Mexico ridden right
Contrary to this guy and his wrong-way Corrigan Mexico motorcycle trip, Scotty Kerekes, a long-time rider and old Mexico hand, knows how to do it right. Ignore the typos, and you’ll understand what I’m talking about. I’ll listen and read about Scotty’s adventures before those of almost anyone else.
Scotty used to have a web site a few years ago, but it’s long gone now as he continues to ride across North America and Mexico on his overloaded bagger. Occasionally, he’ll stop long enough to write something and post it on the web, usually with photos.
Link to Scotty’s Mexican winter adventure here.
Fresh paint
Somewhere on the road
Something rotten
Today’s ride took me south to Del Bonita and the Whiskey Gap region. To the north, it’s gently rolling plains, but the plateau finally arrives and it flattens out substantially. Here wheat is the main crop, but there are plenty of oil wells in the area too and the rotten egg smell permeates.
The Whiskey Gap was an old trade route with America, primarily used to provide alcohol to the natives in exchange for goods. During Prohibition, the Gap provided a route for Canadians to ship illegal alcohol into the United States.
Road signs, revisited
Filed under: Long trips, On the road, Short trips, Stupidity plain and simple
I know I’ve said this before, but entering Ontario via Buffalo and the Peace Bridge is a pain in the ass when you’re trying to cover new ground and there are no signs directing you. The Buffalo side has plenty of signs to point you to the border. The Canadian side continues to be a mystery, and finding your way — especially if you’re new to the area (or visiting after decades of absence – is a royal pain.
The monolithic tourist information center visible across the way was a nice touch, but I never saw a sign pointing towards it from the convoluted road system, either. Thus, I was unable to discover Ontario in the fashion and manner to which, I’m certain, Ontario would desire.
The absence of meaningful directional signs until 20 miles past the border, on some road, is ridiculous. But of course, it’s Ontario the good, isn’t it? Idiots.
Here’s a Wikipedia explanation of concession roads in southern Ontario. After reading it, there is no doubt that southern Ontario has got to have one of the most convoluted and stupid highway naming conventions in North America. And I haven’t even begun to talk about those miniscule white on dark blue county road signs that are hidden on electrical posts and lighting standards. Try following those through a city some day.
Put up a series of meaningful directional signs, you morons. I’d prefer a variety that is plainly visible, of standard dimension and color, and that actually point me in a direction that I choose to proceed. Of course, that’s only me. I’m sure local yokels who never travel out of the valley and other miscreants are quite happy the way it is.
Otherwise, don’t bother — which appears to be the direction that Ontario chooses to follow.
Travel adventure
It seemed like a good plan, too, since I’ve not been to Going to the Sun and Glacier National Park in over a decade. It used to be a quaint little ride through the middle of Nowhere, Montana, across Logan Pass and back down the other side. The road was a slow ride populated by queasy car drivers fearful of falling off of the edge of the earth. Some even kept two tires across the yellow line, obviously unaware of their own lack of driving skills. It was mostly a good show to watch all of the city slickers stop in the middle of the road, heedless of traffic behind them, to take pictures through their vehicle windows. When they got back home I’m certain they proudly displayed each slide or photograph and exclaimed how they braved the experience.
So, off I went, in search of adventure one more time. Instead, I found construction. Ten years worth of construction. And 2008 is only year two, according to a flagman on a segment of single-lane-only narrow park road. I figure that — and the price of gas — will doom this place to a long and lingering death.
But that’s all right, because it will keep traffic down, and afford those who can the opportunity to tour this magnificent piece of real estate in relative isolation. For now, the turnouts and pullouts are packed with cars, tour buses and people, all trying to take pictures of the same thing.
Should you enter this place from the east, you can get as far as the Weeping Wall with relative ease (in 2008) and then turn around there if you want to miss the construction delays, which can amount to three or four hours. You might have to wrestle for a spot in the parking area to turn around. The crowds seem to be drawn to this thing like a fly over a cesspool.
On the other hand, if you’re in a hurry to get through this thing, feel free to tailgate, or to pass everything in sight on blind corners. I experienced a lot of that. Mostly, it made me laugh. I had both sides of my lane to maneuver in, while cars have only a few feet to juggle. It particularly amuses me in situations like that, as cars pass in a hurry, only to be held up by the next 20 cars ahead. So funny. I find it my prerogative to ride behind the hurry-upper and let him see my shit-eating grin as he fumes away behind the next vehicle in a long line.
My question: If you’re here to see it, why would you be in such a hurry to get through it? Are you late for a court date on the other side?
My crowning achievement in four hours of constant amusement was watching drivers who poked cameras out of the sunroof and snapped away while either stopped in the middle of the road, or never stopped at all. Their heads were invisible as a detached arm with a camera attached poked its way up and forward, appearing much like one of the automatons in the original War of the Worlds.
Now that’s adventure.
Here’s a plan
Tomorrow, I think I’ll make a run to Glacier National Park and the Going To The Sun Highway.
It’s been quite a while since I’ve been there.
Highlights and lowlights
Filed under: Long trips, On the road, Stupidity plain and simple
I had an amazing trip this year — 6,000 miles in all kinds of weather — although I prefer to avoid the massive thunderstorms I experienced in the Dakotas. It’s no fun on a motorcycle to be hassled by hail, driving rain and strong winds, all at once. I followed the back side of that storm all the way east, during which time there was only one day that I could make 500 miles.
Okay, so I’m whining about the weather. I do have a very good rain suit, but I just hate to have to put it on.
I discovered a couple of great places to eat, and if I’m in the neighborhood again, I’ll stop for a bite.
On the other hand, I discovered a place where I will never ever stop at, never stay at and never eat at again!
Interstate riding is still boring, no matter the flora and fauna — and even when the countryside is green, treed and covered with lakes.
A rain shower in the northeast is not like a rain shower in other parts of America. You’ll get very, very wet and miserable if you don’t don your rain suit. I got fooled once this year. Two years ago, in the same area, I got lucky and rode through a sprinkle. I assumed that the storm cell I rode through this year would be the same light sprinkle I rode through then. Wrong! It turned into a downpour.
I learned that if you do a walking tour of D.C., wear the most comfortable shoes you own. Seriously — no matter how bad they look. You’ll be glad you did at day’s end. Fortunately for me, I could relax on the VRE (Virginia Railway Express) during the trip home.
Entering Ontario via Buffalo and the Peace Bridge is a pain in the ass when you’re trying to cover new ground and there are no signs directing you. The Buffalo side is fine; there are plenty of signs to direct you to the border. It’s the Canadian side that continues to be a mystery, and finding your way — especially if you’re new to the area (or visiting after decades of absence) — is a royal pain. The absence of directional signs until 20 miles past the border, on some road, is ridiculous. But of course, it’s Ontario the good, isn’t it? Idiots.
Here’s a Wikipedia explanation of concession roads in southern Ontario. After reading it, there is no doubt that southern Ontario has got to have one of the most stupid highway naming conventions in North America. And I haven’t even begun to talk about those miniscule blue and white county road signs. Try following those through a city some day. Put up a meaningful sign, you morons.
The Tobermory ferry is still the most motorcycle-friendly, two-hour ferry ride that I know of. Motorcycles do not require a reservation, they get first-on and first-off treatment, and the cost is only $35.00.
Shea’s Ice Cream Oasis is truly an oasis in the middle of nowhere.
Yet again, my motorcycle ran flawlessly with nary a whisper of any problem whatsoever.
I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.
Well, all of it but the Lone Steer Motel, that is.
My red barn
When I pass by this place, I stop. Although this new building doesn’t quite have the class of the old, the food is still pretty darn good. They’ve added a bar, too. With the twinned highway passing by to the north of the former location, the owners had to do something to jazz it up and encourage highway travelers to pull in.
This time, I only had time for the potato soup, but it was excellent. My normal fare is eggs over easy, and that’s pretty hard to screw up, although this place in Steele, North Dakata managed that, and more, early on in my ride.
Bear country
For the past two days I’ve been riding through lake country — mile after mile of evergreen and coniferous forests, uninterrupted but for lakes and rivers and streams and the occasional road or railway track.
Yesterday I saw a huge black bear with one of the shiniest coats I have ever seen. He was by the side of the road, feasting on a moose that had been hit by a vehicle — probably a semi, since there were no car parts in the vicinity. Ordinarily, I would have stopped for a picture from a distance, but I was fearful of a mother with cubs nearby and didn’t want to take a chance on coming between the two. Had I been in an auto, I would have stopped and remained inside while I took the pictures.
I also managed to stop at the Burger Scoop for another great burger and ice-cold milkshake. Now why can’t other burger joints be this good? When I pulled in to the Burger Scoop, two bikes were approaching the parking lot. I gave them a sign indicating that the food was great here, but they pointed to the sub shop across the highway and went in there. They had absolutely no idea what they were missing.
Lake Superior wilderness
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Photos
