Hurricane Ridge Ride

Posted September 7, 2004
Ride date: September 6, 2004

All the images I took on this ride are in the gallery.

For my birthday last year, I took the day off from work, and rode the Ninja 250 out for a little trip around some of my favorite backroads. This year, I wanted to do the same. Fortunately, Labor Day and my birthday coincided this year (or, close enough), so I didn't even have to take a vacation day.

I decided that I'd ride the Le Mans up to Hurricane Ridge, which is on the Olympic Penninsula, south of Port Angeles. It would also be a great chance to test out the new handlebars and intercom/radio/music system on a long ride.

Preparations?

I decided on the destination about 9:45 am. I had decided for sure to go for a ride only 30 minutes earlier. By the time I got myself geared up, the bike checked, and ready to go, it was already 10:30.

My hasty preparations included working up a route for the GPS, throwing together some stuff into the tank bag, and checking the oil and tires on the bike. I must have checked the ferry schedule in there somewhere, too.

Getting to Hurricane Ridge (fortunately) is simple -- you take 101 (the only road available) to Heart o' The Hills Road in Port Angeles (also the only road available), which leads you without deviation to Hurricane Ridge. There's very little route planning involved, once you've got the destination in mind.

On the Road, in Record Time

GPS loaded with the route, I headed out. I "had to" take a quick detour to my office, to pick up the MP3 player I'd left there over the weekend. I really wanted to have it for this trip, so it was a worthwhile diversion.

Le Mans on the ferry ride to Kingston

Fortunately, the day was excellent, with a high cirrus layer that kept it from being too warm, but also allowed enough sun through that it wasn't cold. There was practically no chance of rain. Temperatures were probably in the 70s for the first part of the trip, dropping to the high 50s in the mountains and for the latter part of the trip.

I'll end up somewhere in those mountains

Riding toward 101 from the ferry, I found myself waxing philosophical. As Goldfrapp's "Train" played over the intercom system, I pondered the intellectual nature of the dangers of motorcycling. Obviously there are many dangers, but so many of them remain purely intellectual -- they exist in our minds as motorcylists, but can't be experienced without dying. Since one either hasn't experienced the danger or is dead from experiencing it (like colliding head-on with another vehicle; I was pondering this as a 10,000 lb armored van bludgeoned by in the oncoming lane), it's a danger which can only be experienced intellectually.

101 passed mostly without intimate engagement from me. It's basically a freeway, which someone forgot to pave wide enough. Everyone goes 60+ MPH, but as another writer was lamenting in a ride report I read recently, the profusion of multi-lane freeways has basically meant the death of 2-lane passing skills. Thus when a slow vehicle impeded traffic, the backup got to be 10-20 cars long. Faced with these enormous lines of comatose drivers, I would either start passing, or figure out how to justify a quick stop to myself (usually to take a picture).

QFC: nothin' like quality food

Eventually, as I started seeing signs for Sequim (pronounced "squim"), I realized that I was getting tired. The trip odometer was also over 100, which is my usual sign that the Le Mans probably needs fuel. I decided to stop in Sequim for lunch and gas. The first thing I passed was the QFC, which had an attached gas station. The prices weren't bad, and I knew I could get a decent lunch there, so that was the logical choice. Certainly not a meal to write home about, but it sufficed. Surprisingly, the Le Mans was doing alright on fuel, turning in just over 31 MPG at the first gas stop.

After my cheesy repast (three different kinds of cheese in that "veggie delite" sandwich -- good thing I'm not vegan!), I fumbled around Sequim until I found the westbound entrance to 101. Not where I'd exited the freeway, of course. That'd be too easy.

Shortly, I found myself in Port Angeles, and came upon the turn up to Hurricane Ridge. I remembered it from last time I was up there, fortunately. It's a completely nondescript street, and if you didn't know what you were looking for, you'd pass right by it. There's a little sign announcing it as the road to Hurricane Ridge half a block beforehand, but you have to be on the lookout for it.

Doesn't look very warm, does it?

Before I got 2 blocks up the street, I decided to stop to adjust the MP3 player, which was acting up. Then, I started going again, but stopped a block later to adjust something else. I rolled on, only to stop yet again, this time to take a picture of the mountain, looming over the bike. Eventually, I got going up the road.

Race Road (the name of the nondescript street) branches off to Heart o' The Hills Road, and immediately gets more "mountainy." It narrows down, and the slightly interesting sweeping curves begin. After about five miles, you come upon a toll booth, where a fee is required to proceed. At the time I did it, the fee was $5 for motorcycles, and $10 for cars.

After the toll booth, things get Interesting with a capital I. And that's "good interesting," too. The curves get much tighter. Sightlines are still quite good, but there's a lot of back and forth. This is why I chose this destination. All that time spent on 101 (a deeply uninteresting road) was suddenly worth it.

I was pleasantly surprised by the lack of traffic. I must have found a relatively slack time to go up. On the two or three occasions when I did hit traffic, I was either able to pass them or divert myself such that they weren't a real factor. Most of the way up the hill, I was able to keep up about 45-50 MPH speeds, and keep the engine right in the sweet spot around 5000 RPM. It was immense fun.

At the Top

Once I reached the ridge proper, I found a parking spot among the many cars. The lodge, which had been closed when I was last up there, was open and full of tourist crap. I could have had my selection of expensively priced, inexpensively constructed merchandise, emblazoned with "Hurricane Ridge," yet I made a beeline for the water closet. One must have the right priorities.

Some shots from the top of the mountain

I scouted around a little bit, and took some pictures. I remembered the scenery as being quite attractive, and I was not dissappointed. There is a dramatic line of peaks to the south, and what would be a fabulous view of the Strait of Juan de Fuca to the north. Unfortunately, the air was hazy, so although you could see Victoria across the Strait, it was just a slightly darker grey patch among the lighter grey of the water.

I walked the loop trail, but decided against climing up the 300 further feet to the peak overlooking the ridge. Although I'm sure the view is spectacular, I wasn't feeling motivated to exercise, between the heavy riding suit and the 5200 foot air.

There's Germans in Them Thar Hills!

I walked back down out of the trail and set my stuff down at a picnic table. I pulled out the juice and half-cookie I had left over from lunch, and munched away. At the next table, I noticed a young woman sitting and eating something, but didn't pay her much mind. Suddenly, I heard German being spoken close by, and glanced up. It was the young woman, conversing with someone who would turn out to be her mother.

My new German friends

I screwed up my courage to the sticking point, and asked them where they were from, in German. I still speak passable German, although my vocabulary has shrunk from "useful" to "limited," in the years since I lived in Hamburg. They seemed pleasantly surprised to encounter another German speaker, and invited me to sit down.

We ended up having an interesting and earnest discussion of world issues, politics, where they were from, where I was from, what they were doing in the US, etc. I was able to hold my own in German for the first 10 minutes, until we got into topics where I just didn't have the words. We switched back and forth several times during the conversation. It was extremely nice to spend some time speaking German again. It was also very nice to encounter pleasant tourists, regardless of their origins.

I think in all, we talked for about 45 minutes, which put me off my schedule by more than I wanted. It was worth it for the discussion, but it meant I would have to make good time getting back. Unfortunately, I had an engagement that evening that I couldn't afford to miss. I bade them farewell, and made my way back to the bike.

Down the Mountain

The trip back down the mountain (when I finally stopped snapping "just one more picture" of the stunning clouds developing overhead) was pretty good. I spent a lot more time stuck behind slow cars, but for those times that I was free of forward impediment, wow. What a fun road. If you're in the area, Heart o' The Hills Road is worth the price of admission (literally). Bring a capable bike, and all your tricks for getting out from behind slowpoke drivers.

Tiny Le Mans, big mountain

All too soon, I was back in Port Angeles, and turning east on 101. I thought about stopping in Sequim again for gas, but the odometer wasn't even to 70 miles yet, and I knew I could get at least 120 out of this tank, riding mostly on the freeway as I was.

On the way back to Kingston, they've installed huge readerboard signs. When I passed them, they were reading out, "Kingston ferry traffic: expect 1 hour delay" or something similar. I smiled inside my helmet -- motorcycles go to the head of the line. They're also less than half the price of taking a car on the ferry. Pretty good deal.

Preparing to board the ferry in Kingston

The rest of the trip to Kingston was uneventful in the extreme. The most exciting thing that happened was that I confirmed I was absolutely not going to get on the 6:30 ferry I'd been hoping to board. Fortunately, that allowed me time to get gas and a sandwich for dinner before the next ferry started loading.

And Away to Home... Not Quite

I got on the ferry with no fuss. My bike actually caused a little stir among the motorcyclists gathered waiting for the ferry. It was definitely the bike with the highest gadget factor. I explained several times what all I have installed to various people who expressed an interest.

Rainier looking majestic in the sunset

On the ferry, I ended up sitting with two other riders who were coming back from a dissappointing route around 106 and 101 (106 was the road I despised on the Hood Canal ride). We talked a bit about gadgetry, and I recommended the Hurricane Ridge ride to them. They recommended a ride to me up around Granite Falls, which I will have to check out for a future trip.

The ferry docked, and we all headed our separate ways. I was just barely going to be on time to my meeting, so I headed straight there, rather than stopping at home first. My GPS statistics are therefore slightly skewed by the extra 15 miles and 25 minutes of riding.

The meeting was accomplished successfully, and I rode home to cool my butt and warm my body in some variety of large and fluffy sitting appliance.

Riding the Changes

One of the purposes of this ride was to check out all the changes I've recently made to the Le Mans. After the clip-ons from Two Brothers Racing started cracking, I spent some time and energy installing new standard handlebars, in standard handlebar clamps. I also took the bike's downtime to finally install the radio and intercom system I had been working on for nearly two years.

The new handlebars had been a compromise -- they were too low and too wide, but fit under the fairing. In the two or three short rides I'd taken with them, I wasn't that happy. The bike felt all weird, and I had to sit too far forward with them.

Le Mans with mountains

After the ride, I can confidently assert that the new bars are alright. They're not perfect, but they're good enough for now, and after the long ride (over 5 hours in the saddle) I no longer harbored negative feelings for them. I still don't love them, mostly for the width. It has its advantages, though, as the bike is now easier to handle through turns with the additional leverage.

The new intercom system worked quite well, with one little problem. Overall, it's a great success, and I just need to put the finishing touches on it, like adding labels to the various connectors and switches.

The little problem I had was that the radio, which is an amateur transceiver, was having a problem with "crackle" -- I'd key the radio to transmit, and the intercom would immediately have crackly audio. I couldn't figure out what it was at first, and initially thought I might have to break open the enclosure and see what was disconnected. Then, at a photo stop, I noticed that the antenna connector was hanging loose. Oops. I think it had worked its way loose over the course of just a few hundred miles. I'll have to get some threadlocker on it or something.

So, this ride was a good shakedown of the new bits and pieces. It was nice to return and feel that I had mostly done the right things. My only complaint after all that was that the custom seat, for which I paid around $400, was noticeably less comfortable than the seat I made for the Ninja. The Ninja seat cost me around $100 in materials, including a separate used seat. I think I need to take the Le Mans back to Rich's and see if they can adjust it.

Stats

The trip was longer than I expected, at over 200 miles. The Le Mans did pretty good on gas, turning in 31.62 and 39.16 MPG tanks at my two fillups, for an average of about 35.4 MPG. Certainly a nice change from the mid 20s I usually get in town.

Total miles:	208
Time moving:	4:47:08
Average speed:	43.4 MPH

I left the house at about 10:30 am, and didn't actually get back until 9:30 pm, although I would have been back before 8 pm if I hadn't had something else to do immediately after the ride. Call it about a 9.5 hour trip. Long enough, to be sure.

Lessons Learned

There is such a thing as too little preparation. I mean, duh. But this trip was minimally planned, because I had a very busy weekend. I really needed to take another 30 minutes just so I could be orderly about things, and remember all the stuff I'd need. I also needed to have solidly made the decision to go earlier than I did. Either the previous night, or as soon as I woke up that morning. The only thing I was actually missing was a warm layer for later in the day and up on the mountain, where I started to get cold.

Make modifications to a bike incrementally. This ride was a shakedown for too many projects at once. Between the new bars and the slightly finicky new intercom/radio system, I was too distracted for too much of the ride. It didn't cause any real trouble, but I wasn't able to concentrate enough on riding.

It can be rewarding talking to strangers. Like many folks I know, I tend to be wary about approaching anyone I don't know. I really had to convince myself it was alright to say hello to Tordis and her daughter, but I'm glad I did. We had a great time chatting.

Copyright 2004 by Ian Johnston. Questions? Please mail me at reaper at obairlann dot net.