51,304 miles – Grand Canyon and back in 4.63 days (DRAFT)
Dad and I took a whirlwind motorcycle trip a couple months ago. I started writing it up… and didn’t finish.
It was unbelievable there, and looked more beautiful than anything can. The sky alone was perfect. Here’s an example as we approached the North rim:
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This will be updated as time allows!
More pics are in my Flickr album.
The leather “wiper” on the index finger of my left glove was no longer wiping my face shield clean. Admittedly I was making some pretty weak wipe-attemps, as every time I removed my hand from the heated grip, my fingertips went instantly from stinging cold to aching cold. I could see a hazy red dot ahead of me – either Dad’s KLR650 taillight, or the mouth of Hell – and where my shield wasn’t totally fogged, I could see snow pouring down. Illuminated as it was by 200 watts of twin PIAA 910s, and coming at me at roughly 60 miles an hour, the blur of flakes made it look like I was entering light speed in the Millennium Falcon. I bet Han Solo’s hands never hurt this bad.
After the 300th time trying to clear my face shield, it hit me: I can’t get this water off, because it isn’t water anymore. My shield has frozen over. Oh hell, my GLOVE has frozen over.
My life was about to end at 9,000 feet, crossing the frozen Sierras, and my Dad was going to have to explain to my Mom and Incredibly Understanding Wife that I had ridden bravely, but ultimately not quickly enough to clear the Sonora pass before the storm came and froze my arms and legs off, leaving my torso to balance precariously on a rock-hard, freezing cold Sargent saddle, and my bike then careened into the woods behind Strawberry.
I needed some dry clothes, a hot shower, and an evening with a beautiful woman. I made do by thawing my gloves on the jutting cylinders of the GS as I pounded a slushy Red Bull. After four straight days of riding, and in blistering cold, I wasn’t sure that that Red Bull was going to be enough to get me home.
When we left, I knew there was a risk that we wouldn’t make it back by Tuesday. On that last day, I was confronted wit the possibility that if the weather got worse, or I stopped paying attention, I might not make it back at all…
What had started as a four day pleasure cruise with Dad had become a full-on race against time. We had decided that we’d “try to make it to the Grand Canyon,” but if we saw that we were not going to be able to do it, we’d just turn around after two days and head back. Yeah. Like that’s gonna happen.
Dad and I had managed to get Friday and Monday off, making a nice long weekend for a fun fall trip. Maybe a little camping, maybe a little dirt, maybe see some sights and explore. Then we both realized we had explored everything nearby. And everything that was near that, too. If we were going to go anywhere, we were going to have to really GO somewhere. In four days. With the first good winter storm of the season coming in from the North.
So, South it was. Baja seems cool, but I had never seen Zion National Park, and neither of us had seen the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. How far can it be? We have FOUR WHOLE DAYS. That’s a lot, right?
Well, it was nearly enough. So we cheated and left our jobs at 3:00 on Thursday to get a head start and beat the traffic out of the Bay Area.
Keep checking sundaybender.com for more updates here – you have to read the part about the Clown Motel. We stayed there. It’s for real. And it is worth a visit…
Five days, ~1,671 miles
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Day one – 226 miles
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Day two – 471 miles
Day three – ~ 121 miles
Day four – 449 miles
Day five – 404 miles