Route Map

Oct 1/08 - Home Sweet Home ...

Wednesday, October 1st/08

On this, the last day of our journey, we leave Portland and our sweet cousins with mixed feelings. Happy to be going home, seeing our precious dog Tobi and meeting back up with friends and… sad to be leaving the adventures of the road. I think there must be a little gypsy blood in both of us – we love to wander and wonder “what’s just over the next hill”, to ride I-5 home (not my favourite) I had my iPod all charged up and ready to “Rock ‘N Roll” or corner, valley or mountain pass or whatever. Had a few stops to make to pick up some last minute ‘tax free’ items and hit the highway at 11:00 a.m. Knowing that we were planning to help pass the miles. A squirrel is performing a ‘high-wire’ act on the telephone wire as we leave cousin Walt’s.

I’m following Rod and don’t give it a second thought until I see a sign that says “To Ocean & Beaches”. Huh ??? To Astoria ??? What the ??? I’m not sure if this is denial or we seriously need to look into buying a GPS unit.

We fuel in North Plains and pick up Cornelius Pass Road to Hwy 30 into St Helens and Rainier where we crossed the Columbia River into Longview, Washington. The maples are flaunting their coat of many colours now. Magnificent crimsons, luscious yellows and earthy ochres. The evergreens provide the matting and framework to help show off their splendour. One of the farms is burning leaves which immediately brings full imagery of autumn to mind. Pumpkin pies, Thanksgiving, jack ‘o lanterns, Halloween.

At the old steel arch bridge that drops into Longview we pull in behind a semi whose brakes were so hot and smoking it looked like he was on fire. Except for the odour his brakes are emitting I am glad we are behind him and not in front.










Rounding the turn that brings us down to the Port of Olympia, my nostrils flare and I catch the unmistakeable scent of the Pacific Ocean. I lick my lips imagining I can taste the salt on them. It is here we see the first Hwy sign that gives the mileage to Vancouver, BC. 189 miles left to go.

The familiar shape of the Tacoma Dome in Everett brings us another step closer and catching sight of the Space Needle in Seattle evokes a thrill of familiar territory.

We take the Express Lanes that run down below the city. You need to be on your toes here – traffic is moving fast but can come to an abrupt halt very quickly. The freeway here runs 5 lanes wide on each side with on-ramps, off-ramps, lanes merging left and right criss-crossing in all directions. On my iPod, Bobby Darin rasps out “Splish Splash I was taking a bath…” It’s a very catchy tune and Rod laughs as he sees me ‘dancing on my footpegs’.

After we fuel the bikes in Marysville we stop at Starbucks for a coffee to enjoy with the tuna sandwiches cousin Walt has lovingly prepared for us to ‘take with us on the road for nourishment’. The sun has burned off all the haze and we are able to sit on the outside patio. A number of young ‘hot dog’ sport bike riders are lounging at the next table swapping bike stories. We join their conversation and you can see the disbelief mixed with curiosity when Rod tells them I rode a sport bike for more than twenty years. They are probably barely 20 now and can’t conceive that this older ‘gal’ could possibly have ridden anything that would be considered ‘competition’. I just smile. Oh to be so young, infallible and indestructible. No thanks – I’m pretty happy where I’m at now – been there, done that, no need to try it out again.

We make our last fuel stop before the border in Blaine, Washington at 5:45 and literally breeze through the border at 6:00 p.m. I had my ID out – she didn’t give it a glance. Asked how long we’d been away, total value of goods being brought in – didn’t ask to look at receipts – just said “You’re on your way then”.









As we cruise up Hwy 99 towards Delta, the sun is setting over the Pacific Ocean. What a perfect end to an amazing adventure.

As we pull in the driveway, Henry opens the garage door and Tobi comes rushing out to greet us. Tail wagging furiously, bark, bark, bark - he seems to be beside himself with glee to see us, as we are him. Henry has done a fantastic job looking after everything – the flowers are still blooming profusely even though fall should be allowing them to dwindle. What a joy and a relief it has been to have him stay and look after Tobi and the house allowing us the freedom to be away so long. I think we all will have to put in some ‘diet’ time but that’s for Monday’s – isn’t it???

Now the work begins. Sorting through 5 ½ weeks of mail, bills, real life …

‘Paladin’ logged just under 5300 miles (8500 km) and Rod’s ‘Wing’ just shy of 6000 miles (9600 km). We were ‘on top of the world’ in Colorado at 12,300 ft and at the lowest depths in Death Valley at 282 feet below sea level. We travelled through eleven US States and two Canadian Provinces. We saw some amazing sights and experienced a lot of history. We grew tired of hearing (as no doubt our American neighbours are) of all of the political goings on before the presidential election coming in November.

Stay tuned and I will endeavour to put up a map of our trip in the next day or so. To everyone who came ‘along for the ride’ – thank you so much for your support, encouragement and emails. I do hope you enjoyed. It kept me going when I thought I might not. Thank you to all the relatives and friends old and new who put us up (and put up with us). It has been such a pleasure and honour to meet up with you and share your stories and lives. We feel enriched and very blessed. I will again close with the line from ‘Desiderata’ – “For all it’s sham, drudgery and broken dreams… it is still a beautiful world”.

Sept 29-30/08 - Losses and blessings ...

Monday, Sept 29th/08

We set out from our hotel at Mt Shasta under overcast skies that threaten rain. We decide to forego the very skimpy ‘continental breakfast’ at our hotel in favour of a proper breakfast with a few miles under our belt. Believe me; neither of us has been losing any weight on this trip. We have had some wonderful meal extravaganzas and I for one, look forward to getting back to my ‘normal’ routine of eating - and not quite so much. :-)

Mt Shasta itself lies veiled – almost ethereal – always mystical and magical to me. It is still hard to see her naked without her marvellous mantle of year-round snow and I imagine her as in past years. We are having a few localized ‘sprinkles’ but nothing of significance for precipitation.

We cross the Oregon border at 10:00 a.m. and start the long descent towards Ashland. I had forgotten how much fun this section of I-5 is at this point. Long sweeping corners that are easy and very enjoyable to ride at speed. We have been blessed (translation – lucky) to not pick up any tickets on these many miles – now would not be a good time to start. Along the ride into Medford, the sun had come out and started to warm up nicely then chilled right back down again as we pull off the freeway to fuel the bikes and ourselves at Elmer’s.

Our initial plan was to ride into Eugene, OR and spend the night there before going onto our cousins in Portland. We haven’t been able to give them an accurate ETA and originally had planned to be there before the weekend but the unplanned six extra days in Kingman, AZ with Rod’s bike repair made for a recalculation.

We fuel again in Roseburg, OR and decide to call cousin Walter and ask if they want us to ride straight through and be there tonight or hold-up for a night. “COME ON IN” – Walt says – “it’s been way too long since we’ve seen you” – gee it’s so nice to be missed and welcomed.

Getting back on the freeway after we talk to Walt, I am very excited to “get there” and although it will make for a long ride for today – I feel very energized. We always so enjoy our time with them and coming to Portland always feels like coming ‘home’ and it’s just a one day hop, skip and a jump of 300 miles to our house. We pick up an extra 10-15mph in speed. As Rod & I pace side by side on the freeway at 85-90 mph I pretend to take a riding quip out of my boot to urge my pony down the home stretch. Rod laughs and does the same.

About 11 miles out of Roseburg, Paladin suddenly ‘hiccups’ and seems to lose power. What ??? He recovers and then a bit further does it again. I ask him “What’s up Paladin – did we get you some bad gas back there”? This happens three or four times and I pull onto the shoulder of the freeway. Rod has also pulled over and asks “What’s wrong”? “I’m not sure but he is acting a little funny. It seems to be better now so we’ll just carry on and see if it gets any worse”. After so many miles together you become attuned to every sound and every nuance and feel of the bike. I love when you feel you have just become an extension of the bike and it feels like you ‘communicate’ telepathically.

About 10 miles later, as I check my mirror – something is missing ??? MY FLAG!!!! Oh NOOOOO!!! How could it be gone after all these many miles and just before we reach home. Sure enough, the flag pole has broken right off and of course the flag is no where to be seen. Was Paladin trying to let me know when he was doing his little acting-up? Perhaps – but we’ll never know for sure and never know what happened to my little flag and who may find it and wonder at its stories??? I am really feeling distressed about it and overcome with sadness which I try my best to ‘talk myself out of’ along the remainder of the way into Portland and Walt & Sandi’s. As we ride the last few blocks in however, it really seems to take hold and as we pull in the driveway and Rod holds me I am sobbing my heart out and trying to rationalize how ‘stupidly’ I am behaving. It’s just a silly flag after all. At some deeper level though I think I realize it symbolizes something differently and the pent up grief is trying to find an exit point.

I manage to pull myself together and put on a happy face to greet our cousins. Sandi has put together a wonderful dinner which we are able to enjoy on the patio in the early evening warmth.

Tomorrow we are doing a little shopping (not much as there is just no space to put it) it’s just always fun to look at the different things they have here and compare prices. Of course, Portland is always a treat because there in no tax – the price you see is the price you pay. (There’s that Scot again).

In the afternoon we are going boating with Walter on the Willamette. He loves to wakeboard and Rod is hoping to get some great photos of him getting some ‘air’.

An astonishing surprise was waiting for us at the end of the bed in the ‘Bird Room’ where we have the honour of staying when we are here. Sandi has printed out all the Blog entries including the photos and has placed them into a binder. It is FAT and wonderful and I am tremendously touched by this gesture of love. What a terrific visual memory of our adventure. Thank you both – we love and appreciate you so very much. We always look forward to ‘next time’ and hope it will be sooner rather than later.

We had planned to stay here in Portland for a few days to visit but the unpredictable fall weather has decided to turn against us and turn stormy and cold. The temperature for Tuesday into the 80’s, for Wednesday the 70’s and from Thursday through the weekend drop to the low 60’s with steady rain and wind. No fun for 300 miles of freeway riding particularly through the Seattle crawl. Although disappointing for all, we have decided to head for home earlier and plan to leave first thing Wednesday morning.

Sept 28/08 - New friends - New Memories

Sunday, Sept 28th/08

We enjoyed a great hot breakfast that included Starbuck’s coffee at our hotel in Truckee, California. I had been up since 4:00 a.m. working on our Blog and updating photos. Rod finished his novel relaxing in the tub – his third since we have been on this trip.

We checked out at 10:00 a.m. and as we fired up the bikes to leave – I couldn’t find my prescription sunglasses. We both looked everywhere and couldn’t find them. Rod went back to our room to look and I went over our ‘luggage’ on my bike. They were no where to be found! We went back to the 50/50 Grill where we had dinner last night and to my great relief they were there. Whew! I will at the very least concede to the possibility of the key issue of yesterday.

We fuelled at Truckee on the way out of town. It is another glorious, sunny autumn morning. At this altitude, close to the Sqaw Valley ski area, the mountain air is very ‘brisk’ this morning but oh so unbelievably pure and fresh. The fall colours are even more pronounced here – a little further North – a few days further into fall.

Normally in California, I LOVE to ride the 101 along the coast and admittedly, I am missing the ocean I have lived near all my life. But, it is cold there now, (low 60’s) and we would most certainly be getting wet. I cling to the warmth of these inland routes as I know at home we will be facing rainy and gray skies for the next six months. There is time enough for my feet to go back to being webbed.

Rod has picked up a hitch-hiker. Somewhere overnight, an itsy bitsy spider has made a home on his bike. Now, at 65 MPH he is slowly inching his way up to the top of his windshield – on the outside! Now, he’s straddling the top and hanging on for dear life – ‘puckered’ right down I’m sure. He creeps along the very top to the left and then with a ‘leap of faith’ on this Sabbath day he spins his web out … out from the bike … and is … gone. I’m sure at his ‘forced’ displacement he is quite the little immigrant. A new home in a new land.

Down, down ,down the mountain we fly on Hwy 89 towards Graeagle. We press hard – fresh asphalt, newly painted lines, absolutely perfect for two wheels. Add throttle, lean left, sit up, re-seat – a little front brake – add more power into the curve. We are nestled in the embrace of a veritable Cathedral of monstrous Ponderosa Pine, Mountain Ash, Fir and Cedars.

From time to time I check my mirror to make sure Rod is still hanging in there with me. Sure enough he is, though a ways behind and in my mind I fancy I can hear him encouraging me to ‘let my hair down’. In a manner of speaking of course since my hair is pretty short. I can also hear my friend Keiko, who just celebrated her birthday (Happy Birthday Keiko) say as she has in an email to me – “Go Go Linda Sue”. I’m riding behind a brand new Corvette in an electrifying shade of blue, nipping at his heels. Now HE’s fun to chase !!!

An interesting phenomenon that I’d like to share regarding cornering on the bike. Sometimes, you come into the corner a little hot (translation – too fast) and you scare yourself a little. The natural tendency is to tense up – this is something that at times I still have to talk my way through. What you need to do is relax and drop the shoulders (hopefully they are not glued up around your ears) drop the death-like grip on the handlebars to a feather-light touch, LOOK where you want the bike to go, let it ‘fall away’ from you in the direction of the corner and then let the bike take over. Much like an airplane, it will tend to find it’s own way. Now emerge from the corner wearing … a smile.

We make a stop in Graeagle as I am inspired to make some notes in my journal. I have a perfect spot at a picnic table by the lake with the sound of a creek rushing by behind us. We meet Ken & Susie there who have just come in on a red Harley (we won’t hold that against them). Please drop us an email – we’d love to hear from you and meet up for a ride in the Pacific Northwest.

We set off again and for the past few miles have had a couple of sport bikes sitting on our quarter. Each time I pull out to pass I pull into the far right to allow them to pass us should they choose to do so. They seem quite content however to ride along behind us. We blow by a California State Patrol car while climbing up near 80MPH in a 55MPH zone. OOPS!!! I back the throttle off and add a little drag with the front brake. It’s kind of a dead give-away if the trooper sees the front end of the bike in a dive. He knows that you know – you’re guilty. I see a sign that there is a rest area in 2 miles. Seems like the perfect time to let the tires cool a little. We pull in and enjoy a 15 minute respite.

Murphy’s Law … again. Why is it that motorhomes (I’m sure this does not apply to you David & Rose) feel the need to be out in front – then drive 20 MPH below the posted speed in the ‘crooked’ parts then at full pedal to the metal through the straights where we might have an opportunity to pass? It’s really NOT that we HAVE to go fast (although we certainly like to) it’s more that we can enjoy the view a whole lot better when we’re not having to watch for the ‘cock-a-mamie’ antics you get up to trying to push your rig down the road in an effort to keep in front of us. One has been in front of me for a number of miles now and studiously avoids the many pull outs provided for the use of slower vehicles. Finally in frustration, I lay on the horn and miraculously he pulls into a pull out to let Rod & I pass then immediately pulls back out right in front of another unit. Go figure!

‘Paladin’ just LOVES being out on the highway on this adventure. When I picked him up 3 years ago in Texas he was getting 100 miles to a tank of gas. Robert, his former owner, insisted that I take with me a little jerry-can of extra fuel “just in case”. I filled the can in Fort Worth and carried it all the way to Vancouver without having to make use of it. At one point, I coasted into Fallon, Nevada on fumes but still made it after all. When I got ‘Paladin’ home, Rod changed it over to Amsoil, a synthetic oil product and it immediately picked up 150 RPM and started getting better mileage. Rod tells me I have been averaging 54 miles per gallon on this trip and we have not been running it easy. Now, I have just gone on reserve at 124 miles on the tank but I’m not quite sure how far to the next fuel station. I ‘sit a little lighter’ and back off the throttle a little to 65MPH and we pull into McCloud, California on reserve, fumes and prayer. My trusty steed has come 137 miles on this tank. We call ahead to Mt Shasta to reserve a room for the night and head off down Hwy 89 ‘bombing’ through the trees. Mt Shasta looms straight ahead in front of us as if, were we to keep going we’d run right into it and up the side. I have never seen it like this with NO snow on it.

The ever playful Pika’s are back – playing their death-defying game again. Those little beggars just love to taunt you.

We pull into Mt Shasta, check in to our accommodation and I write yesterday’s stories up on the computer on an outside picnic table while Rod relaxes for a bit. We walk the few blocks to dinner at Lily’s – a historical little restaurant that looks like you’re going to Grandma’s house for dinner. We enjoy a fabulous dinner there and meet some new friends as well. The table next to us is celebrating a special birthday and have come in from the San Diego area. Their daughter and family and new baby grand-daughter have surprised them by showing up from Medford, Oregon. A happy occasion and when they leave they send a couple of glasses of wine over to that “happy looking couple”. Thanks so much Bill and Zan – we’ll send you the photo and wish you all the very best.



On the table, there is a little oil lamp as “mood lighting”. I note that the etching on it is of Calla Lillies. My Mom’s name was Calla and I think it is neat as she has been so much on my mind this trip. I ask the waitress “could we purchase this little lamp as a souvenir”? She brings us a brand new one still all wrapped up. It will bring us wonderful memories of a very special time.

Sept 27/08 - "Bumps" in the road ...

Saturday, Sept 27th/08

Catching up our Blog is incredibly time consuming (do I write too much???) the photos take a considerable amount of time to upload as the internet connections at the hotels are not always as good as can be and often I lose it right it the middle of an upload and have to start all over again. Grrrrrrrr! Again we’re off at the ‘crack of 11:00’ – hmmm – there seems to be a pattern here. I have run out of ink in my ‘journaling pen’ (I wonder why) so we stop at Staples to pick up a refill. No such luck – mine is purple ink which I love and all they have is BLACK. Boring!!! I’ll have to make do with blue … for now. To Safeway to replenish our water – again. On our way out of town, we stopped at the Post Office so I could mail more post cards. There must have been some ‘poetic justice’ here as I stood in line for 20 minutes (needing 3 stamps) and as soon as it my turn the postie closed his wicket to go to lunch. Sidenote: I worked for the New Westminster Post Office for 10 years – more than 20 years ago. It’s just possible that I was guilty of that on occasion :-)





This is definitely ‘small town America’. Cute little towns on the Historic 49er trail. I can’t help but think how Cori would have loved “Angels Camp” with its whimsical storefronts and names like “Frog Hollow”. It’s hot here though and we look forward to going back to the mountain elevations and cooler air.

Angels Camp, the only incorporated city in Calaveras County boasts a population today of about 3,000. Set in the rolling foothills, surrounded by oak trees is a quaint town that has maintained its historic charm as evident when you first roll into town. The well maintained architecture is classic, early Californian.

A young and adventuresome Mark Twain overheard a story in a hotel bar he frequented in Angels Camp. That fall of 1865, Mark Twain penned the now famous "The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County". It was the literary piece that made Mark Twain a household name.
Angels Camp is also a state of being. That state of being includes prosperity and kindness. The local merchants and townspeople have dedicated themselves to the goal of creating a kinder and gentler place.

Its nine miles up Highway 4 from Angels Camp to the neighboring mining town of Murphys, founded in 1848 by John and Daniel Murphy, whose wagons creaked over the Sierra in 1844. The diggings here were extraordinarily rich, and the town grew prosperous despite the usual cycle of devastating fires and rebuilding. Today, its streets are lined with oaks and sycamores; handsome mid-19th-century buildings house art and antique emporia; and a pretty little park, complete with a Victorian bandstand, sits beside the creek.

The Murphys Hotel, one of California's oldest, opened to guests in 1856. Ulysses S. Grant slept here; so did Mark Twain and Black Bart, the poetry-writing bandit who successfully robbed 28 Wells Fargo stagecoaches before his arrest in 1883.

We follow 49 over the mountain pass towards Lake Tahoe. We fuel in Kirkwood at 2:30 – a teensy tiny pit stop where gas sells for $5.64/gallon. OUCH! I don’t have a choice though – I’ll not have enough to reach South Lake Tahoe. I also really need a WC (translation - bathroom) and the only available is a porta-potty – not my favourite but it will have to do in a pinch – and it is. One of my ABSOLUTE paranoias is of dropping my motorcycle key into the “pit”, therefore, even at the risk of my bike being absconded with I usually leave the key ON THE BIKE!!!! Coming out, Rod has just finished fuelling his “Wing” – looks to me and calls “Hey! Where is your bike key”? I start looking frantically - on the ground all around where my bike had been parked before Rod moved it to fuel. This particular fuel stop had had a number of ‘glitches’ and we were both feeling somewhat ‘flustered’. Could I have possibly taken my key in there with me? I check all around the waistband of my chaps – I often tuck it there when I get off the bike. Rod says “Well, go check in the porta potty”. By now, a whole group of Harley riders are lined up to take their turn there. Oh my goodness, I am NOT going to ask them about it. I stomp around and continue to check all around the ground. Finally, the ‘stall’ is clear and with a sinking feeling I go in to have a look. First, the floor, then the trash bin then finally with mounting trepidation I open the lid and look into that human cesspool. With ‘somewhat’ of a feeling of relief – I don’t see it – but then where the @#$% are they ??? As I leave the stall, Rod calls out “I found your keys”! “WHERE” ??? “Under your helmet" –which he had moved before fuelling my bike. A ‘discussion’ ensues. We are both equally certain that we did not place them there. I am at once relieved, disgusted and decidedly unfriendly.

We continue over the pass and drop into the Lake Tahoe area. I give a toot on my horn to say “Hi” to a vehicle with Alberta plates – a fellow Canadian. Rod thinks I want him to pull over so cuts in front of me and almost runs me off the road as he pulls off. Now, I’m REALLY HAPPY!!! Not. Another ‘discussion’ ensues whereby I decide I’m not leaving the pullout til we dispel the tension between us. ‘Are we having fun yet’? This is really spoiling a beautiful ride for both of us and unnecessarily so. We agree to disagree and Rod decides perhaps we should stop further up, make some calls and see if we can stay in Tahoe for the night. I agree but I really am NOT hopeful. I know what it is like around the Tahoe area on a weekend and it is Saturday night. We stop a few miles down the road in a Safeway parking lot and pull out both the AAA tour book and my cell phone. Many places were SRO and the ones that were available were far, far beyond our budget. Ridiculously so. We called ahead to Truckee where we found a Best Western still beyond our normal budget but not so far that we decided our marriage was worth it. We headed out Hwy 89 – just 30 miles to go. Enroute I lean over and give Rod the ‘peace’ sign which earned me his wonderful smile and nod. Rod had written down the directions but when we got off the highway made a turn that as soon as we made it I knew this was NOT going to take us in the direction we needed to go. We were in an industrial and train station area and then moved further along into outlying areas. He finally pulled off the road and said “We have to turn around, I don’t think this is right”. My ‘turning around’ skills with the bike fully loaded are weak at best so we travel a mile or so further down the road before I find a place I am comfortable I can make work. I really wasn’t upset – really! Rod, however was and his frustration was evident when we finally pulled into ‘town’ – yes, Truckee is now a town, and he couldn’t read the map because he had his sunglasses on and was not able to use his ‘reading’ glasses as he had his camera around his neck and had his glasses in his pocket which he was having a hard time getting at.

We check in and mosey on over to the 50/50 Grill and Brew Pub for dinner. Em, in your honour I order a T & T and am thankful they are able to oblige – even with a wedge of lime.

Sept 26/08 - A Stellar Day...

Friday, Sept 26th/2008

We had been in bed since 8:30 last night. The heat seemed to really zap our reserves and we were both ‘tuckered out’. Rod was up before dawn and took his camera and Wing out to get some early morning shots. The morning temperature is 48F – tonight it will dip to 39F. Winter approaches.

I lazed around in bed reading when I ‘should’ have been catching up our Blog, consequently we didn’t get away from the Inn til the crack of 11:00 a.m.

First stop – a grocery store to replenish our water supply as we had depleted it entirely in the desert heat of yesterday.

It is a crisp, fall, gloriously sunny day without so much as a single puff of cloud in the sky to define the landscape. After the sagebrush and tumbleweed of the desert it is wonderful to have greenery and I am delighted to be back among my beloved pine trees and drag deep breaths of the scent into my lungs.

Rod called his office to catch up on the news and happy (sort of) to know he is not needed back urgently. Well, at least according to Karen as he hasn’t spoken to Mike yet. :-)

We are seeing hundreds of motorcycles on the road today – all headed to Reno for the weekend for the “Street Vibrations” Rally. Street Vibrations Motorcycle Festival is a celebration of music, metal and motorcycles offers tours, live entertainment, parades, ride-in shows and stunt shows. We briefly discuss whether we should re-route and take part but decide that Yosemite beckons strongly. It turns out to be an awesome choice.

The Sierra Nevada range rises sharply to our left. Although not as “craggy” as those we experienced in Colorado – they are still incredibly majestic.

To our right gleams Mono Lake as we descend into Lee Vining and fuel before heading into Yosemite via Route 120.

I stop along the road many times to make notes in my journal. I keep thinking there must be a way I could have a voice activated recorder so I don’t have to keep stopping. Any ideas out there?

As we climb into Tioga Pass, there is yet evidence of snow in the crevasses and old avalanche runs. The scent of fall is heavy in the air redolent with the promise of the coming winter. It is so unspoiled and the fall colours abound riotously.

Today is a perfect example of when it would be wonderful to ‘double up’ with Rod on his Wing. Although the road is wonderful to ride – it takes some concentration that doesn’t allow for ‘lolly-gagging’.

Numerous waterfalls drop their heavy load to valleys far below. I am at a loss for words (for once) to describe the awe-inspiring beauty we are viewing.

Ellery Lake glistens in the mid-day sunlight with the sun creating millions of diamonds across its pristine surface.

The water dances across the river rocks en-route to the lake creating a cheerful, gurgling symphony of sound.

With our many stops and starts to take

photos and journal, it is doubtful we’ll make 100 miles this day.

I am overcome with emotion as I try to write what I am seeing and feeling. My eyes well up with tears and it’s hard to write through them as the expanse of grandeur grows more beautiful at each turn in the road. My heart is truly full of gratitude that we are able to undertake this wonderful adventure being strong of mind and body and I offer a prayer of thankfulness.

My fingers fly across the pages of my journal as I write page after page in hand-writing that would be in-decipherable to any but this would-be author. As I read to Rod what I have written, I see him bite his lower lip – what – is that mist I see in his eyes too? He takes me in his arms and smiles in silent understanding. I feel finally at peace. It is nourishment for both soul and spirit and heals at a deep level the pain and difficult times of earlier months this year. First, the loss of my very dear friend Cori, then the day after Mother's Day, my mom, then within days, my much loved brother, Dave. Too much. Too much.

Towering above us, these phenomenal rock formations jut proudly skyward each seeming to be more spectacular than the last. We are dwarfed to atom-like insignificance by virtue of their sheer immensity.

Highway 120 leading out of Yosemite and into Jamestown has to be one of THE most fun roads I have ridden. EVER!!! It snakes down from an elevation of 8000 ft and twists and turns down the mountain through the dappled light of the pines. For some time we followed a tour bus as he put it through the manoeuvres. I would NOT liked to have been a passenger as he wended downward tortuously close to clipping the mountain on several turns. He was really wheeling that machine and even had he not been in front of us I doubt we would have traversed it at a greater speed.

We need fuel but what I’d REALLY like to do is gas up- go back – and do it all over again. Greedy wench that I am.

We come through a ‘town’ called Chinese Camp. (Is that still politically correct?) It is the remnant of a notable California Gold Rush mining town. Some of the very first Chinese labourers arriving in California in 1849 were driven from neighbouring Camp Salvado and resettled here, and the area started to become known as "Chinee" or "Chinese Camp" or "Chinese Diggings". At one point the town was home to an estimated 5,000 Chinese. The current population of Chinese Camp is 146.

Days end is in Sonora, California. We have come 145 miles. At our hotel we ask for a recommendation of where to eat. Joe suggested dinner at ‘Outlaws’ – in “town” some 5 minutes away. We enjoy a fabulous meal there in a fun atmosphere. I try a wonderfully rich and smooth Merlot from a local winery (Mt Brow) and Rod a local beer. Our bartender, Mark, moved here from Orange County a couple of years ago. The restaurant he had been working in was failing and "seeing the writing on the wall" he decided to come to Sonora where his parents live and own a couple of acres of paradise. He has never looked back and speaks glowingly of friendships made here that form strong bonds that will endure forever. Dessert (that we share) is raspberry pie with hand-made ice cream – delicious!

Back at the hotel, we slip into the hot tub and then into the pool. I lie on my back and float and enjoy a black sky with millions of stars twinkling overhead. A perfect ending to a stellar day. For me, the most memorable of our long journey.