Day 14 - Klamath Falls and homeward...

Day 14 – Sept 29th, 2005

Klamath Falls and Homeward Bound…

As I leave Klamath Falls, Oregon up Hwy 97 I ride along the 20 mile expanse of sparkling Klamath Lake. Here, the leaves are just starting their amazing metamorphosis and the air is redolent with the scent of the fast approaching autumn. It is another picture perfect morning, filled with blue skies and sunshine – albeit considerably cooler. Speaking of pictures… I have updated some of the pictures on earlier posts if you’d like to view them. Also, in response to an email I received asking me to make all the pictures larger – if you click right on the picture it will automatically enlarge in a new window.

Coming into Collier Memorial State Park, I run into major road works and blasting. I wend my way to the front of the line and enjoy a nice chat with the flag girl Shelli. It’s 11:45 a.m. and we are “held” for about 20 minutes giving me time to make a few notes in my journal. Shelli gives me the “heads up” allowing me time to get my helmet and gloves back on before she releases the rest of the traffic. Thank you.

I fuel in Chemult before I head East on Hwy 58 into the Willamette Forest and pass. At this higher altitude, the deciduous leaves are a riot of intense colours. Several float lazily on a downward spiral reminding me of the feather in the movie Forrest Gump. My back wheel kicks up several which bring them to renewed life and travel. I ride through a corridor of giants in and out of dappled sunlight. The enormous and fluffy pine trees are dropping their progeny via humongous pinecones. I wish I had room to pick some up to bring home as souvenirs of the trip but I will have to make do with the memories this trip. Every time there is a blast of frigid mountain air, I mentally send it down to Cousin Linda in Texas. Her spirits have been flagging in the intense heat they have been experiencing and I hoped it might be able to refresh and invigorate. Linda’s husband Gary said – “either the heat wave will break or my wife will… “. I do hope it’s cooling off for you now. Linda, I loved your idea about all of us buying bikes and doing Mc trips. Now, did you mean Mc as in motorcycle or Mc as in the McIntyre clan? Either way , it’s a great idea. Don’t you be worrying about Gary, I think he’s pretty aware and will ride safely. My personal philosophy around riding for more than 30 years without an accident (touch wood), is to pretend that I am invisible. That allows me to anticipate all the crazy things that other vehicles will do and have a “Plan B” as an alternative way out. The other thing I have always done is to keep my high beam on during daylight hours. You want to keep yourself as highly visible as possible. Mostly, people don’t “do” things intentionally; they just are not programmed to see motorcycles the way they do other vehicular traffic.

I feel I need to digress and give credit to “Paladin” for his terrific performance, even at high altitudes. It was something that I had been concerned about as the jetting would tend to make the bike run rich and may have the tendency to get “boggy”. I had experienced quite a bit of trouble with this when I had my 400 Inline Four Supersport. We had tried to make allowance for both jetting and had changed the sprockets to alleviate running at higher RPM’s but as with most things, when you change one thing it affects something else, sometimes in ways you don’t really desire. I absolutely LOVE the sound of Paladin as he decelerates. A nice, throaty rumble that never fails to make me smile. You can hear the power and torque that lies within his great heart. Although Robert has kept the stock exhaust he has made some modifications that give it this great sound. For more info, I invite you to visit Robert’s amazing and informational website at http://www.hilliard.ws/ I have Yoshimura exhaust on my Interceptor which is more of a “barky” sound but I have also enjoyed them enormously.

At 2:30 P.M. I fuel in Eugene, Oregon and reluctantly I turn Paladin north on I5 as Johnny Horton belts out “North to Alaska”. No, I’m not headed quite that far… North to Portland, north to family there, and finally north to the border and homeward. In some ways, I am anxious to be home. In others – well I have always had that wanderlust spirit and love the adventure of “the road less travelled”. I have to wait until Monday to present myself at the border before 3:00 P.M. to get through all the paperwork and red tape associated with the export of the bike from the U.S. and then the importation into Canada. We faxed all the information from Texas before I left and Rod has confirmed with them that it has been received. Let’s all keep our collective fingers crossed.

I plan to spend the weekend with my cousins in Portland and it will be great to have time to visit with them. My dear husband Rod, plans to come down on Saturday to join me here. I have missed him even more than I knew I would and I count the hours til he’s here with me. Originally, he had thought to come on his bike but the weather has turned really nasty and is expected to last into next week. Yikes! I’d better pull out that rain gear. They have predicted 3” of rainfall in the Seattle area and I admit I have some concern about the front tire in that case.

I never did make it to the Starbuck’s in Klamath Falls, but I know there’s one quite close to where cousins Walter and Sandi live and I even know how to find it without getting lost.

Cheers!

Linda Sue

Day 13 - Nevada/California/Oregon

Day 13 – Sept 28th, 2005

Fallon Nevada to Klamath Falls, Oregon

Away from Fallon just after 10:00 a.m. At the suggestion of the front desk staff at the Holiday Inn where I was staying, I stopped in at the Stockman’s Business Office. Stockman’s owns the HI as well as the adjacent Stockman’s Casino, Steakhouse and Coffee Bar. The desk staff thought that they might be interested in making a contribution to the Hospice Ride as they are very service oriented. I met with a lovely lady Nancy, who walked me through the steps as I filled out an application which will be submitted to a review panel within a week. Nancy was quite knowledgeable about the hospice movement and wished me good luck and a safe journey home.

Alternate Hwy 50 into Reno, unlike what I had experienced so far, felt like rush hour. Numerous state patrol had many vehicles pulled over – I behaved myself. Just out of Fallon, I crossed the 2000 mile mark. I’ll be home in a little less than 1000 more.

I stopped for fuel in Reno; then at the suggestion of both Rod and Wensel, my master mechanic and friend who has kept my bikes running great for 34 years, I found my way to Big Valley Honda. I asked them to do a load check on the battery as I had experienced a couple of “quirky” starts. Thank you all for suggesting using the choke (and I have been because Honda’s particularly need it in the cold) but it is not mutually exclusive to cold starts and I have had this happen more often after I’ve made a pit stop. Press the start switch and it makes a very short sound like it wants to start and then – absolutely nothing. I have also found that, even though (unlike my Interceptor) you can start the bike in gear with the clutch pulled in – it doesn’t really like it. I am still coming up empty in my search for a dog-leg clutch lever. Can anyone send out an APB?

Big Valley Honda, in Reno, Nevada is a big, very hi-tech dealership. The GM sent me back to the service area and you drive your bike up a long ramp from the side of the building – automatic doors open and you are parked – right in front of the service desk. Very cool. They take it all from there and I wandered into the showroom area. There, my eye and interest was taken by a motorcycle that was up on a platform on display. It was a 1970 CB 750 KO, totally restored to original factory condition with an incredibly detailed binder showing its renewal, step by step. It was for sale and a business card was attached to the inside of the binder. I couldn’t believe my eyes. The person who had the bike for sale works for the law firm of the father son team of Laub & Laub who operate out of the Lake Tahoe area but have expanded to include other cities. I met the owner Mel Laub in Hawaii in 1984 and stayed at his home in Lake Tahoe in 1985 as well enjoying the use of his home near Sacramento on my way to Laguna Seca. We corresponded for several years and then lost contact. I called the number on the card and asked to speak to Mel but he was away on vacation - to Hawaii.

The service people checked the battery and said it was fine – a couple of loose connections which they tightened, added lock-tite and put it on a charger to top it up. They also lubed my chain and pronounced that although my front tire was definitely showing wear, would take me the rest of the way home safely. A little over an hour later they had it parked outside the service bay all ready to go. They told me they hadn’t made an attempt to re-load all my gear and I sure don’t blame them. It is quite a science and has a sequence that needs to be followed to get everything secured with all the bungees so it stays put. I asked him for my bill and he just smiled, shook my hand and wished me a safe journey. I send a very big Thank You to Big Valley Honda.

Taking 395 North towards Susanville, I crossed into California at 12:45 p.m. Going up the VERY secondary #139 out of Susanville towards Adin, I climbed and climbed. I overlooked the valley from such a height that it gave me those funny squiggles in the pit of my stomach. As far as days go, it absolutely does not get any better than this one. Bright blue skies, 80-85F, twisty roads, mountain passes, light to no traffic… I inhale deeply, over and over of the sweet, sweet smell of the mountain pines wanting to keep it as long as possible in my nostrils. 29 North takes me into Canby where I fuel at 3:45. The gas attendant told me I would find a Starbuck’s in Klamath Falls, Oregon. Yippee!! I haven’t had a fix since Fort Worth, Texas over a week ago. Back on 139 North towards the Oregon border.

Beckoning over my left shoulder to the West looms majestic Mount Shasta. Fluffy, cumulous clouds and a slight haze lend it an air of mystery.

I cross the border into Oregon at 5:00 p.m. and fuel in Klamath Falls at 5:30. It is 6:00 as I check in to the Holiday Inn and start the process of unloading the bike – AGAIN. It’s been a long and terrific day but I am feeling pretty tuckered out. It will be an early night for this cowgirl. Starbuck’s will have to wait another day.

Day 12 - Ely to Fallon, Nevada

Day 12 – Sept 27th , 2005

Ely, Nevada to Fallon

I can’t start today off without sharing with you another “coincidence”. If you remember, I was headed off for dinner last night to the Jailhouse for a steak dinner. I almost talked myself out of going but am very happy that I didn’t. You are literally put into a cell block and the door can be completely closed (though I hope not locked). I was feeling truly isolated. Across the corridor, in a double cell-block, sat a couple and three other gentlemen. They appeared to be having a lot of fun together which only served to make me feel more alone. I ordered a glass of wine, opened up my journal and got out my pen to flesh out some of the notes I had made at fuel stops along the way. The picture here is whom I thought I was facing dinner with. Without meaning to – no – that’s not true, I started listening in to the conversation across the way. Hey! They’re talking about motorcycling! I wonder if they’re here on bikes? I kept telling myself to get up, go across and introduce myself – I have a few stories I’m sure they may find of interest too. But basically, in that type of setting I’m actually pretty shy though most people don’t see that side of me generally. I finally got up the nerve to make the approach and they looked pretty surprised when I stepped into their cell. I said – “Sounds to me like we have something in common”. “Oh, what’s that?” “A love of motorcycling”. We got chatting and telling stories and they asked if I were here on my own. When I said yes, they said – “Well, bring your wine on over here and join us”. I said I would be delighted to and packed up my wine, water, placemat, utensils, journal, purse and jacket and sat down with them. The waitress when she came by with my salad thought I had “flown the coop” and we all introduced ourselves. Now here is where it gets really interesting. The couple, as it turns out own and operate a motorcycle dealership in southern California – a Honda dealership no less. He has been selling Hondas for 30 years which is the same amount of time I have been riding a Honda. One of the other fellows is a realtor – I have been a realtor for 20 years. A delightful man, a little older than the rest of the group has had both surgery and radiation for cancer which follows the same treatment that my husband has come through. Lastly, and most “coincidentally” – the fourth gentlemen is not only a hospice volunteer but has served as president of the board of directors for a hospice in Southern California. Do you think we all had a few things we could share in common? Before dinner was finished, I felt like we had known each other for years. After dinner they said “We’re going to the Casino across the street to play some Blackjack – come join us”. I said I would but I was just waiting for my dinner cheque to arrive. Craig, (from the Honda shop) said “Don’t bother waiting – It’s already paid for”. He said “We have an understanding where one of us pays for dinner each night and tonight’s my turn”. I was so surprised and wanted to argue but thought it would be churlish so I thanked him and shook his hand instead. Thank you all – you really made my evening.

This morning when I went outside I had a surprise waiting. Sometime after I got back to the motel and went to bed there must have been one heck of a rainstorm. Paladin was actually sitting in the middle of a big puddle and of course everything was soaked. I had asked the managers when I checked in if I could park under the overhang near the office but they weren’t too keen on the idea. I asked if he had some rags I could wipe the bike down with and they kindly supplied me with these. Sometimes motorcyclists earn themselves a bad name by using the hotel/motel towels for this purpose. Believe me, it doesn’t earn any Brownie points. I got him all wiped down and loaded up but the sky wasn’t looking any too friendly and threatened another squall at any time. Now this could have been a lot worse – remember only the day before they had 27F – well add precipitation to that and the ground would have been all white. Yikes! Not my favourite riding by any stretch of the imagination.

I headed off down Hwy 50 under an angry, threatening sky which beneath all the Hwy Route signs reads “The loneliest highway in America”. They truly are not kidding – at every gas station they have T-shirts, bumper stickers, key chains and what have you emblazoned with “I survived the loneliest Hwy in America”. Here’s the good news. I was talking to Rod about my frustration with my iPod constantly freezing up and he had an idea that perhaps it was getting vibration and/or heat from being in the pocket of the bra on the gas tank. Today I slipped it into my jacket pocket and it played all day. Talk about a time I needed it most. Thank you my dear – you are brilliant as usual.

Going over some of the mountain summits was what you could call “refreshing”. You could see evidence of early snow in a few patches at higher elevations. Arrived into Fallon, Nevada in good time. 300 miles in only 4 hours and that includes 3 fuel stop and go’s. I made up some Nature’s Tea last night and all the plumbing is working just fine but I think next time I won’t drink the whole pot…

Once again, absolutely no sign of highway patrol but I thought that should I get pulled over I could make an attempt to allow me to pay whatever the fine might be into the hospice fundraiser. Hmmmm – would definitely depend on what kind of day they may be having.

Tonight, I have a lovely room at the Holiday Inn Express. With wireless internet. When I first came upstairs with the trolley cart loaded with all the gear from the bike I got to my door (on the third floor) and the key card wouldn’t work. It was quite a ways down the hall just to the elevator so I didn’t want to have to push that cart all the way back, but also, I was reluctant to just leave everything there in the hall outside the room. A dilemma. Finally I decided I had no choice and headed down the hall leaving everything there. One of the guests in a room a few doors down was sitting watching TV with his door wide open. I asked him if I could use his phone to call downstairs thus saving me that trip. “Of course, come in, help yourself”. I called down to the front desk and they said they would be up in a few minutes with a new card. We got chatting while I was waiting and it turned out this gentleman had just lost his wife this year to cancer. He also had had a wonderful experience with hospice and couldn’t say enough good things about them. It seems funny that when you are doing things like this that these experiences just seem to “find” you.

Downstairs, the hotel also has a hot tub, sauna and pool and I plan to go down and get myself warmed up. Got a little chilled today – the hot tub will feel marvellous!

I am thinking I will stop at a Honda shop in Reno as Paladin has been having several “quirky” starts that from past experience make me think, battery, starter or ignition. What do you think Robert – any clues?

Day 11- Kanab to Ely, Nevada

Day 11 – Sept 26, 2005

Kanab, Utah to Ely, Nevada

An amazing day all told, chock full of all those “coincidences” that I don’t believe in. I wasn’t real keen on starting the day early in 32F weather, so doddled over breakfast and writing up my journal. I am most always wearing my Delta Hospice name badge and it usually is a great conversation starter. As I was finishing up, the gal who was tending the breakfast area came over and started to chat. It turned out that she had lost her Dad to cancer and it was the wish of she and her brother to keep him at home. I know what a tough go that can be. She said hospice was just amazing and she wouldn’t know how they would have got through it without their support. They don’t have a hospice residence, but the hospice volunteers come out to visit in the homes, the hospitals and care facilities the same as do we. We spoke at length about the grieving process and how it differs from person to person and the effects that it has, both short and long term. Their hospice didn’t have grief support programs available and I sensed that her being able to share her story was cathartic. We are so very fortunate to have Marg and Gilly's expertise in that area. I was feeling rather anxious about the time as it was after 11:00 a.m. before I got away but this also brought me back at a very basic level to the reason “Why” I do what I do; which is a question I often field. Having been a realtor for the past 20 years people are often curious about the change of lifestyle. I really would like to acknowledge this individual, Judy Coombs as it so touched my heart when she handed me some folded up bills and said “Here, this is all the tip money I have made this morning and I want you to take it for your hospice”. Then when I was warming up the bike and packing it up to leave she came out and handed me a couple more bills that had come in since that she wanted me to take. Thank you Judy; you are a very special lady.

Coming out of Kanab into one of the small towns en route to Long Valley Junction, is a well made sign advertising “Gunsmith” and right underneath “Custom made Caskets”. Hmmmm, would that be considered a conflict of interest?

I turned west on Hwy 14, a small secondary road that leads to Cedar City. The sign at the entry to it reads elevation to 10,000 Ft and Curvy roads to 25 MPH. Yippee!!! That’s just my kind of motorcycling road! Here I could really feel the “chill of an early fall” but the colours of the fast changing leaves were magnificent. Glorious golds of the cottonwoods, fiery reds of the aspens and oh - the wonderful smell of the mountain pines. The views absolutely take your breath away and I feel “on top of the world”. Coming into an area called Deer Valley, I am saddened to see they have recently lost a number of denizens. I see 6 full size deer and one baby doe lying in state on the side of the road.

I need fuel in Cedar City and make another wrong turn which got corrected quickly. I rode back to see if in fact there had been a sign and I was heartened to see that there was not! I head out on 56 West towards Newcastle/Modena/Uvada.
My next scheduled fuel stop is in Panaca and when I arrive I see an “Open” sign on the door of what appears to be the only service station in town. But wait… these pumps don’t look like they’ve been used in a while… Then I see that despite the “Open” sign everything else is all boarded up and there is not a soul to be seen. Panaca, it would seem has become a ghost town. Did it disappear like the legendary Atlantis? I head out and farther up the Hwy see a sign that I would need to turn off the road to hit Pioche. The sign also says “Next services 113 miles”. I already have 93 miles on the tank and try to ensure I have fuel every 100 miles. Paladin doesn’t get even close to the range my Interceptor did. I turn off the Hwy and head up what looks like another mountain pass. There is nothing and no one and when I stop to check the routing on my map – it doesn’t even show the “Hwy” I am on. Then an old ’63 Rambler comes by so I wave him down. I am greeted by a toothless grin. “Is this the road to Pioche?” “Yes Ma’am – it sho enough is”. Pioche is a quaint little town that reminds me of Kimberley in the Kootenays.

Hwy 93 North out of Pioche is dead straight for mile after mile after mile. There is absolutely nothing and no-one out in this barren, desolate and unforgiving part of the country. I don’t see a cow, horse or even any of the predatory vultures. I don’t see another vehicle in either direction for 57 miles. That’s almost 100KM. I can count on one hand the number of vehicles I saw in the next 30 miles.

Since my iPod is frozen AGAIN, I decide to do some isometric exercises to amuse myself. Clench those cheeks – count to 20. Grip that tank with my thighs – count to 20. Who needs a thighmaster. Suck in that stomach – count to 20. Then start the routine anew. I’m not sure whether I’ll be able to walk when I get off the bike but maybe I’ll be able to fit back into those leather pants again when I get back home. I’m not too worried about Hwy Patrol out here – it really wouldn’t be worth their while and I’m sure they don’t really expect people to follow the posted speed on this road. However, just as a precaution, on the rare times I do see a vehicle approaching I drop my speed back - considerably.

At a distance to the west, I see another front developing but its ill effects won’t be here today. From time, across the desert, drifts an icy breeze with a promise of what still lies ahead. But that’s not for today either – today I savour the embrace of the warm sun and feel the love and caring thoughts of my new found family and friends.

The first 10 miles out of Major’s Place over Conner’s Pass is custom made for a motorcycle. Long beautifully banked sweepers and lazy esses. Coming out of Conner’s Pass I am fighting a strong headwind. Combined with the rate of travel as it were, I am on reserve in the final miles into Ely, Nevada. I haven’t had to use the little “Gerry can” I carry strapped to the back of the bike and I’m not real anxious to. Lydia, perhaps I’ll take that Fort Worth petrol all the way home to Canada.

I breeze into Ely on fumes and have my highest fill up yet. I have a reservation at the Best Western where I confirmed with the central reservation desk that they do in fact have internet available. I check in and no – the room I have does not have internet access and in fact they only have 3 rooms that do. They have booked someone into one of the King-size rooms that has a data port but they don’t think he has a need for it. I ask if I can change to that room but tell them no way I am sharing that King Size bed. It costs an extra $10.00 – a small price to pay for the convenience. Besides using the internet daily for my writing, I use it to check my routing and have a look at the weather and expected temperatures. It’s pretty handy and I love my little 12” laptop. However, once I unpack and set it up I am not able to configure the wireless and ask at the front desk if I need an SSID code or ??? They have no idea but tell me the gentleman in the neighbouring room has no trouble with his internet and perhaps I could ask him. It’s about 5:00 P.M. and I knock on his door. I feel really bad when he comes to the door and I have obviously awakened him from a sound sleep. I explain why I am there and ask if he could have a look once he is up and about. He is very good natured and throws on a shirt and says no, he’ll come over now. He is well versed with computers and quickly realizes that all I need is an ethernet cable which of course, I do not have. He goes back to his room, rummages around and comes back with one that although it has seen better days and the clip is broken will make do nicely and I am up and running. Thank you Bob for your help and consideration.

Having missed dinner yesterday and having only a small breakfast today I am feeling pretty ravenous. I am going to treat myself to a nice steak tonight and ask where is the best steak in town. Yes, I know – again it is a subjective question but I’m going to take my chances – again. They tell me the Jailhouse Inn and Casino and I’m going to head out there shortly and I’m not going to talk myself out of it just because I don’t want to face another meal on my own. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Cheers!

LS

Day 10 - Four Corners

Day 10 – Farmington, New Mexico to Kanab, Utah

I managed to take in four states today. No, it’s not because I’m directionally challenged this time, however I did make a wrong turn out of Shiprock, New Mexico which cost me about 10 miles down 491 South. Didn’t feel quite right that I was headed south when my general direction should take me to the northwest. I left Farmington in a cool 62F which caused me to slip a light sweatshirt under my jacket. I was toodling along at the posted speed of 55mph (well, maybe slightly over) when I was overtaken and passed by four shiny Goldwings. Feeling a little lonely since my iPod has been frozen AGAIN for the past 24 hrs, I decide to tag along for a while. Zoom! Theses fellas are riding between 75-80 which is no easy feat considering this secondary road is very wheel rutted and has unexpected surprises of some mean potholes. Takes a lot of my attention but it sure makes the miles pass fast. I pull off for fuel and wave goodbye. Wonder where they’re headed.

Entering Arizona, it would appear they have a much higher budget for road works as the highway is in substantially better condition. At Teec Nos Pos, I decide to take a little side trip up to the Four Corners Monument. After paying the $3.00 gate fee, going up to park Paladin I am happy to see the four “Wings” I had been riding with earlier. They are very curious about me, noting that I am riding on Texas license plates and having a Canadian flag on the back of the bike. Two of them are brothers, one living in Washington State and the other in Tyler, Texas very near where I had bought Paladin. Every year, they take a couple of weeks of vacation, ride toward each other, then tour around for a week and then head back home in opposite directions. They offer to take my picture on the monument. Four corners straddles 4 states, New Mexico, Colorado, Utah and Arizona. One gentleman lay down spread eagle so he could have his picture taken with a limb in each of the states. I wanted to place a telephone call but my cell phone was registering Emergency Only ??? Drat! Then one of the brother’s phone started ringing and he answered. “Hi Honey. Where am I??? Well right now I’m in Colorado, no I’m in New Mexico, now I’m in Colorado and headed to Arizona”. When he concluded his call I asked him if he knew why my cell would only make emergency calls and he seemed to have no trouble with his. He didn’t know but thrust his phone at me and said “Here, do you want to make a call?” I thanked him and said no it would be a long distance call to Canada. He said “Oh, that’s Okay – it’s a company phone anyway and I’ve got a great plan”. Feeling nostalgic, I made my call to a couple we had been at Four Corners with a few years back. There was no answer so I had to make do with leaving a voice mail. They may be surprised to see Tyler, Texas on their call display. Arizona, being owned in majority by the Navajo nation have set up Four Corners with rows of booths selling their silver, turquoise and other native arts. I have a look through and buy a couple of small things to take home. Not much room for souvenirs of the trip. I remember Daryl saying “There’s always UPS” but not out here and not on a Sunday afternoon.

Leaving Four Corners, where the temperature is now in the low 80’s, it’s an absolutely flawless day. There is not a single cloud in the sky which is a brilliant azure blue. As I head towards Kayenta, the scenery is breathtakingly beautiful. The earth, so red it seems almost to be bleeding; one can only wonder at the forces of nature that have caused the eruptions in the earth where suddenly strange formations of rock heave up from a seemingly flat landscape. Here is where I really love the difference between my sport bike and the new cruiser. The windshield, (which is a perfect height - thank you Robert for the adjustment) allows me to turn my head and enjoy the view without fear that my head is going to be torn from my neck from the wind force. In answer to your query Bernie, Paladin is an exceptionally comfortable ride and I am not “saddle sore” but I do experience some soreness between my shoulder blades. I think this is just getting used to a new riding style and the bars are quite a bit wider. Towards the end of a long day, my tailbone is a bit sore but nothing a hot shower doesn’t seem to cure.


I fuel in Kayenta and there is a loooooong stretch of brand new blacktop beckoning.
I can’t resist. I open the throttle and give him his head. He easily rises to the challenge and quickly and smoothly we are at 100 MPH. I have a HUGE smile on my face! I slow it down to a low flying speed and good thing. I round a long sweeper and there are 3 horses grazing at the side of the road. There are no fences here, and knowing they can sometimes be unpredictable I brake. Hard. Sure enough, one of them decides it’s a good time to mosey on to the other side of the highway. I beep my horn which sounds quite ineffectual but he stays put, partly in my lane and proceeds to cross when I’ve passed by. I can hear the brakes of the car I passed a while back and hope he gets through safely. Hitting an animal like that can do pretty extensive damage. To both parties.

Coming into Page, Arizona, and seeing the beautiful blue of Lake Powell is so refreshing. It is now in the low 90’s and seeing water, somehow psychologically just makes you feel cooler. I stop before the bridge to take some photos overlooking the hydro electric power plant.

I’ve made quite a number of stops today which is reflected in the time I arrive at my destination for the day. Kanab, Utah. I fuel my bike so it’s ready for tomorrow’s ride into Nevada and make my way to the Shilo Inn. Bonus! They have laundry facilities on site and I am definitely needing to do some. I was almost afraid I would have to resort to what our pal Daryl calls, fresh underwear while motorcycling and how to get 4 days out of the same pair. Day one they go on as per usual. Day two, you wear them backwards. Day three, inside out and day four, inside out and backwards. Yikes!!!! I must be too much of a girl! Didn’t want to face another restaurant on my own tonight so I make do with an apple, compliments of the Shilo Inn. As I had been up til after 1:00 a.m. last night writing, I am feeling tuckered out. I place a call to my brother Dave in Lillooet, BC to update them on my progress and it is terrific to hear his voice and that of my sister-in-law Sak. Rod calls and we go over my routing for tomorrow. Lots of road changes here so I’ll need to be paying attention. Wonder of wonders! My iPod is now “un-frozen” so it is back on the charger and hopefully will behave better tomorrow.

It is now Monday morning and still quite dark outside at 6:30 a.m. I check the weather channel and it’s only 32F. How can that possibly be when it was over 90F when I pulled in. Reminds me of a trip we took into Jackson Hole, Wyoming where we rode in at 5:00 P.M. in 100+F and in the morning there was ice on the seats of our bikes. I check the weather for where I am headed in Nevada today. 27F. Brrrrrrrr! That’s below freezing. Definitely time to break out my leather jacket and chaps. Well, on the bright side, my chaps will keep my jeans cleaner!

I’m just finishing up the “continental breakfast” here at the motel. They don’t subscribe to the low carb lifestyle here.

Please keep those comments and emails coming. It’s wonderful to get “mail from home”. Gets a little lonely out here at times and I get pretty excited to hear from y’all!

Cheers!

Day 9 Santa Fe to Farmington

Day 9 – Santa Fe to Farmington, New Mexico

A late start today – away from the Hampton Inn by 10:00 after posting my journal from Friday. My first fuel stop was Bernalillo which I entered from the Historic Route 66. Remember that old B & W TV show – “Route 66” with the guys in the convertible. Theme song - “Get Your Kicks on Route 66”. At high noon, another fuel stop in Cuba, NM where the church bells were calling the faithful to Mass. The odometer read exactly 33,800 – I now have the first 1,000 miles under my belt. Coming into Cuba, my iPod was playing an old Johnny Horton tune – “The Battle of New Orleans”. I was struck with sadness at the devastation there. It’s hard to believe that only 1 week ago I flew into Bush airport in Houston and now it has been closed and the hatches are battened down to weather the hurricane.

Today I crossed the Continental Divide onto the Apache Indian Reservation. Elevation 7,380 ft. Images of old cowboy and Indian movies dance through my head. Looking out over the plains, it’s easy to let your imagination run rampant and imagine the wagon trains and settlers who lost their lives. With my very short hair, my scalp wouldn’t be much of a trophy.

After crossing the Divide a severe side wind developed. I dropped my speed back but “Paladin” held firm. A nice surprise, and very unlike my Interceptor in the wind where the full lower fairing would act like a sail and push me all over the road.

Coming into Bloomfield, I can’t imagine where it derived its name. There isn’t a thing blooming in these fields and it would appear has not for quite some time. A few clumps of yarrow add the only colour to a very drab, dry landscape.

I must be acclimatizing to the heat. With the temperature in the mid to high 80’s I am very comfortable in jacket and gloves. I don’t see this as a good thing - I still have to cross that great rock pile and the temperatures have already been dropping to 28 and 30 at night. For the "Canucks" reading this - that's ~ -3C. Yes, Robert, I am still drinking lots of water and Gatorade – can’t have a woman running around with her electrolytes out of balance. It’s almost (but not quite), as bad a woman with out of control hormones. Thank goodness I have that one in check too.

Arrived in Farmington at 1:45 and fuelled again. At only $2.87 a gallon it seemed like a bargain after the $3.00 + I had been paying. This time, in addition to buying more water, I also bought an ice-cold Miller Lite to enjoy at my hotel. I had to laugh – the beer only cost $1.09 and the bottled water $1.25. What’s wrong with this picture ???

After checking in at my hotel, I ride into “town” and visit the local Honda shop. I had a great chat with the owner who made me a gift of a nifty Pro Honda Travel Pack which has cleaner/polish wipes, shield cleaner wipes and hand cleaner wipes. Very cool and much easier to pack than the aerosol can of Pro Polish. He has very kindly offered a pledge to the hospice ride. I also paid a visit to the local Harley shop which also carries Yamaha and Suzuki. They tell me it is the biggest Harley shop in New Mexico and I sure believe it. Lots of neat toys to spend $$$$ on but I have to resist as I’m packed to the gills already. Met with the GM – Mike who listened to my story, laughed with me at my pics and has also promised to make an online pledge. I really LIKE this town - the people are very friendly and it’s so easy to get around even I can’t get lost.

Enjoy dinner at the Three Rivers Eatery and Brew House and head back to the hotel. Across the road there is a gorgeous walk along the river – Paul you would just love this. Huge, 150 year old cottonwood trees stretch their arms across the brick path and make a cathedral like bower. They also have a wonderful veterans memorial commemorating all the wars including the Mexican, Civil, WWI & II, Korea, Viet Nam, Philippines, Spanish American and more coming as they await sponsorship. In the middle of the square is a large concrete water bowl with a huge globe of the world of solid granite. It spins freely in the water and is beautiful to reflect upon.

Walking back, I meet up with a gentleman coming over the bridge with a handsome Great Pyrenees dog who goes by the name of Rex. His owner Hymo and I walk together for some time and chat. It seems we have motorcycling in common – he started riding a 500 BMW in 1957 in his native Austria.

Beside the hotel is an interesting sign I thought I would share with you. “Despite the cost of living – it’s still popular”. My sentiments exactly. Goodnight.

Day 8 - Santa Fe

Day 8 – Santa Fe

A relatively lazy day with lots of “catch up” writing time. Did a lot of surfing on the net to determine the next leg of my journey. Checking weather conditions and potential accommodations. I had not been concerned about these before I left home as I thought it would be a slower time following Labour Day. One condition I could not foresee was the effect of Hurricane Rita and the fact that with so many people being deployed to safer areas, the hotels are being filled with evacuees. Beside the breakfast area of the hotel I am staying in is a TV and sitting area. Many people are huddled around the TV set watching with worried faces.

Had an update interview by phone with Marc from Delta Cable TV. One of the questions he asked me was if I took pictures of the hail storm??? No Marc, if I'd been able to take pictures I might have thought to put on my rain gear... If you have access to Channel 4 DCTV it will be showing on the “Plugged In” segment which airs Mon-Fri at 6:30 p.m. I’m told that my trusty Interceptor is currently on display at Scottsdale Centre with posters and info about my ride and our fundraising efforts for Delta Hospice. I invite you to pledge your support by logging on to http://www.deltahospice.org/. I’m really not sure what my plans are for my “other” bike… it has safely carried me in excess of 100,000 km over the past 20 years. It still looks terrific and I love it as much as the day it arrived on the back of Jim’s truck, relocated from Cranbrook, BC. It was mid-June of 1984 and two weeks later I gave it a real tryout by taking it on a 10,000 mile solo trip. I was on the road for 32 days. I had a problem with the fuel pump in Santa Cruz, California and was rescued by the good folks at Coast Honda, Santa Cruz. They were terrific, American Honda was terrific and I wrote several letters of thanks upon my return to Canada. I was definitely a fan! I have ridden Honda’s for over 30 years starting with a 1973 CB 350 Four then moving up to the 1977 - 400 Four Supersport and in 1984 my VF500 Interceptor. Now, I am the proud owner of another Honda – Paladin, a 1998 750 Magna. Therefore, quite frankly, I am pretty disappointed in the total lack of response from Canadian Honda, American Honda and the Honda dealerships I have been in personal contact with regarding this ride. It really is such a "good news" story for Honda and the PR would be great. Robert, (the former owner of Paladin) shared with me that the lack of PR from Honda was one of the deciding factors in his purchase of his new Kawasaki Nomad. I’ve had terrific support from Yamaha, Kawasaki and Suzuki. When I stopped in at the Harley shops before I left home they literally reached into their tills and handed me money. Wow! It seemed to make no difference if I was on a Harley or a Honda – they thought the cause and the idea a good one. The Ladner/Tsawwassen Lion's Club was so taken with the trip they called and pledged $1,000 towards the ride for hospice.

In search of other hospice’s that I wanted to visit while on this trip I find that the vast majority of them are for-profit which is quite a different concept than what we have at our hospice care centre where all of our programs are offered to the community at no charge. Today, in Santa Fe, I made a visit to the first non-profit hospice I have been able to find. I was unable to have a tour as the ED Ellen, was out in a meeting so I left my card and the newspaper article regarding my “Motorcycling for Hospice” with a note inviting her to call me at my hotel. Unfortunately, I didn’t hear back. The residence appeared poorly funded and the building somewhat dilapidated. The job they are doing is vitally important and health insurance here is astronomical. A good portion of their wage goes to health insurance if they can afford it at all. There are few hospitals that take those unable to afford it and they are stuffed and overflowing.

Just finished breakfast and now it’s time to pack up the bike and hit the hwy. I have all the directions I need (I hope) and my reservation is made for tonight so I don’t need to worry about where to lay my head. A delightful lady named Wanda was very helpful and I look forward to making her acquaintance later today.

My first "lesson"

Day 7 - Sept 22nd, 2005

Lubbock, Texas to Santa Fe, New Mexico

Planned to get away by 7:00 a.m. but it was still almost black outside. Took my time loading all my gear and double checking my routing. I was on the road at 7:45 with the sun just coming up over my shoulder – a beautiful sunrise. It was a refreshing 65F so I was happy for jacket and gloves. Had a pretty rocky start – got turned around, took the wrong road and the signage was poor at best. They have a loop system around the larger cities and once I “got back in the loop” as it were I was fine.

Stopped for fuel in Littlefield, Texas just after 9:00 a.m. I asked the gas attendant “where is the best place in Littlefield to have breakfast?” She directed me to a little place called “Dixie’s Too” which would also take me back close to the Hwy. I’ve learned that that particular question is pretty subjective.

Had my first “almost” incident pulling into “Dixie’s Too”. The sun was directly in my eyes when I was turning in. I could tell it was a gravel surface and thankfully was going pretty slow. What I couldn’t see was that it was deep pea gravel and the bike started washing from side to side. Someone stronger than me was obviously lending me a hand and when I got stopped my heart was thumping wildly – thought I could see it through my T-shirt. I have an “angel in my pocket” – a gift from Bernie just before I left home. Thanks – it’s definitely working!

Inside the “restaurant” were a couple of “good ole Texas boys”. One Hispanic and the other such a shade of ebony he reminded me of Kunta Kinte from the story “Roots”. They were so curious about my riding a bike and said – “Wow – look at that helmet – you must be riding a rocket ship. Is that motorcycle fast?” I said that it was and they reiterated – “You must be riding a rocket ship with that helmet”!!! They asked where I was from and when I said Canada said – “We’ve NEVER met anyone from Canada, do ya’ll speak French up there?” I said that most of the people who speak French live in Quebec which is in the east and I live on the west coast. “What d’ya all speak there?” “English”. The Hispanic told me his Mom was a full blood Cree and his Dad was Hispanic but “I guess I mostly look Hispanic huh?” His friend said “I bet ya’ all can’t guess where I’se come from?” Then they both started hooting with laughter and slapping their thighs. I asked the waiter where I could find the washroom – he looked at me blankly and said “Huh?” I repeated - “Washroom? – Bathroom?” He pointed and the two friends started their hooting and laughing routine anew. “Whad ya’ call that – huh – whad ya’ call that - a WASHROOM?” I failed to see what could be so hilarious but hey – if they find it amusing … I dare not use the word serviette – they haven’t a clue what that is. Makes me realize the idiosyncrasies of our respective languages.

Crossed into New Mexico @ 10:45 and gained an hour with the time change. Stopped to fuel in Melrose and again in Vaughn. While in Texas the gas prices went from $2.49 per gallon in East Texas to $2.72 in Fort Worth. Here in New Mexico the cheapest I’ve seen is $3.09.

Before I came into Vaughn you could see a front moving in from the north and I considered donning my rain gear under the cover of the gas bar. A fellow approached me while I was paying inside and said “I see you have a Canadian flag on your bike. Are you from there?” I tell him yes, and about my fundraising for hospice with the ride. He told me his sister rides a bike with a group called “Wild Women on Wheels”. She has toured through every state except Hawaii and Alaska. Sounds like my kind of group! I could see some patches of blue so decided against suiting up. Heading up Hwy 285N out of Cline’s Corner it started raining about 5 miles out but only til about mile 8. Whew! Then about mile 21 it really decides to get at it, the sky is decidedly unfriendly and I am now surrounded by the front. The rain is bouncing off the pavement and I am a bit concerned as I am approaching the time to replace my front tire and am hoping it will get me home before it’s truly necessary. I am wearing a light jacket and slip off my favourite, soft deerskin gloves and stuff them inside my jacket so they won’t be ruined in the rain. The temperature, which has been hovering just over 90F, starts to plummet to less than 60F and the rain turns to hail. Fine but hard. It stings my hands and I alternate leaving one on the bars and the other under my butt. The cruise control needs some adjustment as it doesn’t hold the speed so the shift from hand to hand is quick. The New Mexico roads – particularly the secondary roads that I prefer to travel, are notorious for not having a shoulder to pull off to. Therefore I can’t stop to suit up, I rue my earlier decision. When I’ve been caught in the rain on my sport bike, you just turn your head to the side to dispel the water. It doesn’t work with the taller windshield so I have to stand up on the footpegs to clear the water from the visor on my helmet. Brrr – it’s c-c-c-old - my teeth are chattering and I am soaked through. I am tremendously thankful that I am carrying extra fuel – I have come for almost 80 miles and there was absolutely nothing. There are cattle grazing but no sign of a single home or another person. Before the rain started, there were a number of vultures circling overhead and a couple on the ground. Their feast? A deer that had been hit and was on the edge of the pavement. The good news is that about 30 miles out of Santa Fe the temperature rose to the mid 80’s almost as fast as it had dropped. By the time I rode into Santa Fe I was bone dry with the bonus that my jeans were “washed up” too. They had been collecting the remains from the bugs that met their demise. My hands though, are red for a couple of hours.

I have great memories from our last couple’s bike trip into Santa Fe in 1999 and decide to stay at the same hotel. I am fortunate to get the last room – “if you don’t mind a handicap room”. No – I sure do not mind. The hotel is hosting quite a number of evacuees from Hurricane Rita which is striking the Gulf Coast with winds over 170 MPH. People are attempting to evacuate from Houston and are spending 9 hours trying to get less than 10 miles on the freeway. The storm is predicted to backlash to New Mexico and Arizona and heavy rainfall is expected. Better get my rain gear where I can get it out quick.

I treat myself to a leisurely dinner at the Olive Garden and enjoy a nice glass of robust red wine. I leave the bike at the hotel in favour of my two feet – I’ve had enough for today.

Day 6 Fort Worth to Lubbock, Texas

Day 6 - Sept 21st, 2005

Fort Worth to Lubbock, Texas

After enjoying a hearty breakfast with friends Ray, Lydia & Tobin, I hit Hwy 20 West towards Abilene. It is 9:00 a.m. and already 88F.

I stopped at a rest area on the outskirts of Santo, Texas. I love about the U.S. rest areas, generally they’re very clean, well attended and have nice picnic areas as well. We have stopped at many of them in past years on our couples motorcycle trips to enjoy veritable feasts purchased from local delis. The guys on their touring bikes usually carry coolers on the back seats as their ladies are riding their own bikes. Many has been the time when arriving at our destination for the day we have sent the men in to register at the hotel and the ladies crack the first cool one while waiting. Then would be de-briefing time, poolside usually, with stories to be told and the “close peg” given out to the one who had had an “incident” of note for the day.

This rest area is attended by what appears to be a well weathered, elderly Texan who greets me with a smile missing a few teeth. He tells me “Y’all be careful if ya use the handicap stall – there’s a rattlesnake up in the vent overhead. I called somebody and they’re ‘spose ‘ta come git it but I haven’t seed nobody yet”. YIKES!! But nature calls so I have to enter the washroom. What if he’s moved into a different stall – what if he’s come down, what if… I am definitely the self proclaimed “Queen” of what if’s. Inside the restroom area is a beautiful tile job of a bull with puffs of steam coming from flared nostrils – this beside a set of tall red & white cowboy boots. It is a beautiful job and with the sun slanting in from overhead skylights it really looks terrific. No sign of the slithery fiend but I make my exit ASAP. Outside, the attendant strikes up a conversation, first with “Did ‘ya see it?” “Thank goodness, NO”! As we chat, he is absolutely amazed that I would be here by myself on a motorcycle. He tells me I am exactly 550 miles from El Paso. I asked if he had ever been there. “Nope” he says, “I ain’t been more than 100 miles anywhere from right here. I’se born here, lived all my 51 years here and I spec’ I’ll die here, but I hope not too quick”. Now it was my turn to be shocked. We are the same age! Boy that Texas sun really does a number on you. I’ll have to be more careful with my sunscreen from now on. As I head back out he wishes me a safe journey. Now that he has mentioned it, I can’t get keep song about El Paso from running through my head. “Down in the west Texas town of El Paso, I fell in love with a Mexican girl”… I think about pulling out my iPod but am content with the introspection of my own thoughts and count my many blessings and feel the prayers of all who are with me on this trip in their thoughts. I think about the generosity of spirit and so appreciate all who have made contributions to fulfilling our dream of building a hospice residence.

I make a pit stop in Abilene for fuel, water and Gatorade. Need to keep the electrolytes in balance in this heat. The thermometer is just reaching for 100F. It is 11:45 a.m. Now, I’m thinking about the song “Abilene, Abilene, prettiest town I’ve ever seen” - I’m sure I don’t know what rose coloured glasses that song writer was wearing – he must have had a sweet honey there. I am loath to put on my jacket and gloves but even using a sunblock of SPF 28 my arms and hands are getting a little crispy. I also bought a new Texas keychain, a soft one, as the metal one I had bought in Krum caught the wind and was hitting the rad and I was concerned may damage the finish. Thank you Dave, I already thought of that.

Another fuel stop in Sweetwater which was to have been my proposed stop for the day. I got chatting with a woman at the pumps and asked her a few directions and where I might get a bite of lunch. She had lived in Sweetwater for 26 years but had recently relocated to Kenya Lakes area. She very kindly gave me what cash she had on hand and told me to go visit the owner of the restaurant and ask him for a donation. I’m sorry to say; I never did find Pueblo’s after driving that road a couple of times so I didn’t get to make Neil’s acquaintance.

And what is Sweetwater famous for you may ask… “The World’s Largest Rattlesnake Roundup”. I am SO out of here.

Back on the Hwy – last stop for the day – Lubbock, Texas. I am ready for some down time. I’ll plan to start the day early tomorrow and enjoy the cool of the morning. I stayed at the Ramada – it was pretty forgettable. They advertised free wireless internet access but I never was able to make a connection, which is why my writing is a little behind. They blamed “Rita” - seems we are feeling the effects even here. Many of the hotels are hosting evacuees. A swim in the pool and a soak in the hot tub. I don’t feel like going out in search of a restaurant so make do with a power-bar brought from home. Thanks Marilyn! I had to put it in the freezer for a while and then use a knife to scrape it out of the wrapper. It was a little squishy but served the purpose.

Day 5 - Fort Worth

Day 5 – Sept 20th, 2005

Fort Worth

Up early today to see Linda and JB off to work and school respectively. JB looks great in his school uniform - he has a guitar lesson today as well so has lots of things to take along. Linda and I share “McIntyre tears” as we say goodbye. The house is strangely quiet after they leave and I take the time to catch up on my writing. Then I begin the arduous task of packing up the bike. I’m pretty pleased with the result. With the help of the bungee cords and the spider net I brought along, I manage to get everything packed, including the gas can. I have to wear my boots as there is no room to pack them which I’m not looking forward to in what is expected to be well over a 100F temperature today – then again it does give me a little extra height so my feet can reach the ground easily.

I had stopped at the Honda shop in Denton hoping to find a “dog-leg” clutch lever. I find my hand is too small to easily reach the full extension of the clutch. No such luck but they are pretty friendly.

Some interesting signage along the way - particularly in East Texas. One advertising “Donuts” and underneath “Guns”. Well let’s see – guns or donuts – I’ll have to give that one some thought… Another one of note… “Don’t Mess With Texas”

At the moment of this writing, I am enjoying my first Starbuck’s of the trip. I had to drive quite a ways out from the area I will be staying at and hope I will find my way back through the highway system. It is more than worth it. I sit writing at my laptop with a cold Mocha-Mint Frappachino. Yumm! As promised – it is now 105F.

Goodness Gracious!

Day 4 – Sept 19th, 2005

Goodness Gracious!

“Goodness gracious! What’s that noise – it must be those awful boys!”

What a treasure trove cousin Linda has found among her Dad’s things. He had kept journals that his father had written from the late 1800’s and into the 1900’s. It gives an interesting picture of life in those times. We are cousins by virtue of the fact that our Grandfather’s were brothers. He wrote that he didn’t consider himself a particularly scholarly sort but the journals were written in beautiful penmanship and were eloquent and painfully honest. He spoke of his insecurities, his hopes, dreams and the love of his life. The above captioned story was written as very much a tongue-in-cheek poem and told the (I’m told true) story of a young boy who climbed up on the dining room table that was heavily laden with the family china to change a lightbulb. The extra weight caused the table to give way and down crashed the boy with china flying all around. Thus came the ensuing cry from Grandma – “Goodness Gracious! What’s that noise – it must be those awful boys!” It does sound kind of catchy, doesn’t it? As the story goes, Grandpa goes out to the shed and brings…. tools to fix the table. It ends with the realization that “things” can be fixed but children are precious indeed.

I thought it might be a good idea to execute a practice pack up of the bike in preparation for my departure to Fort Worth tomorrow. Quite a significant glitch in the plans! The bags that I had brought with me that I had carefully measured against the dimensions shown on the webpage for Paladin’s saddlebags “should” have just slid inside but “horrors” don’t even come close. Will have to make a “Plan B”. I take out what I hope are non-essential items and place them in one of the bags with the intention of having Linda put them in the mail. Linda is quite insistent that I try to find a way to take the small fuel can that Robert had given me as an emergency ration. As Linda said – Robert could not have shown more concern for me than if I were his little sister. This touches me to no end.

Another glitch! We have been trying to fax the required documents to the U.S. Customs Export office for 3 days and have been unable to get a fax tone. It just rings, and rings… we place a call to the phone contact number and get the automated message system. We go through all the options and finally are able to leave a message and request a call back with another fax number or some sort of assistance. Of course, there is no call-back - ever. In frustration, Linda places a call to a friend who works for U.S. Customs in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Imagine his surprise to hear from her. From there, they check that the numbers we are using are in fact the correct ones and we are given a different number to call. Yippee! A REAL person answers the phone. We explain our plight and the officer says he’ll put us through to the correct dept. We get another voicemail box and are told we are unable to leave a message as the mailbox is full. Ya ‘gotta love government agencies. Finally, I fax it to Rod at his site in Tsawwassen with a cover letter of explanation and ask him to please keep trying to get it through. The paperwork needs to arrive at the border 3 business days before I do so I have lots of time but don’t know where I might come across another place to be able to fax it so would prefer to give it ample opportunity. I think about sending it by mail, and again it would have plenty of time to arrive BUT, if their system is to receive the documents via fax – I have serious doubts if they’ll know what to do with it if they receive it by snail mail.

Linda’s husband Gary, cooks us up an amazing dinner of “red” fish that he caught himself (‘O great white hunter), wild rice and his home-made corn bread. After dinner he scoots off on his new Honda dirt bike to look for their cat that disappeared about 5 days ago and Linda thought she saw near the freeway on her way to work. Linda and I head off to Wall-Mart so I can buy some bungee cords to help tie things down on the bike and I have decided I “need” a Texas key-chain to put Paladin’s keys on. We can’t find the bungees I think I need other than in a pack of 18 which might be a little overkill so off we go to Lowe’s. At the front of the store I find the perfect Texas key-chain and have a good chuckle at the fact that’s it’s inscribed as “Made in Canada”.

It’s a gorgeous evening and the temperature has dropped into the low 90’s. The moon is full and is a beautiful shade of orange – what we would call a “Harvest Moon”. It comforts me to know we are all sharing the same moon and Linda invites me to share the winter solstice she shares with her sisters in Ohio. This thought makes me feel very connected in absentia.

Linda insists on writing a cheque towards the building fund for my hospice residence. Her Dad had received excellent care from Hospice and she feels strongly about it. Tomorrow, as I head to Fort Worth I will be staying with the son of a very dear friend that shared the hospice volunteer training course with me in 1999. An interesting story - he was born in Hong Kong, educated at Oxford in England, emigrated to Canada in the late 80’s then moved to Texas to attend Seminary College where he met and married a lovely gal from West Texas. Talk about a mixed up accent. Rod often teases that he will speak Chinese with a Texan drawl. They recently welcomed a new baby boy, Tobin, into their family and I am anxious to meet him.

Sleep doesn’t come easily tonight – another page of my adventure starts tomorrow.

Camelot

Day 3 – Sept 18th, 2005

Camelot

What a day for introspection. Cousin Linda & I went to Dallas to visit the JFK Museum. The Sixth Floor Museum at Dealey Plaza contains a permanent historical exhibition dealing with the life, times, death, and legacy of John F. Kennedy with a focus on the impact of his death on the nation and the world. I have always held a fascination with “Camelot” and was eager to see it. What person, alive on that fateful day of November 22nd 1963 does not remember exactly where they were, what they felt and what they were thinking when they heard the appalling news that the president of the United States had just been assassinated? I was 9 years old and remember being sent home from school just after lunch. Even in conservative Canada tears were flowing unabashedly.

For many years, Dallas just wanted to put that blight far behind them and there were strong feelings on both sides regarding the project. Some wanted to just forget and move on, some needed to show the truth and mark the memorial so that all would know the truth. But truth can sometimes be subjective and I wonder if we will ever know who was really behind the death of JFK. Was it really just a “lone gunman” who fired a “pristine bullet” or if indeed it was a conspiracy as over 80% of the American population believes. The museum opened in 1989 and attracts 450,000 visitors annually. Inside the museum, on the sixth floor from a wall of windows one can look out directly on Elm Street where the motorcade passed. An “X” painted on the street below marks where the limousine was at the moment of the assassination. It is indeed an eerie feeling. Why do people come here? Some come to reflect, others seek information about this dramatic event in American history.

How strange it seems that on this day of our visit the flags are flying at half mast as they would have been after JFK’s death. Today they are lowered to mark the recent tragedy in Louisiana and remember the losses there.


Outside the museum we met a man who was selling newspapers and magazines touting the conspiracy theory. He spoke at length and was tremendously knowledgeable and articulate and seemed very well educated. He didn’t give the impression of “just another fanatical nut case” in the least although he spoke with passion and conviction. I asked him “Why are you doing this?” He replied “Because I was here in the Plaza when it happened”. He was a young boy of 11 and his Dad had brought him out to see his president. He really only wanted to see Jackie as he had just discovered that girls didn’t have “cooties” after all. They were standing on Main St just before the limo turned off onto Elm. His Dad held him on his shoulders so he could have a good look and he was thrilled to be able to see perfectly into the car. As the car made the slow hairpin turn onto Elm they started to leave to go pick up his Mom from work. His story… he heard the shots ring out and turned to his Dad and said not “Dad I heard a shot” but “Dad they’re having a shootout”. His impression from that day was that there were many shots coming from more than one direction. Initially, the time set that the “public” would be allowed to view or have knowledge about all of the information was 40 years. Then it was set at 60 years and now 100 years. Few who were there will even be alive, much less be able to remember and who will care. Is this a travesty of justice? What are your thoughts???