Sportbike NW: Day 3
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
“Stonehenge,
Where the demons dwell,
Where the banshees live,
And they do live well.”
-Spinal Tap
Click to play the appropriate background music for today’s adventure
Motorcycle dealers usually have a few demo weekends each year, where the latest models are available for test rides. Aprilia, BMW, and Triumph all brought fleets of demo bikes to Sportbike Northwest. I set my sights on riding the Triumph 675 Daytona. The earliest available time was 10:30, which gave Carry and I time to walk to the store for lunch supplies, me time to shave, and in general have a relaxing morning. At the appointed time, I joined other demo riders in the awning of the huge Triumph trailer. I think the entire Triumph product portfolio was available, including the monstrous Rocket III, an American-style cruiser powered by a 2.3 liter motor and sporting a 240mm-wide rear tire. The Bonneville Thruxton, with its chrome upswept meggas and low clip-ons, was a crowd favorite.
It was a diverse crowd. Interestingly, you could almost tell what people were going to ride by aligning motorcycle stereotypes against the available bikes. I was archetypical sport bike rider – a skinny guy in full leathers – and I was on the Daytona.
The woman to my right in jeans and a leather jacket emblazoned with the name of her riding club went straight for the Speed Triple. The older woman in chaps mounted the Rocket III. And a guy in an Aerostich one-piece adventure suit threw a leg over the Tiger, Triumph’s pseudo dual sport. Reinforcing the sport rider stereotype, when David’s Triumph ride came up, he hopped his armor-clad self on the Daytona.
Sportbike NW: Day 2
Sunday, October 7, 2007
Open sight lines and zero cops beckoned us
Back when we were into yacht racing, we would sail in the Gorge a few times per year. The program went something like this: Sail all day and then drink HEAVILY so you fell asleep before your head hit the pillow. With any luck, you wouldn’t wake up during the night. You see, sleeping in a tent in the Gorge has two major drawbacks: trains and wind. The Columbia River has railroads down each shore and most serious cargo trains travel by night. If one of these babies rolls by at 2:00 a.m., you might think the world was ending depending on the type of dreams you were having. That’s just the trains. The Gorge is world famous for its wind. It’s typically thermal, with the desert heating up and pulling in cold coastal air for daytime 30-knot westerlies. At night, the eastern Oregon desert gets cold, cold, cold and the flow reverses with equal ferocity. It’s a natural 2:00 a.m. wake up call when your tent starts to roar and fold over. Though the Walking Man brewpub was fun, we didn’t drink nearly enough to sleep through the night.
I stumbled across the fairground field to the exhibition hall where Stompin’ Grounds was making coffee. I found David in line. “What did you decide? Do you want to ride 206?” “We didn’t really decide,” I reply. “We had dinner and didn’t really give today much thought. I’d like to do it, though Carry wants to do the poker run since we’ve never done one.”
We soon found Carry, and before long there was an Oregon map spread out on a picnic table. Our route would take us east on 14 to highway 97, which runs south from Yakima to Bend. We would cross the Columbia River at Biggs Junction, dash down 97 for a few miles and turn east on 206. The promise of empty twisty roads and no traffic was enticing. We were staying in an area we visit at least once a year and the expedition to Heppner was too good to pass up. We agreed we’d suit up and roll into town for breakfast.
Sportbike NW: Day 1
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Editor’s note: Nick and I went to Sportbike NW at the end of August, but the adventure was too good to splash up without careful editing. Hopefully you’ll enjoy the fruits of our labors. Pictures by Carry. Text by Nick.
Mission: Randle to Stevenson, WA, via the Ape Cave
Distance: Approx. 115 miles
Personnel & equipment:
Carry: 2003 Ducati Monster 620. Brand spankin’ new Avons.
Nick: 1995 Ducati 900 SS/SP. Suspecting a clutch slave leak.
Moto-Nick, ready to ride
Thank goodness we came down on Wednesday. When your vacation starts a long way from home, it’s better to not spend a vacation day getting to the vacation! We were on our way to Sportbike North West, a motorcycle rally in Stevenson, WA, a small town on the Columbia River. We split the ride down into two parts, leaving after work on Wednesday instead of early in the morning on Thursday. When we last left our heros, they had just arrived in Randle, WA.
Randle doesn’t have much in it. Wednesday night found us at the Big Bottom Bar and Grill not because we fancied the name, or thought we’d find good conversation inside, but because it was open.
Zoom! Zoom!
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Nick and I are getting so close to having the rest of the Sportbike NW story and pictures online. I finished editing 208 pictures last night; now Nick just needs to finish the commentary.
Just in case you can’t wait, SoundRider published a Rally Recap. Check out that hot 748 on the Mary Hill Loops Road. That’s none other than the knee sliding David Flemming, who drug us off to Hepner, OR the first day of the rally.
Sportbike NW: Day 0
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Bikes at the Randle Motel
Sportbike NW is the annual motorcycle rally held in Stevenson, Wash. After some agonizing about missing law school orientation last Thursday, we figured five days of motorcycle touring would set me up better for fall semester than sitting in a room listening to a bunch of people talk.
We left Wednesday evening just after dinner and scooted our way down to the tiny town of Randle. Nick and my dad stayed here on their circumnavigation of St. Helens last year, and it seemed like a good way to start our trip. The Randle Motel is under new ownership (new owners are pictured in the background above), and is slowly improving. Our room, for example, had all of its windows this time. Most importantly, for $40 a night it’s hard to beat.
We topped off the evening with a beer and 50 cent game of pool at the Big Bottom Bar & Grill. Here’s where I sheepishly admit that Nick beat me - not because he’s a good pool player, but because I’m a really bad one. In this particular game I knocked two of his balls in and set up the 8-ball near a corner pocket for him. Sheesh!