Summer Dream 2006

With a brief 3 hour breakfast, about half the gang gathered at Hancock Beach with pasties, left over snacks, even tablecloths flying in the wind. Surprise appearances by Virginia and Ed with late into town Bill and Daryl made for another entire round of memories. A very casual picnic, cooled by a perfect breeze off the canal. Steve brought a helmet from Pennsylvania; he asked for a ride three months ago; it was time. A short spin around town with a burst to sixty-five (fifteen over) up Frogpool Hill put air under both of our wings. All too soon back to the motel. Maybe more tomorrow?

Evening sent people many directions. Some to Michigan Tech for the All Class banquet. Many people, too many speeches, but nice nonetheless. The memorable end of the evening for this patriotic romantic was 400 voices singing God Bless America. And tonight night I’m sure He did.

Believe it or not, the evening rode quietly into the conclusion of another day with a load of laundry and quiet, reminiscent conversation with just Gordy, Steve and me. Everyone else had events all over town. I will hear a lot of kind stories the next morning.

Another great day. Another late night.

I forgot to mention that, when I checked in, as soon as I said my name the clerk said “There are people looking for you”. I get so much praise for making these events happen. All I can say is that it took everyone to make it happen Without flying cross country, driving from Milwaukie, getting off work early, each person making a commitment to be in Houghton, there would be no reunion. I thank you all so much from the bottom of my heart. The happiest I have been is sitting in a corner for a few minutes watching everyone enjoying each other. We had a great class. Awesome… words fail me....

Morning brought bodies struggling to consciousness one-by-one. And the stories start early. And the friendship builds over coffee. Today was the HHS Alumi kickoff. Everyone headed south to the new school. And everyone looks so different – these last 5-10 years are perhaps more changing than the previous thirty. But when you make a point to search out folks, the friendships, the talk, the memories explode, like sunrise on the desert. I met so many people today from all classes – words can not describe the feelings, the awe, the joy. Words truly fail.

A diversion from the other activities found me in the bowels of the earth. I have always wanted to tour the Quincy mine, the underground. It was hot and muggy on the surface. The surface tour took forever albeit fascinating, the process of pulling copper ore from the inner regions of the earth, under supposedly harsh and forboding conditions. Then we went underground. Descent in the traditional shaft manner is not in the OSHA approved repertoire so we took a skip down the hillside to level 3 and entered horizontally. Level 3 is 300 feet below the surface. This mine went to level 92. Yes, that’s almost 2 miles deep. And with caution about the temperature and warm gear provided to ward off the chill, entry into level three was at 42 degrees, right from the tunnel entrance. Nothing blows as cold as the chill fingers of a dark mine shaft, running water, a touch of claustrophobia and darkness. The life of a miner would make anyone today study hard in school; any fate on the surface a better life. Yet those bold men and their children brought copper to the surface, made the world turn. About 30 minutes underground one half mile from the entrance, esconsed in solid rock was fascinating. The evolution of technologies that made life in the mines more comfortable and safer over the years a fascinating tribute to the people who make it happen – both on the labor and the management side. And by the way work at level 92 was in the 90 degree range with very high humidity. Penetrating the shell of the earth is an intriguing process.

And the evening program was beyond expectations. People who were not expected to come, came. People who planned to stay only a short time stayed all evening. A group photo by the professional photographer spouse of a classmate. And then back to the hotel for more stories, more friends. Even new faces. How can we have so much to talk about? A half century stores many experiences. And people change. Shy become bold, tough become mellow, the human spirit.

It was a good day.

Dawn, again. On horseback at 6:30 with Lil’ Joe suggesting we drive for an hour, then stow away some vittles at a truck stop. So a quick cup of coffee with Bill and on the road. Last night’s pyrotechnic display in Minneapolis left a lot of doubt about morning weather and standing water. But clear skies and dry roads were the order of the day making 7 ½ hours to Houghton a breeze. Joe wolfed down an ape size portion of sausage and eggs in Siren, WI. The roads of Wisconsin and Michigan are enchanting, charming to say the least. The towns are more like little towns are supposed to be. Slowing to thirty allows you to experience each little place. And photos along the way of long abandoned structures, dreams and lives of a time gone by. There’s a lot of that across North America.

And the towns roll by – Hurley, Ironwood, Wakefield, Twin Lakes, Toivola, Painsdale, South Range, Atlantic Mine, Tri Mountain, Baltic. All reminiscent of the glory days of copper mining in the U.P. Ghosts, in many cases real, towns fading into the twilight, and in many cases alive and growing.
And the wheels turned and big blue rolled onto Calverley Avenue at the planned 2:00. Old blue has taken on mystic capabilities, able to span leagues in a single bound. The MILES up to my old house was only 4 blocks. And the greater miles to the distant end of Houghton sailed by in less than two minutes. Home is much smaller than little legs remember.

A quick visit to two old friends on the way through town and then on to other ‘old’ friends. One by one the Super 8 embrace new arrivals, quick to join the growing celebration on the waterfront. We talked and laughed and enjoyed Portage Lake… and each other. And then off to the Ambassador for Step 1, Reunion 1960, Take 1. Absolutely perfect. Everyone so happy to see everyone. It made my heart glad. The whole trip was worthwhile, even if we ended it tonight. Chris, Paul, Steve, Alyce, Audrey, Gordy, Karen, Chuck, Noel, Sandy, Danielle, Bob S, Suzanne. Who did I forget (me)? And even a few folks from 1963 and 1964, and partners and moms and children. Tomorrow will be even better. No arrangements were made with the Ambassador – we overwhelmed the place. And those incredible folks took us all, and squeezed between hugs, and served food and even wrote separate checks. Truly they are awesome.

The fragrance of the day – Pasties! When Ironwood, first town in Michigan, rolled past, a pastie shop was the first building. Could not have been more perfect.

It was a good day.

“It was a day like all days, filled with those events that alter and illuminate our lives. Except, You are There.” Remember that theme? Well when I’m with Bill there are always those events that are inspiring, educational, entertaining or just plain interesting. Today was the most guy thing I know … touring used tool stores. This may not be the MOST memorable part of the trip since three-quarters is yet to go but “it was a good day”.

A glorious dawn gave birth to a hearty restaurant breakfast, where two hours of brother talk evaporated as dew on a desert cactus. My mere mention of his past took us to the Ax Man, a retail junk store of legendary proportions. And that heaven of ‘stuff’ because of traveling light, kept my acquisitions to zero – an incredible feat. Then on to the Tried & True Tools for the most adventure one guy should have in one day. With any equipment purchase in excess of 200 pounds, numerous photographs of indispensable tool needs will serve until journey’s end.

And at day’s end, another biblical thunderstorm and “The humidity’s so thick you could cut it with a knife.” Those grossly exaggerated expressions are a crazy human need to communicate – until I hear cussin’ from the utility room that the de-humidifier (inside the house) overflowed on the floor. It filled with TWO gallons of water; in less than twenty four hours. I thought Lil’ Joe had a beard, but it’s mildew… we’re movin’ on!

I’ve been delinquent in the fragrances department. The original intent was focused on experiences from a motorcycle but smells are so fascinating in that, like a photograph … worth a thousand words. So to catch up a little, Harley day was hot steel of welding, warm oil and spray paint. And lumberjack days – corn dogs, cotton candy, noodles, hot buttered popcorn, fried onions, the sticky smell of carmel candy.

By the way, thanks for the comments. Where I can remember email addresses I'm responding. I'll get an updated mail list soon to write to all of you.

Tomorrow - 300 miles to my classmates

A hearty country breakfast launched Harley day. First an oil change - Lil’ Joe pulled his weight today twistin' a wrench under the thunder machine. Oil flowed like wine at last night’s party. In no time at all the Big Blue Crayon was refitted with a new filter and fresh life blood.

Then over a second cup of coffee, Bill reminded me that I had asked him to make me a new adapter for the GPS, a request made days earlier. The GPS (every motorcycle needs one), mounted on the handle bar (old location) was shielded from the sun for over half the day. Eastbound we were blind in the morning, until the sun was high enough to light the display. Yes, there is a backlight but that eats batteries. So a new bracket was forged in fire, ground to a polish and painted chrome. Couldn’t look more like an HD add-on.if it came from Milwaukie. Bill can do anything.

A trail run over to Dale Klee (remember him from yesterday’s notes) found him mowing the lawn. Dale, Jeannie and I visited for an hour and shard a lot of great memories. As kids, he lived four houses down the street from me. We meet again in 46 years. A wonderful tour of his art studio left me wanting to stock up on another nostalgia print, Christmas cards and calendars. Beautiful work and now I've seen where it’s created in Minnesota.

The rest of the day was exploring the countryside, ending at the Mongolian grill near the Cities. Barb joined us from work in the middle a great Midwest thunderstorm. A classic rainbow tied off the landscape and the sweet fragrance of a fresh rain ended another perfect day.

Oh..... found Lil’ Joe at home, off the JackD tonight and taste testing the local wines. He says Minnesota has pretty decent vino.

Today I followed Barb up to Bill's. First day ont the bike in 3 days. It felt REALLY good to be back in the saddle. I'm eagerly anticipating the Wednesday morning kickoff for Michigan.

Bill hung 3 iron kettles over his open bonfire and cooked a ton of mouthwatering chicken, a great vegetable 'casserole' and topped it off with a dessert of peach cobbler, all cooked in iron over the open fire. We all felt like cowboys, just in off the range. And Bill, who's always building something big that involves welding, is well along on a chuck wagon. It's great looking already.

The evening ended with cool breezes and an interesting lawn game of Washoes. Not sure if I have it spelled right and it's got to be a Minnesota thing but I'm told it's on the Internet. Research on that subject is an exercise for the reader.

By the way, a blogger feature was turned on to moderate comments. I didn't know I had to 'approve' them so I did and turned off the feature. From now on all comments should go in directly. Thanks so much for those comments. I love being in touch with all of you.

As they say, the day dawned bright and clear. Nary a hint of rain. The early morning sun clawing it’s way westward with a vengeance. Be wary, ye of fair skin. Off to Stillwater, 20 miles east, site of the annual Lumberjack competition. Front row bleacher seats for four major events, the misrey whip, stock chain saw, women’s boom running and broad ax. None but the young and the fit walk in those shoes. Seven trim, athletic and energetic young women sprinted down a precarious boom of logs loosely chained together. One mis-step mean a dunking in front of a cheering crowd. Down and back in 14 seconds for the hot ones ... or a cool swim on a hot day.

The misery whip (one man buck saw) competion was nearly won by a fellow from Oregon. He did some awesome sawing, 15 seconds through a 24 inch pine log. That kid from Alton could clear the forests on Mt Hood by himself. Took second place against a Canadian by one point.

The Harley part? The town was full of bikes; a lot of Harleys. The streets thundered. It was a precursor to Sturgis on the return trip.

Several hours in the sun enjoying Minnesota at it’s best certainly darken the hues of this chrome dome. I’m strarting to not recognize myself in the mirror and it’s only been a week. I love summer!!!!

And Teddy Bear park has a fascination for the children. As the photo’s shows, they love to be near the big bear; Bill & Zella, Barb and Big Joe.

A perfect dinner on the waterfront, sternwheelers plying the St Croix river, a cool breeze and the daily ration of grog could not have been a better way to end the day. Tomorrow the flag transfers to Bill’s, starting point for the Michigan leg on Wednesday morning. But first an oil change and a visit to a classmate and owner of www.oldcarart.com .

I don’t know how necessary it was to take a few days off, but it sure felt good. Woke to a drizzle that made it nice to be off the road. Barb and I chatted and toured the area. A visit to the local Harley shop produced a souvenier shirt on sale, oil for a change and a new helmet. The current helmet is too loose fitting and it didn't show up until about 1000 miles out. With many hours yet to spend under it, it needs to fit better. A lot of wind noise, etc.

A walking tour of the Lake Minnetonka area and a century old railroad station was wonderful, stretching legs that haven't walked much in a week. And two great trains passed through town producing one quick photo shown here. Evening was another great series of snacks and dinner, and getting my butt whipped over a game of dominos. Little Joe was no help as he slept all day and was into the wine by game time.

Tomorrow the local Lumberjack festival over on the Mississippi. Does that sound just like Oregon? I can tell you that I'm excited!!

Well, we’ve arrived in Minneapolis. Me and little Joe are sitting here sippin’ on corn squeezin’s and telling lies about the perils of the prairie. Joe can sure tell whoppers.

The day started at a leisurely 7am instead of 5:30. With a shorter day planned, a little more sleep, a little warmer start and the sun above the eye-peeping horizon. And the first sight on the road was this magnificent sunrise effect. Inspirational for me and it made for another great day. More miles of open land. The high desert gives way to the prairies. The prairies blend into range land. Range land is tamed and becomes grassland. And the Great Plains finally yields to civilization, to corn and irrigation and farms by the dozens.

As you probably know, bikers wave to each other. A quiet knowing wave that signifies a bond, sharing a motorcycle. And today I felt different, like I paid some dues and reached a different level. Call it the brotherhood of the road. Long haul truckers must feel it, a breed apart. When you put in the time you start to notice the town riders from the travelers. It feels nice to have stepped it up a notch. And seeing the country on the back of a Harley Davidson motorcycle is what marketing folks make their living writing about. It’s great.

1761 miles have rolled under those tires. Time for an oil change with the miles prior to departure. Yesterday was 570 miles. No wonder it felt tired. Today was a more leisurely 370, 7am to 4pm with an hour of stops.

It was a day of odors, of smells, some good… and others. First I forgot yesterday, the sun on the wooden boardwalks in Roundup, MT. This morning a fresh clover field with the heavy sweetness lasted a quarter mile outside Mobridge SD. Leather in a shop in Roscoe, SD. Asphalt on some new highway stretches, brought totally to life by a huge asphalt plant in Aberdeen, SD. And the streets there were literally running in oil. The smell of civilization. The decaying but restful aroma of a swampy, marshy land. The sour mash smell of silage in Webster. A chicken ranch near Ortonville, MN… breath gently here. And skunk, occasional but memorable. Corn fields, a different smell, but unique.

Another dichotomy like Day 1, there is so much water across the north yet the land lies parched, fed only by the fall of rain or the hand of man. The Missouri river runs wide and deep, yet the banks in Mobridge are dead grass as far as the eye can see.

So the day closes with snacks and beer and wine and a fantastic barbecue of veggies and meats , and the great company of my sister Barb.

Man it’s a long way across American prairies. I’m tired tonight so less flowery prose and more to the point. Twelve hours in the saddle and still almost a day to go. Montana is HUGE. Today’s adventures included having to brake hard for an antelope that could only cross the road in front of me, with 500 miles to choose from. But it was a beautiful sight. Eighteen inch ebony black antlers. One bound across the highway and another over a five foot fence. And the Montana ranches are as big as the sky, They go for miles, and for some reason most have a few burros in them. So cute.


A note about bugs – thank goodness for a windshield. And I forgot to clean it Day 1 so Day 2 was pretty grimy. Today it really loaded up as the trip was through more irrigated land. When fully dressed in gloves, jacket and chaps, it’s great. But as it gets hot and you shed those things, it starts to hurt. And in bug busy country you want to sit low in the saddle. I pulled out of a little ice cream stop sitting a little too high and took a bee under my chin strap. That hurt… but I did get some sting stuff from REI and it worked very well. No swelling tonight:. Good

I’m getting a heavy tan, but it’s on nose, cheeks and forearms. I browned up the head a little today with an hour helmet free. There is NO traffic across this part of the country. One stretch of raod in mid-Montana I rode for an hour and passed 3 vehicles oncoming. It was so isolated and barren at one point that a little of the panic of lonliness touched. But only for a moment. Just an indicator of what some of this great country is like.

Tonight I’m connect to the inter-world in alittle town on the banks of the Missouri, Mobridge, SD. 1300 miles behind and one more day to Minneapolis. It’s a full day early but there isn’t much to stop and shop for along the way, so fortunately my iron butt is holding out. I'm not so sure about little Joe but all he does is grin. I had planned to stop earlier today but there was no place to stay when I got to where I wanted to be. So 150 miles farther to a decent motel.

Fragrance – how many variations do you think there are in hay? A lot. Each characteristic of its harvert status or curing, or whether it has been passed through a cow. That’s it for the Midwest smells today…. Oh, except an apple pie coming from a small house along the road.

Arrived at White Sulphur Springs, MT as planned, but that's a story. A perfect day and the beer REALLY tasted good.

Dawn came early and no elements of civilization were awake to provide coffee. So an hour up the road, the first of today’s fragrances; coffee at a small roadside café in Orofino, Id. Me and lil’ Joe stopped to charge our batteries. Lil’ Joe? He’s my riding buddy. A little Hog Ape that hangs out on the back deck, arms draped akimbo like he hasn’t a care in the world. A s**t eatin’ grin on his face, probably like me.

And the story is “It’s not the destination but the Journey”. I didn’t fret much about this trip before I left, but when I did it was about the great distance. And Day 1 was too many calculations. How far to X? What time arrival in Y? Will I make Z in time for cocktailsJ. Today was so different. I know it started this morning as I entered Paradise. That’s highway 12 through the Northern Idaho mountains. It was more, way more than I had expected.

It became immediately apparent that this part of the trip was not to be rushed, for two reasons. Second was the twisty road that could send you over the side in a lapse of attention. First was the outstanding beauty. The rushing river and mountain air made you gulp lungfuls, get your share before it’s gone. So crisp and clean and invigorating. And the highway was a narrow ribbon of asphalt barely two dozen feet wide, clinging precariously in places to the cliff sides, punctuated sporadically by small islands of humanity.

The climb to Lolo Pass was long but spectacular, every bit of the way. The summit saw the transformation from a raging river and blue spruce and hemlock to a meandering creek and pines on the Eastern slopes. From cliffs to cruising lazily through alpine meadows. The whole ascent was a child’s coloring book of enormous proportions. And I carefully guided blue crayon, meticulously staying inside the lines. There was no room for error. A glance aside now and then at the rushing river, at a cliff, but ever vigilant to the natural traps waiting; rocks and deer. None were to be seen today.

Descent from the mountains led to the "Big Sky Country". Many faces of Montana. through forested Missoula, hilly Helena and out onto the praries. It's really big sky because the horizon is forever in every direction. And the sky is enormous, more than anywhere else on earth. The clouds , famous of this country, were small today. Perhaps tomorrow the towering cumulus, thunderheads. I love Montana. To face this immense prairie is a bit of a challenge, but then, that's live, facing challenges.

Fragrances of the day; coffee of course. And western red cedar passing on a log truck in the Idaho mountains. The crisp smell, more a feel, of the air above and near the canyon river. And later in the day over the top and into cowboy country, the faint but unmistakable signature of large cattle ranches dotting the Montana landscape. And with deeper penetration into the Montana plains, the afternoon heat smell of prairie grass.

Tomorrow, less clothing and more bare arms. The whole state of Montana lies waiting.

And thanks for the comments. Someone is actually reading this stuff:)

The day dawned bright and clear, a perfect day to start a long ride; cool and clear. But cool turned to cold as the route entered the Columbia River Gorge. A stop along the highway to put on a rain slicker helped cut the wind, but those Golden Arches at Hood River never looked so good. A stop for coffee, a sausage sandwich, and some motorcycle talk with a few local people made a half hour go by fast. Warmed up just in time to enter the praries of Eastern Oregon.

The cold morning gave way quickly to a very warm midday, appropriate for the parched grasses and sage of that area. And in such dichotomy, the Eastern desert is bisected by the mighty Columbia River. The river is a mile wide nearly all the way to the eastern border. Only two minor construction points along the way, pavement so hot the flagger has to keep shifting feet. Arrival in Lewiston was with cutoff “T”, having shed most everything else as the day got hotter. A cold beer and shrimp from the local grocery makes the evening perfect.

And a motorcycle brings you most of all the smells. New mown hay in an Oregon field, pines of the Columbia Gorge, the pungent sweet smell of sage and juniper in the hot afternoon sun of Eastern Washington. A fruit stand in a little farm town outside Umatilla. And campfire smoke in the Idaho mountain foothills. More tomorrow.

Highway 12 is a beautfil drive. It’s a lonely place at times; a half hour passing without another car. I am very eager to see Lolo Pass in the Idaho mountains tomorrow A little bonus, highway mileage is pushing 50mpg, a little relief on the high cost of fuel

There’s not too much to say at this point. I’ve spent months pouring over maps, routes, places to visit; and then more hours arranging. Scrutinizing the checklist since space is limited. Only take what’s essential. Some change of plans have occurred and probably more will along the way. Now I’m crossing Lake Michigan on a high speed ferry after the reunion, to add a little diversion (and cut off a trip through Chicago). This will put me right in the middle of Harley Headquarters in Milwaukie. That’s a good thing.

So the fully loaded bike is my pony express, my camping unit, photo and communication center, emergency and weather protection, and just a great place from which to see the country. First nights stop is Lewiston, ID. Saddle up. Do you think the beard adds the right touch to this picture? I’m really excited to be seeing you all soon.

Saddle up. Let’s RIDE!