the hilt, or to a hilt of some sort. Replaced HD with a samsung 840 evo 250gb SSD. After a couple of missteps, thing seem fine, so I am back.

------------------------

What has happened down here is the winds have changed
Clouds roll in from the north and it started to rain
Rained real hard and it rained for a real long time
Six feet of water in the streets of Evangeline

The river rose all day
The river rose all night
Some people got lost in the flood
Some people got away alright
The river have busted through clear down to Plaquemines
Six feet of water in the streets of Evangelne


The recent anniversary of Katrina, reminded me of the long last leg of this trip. I remember then feeling very far from home, not lonely, but far away and counting on 500 pounds of metal and composite and rubber to travel me back. The experience in the diner in Colfax was in some way the highlight of the trip. These things, these rides, can be floats on a stream of awareness. Not a "voyage," not a "journey," not a "river," not any significant "vessel." Just a float, just a stream. And although there may be a sort of a rudder, whose hand is on it, and, there are no oars to steer. Art Linkletter said decades ago
Image
that "kids say the darnedest things." I suppose they do, but these rides tell you things beyond quips. Happens every ride. The Top Notch in Colfax.

After my early morning at Steptoe Butte, I had to make tracks. It was now time to pretty much race home, I had a (shhhh!), 50th high school reunion to attend...if I made it back in time. So, I hit the road traveling down the spine of Idaho along US95. 95 parallels the Salmon River, known for its fine rafting, for much of my route until I hit ID 55 that I take down to Boise. Very pretty ride.

Rapeseed in bloom
Image

Image

Image

Very threatening skies rumble and boil, but never deliver, though I did don the rainsuit, learning long ago it is far better to put it on needlessly than to get soaked and deal with that. I ride and ride and ride until I find myself literally, as promised long ago, "in the middle of nowhere" where my welcome, but not a working toilet, awaits my arrival.

Image

Wouldn't you know that the only man made structure "in the middle of nowhere" was a BP station. Doh! Woulda never guess that.
Art, I'll take "Middle of Nowhere" for $800.
"The Only Man-Made Item In The M of N"
What is a signpost showing distances to far off destinations?
B A A A P !

No, I'm sorry, it's "What is a BP station, with no working toilet, a couple of llamas (could be alpacas, I suppose) and a donkey...in the middle of nowhere?"

So, I visit the denizens of the M of N, I share a joke with this guy--the punchline being, " a good goat will do that,"
Image
and yes he is smirking because, even though llamas (alpacas) share an even toed ungulate ancestor with goats, they really (really) don't like each other. It's visceral.
However, though an odd toed ungulate, this donkey, shared the space in the M of N with Browny. And he...
Image
"had family" who took offense at any humor that was goat-driven, so he snorted donkey snot on me. I felt it hit my face, AND MY LIPS.
All together...EWWWWWW
yes, EWWWWWW, at least it didn't get on my lens. I wipe down with the baby wipes I carry telling myself I am clean, and I hit the road again.

At Boise, I have to slab, now truly on the road home, stop for the evening in Mountain Home, but I remember nothing of Mountain Home.

The next day, again, making tracks I continue on interstates into Utah over to Wyoming.
In Evanston, Wy, while filling up, there are a couple of other riders there and we talk routes. They suggest that I take Wy 414 and head down into Utah through Flaming Gorge. Yeah, sure that sounds good!
From Wiki

"The area was given the name "Flaming Gorge" by John Wesley Powell during his 1869 expedition down the Green River, due to the spectacular red sandstone cliffs that surround this part of the (Green) river."

The weather was again threatening though late on this Sunday afternoon in May, and there were miles to go before I slept...in Craig, Colorado at The Elk Run Inn. I ride down Wy 414, a road that delivers as promised, and through Flaming Gorge, unable to stop often because of the hour and because of the intermittent drops of precip.

Image

Image

Image

I drop out of Flaming Gorge and into beautiful downtown Vernal, Utah, sunny now, but looking at the East, where I will travel is dark, gray, foreboding, almost hearing the Dragnet theme. I fuel, drain, and secure for the 121 miles to the Elk Run along US 40.

US 50 across Nevada is called "the loneliest road in America." Don't believe it. US 50 is a traffic jam compared to US 40 between Vernal and Craig. Shortly out of Vernal the weather disintegrates into rain, wind, fog and dropping temps. There is no other lifeform other than myself. I change the music thinking classical might be calming, but all I can get is Dvořák and Sibelius, this is not easy listening and totally unacceptable. Let's go for silence.
I am riding over mountain ridges, across valleys, and I watch the heavy fog, driven by a south wind, cross 40 is wide clumps, nudging me left. 42 degrees. What is the speed limit here? 55? 65? Suddenly, my radar detector goes berserk and I see officer friendly coming my way. I look down and see 72 mph on the GPS.
He immediately makes a U turn, I know I am damaged goods, I stop.
He delays in the car a bit, the rain has stopped for the moment.

He asks How Am I Doing?
I know this answer. "I am cold and wet and tired and have been riding all day and I am 11 miles from the Elk Run Inn in Craig where I am going to spend the night, that's how I am"...all said with what the group, Over The Rhine, calls The Laugh of Recognition:
So come on boys
It weren't not for tryin'
It's called the laugh of recognition
When you laugh but you feel like dyin'


Do you know why I stopped you?
I guess that I was probably speeding. Bingo! I win! That was the correct answer!
I had you at 72.
Two thoughts crossed my mind, one came out of my mouth, I knew I was going a little fast but 72? (incredulously apologetic).
The other thought, Hey, my GPS is calibrated!

Officer Friendly is just that, he laughs, and tells me that he's going to run my numbers and if I check out with the FBI he'll have me on my way in no time. I ask him not to check with the CIA. He tells me they wouldn't tell him anyway.

Good news. I am not wanted by the FBI.
Small talk ensues, asking me how long to get back to New Orleans, where I've been, and as I am talking to him, the two guys I met in the gas station in Evanston, Wy, the ones who talked me into riding through Flaming Gorge, ride past and wave, so if you guys happen to read this, I did not get a ticket.

By the time I check in at the Elk Run it's again raining, hard. I order Chinese and dry out and sleep the sleep of the dead.

The next morning is sunny and bright, onward to Steamboat! In Steamboat I again see the two guys from Evanston.

Big chunks of Colorado fill my rear view mirror, but they are beautiful chunks, doing some of the classic north south roads.

Image
Mount Sopris

It seems the beautiful is just made more so, by the not-so-beautiful
Image
Don't buy this gum.
Savage Bliss? How can Savage Bliss be 25 cents less than Horny Goat Weed?

From Steamboat I ride down 131 and where it hits I 70, there's an nice restaurant, I stop for a bite and when I come out, I see this guy.

Image

A Swede and runnning "Coast to Coast" 30 days out of Los Angeles and on his way to either "Long Island or Charleston or Savannah." He has to decide by "Nebraska."
Remarkable enough, right?

But, wait! There's more!

He's doing this for the FOURTH TIME.

The first time he did it from New Orleans to Chicago, the week before Katrina. Yikes.

He jogs off east, I ride west, and south and take one of my favorite roads Co 92 along the north rim of the Black Canyon of the Gunnison. I have that area pretty well documented in a couple of previous ride reports, but if you have the chance this is a must do road.

I spend the night in Montrose and the next day do 550 (The Million Dollar Highway) that is always falling away in sections into the abyss it traverses. 550 down into New Mexico, now dry, sunny and hot, across ABQ and land in Santa Rosa.

From there it's just a couple of days into the thick humid, cut it with a knife, swamp air of south Louisiana.

I made it to my high school reunion, arriving home the day of, lots of memories and 7100 more miles on the clock. No one asked how I spent my summer vacation.

And I wonder if the Swede made it.

Thanks for coming along.

John
'09 Schwarze Blanche DuBois
Well, don't do that-Hippocrates
Post Reply