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Sunday morning on December 29, 2002
"The Long Ride"

As you may have heard, the Mount Shasta area in northern California was buried in snow and dowsed with rain throughout the month of December and records were broken for the wettest month, the most snowfall, and the most rain on record. The day I left my house was no different as I had to blow a path out my driveway just to leave. Sunday morning on December 29, 2002, I fired up my Harley Electra Glide Classic, put on my Harley Davidson electric clothing and riding suit, slipped on my Black Sheep boots, tapped my spirit bell for good luck, and proceeded to ride out my long snowy driveway.

I had three major hurdles ahead of me, one was just to get out of my driveway and ride though the ice and snow over the Siskiyou Summit (4,310 feet) on the California and Oregon border, the next was to get over Lookout Pass (4,700 feet) on the Idaho and Montana border, and the final hurdle was to make it safely back over the Pass when I leave Montana. With all of the windstorms, rainstorms, and snowstorms in between, I hoped that I would be able to ride through all of them as well.

Through several inches of new snow, extremely icy conditions, and four feet of snow on the ground, I drove out of my driveway with both feet on pavement for balance and proceeded to I-5. The Interstate had icy conditions till about the Weed Airport, 20 miles away, and then it mellowed out till I hit the Siskiyou mountains. With temperatures hovering slightly below the freezing mark, I inched my way through the fog and snow-covered roads until I reached the top of the Summit. My bike has a full upper and lower faring plus wind deflectors so I was fairly well protected from the cold and wet.

Coming down the Oregon side was the toughest because of the black ice and snow flurries. The cars were going slow and creeping no more than 35 miles an hour and the trucks were geared way down. When a car passed me, their tires would drench me with slush and ice and the cinders would fling up and hit me like a pellet gun. I had cinders in my ears, salt in my mouth, and one of the cinders got lodged up my nose and I had to eventually pull over and blow it out. Ouch... I use two different helmets while riding, one is my full helmet with a shield which I usually wear at night and the other is a half helmet for the day. This time I had my half helmet, a face mask, and a snap on shield with no eye glasses. Once I was out of the ice and snow, I removed my face mask and replaced it with sunglasses. With all the accessories you can get for Harleys, it's a shame that no one had developed windshield wipers.

I had planned my route out in advanced and had to consider all types of winter driving conditions. I had no choice but to stick to the Interstates and had to avoid all two lane highways due to the ice and snow. I picked a route that would stay at somewhat low elevations and also one that would get me to Montana the fastest. The route went as follows: leave my house in Mount Shasta, California and travel north up Interstate 5 to Portland, Oregon, then hang a right on Interstate 84 to The Dalles, Oregon, a left on Interstate 82 and then on to US 395 at Pasco, Washington. Next was to continue on US 395 to Ritzville and then hop on Interstate 90 to Spokane, then through Coeur D' Alene, Idaho, and over the snow-covered Fourth of July pass to Kellogg. Beyond that, I stayed on Interstate 90 over the icy Lookout Pass and onto Missoula, Montana. Since there was a storm ahead of me and one BIG ONE behind me, I had to ride the total of 915 miles in two days.

The ride up Interstate 5 to Portland was very decent except for a little frost, ice, wind, and rain. I could not complain about some of the frosty passes between Grants Pass and Roseburg, Oregon as I was toasty warm in my electric clothing and had the stereo full blast while listening to riding music from the CD titled Harley Road Songs. I was able to maintain speeds around 60 mph. After a quick McDonalds stop in Roseburg, and temps in the low to mid 40s, my ride to Portland consisted of a few rain showers and of course, some stiff winds and a Pacific Northwest damp chill. I stopped at several rest areas for a very short break and I always seemed to get the chills when I stopped; however, as soon as I got back in the saddle again and plugged myself in, I would go from chilled to hot in 60 seconds. Never once did I get cold on my whole trip and if Harley Davidson ever ask me for a testimonial on their electric clothing, I will give them two thumbs up.

I arrived in the Portland area around 3:00 pm and turned right at Oregon City and rode up the Columbia River Gorge on Interstate 84. This piece of highway is usually windy on the best of days. You can be riding with a nice tailwind, only to have it gust from either side and then blow in your face at 50 mph. Just to enlighten my story some, I was near Oregon City and the smell of dead animals was in the air. I almost puked on my gas tank and did every thing in my power to keep from heaving inside my helmet. I looked ahead of me, about a couple of miles, and figured out it was a large truck and trailer carrying what must have been dead cow carcasses. I looked in my mirror for a state trooper and since there were none in site, I opened the Harley up to about 90 mph and passed the culprit truck. Next time I ride behind a live cattle truck, I will think about how lucky I may be that they are alive and not dead.

Driving though the Columbia River Gorge was very impressive with all the waterfalls and the snowcapped Cascade mountains. I had to be careful of frost in the slow lane so I spent most of the time in the fast lane. I was expecting killer winds and much to my surprise, I had only a steady wind without any "push you into the other lane" wind gust. My bike has a weather band built into the radio and reports of a major winter storm were right on my tail. Knowing this, I had no choice but to push on and ride to Spokane for the night. I stopped in The Dalles for dinner and my sandwich tasted like the dead animals I smelled a few hours back, I won't mention any names.

I gassed the Hog and left in the dark as I continued on Interstate 84 until I reached Umatilla, Oregon where I caught Interstate 82 to Pasco, Washington and the Tri-Cities. The weather was getting mighty cold and my air temperature gauge was showing in the mid 20s. Turning north on US 395 and passing through Pasco and the Tri-Cities, I continued my ride until I hit Interstate 90 at Ritzville. Interstate 90 was very icy as it looked as though it had snowed during the daytime and then froze solid at night. I was able to keep a good steady speed but all of that was soon going to change. I stopped at the rest area at Sprague, just 40 miles outside of Spokane, and the thermometer reading was 18 degrees. I left the rest area on black ice and continued to ride on dangerous icy roads, at a very slow speed, until I arrived in Spokane about 11:00 pm. After riding 712 miles, I decided to spend the night in Spokane in hopes of having plenty of time the next day to conquer the icy passes yet to come. I actually could have kept driving but common sense says, do not ride over the passes at night. Smart move!

Monday morning on December 30, 2002
"The Snowstorm"

The next day, I awoke to 3 inches of new snow and snow-covered roads. Sitting in the hotel room at 6:00 am, I was ready to ride but could travel no more. I watched the news and weather channel and had no choice but to sit it out and wait for the roads to clear, the ice and snow to somewhat melt, and the Monday morning rush hour to end. The news channel was giving their road report and advising motorist to stay home until the black ice thaws and to drive carefully when commuting to work. Funny, they never mentioned at all what to do if you are on a motorcycle. They also gave an accident report and talked about the multiple accidents on I-90 the night before. Looks like I got to Spokane just in time and avoided the severe morning black ice conditions.

At around 8:00 am, I went outside and brushed the snow off my bike and bungeed down my pack. I also looked at the road (hill) that I drove in on and there was a small strip of pavement showing in the slow lane and that was enough for me to hit the road. From this point forward, every gas station, rest area, and restaurant that I went to, people were pointing at me and asking me crazy questions, like "what are you doing on a motorcycle in this kind of weather?" My answer was, I am going to Montana to ride with the Legends. Then they would ask me if I was cold. All I can say is, "you're only cold if you think you're cold," then I just rode away with the wind!

Now for the rest of the story... Little did I know that my extreme riding challenge was just beginning. With temps hovering around 28 degrees, extremely icy roads and of course a snowstorm, I rode across northern Idaho at a snails pace in the slow lane and was just praying that no one would slam into me from the rear. My windshield was plugged with road dirt and snow from the first truck that passed me in Spokane and it stayed that way for the next 150 miles. To elaborate on the storm, this is one where cars were chained up and pickups had their 4-wheel drives locked in. Only the boldest would venture in the fast lane to pass and yes, there were cars off the road as well. I just kept a steady speed of around 40 mph and used the ice scraper in my left hand to scrape the windshield so I can see from time to time. Nobody ever reads the fine print, and I guess I missed it on the map but I had to ride over the Fourth of July Pass between Coeur D' Alene and Kellogg. You can only guess how icy it was and toward the top of the pass, the pavement completely disappeared from both lanes and I found myself puckered up and riding on ALL slick, snow-covered ice.

I did make it over the pass safely and stopped in Kellogg for a gas stop. People inside the gas station cafe were pointing at me and a friendly trucker walked out and asked me where I was going, I replied "I just came over the Fourth of July pass and am headed over Lookout Pass to Missoula." He replied, "You got to be crazy, the Fourth of July Pass was the easy one, you have at least 40 miles of packed ice to go over when you hit Lookout Pass." You know he was right, but I needed a second opinion so I rode away to see it for myself.

Once you leave Wallace, Idaho, you start the climb up Lookout Pass and as soon as I left Wallace, the slow lane quickly became iced over and the pavement completely disappeared. This also means no cinders or road salt were anywhere to be found plus the neon sign says, "Lookout Pass - Snowing and Icy." Let's not forget the "Curves Ahead" signs that seemed like they were around every corner. I kept my speed at 30 mph and froze solid to my seat while being very careful not to move an inch. The key to riding on ice is not to move because if you do, it will interrupt your balance and throw your back tire into a tail spin which results in injury, death, or getting smashed by a truck. It seemed as though the cars and trucks knew there was some idiot on a motorcycle in the middle of a snowstorm trying to cross the Pass so they allowed me room by passing me early on instead of waiting till the last minute and rear-ending me. I really thought that I would not make it to the summit as I was sure my back tire would spin out due to the slick ice and no traction. To much to my surprise, I did make it and figured since I made it up, I can make it down; however, down was hairy and scary and loaded with curves and even more ice than was on the Idaho side. Due to the circumstances, I did not stop on top of the 4,700 foot pass and take pictures of my bike next to the welcome to Montana road sign. Just to remind you, my windshield was frozen with snow and road dirt and I could not see a thing!

It took a few painstaking hours but I slowly creped down the mountain at speeds around 20 to 25 mph. I pulled off at St. Regis which was 33 miles from the summit and to much to my surprise, the roads had cleared and after almost 150 miles, I once again saw bare pavement again. My windshield was severely scratched from using my ice scraper and my shoulders were killing me from holding a permanent position for so long. It was no doubt the all familiar "death grip." After standing next to a tree and doing what I needed to do about two hours ago, I took a short break and also had a bite to eat and then cleaned the frozen crud off my windshield and hit the road. The temps were in the mid 20s and the wind had a distinctive gust but the roads were somewhat dry and I was able to do about 70 mph. I was also 70 miles to Missoula, the end of the road.

By the time I arrived, my bike had acquired a "Montana Patina." The road salt and the de-icer coated my pipes in a chemical bath and was starting to eat away at the chrome. The upper and lower fairings looked like they had been shot with a pellet gun and the cinders had dinged and pinged the paint job. My windshield had hundreds of scratches from the ice scraper and was difficult to see through. My Harley looked like a dirt bike that has been in the mud all day and it was starving for attention. After I gassed up, I rode straight to the car wash. While I hosed the bike down, the water would instantly freeze from the cold winds but who can complain as it was somewhat clean again.

Now for a short testimonial. Before I left on my trip, I was looking for the perfect boot and found the ultimate rider's boots. Black Sheep Boots - Maker of the best all-weather leather motorcycle boots available. These boots are fully waterproof biker boots and were engineered by and for seasoned motorcycle riders. NEVER ONCE DID MY FEET GET COLD --IT WOULD BE IMPOSSIBLE! I tested my boots before leaving home with temps in the 20s and with no heated socks -- what can I say except these boots are the absolute best!

Tuesday morning on December 31, 2002
"The Hotel"

Talk about luck, I happen to have picked the nicest Hotel in Missoula (based on my preferences), the Hampton Inn on Revere Street. The place was almost vacant because of New Years and it seemed that I had their luxurious spa all to myself. There is nothing better that heals your aching death grip than soaking in a spa, well, a massage would have been great too. The temperatures that day were in the low 30s with a steady shower or two lasting throughout the day. I spent most of the day in the spa and resting in my room. I wanted to take a ride but the cold rain showers stopped me from going. When the rain quit and with New Years night a few hours away and being all alone, I thought that I should seize the opportunity and take a short bike ride around town, just to see what Missoula is all about. I treated myself to a French Dip dinner at Perkins and all I could think about was being someplace with my special someone, candlelight, and a Prime Rib dinner...let's not forget desert too. Since it was getting dark and the roads were frosting up big time, I decided to get me and my bike back to the hotel. All alone, I quickly fell asleep awaiting the anticipation of my ride the following day. I guess I just "live to ride."

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