Thanksgiving Ride to Portland

Posted December 28, 2004
Ride dates: November 23 and 28, 2004

I rode down to Portland and back for the Thanksgiving holiday, riding down on the Tuesday before, and back on the Sunday after. It was the same route as the Scappoose ride, and I didn't take many pictures, so this will be a less detailed ride report than normal (largely taken from a journal entry, in fact).

The GPS tells me that I travelled 442 miles over the course of 8 hours and 38 minutes, making an average rolling speed of 51.1 MPH. That's the total for both ways, since I forgot to note the one-way numbers when I headed back. I didn't spend much time stopped on this trip, since the weather was relatively miserable.

Heading Down

The ride down started out fairly well, with overcast skies and the temperature in the 40s. I was glad to be on the Le Mans, since this route involves a fair amount of high-speed travel. As I said previously about this route, it's pleasant and interesting, particularly compared to just droning down I-5 the whole way, but there are definitely stretches where you want to be able to comfortably go 70 or 80 MPH.

Since I was going to be gone for most of a week, I was glad to have the sidecases on the Le Mans, making this the second time I've seriously used them. Clothes in one side and "stuff" in the other balanced each other surprisingly well, and I didn't have to do any balancing of weights to get everything happy.

The trip down to Puyallup went by fast enough, as it had last time, but I was considerably colder this time. I was very happy to stop in South Hill for some lunch. Taco Del Mar was only too happy to exchange my money for a burrito, and everyone had a good time. I got some curious stares in the restaurant, with my big grey spacesuit. There was one little boy, perhaps 6 or 7 years old, who followed me with wide eyes. I'm always kind of happy to get that reaction from kids, since I think it's far too common for motorcyclists to get a bad rap as rebels and outlaws. Of course, the average guy on a Harley is as likely to be an orthodontist as an outlaw. Fortunately, this particular kid seemed to be getting a positive message from his mom, from the looks of it.

Lunch conquered, I headed out, spending the requisite 20 minutes traversing strip-mall-land before 161 stretches out into less developed territory. Passing by my previous photo-op site with that fabulous view of Mount Rainier, I was slightly dissappointed but completely unsurprised to find a view of clouds and damp fields -- I pressed on without stopping.

Around that time, it had started raining. Not a heavy rain, or even what a meterologist would call rain. Sort of this heavy mist that came down in droplets. I didn't even think about putting a cover on the tank bag, since I wasn't quite clear on whether the mist was falling or not.

In Morton, I was nearing the 100 mile mark on the trip odometer, which is my sign on the Le Mans to look for a fuel stop. I dropped into a Shell station, and filled the tank. I was pleasantly surprised to see the bike had gotten 37 MPG. Good thing, that gas was expensive. Of course, at 37 MPG, I can go nearly 160 miles before the reserve light comes on, so I could have easily gone further and paid 10-20 cents less per gallon. C'est la vie.

However, in Morton, I also noticed that the mist had turned into legitimate rain, rippling the puddles across the parking lot. I don't know if the temperature had dropped below the 40° mark, but my hands were freezing, and my torso wasn't doing a lot better. I wished I had an electric vest or gloves, but I already had almost all my warm clothes on. I definitely underpacked the warm stuff for this trip. I rested my gloved hands on the Le Mans' valve covers, which imparted a pleasant warmth, before I took off again.

The rest of the trip to Scappoose (where I would meet up with my parents to see a property they're buying) was an exercise in ignoring how cold I was. Highway 12 and I-5 dissappeared into the fog of riding while too cold. I had stopped just before getting on I-5, to use the restroom and warm up a little bit. I ate a candy bar, which is frowned upon by the long-distance, Iron Butt types, but helped a bit. I also called a friend while I was stopped, but she had to call me back, and didn't get back to me until I was in Longview aimed for the bridge to Highway 30. It's a good thing too, since I was having a hard time hearing her while going 50 -- it's hard to imagine I could have heard a thing she said at freeway speed. The conversation helped pass the time, though, and I was glad of the distraction from how cold I was. Note to self: cell phone and Autocom sounds like a fine idea, but the practical implementation isn't that great. I wish I could turn up my cellphone like I can the radio. It also occurred to me well after the fact that her phone system always sounds really quiet, so to some extent it was talking to her that was so quiet.

After seeing the property ("looks great, I'm freezing,") in Scappoose, we caravanned back across Cornelius Pass Road. In the mean time, the light had gone from failing to nonexistent, and it was pitch dark by the time we left Scappoose. I was amazed at the huge procession of cars coming the other direction on Cornelius Pass Road. Between the rain and the half-mile-long line of oncoming headlights, I was having a hard time telling where the road was. It was an amazing relief when we got past them and I could actually see the road surface again. The Le Mans would benefit from the extra lights on the Ninja.

The Road Back

On the trip back, I knew in advance how miserable it was going to be. The weather report said morning fog and afternoon sun, but by 11:50, when I left, the "morning fog" was still clinging tenaciously to the ground, like a 200 foot thick layer of icing. The first temperature sign I saw, on a bank in Scappoose, said 33°. I'm not sure it was quite that cold, but it was definitely not warm. The moisture from the fog was contributing a lot too, and I was freezing again. I decided to stop and try putting the toe warmers in my gloves like I'd imagined.

These toe warmers (available at any sporting goods store that has hunting and fishing supplies, I suspect) are perfect for just covering the knuckles of my hand inside the glove. I was afraid at first that they'd be too hot, listing a maximum of 113° on the package. I needn't have feared. I never noticed them getting "hot" at all, but they were fairly warm. Early on, I noticed that one of the byproducts of the chemical reaction must be water, because the pads were getting damp. It's definitely not because I was sweating, my hands were still nearly numb from the cold. But, they did help, and I think the trip back was more bearable for having those heating pads in.

I'm making this sound like the trips were miserable for the cold. While that's true on one level, they were also good adventures. Part of me was enjoying being out on the bike in weather that kept almost everyone else in a car (I only passed two other bikers going the other way for the whole trip back, and I don't think I saw any bikers on the way down). I always enjoy the freedom of riding along without a cage around me, far more aware of my world than I ever am riding in a car. I could have done without the thick fog on Highway 12, though.

Finally, 15 miles into Highway 12, I broke out of the fog. I took this picture about a mile past the magical fog barrier (it just stopped, like a giant had sliced it off with a sword), being struck by the beauty of the mist drifting across the bridge, along the lake. The meager sunlight felt good on my back, although it was as much a psychological warmth as it was from received infrared radiation.

I pressed on, to the spot where I'd previously taken the "New Zealand" picture from the Scappoose ride report. The sunlight was angling low over the mountains. Although that ruined the light for the picture I'd already taken, I didn't need to take it again, and this angle was pretty darn good. Once again, I was thankful for the mini tripod I now pack on trips like this.

Photo-op over with, I got back on the road. I managed to find a huge gap in traffic; the traffic was very light in any case. I had the radio on, and was listening to someone calling out, discussing what was causing the heavy traffic on I-5. I smiled in my helmet, the road stretching in front of me, completely devoid of other vehicles. I was very glad, at that moment, that I'd taken the back route, even in spite of the frigid pea soup I'd had to brave to get there. I twisted the throttle a little bit, diving around a corner, happy to be exactly where I was.

I passed again through Morton, finding myself now trailing behind a series of pickup trucks and SUVs. Fortunately for me, they wanted to get home faster than I did, so I found myself able to maintain a pace that kept me happy while leaving a nice space cushion in front of me. I also stopped near the crest of a hill, letting them all jet ahead of me, and spent a couple of minutes warming my hands on the valve covers again. My hands were lifeless on the ends of my arms, still obeying commands, but on the edge of useless. I was shivering all the way through, despite the long johns, sweater and fleece vest under the Aerostich. That combination is no match for sub-40° weather with high humidity, and I was feeling it. I mentally kicked myself again for neglecting to pack more layers.

I stopped for gas in Eatonville, again paying a premium to avoid the spectre of fuel starvation far from a gas station (although again, my mileage was in the high 30s, so I could have gone much further than the 104 miles indicated on the trip odo).

The timing was such that I reached the Rainier photo stop an hour or so before sunset. The sky was clear, so I stopped, to see if I could get a good shot. Indeed, the mountain was out in force. There was a guy down by the fence taking pictures with a 4x5 field camera (the kind where you dissappear under the cloth at the back of the camera to see the image). I took a picture for a family standing there rotating members out to get everyone in the shot, with the mountain balancing their small group; I hope it turned out well for them.

Fortunately, this time around, I am able to fast-forward from this point. The trip back through Graham, Puyallup and into Seattle was quick and flawless. I altered course near Seattle, going across 518 to 99 rather than up I-5 -- it was the Sunday after Thanksgiving, no way I wanted to spend any time on a major highway if I could avoid it. As it is, I managed to do the entire drive back without hitting any traffic. That's a feat I'm mightily impressed with, given the date.

Lessons Learned and Stuff

The major lesson I took away from this trip is that I need some actively heated gear. To that end, I ordered a Kanetsu vest from Aerostich, which I hope will arrive in a few days. I don't really need it around town, but it'll still be nicer to have than not. And if I take another longish trip in the winter (pretty much a given), I'll be really glad to have it.

I'm not going to depend entirely on the electrons, though. My plan is to dress warmly enough that I'll survive without the vest, and only use it to supplement the good insulation. Certainly the bikes' electrical systems will be happier with that. I ordered the pulse-width-modulation thermostat as well, which will help keep the drain down. PWM current limiting has been a great boon to electric clothing makers, since it allows the clothing to operate at partial heat and partial draw, compared to the resistive type, which always draws the full amount of power, while just delivering less of it to the clothing.

Overall, an excellent set of trips. I just would have preferred that they be a bit warmer...

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