Sturgis 75 Years:

2015 marks the 75th year of the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally.  It began in 1938 and was originally held for stunts and races, but has evolved into being a meeting for motorcycle enthusiasts from around the world.  It is one of the largest motorcycle rallies in the world.

Numbers floating around  town are calling for over 1.5 million bikers to roll through Sturgis this week.  The streets were full by 8AM this morning.  Rumble of Harleys filled the air.  No better sound for a biker!

The rally brings significant income to the citizens of Sturgis, a town of only 6,627 people.  From renting out tent space on front lawns, parking bikes in driveways, and supporting local family cafes the week long rally provides income for the year.

 Everyone hands out free items from bibles to beer kozzies.

Harley-Davidson motorcycles are all about creating your own personal statement.  Thousands of bikes, not one the same.  A personalized Harley for the KING...Elvis of course.

It's all about personal statements.  Freedom of expression.  Not only personalizing a Harley, personalizing your body and feeling the freedom to express it as well.

The town is rockin'.  Even the hula hoop is still popular.  Word on ths street is..."what happens in Sturgis...needs to stay in Sturgis..."

Armed guards are on duty to make sure every Harley is safe and secure at all times.

Bikers are some of the friendliest folks you will ever meet.  Generally misunderstood because of their independence and belief in freedom.  A patch on his vest records his support for the Rolling Thunder Project.  He is one of four individuals to ever be honored to place a memorial on the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in Washington DC.

"He would have ridden a Harley".  There is no doubt in my mind it would have been a Harley.  Why would I even question it?

Kickstand down for the night.

be strong, be safe, Carlan

On the road to Sturgis:

Packed the Low Rider and left Santa Fe under cloudy skies.  In and out of rain all morning.  First gas stop was Russells Truck Stop north of Springer, NM on I 25.

Greeted by Elvis at Russell's.  It's always good to take a break from the road and meet up with old friends.  Amazing how this guy just does not seem to age.  I wonder what his secret is?

Off the interstate slab and onto the blue highways at Trinidad, NM.  Following the original Santa Fe Trail across Colorado.  Braked to a stop in Model, CO.  Almost missed the entire town.  Once was a thriving community.  Almost a ghost town now.

Onto the High Plains Highway (HWY 385) at Lamar, CO.  Down the road at Cheyenne Wells, CO the highway was blocked with police cars.  It was the annual city fair parade.  As of the 2000 census Cheyenne Wells has a listed population of 1,010 fair folks.  They were all at the parade.  Because of the limited population, the parade circles the court house twice.  It was a short stop.  About five minutes.

At Julesburg, CO the Ford Dealer had a select collection of unique models with real "fixer up" potential.

Crossing into Nebraska the wind on my back, sun on my face.  State Patrol behind every tree.  Constantly rolling off the throttle to maintain the speed limit.

South of Bridgeport, NE clouds quickly formed into a storm filled with lightning and wind.  Dust filled the highway.  Debris blowing across the road.  No place to stop.  Head down.  Hit the throttle.  Seemed as I was in the heart of it forever.  Passing out of the storm noticed there was grass and small branches wrapped around my handlebars.

Kickstand down in Bridgeport, NE tonight.  Blue Highways across America.  Nothing better.

be strong, be safe, Carlan

TGIF

Home just a week since finishing the HWY 395 ride.  Needed to catchup.  From wind in my face to staring at a computer screen.  What a change.

Editing, processing, reviewing notes, writing, editing, editing, editing.  We were on a very short turn around time for HOG.  Finished the story, but not without the incredible help from Nancy.  She rocks!  Uploaded the photos.  Sent the word doc.  The creative team at HOG took it from there.   Just received the final layout which will be on the press Monday.  What a Friday.  It is beautiful!

Waiting for my flight at the Spokane airport I called Nancy and asked her what should I call the story.  “Wet and Wicked” she said.  She’s from Boston and when she’s says something is wicked it means awesome, and that’s exactly what the ride was. 

Kickstand down Santa Fe. (Not for long!)

be strong, be safe, Carlan   

Headin' for the border

No wi-fi last night. Catching up this morning.  Left Ritzville  yesterday morning heading toward Spokane.  Ten miles down the road ran into heavy rain.  Stopped at a rest area to suit up.  Hot coffee was being provided by the "Combat Vet Riders". 

Met Lowbow, Precious, and Andy.  Lowbrow is 79 and Andy 75. Still riding strong for all their brothers. The Combat Vet Riders Harley motorcycle club holds fund raisers to provide services for Vets.  Services not provided when they should be. Like providing over 200 pairs of socks for Vets whose feet were cold. Real honor to meet these guys. They are the real deal. Brothers helping brothers and sisters.

North of Spokane HWY 395 opens up reaching into the forests.  It was a day or rain, sun, rain, sun.  Enough rain  to wash all the cobwebs out of my head.  It's what the black ribbon of road can do for you if you let it.

North of Kettle Falls crossed the Kettle River.  The Kettle River is a 175 mile long tributary of the Columbia River.  Stopped along the river to see it, smell it, and feel it.  I don't think we do this enough in our everyday busy lives.  Reconnects us to the important things. 

1528 miles north on HWY 395 from Los Angeles, along a quiet two lane road, I stopped on the line drawn on a map separating the US from Canada.  End of HWY 395...the Forgotten Highway.  How lines drawn on maps can create such boundaries.  Boundaries between individuals, states, countries, nations.  Sometimes breaking us apart when it would be so easy to be one.

Kickstand down in Colville last night.  At McDonads this morning with coffee and wifi.  The American way...?

Ride back down to Spokane today.  Drop off the bike in the morning and fly home to Santa Fe.  Working to sort out all my thoughts from the road.  It was wet, cold, with a life time of experiences all wrapped together along the black ribbon with the white line called freedom of the road.  Rolling on the throttle...wind on my face...

be strong, be safe Carlan

What's buzzing....

Looked out the window of the motel in John Day, OR this morning.  Sun, blue skies (check ?)...twenty miles down the road the temperatures dropped to freezing, clouds on the ground, snow hitting my goggles.  Three hours later broke out of the cold into the sun.  Unbelievable front moving across the landscape.  Never seen one this large.

Across the Columbia River, into eastern Washington.  Sun on my back.  Feeling good.  Noticed a buzzing up my right sleeve.  With all the open space and air how could a bumble bee find his up up my sleeve?  Even worse, my right sleeve.  The right sleeve you say...yes, the throttle hand.  Traffic on both sides of me... hand off the throttle, shaking my arm, slowing down too much, back on the throttle, hand off the throttle, shaking my arm, slowing down too much...cars backing up behind me...you get the picture.  Will leave the rest up to your imagination.  Finally, get pulled over, jump off the bike, peel off my jacket, several stings latter the bee seems to happily fly into the great beyond.  Maybe rainy weather is better...

In Ritzville, WA tonight.  In 1901, Ritzville received the title of the greatest wheat shipping point in the world.  Between August of that year and August 1902, approximately 1,967,725 bushels of wheat were received in Ritzville warehouses for shipment and 1,990 rail cars of wheat and flour were billed out.  Things have changed since 1902.  The "Ritz" has been disconnected from the "Ville".  Changing history in our country.

Thunder and lighting tonight.  Looked out to see the sky opening up with thousands of gallons of water coming down.  Lucky for me I have rain gear with me...oh yea....

Just another day on that black ribbon with a white line called the open road...nothing could be better.

be strong, be safe, Carlan

Check list for a very good day on the road

Wake up...look out the window of the motel...the sun shining with blue sky
~check
Coffee
~check
Call Nancy
~check
Looks warm out...don't need the long underwear today
~check
Pack the rain gear
~check
Check the cameras, cards, and batteries
~check....double check
Brush my teeth
~check
Load the bike
~check
Check the gas 
~check
Find the local spot for breakfast
~check
Make sure I am still on the route
~check
Roll on the throttle
~check
Stop often to make photos
~check
No Highway Patrol in the area when I accidentally exceed the posted speed limit
~check
Only cross traffic is four legged, runs quickly across the road and is quite small
~check
Sun on my face, wind on my back all day
~check

It was a very good day.  Traveled through the Great Basin area of Oregon today. 

North from Lakeview, OR HWY 395 becomes straight and narrow.  Extends to the horizon as far as the eye can see.

Albert Lake.  Formed over 10,000 years ago.  Glaciers and melting ice formed ancient lakes within the Great Basin.

Massive uplifting of the earth created dramatic cliffs and ridges throughout the area.

Open road reaches to the horizon.  Passed fewer than a dozen cars all day. Sun warmed my bones.

Cliffs and ridges give way to gentle sage covered hills.  Clouds dot the sky as if added with a paint brush.  Each curve in the road carries with it a new view of the landscape.

The largest pine trees in the United States once proudly reached to the sky here.  Unrestrained timber harvesting in the 1920's left few of the remaining giants.

The road carried me across incredible landscape today...a perfect day...
~check

Emails tonight from all my special friends
~check and thank you

What a check list...
~check

Kickstand down tonight John Day, OR
~check

be strong, be safe, Carlan

Sharing the stories

Talk with the locals.  They know the history.  They know the weather patterns.  They have been telling me this past week..."never seen this type of weather in over 80 years living here".  Rain, sleet, snow, wind, cold.  That's what the Eastern Sierra and I have experienced the past few days.  Sure happy I have my long underwear.  Leaving Gardnerville this morning heading into Reno it seemed the sky opened up with more water than I thought clouds could hold.  

At Susanville the sun began to peak through the clouds.  Four lanes of HWY 395 suddenly turned into the traditional blue highway.  For a moment I thought I had missed a turn.  LA traffic disappeared, that familiar feeling of the open road began to seep into my bones.
Rolling on the throttle, wind in my face, feeling of being one with the landscape and road grew stronger and stronger.

The high desert was covered with new spring sage.  Mile after mile the beauty and wonder of the landscape filled all my senses. 

Crossing into Oregon  Goose Lake came into view.  Goose Lake is a large alkaline lake on the Oregon-California border.  Like many other lakes in the Great Basin, Goose Lake is a  pluvial lake that formed from precipitation and melting glaciers during the Pleistocene epoch.  At an overlook I met George Steward.  He moved to Goose Lake with his family eight-two years ago.   Within fifteen minutes George shared the history and his stories of the area with me.  Invited me to have breakfast with him in the morning.  Remember...talk with the locals.

It is all about sharing.  Sharing the stories, sharing the history, sharing the photographs, sharing the experiences, sharing our world.  I received an email from a long time friend tonight.  Sometimes, I wonder if anyone out there actually reads my traveling rambles.  He said..."Wow, to have just a bit of your eye and talent to document our beautiful world.  And the ability to ride free and find it."   Thanks for those thoughtful words.  Makes me want to share it even more.

Kickstand down in Lakeview, OR tonight.  No rain so far.

live free, ride free,  Carlan