Ride report - Ocean Shores, WA

Posted on January 21, 2004

You can see all the pictures I took on this trip here.

I had a weekend retreat happening at Ocean Shores, WA over the last weekend, and decided that rather than hopping in a carpool with anyone else, I'd take the chance to do a longer trip on the Le Mans (that's why I got it, after all). I loaded it up with luggage and set out for the coast.

Preparations

Since this was the first overnight trip I'd ever taken with the Le Mans, there was much more preparation for it than I would normally do. I laid out everything I'd need (and want) to bring with me, and carefully packed up the sidecases. Initially I was trying to leave one of them empty to receive a helmet during stops, but quickly realized that was impossible as I kept adding stuff to the pile. I didn't have to leave anything behind that went into the pile, but the additions to the pile were made pretty judiciously.

The plan was thus: I was to leave that Friday night (probably around 4:30), straight from work, north of downtown Seattle. I would take the Fauntleroy ferry to Southworth, and wind my way southwest-ward over some not-exactly-primary roads to Ocean Shores. I had prepared the route (shown in green highlighter in the map picture) a week before, using the Garmin mapping software that works with my GPS. I would be travelling over roads I'd never seen before, for at least 60% of the trip. One of the roads was a certified "back road."

The Le Mans didn't yet have a power outlet, although I had been planning one for a year and a half. For a trip of this length, in the dark, having the GPS lit at all times was pretty much a necessity, and can only be accomplished by having the GPS on external power. I acquired the tools to finally install the BMW power socket I'd purchased over a year previously. The most pricey thing I needed was a 23/32" drill bit (which is huge, by the way) -- $25 before tax. Fortunately, the actual installation and wiring was quite straightforward, and only took about an hour of actual work (broken up by several trips to get wire, connectors, etc.).

The main apprehension in my mind was that I'd be traversing roads I wasn't familiar with, in the dark, in January. The potential for disaster was noticable. It would call for careful riding, particularly as this was the first time the Le Mans would be burdened with loaded luggage.

Special preparations for this trip included acquiring some toe-warmer packets from the sporting goods store (to be placed in my gloves should my hands get too cold), and packing the D-cell emergency strobe I'd bought a while ago. I also had the cell phone and radio fully charged, just in case. I would be listening to an MP3 player/radio through the Autocom, which would also be attached to the phone.

The trip out

I left work a bit early, at 3:45, in order to make the 4:20 ferry. I figured the slight head-start would be well worth it. I managed to arrive at the ferry terminal just as the ferry was arriving, which meant I was later than I wanted to be. I waited for all the offloading traffic to finish, then blasted up to the motorcycle waiting area. I still needed to get a ticket, and there was every chance I wouldn't make it into the motorcycle loading section (which would mean I'd have to get off after all the cars at Southworth). I dashed into the office and got my ticket, returning to be told by the loading attendant that I should go right now. I got my bike started in record time, and was the second to last bike in the motorcycle area.

The ferry ride was basically uneventful, although I was unprepared for the route. Normally, that ferry takes about 35 minutes to cross, going from Fauntleroy (in West Seattle) to Vashon Island, and then on to Southworth (on the Olympic Peninsula). As we passed Vashon without stopping, I realized that Something Was Afoot, and headed down to get ready for landing. I hate being late off the ferry.

My planned route would take me along relatively unused highways, for the most part. I had figured I could maintain a 50 MPH average speed (not including stops), but that turned out not to be the case.

The first leg, which took me west on 160 and then south on 16, was very familiar from the days when I was doing flight training at Zephyr Aviation, at the Tacoma Narrows airport. The first deviation from that route was at highway 302, which heads west, deeper into the Peninsula.

Highway 302 was a fairly nice road, but by this time, it was well and truly dark. I had had to stop just after getting onto 302 to change the battery in my Autocom (being very glad I'd brought a spare), which took available light from "a little bit" to "ain't nothin' there!" 302 was a straight-up, boring highway for a while, but it took a sharp right at a small town, and suddenly became much more interesting. Curves a-plenty. Unfortunately, due to the darkness, and the traffic around me, there was no prudent way to truly enjoy the curviness of the road. By this time, 302 was a small two-lane highway, curving along the shore at 45 MPH.

At one point, I diverged from the GPS's map a bit. It showed 302 going north, but I was going west, hugging the shore closer. In any case, I was going the right way, so I didn't fret.

Sure enough, soon the road I was on came to an end, at a T intersection with highway 3. This was where I wanted to be anyway, so I turned southwest on 3 and proceeded on my merry way.

Highway 3 landed me in Shelton. Riding down the hill into town, I was impressed at the extent to which the city looked lke Twin Peaks. There were large chimneys billowing steam into the night air, backlit by yellow-orange sodium lights. I wish there had been a good spot to stop and take a picture -- it was very pretty, in an industrialized American Gothic kind of way.

Shelton was the place I expected to pick up the tiny-looking Coquallum Rd, for my small dose of really-back-road riding. However, I was ready to pause for a few minutes, so when I found myself at a fortuitous parking spot next to a park bench, I pulled over, and grabbed my dinner, a tuna sandwich and cookie I'd procured before I left Seattle. It was about 6:15 PM at this point, and the odometer had just rolled over to 5800 miles. I was quite thankful that the weather, which had been plaguing Seattle with rain for the past few days, had let up for this trip.

Dinner finished, I downed some water, mindful of dehydration, even on such a cold evening. I had stopped twice to put on more layers -- once before getting onto 16, where I fueled up (just in case) and put on a fleece vest, and again on 3, to add the fleece jacket I was carrying. If the weather got much colder, I would have to find somewhere to stop and put on long underwear, which I had decided would be unnecessary as I left Seattle.

Anyway, I carefully proceeded, looking for the turnoff where I hoped to meet up with Coquallum Road. I decided to trust the GPS waypoint I had set, and turned up a dark and somewhat foreboding road. It looked residential, and I had distinct thoughts of what might transpire if someone had decided they didn't like motorcyclists and took a shot at me or something. Fortunately, nothing happened, but it kind of set the mood.

Eventually, the road I had chosen took on more of the characteristics of a "major" road, and less of being a residential street. The speed limit accelerated from 25 to 45 MPH, and was soon 50 MPH. However, the night was very dark, and I couldn't really see well enough to go over 45, and even that was pushing it at times. I left the highbeam on for most of that road, except when passing through the fogbanks which appeared out of nowhere every half mile or so. Unfortunately, due to the fog and the relative remoteness of the road, it was a good solid 5-10 degrees colder than on the more-major road. Piled along both sides of the road were heaps of snow, evidently deposited there by the plow.

I had passed a deer on the side of the road, which fortunately darted off away from the road, rather than in front of me. Motorcycle-grilled venison just didn't sound that tasty. It was a sobering reminder that I was a split-second away from potential nastiness if I stopped paying attention.

It's interesting how dark and lonely Coquallum Road felt -- far from any civilization that I was aware of, I was riding through a palpably thick darkness, which occasionally disgorged ropy tendrils of fog to test my resolve. A perfectly vertical wall of trees stretched up from either side of the road to conspire with the stars, miles above. Had there been a sliver of a new moon skating slowly across the sky, the effect would have been complete.

I know that, in reality, I was probably 5 minutes from a house or something at any point on the road, but the almost supernatural feeling of pressing on through a dangerous and nearly uncharted territory was quite strong. I was also reflecting that I could easily understand how people in less scientific times could easily mistake a wisp of fog for a ghost, or feel a chill as they passed through an area.

At some point on Coquallum Road, I passed a sign that said, "Welcome to Grays Harbor County." The roads became suddenly much rougher and more ridged, which made me think on several occasions that my rear tire had gone flat. It hadn't, but it was a very disconcerting feeling.

I finally found the end of Coquallum Road, which terminated in the very tiny town of Elma. It felt as though I'd been on that back road for an hour and a half, although in reality, I think it only took 20 or 30 minutes. Elma seemed (in my brief survey of the town) to consist entirely of truck stops and gas stations. Unfortunately, this was also the point at which I rejoined the major freeway. While I appreciated the ability to go 65-70 MPH, the wide lanes and increased traffic of highway 12 were just so boring. Interestingly, as soon as I got on 12, the ambient temperature very markedly raised, and I was immediately warmer inside the Aerostich.

The rest of the ride in was fairly uneventful. 12 goes through Aberdeen, and splits off to 109 at Hoquiam -- an airport at which I had tried to land during my flight training, but was prevented from by low clouds. Despite some confusion on the last little bit of the route, I finally found my destination and was welcomed warmly upon arrival.

The final tally on the GPS for the trip out:

Miles travelled: 137
Ride time: 3 hours and 16 minutes
Average speed: 41.9 MPH
Maximum speed: 70.9 MPH

Gas mileage was just alright, at around 36 MPG. Including the ferry ride and stops I took, I was probably on the road at least 4 hours (I neglected to note the time when I arrived).

The trip back

The return trip to Seattle included the desire to be back in the city for an appointment at 2 PM. Since I had figured my travel time on the first leg was about 4 hours, I left myself the same amount of time to return. I had the bike saddled up and was climbing aboard at 10 AM, pleased to find the day putting out the smallest amount of mist I'd yet seen over the weekend. I inverted my route on the GPS, and set out to retrace my steps. I was quite looking forward to seeing some of the route in daylight.

Again, the section of road between Ocean Shores and Elma was nothing special. I wasn't feeling quite so pressed for time, and so was able to stop for a few of the pictures I either didn't have time for or didn't think would come out on Friday. They're not as dramatic with the rather pedestrian overcast daylight for lighting, but you can still get the idea.

I took the nearer of two exits for Elma, and discovered that my inital impression of the town had been rather harsh, and based on incomplete information. It was actually quite sizeable compared to what I had seen on the trip in: I had managed to previously go through the industrial East Elma, which really was composed of truck stops and gas stations. For the return voyage, I stopped at the gas station right off the freeway, confident that I wouldn't have to buy gas again until I was back in Seattle.

The turn for Coquallum Road was much as I remembered it, although I had a better view of the surrounding landscape. It wasn't anything to get excited about. Getting into the road proper, I found a fairly well-groomed 2 lane highway, with some good curves and generally good visibility. I tried to take a picture of the snow banks on the side of the road, but they weren't anywhere near as impressive in daylight as they had been washed in the actinic flare of the Guzzi's high beam.

Crossing over the line from Grays Harbor County and into Mason County, the road surface improved dramatically. Mason county either puts in more regular maintenance, or had done their maintenance more recently. In any case, the road suddenly became even more inviting, as I accelerated up to 60 MPH, wishing the road wouldn't end.

The trees were still there, brushing the sky, but they weren't anywhere near as imposing in the light of day. The snow banks were there, but really, they were just little ribbons of snow filling the ditches. The fog was nowhere to be found, and I wasn't as bone-chillingly cold as I had been on the trip in. The clouds were clearing, and there were stretches where there was actual sun shining through.

It was with great dissappointment that I saw the approaching line of civilization, where the trees stopped being a wall, and a series of houses started up. The speed limit lowered abruptly to 25 MPH, and that's just not the kind of thing you can safely ignore in a small town like Shelton. I was back in humanity's domain again.

Shelton looked shabbier and dirtier in the daylight, and I passed through without pausing. I did stop and snap a picture as I climbed the hill where I had first seen the backlit steaming chimneys, but it wasn't very impressive.

I found myself on the lookout for good picture spots as I travelled. On highway 3, the sun was slowly coming out, but angled in such a way that it would be quite difficult to get a well-lit shot with the water in the background. Passing through the small town of Allyn, I noticed the Allyn Waterfront Park. It looked about perfect as a place to set up the little tripod and eat a snack, so I pulled a U turn and parked near the water.

Indeed, I found a fine place to set the tripod, and took a couple of pictures of myself next to the mud-spattered Le Mans. A quick protein bar, and I was back on the bike, continuing northeast on 3.

Before I knew it, I was turning onto 302, which meant that I was depressingly close to finishing the trip. I found myself having a great time, and not really wanting it to end. I safely traversed 302 (having to pass a smoke-belching Toyota, which I had dubbed "Belchy McSmokescreen" in my head). 302 connected to 16, and I was back on a serious freeway, mere minutes from the ferry terminal, and the bustle of Seattle traffic.

As I was approaching my exit on 16, I noticed someone up on an overpass, "taking a picture" of oncoming traffic. I quickly realized that it was a policeman with a radar gun, but not before I was under the overpass (at about 71 MPH according to the GPS). I slowed down to about 60 MPH (the posted speed limit), but as we passed the first of what would end up being 7 or 8 police cruisers on the side of the road, traffic around me slowed to 50 MPH. Amazing what the occasional black-and-white car will do. I wasn't molested by the Polizei, and continued on my route. It was a truly amazing turnout of the thin blue line, though.

Traversing 160 to the ferry terminal, I saw a sudden rush of cars coming the other direction, and figured, with a sinking feeling, that the ferry had just docked. That was bad news for me, since I was still 5-10 minutes from the dock, and this meant I'd have to wait for the next one.

I pulled into the ferry terminal to see the waiting lines utterly empty. I told the attendant that I was headed for Fauntleroy, and he immediately responded, "the next ferry isn't until 2:30." I looked down at the clock: it was about ten minutes past 1. I could ride back down 16 and up 5 to Seattle, but it would take at least an hour and a half. I would probably be in Seattle 10 minutes ahead of when I would arrive if I just waited for the ferry, still over an hour after I was supposed to be at my appointment. Neither choice seemed very good, but I opted for the more-relaxed choice in any case, and paid my $3.20 for the ferry ticket.

I did eventually get to my appointment, at Rich's Custom Upholstery, at 3:15, but that's a story for a different time.

GPS totals (which include the first leg of the trip as well):

Miles travelled: 278
Ride time: 6 hours 26 minutes
Average speed: 43.2 MPH
Max speed: 86.7 MPH

Lessons learned

I think the primary thing that caused me to slap my forehead on this trip was missing the ferry. I regret that I didn't think to pick up a schedule while on the first ferry trip. I had found the schedule on the web before the trip, but only noticed the time necessary for the trip to Ocean Shores, not the return. Ferry schedules are all over the ferry, so I don't have any excuse for not grabbing one.

Another thing that I learned and/or reconfirmed is that the sidecases should be loaded as evenly as possible, or the bike feels weird. I had managed to get them to about 1/3 and 2/3 for the trip out, but I made a more conscious effort to balance them on the way back, and it was worth it. I think it would also help a lot of the bags were mounted above or forward of the rear axle, but it would take designing a new rack for that to happen, and it would certainly complicate both carrying a passenger, and getting the seat off the bike.

It seems silly to say it, but keeping your bladder empty sure helps riding be more comfortable. I am reminded of this occasionally, and have taken care to relieve myself before riding most of the time. When I forget, I always regret it.

Planning the route ahead of time, studying it on a map, and having the waypoints loaded into the GPS saved me a lot of headache on the trip in. It was so dark, and I was relatively cold, that had I had to spend a lot of time trying to figure out where I was or where I was going, it would have been very frustrating trip. Particularly for dealing with Coquallum Road, the GPS was invaluable. I think the access road started out being called Princes St. or something, and I never would have found it without having previously set the waypoint in the GPS. Once I was on the road, I glanced back at the GPS several times to see if I was still on the road I thought I was on. It was reassuring to be able to see that I was indeed following my planned route. Mapping GPSes are not all that expensive, and RAM mounts for them are quite inexpensive for what you get. It's worth picking one up, if you don't have one yet.

I was very glad to have the emergency strobe along, but I placed it wrong in my luggage. I realized as I was riding that it was in a sidecase, and if the bike went down on that side and I was injured, there was a very real chance I wouldn't be able to reach it. It should have been in the tankbag, which is unlikely to be rendered unreachable in a crash. I also should have brought my repeater directory along, as I watched the "antenna" bars on the cellphone drop down to nothing and "no service" showed up on the screen while riding Coquallum. If I'd had an accident there at night, it could well have been impossible to call for help. With the repeater guide, I would have stood a better chance of being able to contact someone, since my radio would reach many miles further than the phone in the outlying areas. Best of all would have been to program the radio in advance with area repeaters, so no guide would have been necessary.

Conclusion

I would happily ride this route again, although I prefer it in the daylight. Riding at night is certainly possible, and not unnecessarily dangerous, but it's way more fun when you can see farther than the highbeam's reach. I would probably also elect to take one of the longer "back roads" that perform the same shortcut that Coquallum Road did, but are longer. Particularly during the day, Coquallum was really fun, and I would have been happier if it had lasted 2-3 times as long as it did.

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Created by Ian Johnston. Questions? Please mail me.