Redmond, OR to Weed, CA 247 Miles
"The only people who never tumble are those who never mount the high wire."
We got a late start after taking care of some urgent business, and hit the road to a cooler day with temps in the low 50s and broken clouds. Highway 97 south was a great road, with not too much traffic even though it was two lanes, and pretty woods on either side. Much of it ran straight as a string, but I prefer my string more stringy- uh, bent. Great traveling however, and we wore the proper gear after one adjustment.
I should take a bit of time to give a tip of the face shield to Libby. She runs every day, starts like she's anticipating my hitting the button, and never falters. We've replaced two headlight bulbs and a fork seal (which I'm sure is from the idiot tow truck driver from the Denver crash in the snow). At the last service (around 46k miles) she needed new front brake pads, amazing since she has to haul down that trailer on a regular basis. So I don't talk about the bike much because there's nothing to say. And that's a good thing.
We rode through pine forests, scrub high desert sage and farmland until mid-afternoon when Mount Shasta appeared. Magnificent. You would probably love to see a photo of it, and if I had charged the camera last night, you can be sure I would have posted it. Hey, cut me some slack. I've only been doing this for a year.
But Shasta was beautiful, and tomorrow won't be too late for shots of it. The pines got thicker and more green, and the elevation climbed to five thousand feet. Finally it receded a bit and we rode into Weed, California. Okay, this is how I envisioned their naming this town.
Cactus Jack calls the meeting to order. "Okay boys, set down at this here table in the weeds, and let's see if we can come up with a name fer this town. Now where's Andy?"
One Eyed Pete says, "He can't make it. He's home smoking some weed."
"Dang it," Jack says. "How about you, Pistol Whip? Man, I ain't seen you since you was knee high to a grasshopper. You dun growed like a weed."
"I vote present."
"Well, what do y'all think? How about you, Snakeskin? Take that weed outa yer mouth and let's hear it."
"Wal, I bin a weedin' through some names, and I come up with one."
"How about Springfield?"
Something like that.
Anyway, Weed is a much nicer town than its name, in the shadow of Mount Shasta.
And if you're counting, this was our sixth entrance into California this Adventure. Sheesh!
And now, nominated 365 times for Biker Chick of the Year, Quilter Girl!
It was a very cool, windy day starting from our walk to Burger King for breakfast. I started out wearing just my heavy jacket and Gerbing pants, but we stopped in LaPine (23 miles) and I put on the sweatshirt, gloves and Gerbing jacket liner under the coat. Now I looked like the Michelin man but I was warm. I sniffled a bit as we went through Bend without stopping at BJ's Quilt Basket, a favorite from previous trips, and the Red Robin on the river with a great patio. I already have more fabric than I should and it is the wrong time of day and too cold for Red Robin!
We were south of Klamath Falls needing gas and food. We had missed the two gas stations before town and didn't find anything else there. There was an exit that had gas, food and lodging so we took it and had to ride 2 1/2 miles to get to anything. Our tenacity was rewarded as there was a Wingers that we passed on our way to the gas station. I love Wingers, there is one in Cedar City that we stop at all the time, so that was our food stop. It was a great meal of their sticky fingers for me and chicken Alfredo for Kevin. Then only 60 miles through the windy valleys to the great town of Weed.
Tomorrow, Sacramento. Rest up.