Smile!

Are we having fun yet?

In the morning the bikes are lined up at Jackson Gold Lodge looking ready to head to stage 2 in Weaverville, CA.

I decided to take Hwy 49 north to US 50 and then east to Lake Tahoe. Midway along Hwy 50, I noticed the grill of a dark colored SUV tailgating me in my rearview. I had a couple of cars in front of me and they were moving along near the speed limit and I felt uncomfortable with the big SUV so close on my tail. After a bit there was a straight long enough to affect an easy pass which I took advantage of and settled in to a cruise a few mph faster than the passed traffic. Before I knew it, there was the grill of that big SUV in my rearview! I didn't know what his intentions were but I couldn't imagine they were good. Knowing that we were climbing a mountain pass, at altitude, I thought it would be easy to make him disappear from my mirrors (and I wouldn't need to try very hard). It was a large, wide road with well-engineered large radius curves so I did not feel anything but relaxed as I zipped to 90 or 95 mph, cruised until I came behind and passed a couple of cars and then settled back into a lazy 75 or 80 mph. I think I came behind another couple of cars eventually so I passed them too thinking I had put some good distance between myself and the big SUV that had been intimidating me. After a couple of minutes I was very surprised to see the big SUV behind me again, although now he was following at a respectful distance. As we were now descending the pass into Lake Tahoe and he was a reasonable distance back I did not feel as threatened so I just followed behind the string of slow-moving cars descending into the Tahoe basin on US 50.

After a few miles following the string of cars, I saw a CHP car on the shoulder and considered reporting the intimidation of the dark SUV (still following a respectful distance behind me) but decided I had better things to do with my time. As soon as I passed he pulled out, lights blazing. As I pulled off the road the CHP and the dark SUV pulled in behind me and held a short conference. I provided the CHP with my papers, he didn't ask me any questions. When he returned he had written me a ticket for Reckless Driving which is a serious traffic offense with a $1000 fine (or more) being typical (not to mention the 3 points on the driving record and all that entails). When I asked him what I did that constituted reckless driving he explained I had exceeded 100 mph on two occasions and passed on the double yellow. Three infractions of that class equal one reckless driving. The guy in the SUV was the Captain for the entire CHP region and, although he didn't have radar in his off-duty car, he told the officer he had to exceed 100mph on two occasions to keep up and he observed me passing on the double yellow. At that point, I had already been written and I knew there was no point in pointing out that just because a big, slow to accelerate SUV had to exceed 100mph to keep up, doesn't mean that the motorcycle being followed had exceeded 100 mph. I signed the ticket and made a mental note to call a traffic attorney when I got home.

A later check of my GPS track later shows that no track segment was above 92 mph. My attorney was successful in having the offense turned in to an ordinary speeding ticket with a $160 fine. I guess the biggest CHP jerks are the ones that are promoted to captain. I enjoy riding too much to worry about LEO's (other than checking my speed when the alarm on the detector sounds). I focus on being respectful to other motorists, keeping myself safe and having a good ride so it's too bad when I am written up for a violation but I view it as akin to paying taxes, a necessary evil.

After an excellent breakfast in a little cafe in King's Beach I was already feeling better about my run-in with the CHP. I took N. Shore Blvd. up to Hwy. 89 to Hwy 70 through Quincy to Lake Almanor and onto Hwy 36 where I found the road pictured above, Lanes Valley Rd.

Lanes Valley Rd. looking the other direction. I was enjoying these deserted little county roads so much I squiggled around on a few more of them east of Redding including Wilson Hill Rd. to Hwy 44 and Dersch and Anderson Roads before popping on I-5 into Redding and onto Hwy 36 to Weaverville. I find it preferable to avoid the main surface routes into cities, especially if it's a warm day and I want to avoid stopping at a lot of traffic signals.

The charming grounds of the Red Hill Motel in Weaverville. Look, it's a bird, no, it's a plane, no, it's...Casey Stoner!

Most of the gang met at LaGrange Cafe for a delicious dinner a short walk from the motel.

OMG Bill! Look at the size of that steak!

Happiness is a good ride.

More happy campers.

I'm tellin' ya', it was this big!

After dinner some of the gang wandered down to The Digger Tavern.

More tall tales were shared.

Some tales were so unbelievable it was hard to keep a straight face.

The following morning Mike Wolf conducted a suspension setup clinic, removing some of the mystery from this esoteric subject. Here he is preparing to measure the static front sag of a bike volunteered for the purpose.

After the suspension clinic there was plenty of time to explore the area. This is Hwy 3 adjacent to Trinity Lake, the exact spot that a deer decided to jump in front of my motorcycle while I was cruising along at 55 mph or so. Richard and I were heading north on Hwy 3 shortly before 11am when we came upon the rear of a large group of Ducatisti stopped by road construction. As the flagger waved us forward the group strung out in typical staggered fashion, 11 or 13 bikes in total with Richard behind me bringing up the tail.

This was one of those cases where there was no possibility of doing anything to avoid the deer or lessen the impact because the deer was not visible until her head and shoulders rose above the steep road embankment and that was less than 1 second before impact because the deer was moving so quickly. None of the riders in front of me even saw the deer. I suspect the deer became confused by the sounds of the long string of Ducati passing by at 55 mph.

I saw her as her shoulders came above the roadway from below and time almost stood still from that point until I coasted to a stop after the impact. The nearly one-second from the time the deer entered my field of vision until impact was expanded - my life literally flashed before my eyes, even as I was still watching the deer accelerate in front of me. My first instinct was to apply the brake but before my hand made any motion I had already realized it was not only futile but probably counter-productive. Simultaneous to that thought was a vision of helplessness, death, thoughts of my wife, family and friends and also a vision of me laying in a hospital bed wired to the ceiling in traction. I felt sad and helpless. I saw pain, broken bones and damaged organs. At the same time I was maintaining throttle and transferring weight from my butt to my hands and feet to brace for the impact. I remember considering it was a positive that the deer was not one of the larger ones. I felt a life-connection with the scared and wide open eye of the deer as I saw her stretch her neck forward, as if she thought she could clear the front of my machine. I recall thinking how ironic it was that we were both scared. I recall thinking how stupid the deer was. I felt disgust with the deer. Hate. I was sad. I was also scared, but not in the normal sense yet as not enough time had elapsed for the adrenaline to be felt. All of these thoughts and feelings passed before me within less than a second but there was only one thought that was comprised of words and that thought was "Oh Fuck!".

The force of the impact was surprising from a relatively small deer, my body was jolted forward as the fork tubes impacted the deer just forward of her shoulder. The sound of impact was disgusting to me and the volume of it also surprised me. It sounded like the combination of a sickening thud and a small explosion. Through the bars I felt her head wrap around the fork tubes. Her body rotated and slammed broadside against the right side of my bike which displaced the rear of the bike a few feet to the left. I felt her body smashing my leg against my motorcycle. As the momentum of my bike continued forward, the left pannier caught her rump which left the deer on her side, and my pannier, both spinning off the road and the bike in a severe wobble/tankslapper. My natural instict was to try to maintain grip with the wildly swinging bars. I felt the front tire scuffing heavily an the pavement, the bike leaning left, the front tire made a scuffing sound as if the front was going to wash out and then the bars were thrown the other way and the same thing happened on the opposite side. I was still too far forward, over the bars, from the initial impact. I was trying to pull myself back but the scuffing of the front tire at the extreme of each oscillation was not helping that effort. I knew I was going down when I felt the next oscillation was more violent with more scuffing than the first and it was becoming difficult to maintain my hands on the grips and I naturally loosened my grip on the bars, coming to terms with the fact that I was going down. I saw pavement grinding, sliding, out of control, violence coming my way and I recall being frightened and angry with the likely outcome. Unbelievably, I noticed the next oscillation was diminished from the previous. Then again. As I was no longer trying to maintain my hands on the bars the oscillations were diminishing! It was hard to believe but it looked like I was not going down. The bike was still wobbling but it was becoming less, not more and the front tire was no longer scuffing each oscillation, which allowed my body back into the saddle. At this point, the adrenaline was just beginning to kick in. My memory of the events is quite clear until the adrenaline kicked in.

I was probably only going 35 mph by this time as the initial impact and the scuffing of the front tire had scrubbed off a lot of speed in a very short period. The bike was still pointed at an angle towards the right edge of the road but had also been displaced somewhat to the left, partially into the oncoming lane after the impact. The tankslapper had diminished very rapidly on it's own and it was a simple matter to veer the bike parallel to the road to avoid running off the embankment. I felt ill with adrenaline and very lucky that I was still intact. I remember looking in my mirror as I coasted and being glad there were no cars in sight. I couldn't see Richard, I figured he must be directly behind me. I was so glad I had not gone down. I coasted a long ways at a slow speed, I wondered if my brakes had been damaged and didn't want to apply them yet. I didn't want to jinx the good fortune I had. I was so relieved but overwhelmed by adrenaline. I coasted to the side of the road and saw Richard pull in behind me. I was in a state of shock. I could hear him talking but it was not making a lot of sense nor did words seem very real. I was relieved but couldn't enjoy it yet as I was stilly shaking with a mix of adrenaline and natural opiates that were probably released after the deer smashed my leg. I felt so lucky that I had not gone down.

Richard was very calm and helpful. We inspected the bike and were amazed it appeared functional after bending the right pipe away from the tire area. He retrieved my pannier and, after bending the pannier frame away from the bike, we were able to attach it with a spider-web bungee I carry in case I need to load something unexpectedly. After a short test ride to verify it was road-worthy I encouraged Richard to continue on his way while I headed back to the Red Hill Motel to fix the bike up some more so I could ride it home.

I found the dead deer at the bottom of the road embankment not far from where she first appeared. I suspect she died instantly when her neck was broken. It also looks like her shoulder and rear leg is broken. My only injury was a sore ankle from the impact of the deer on my weighted leg. I hoped it wasn't broken and a later x-ray confirmed it was just a bad sprain.

She looks slightly pregnant to me with her swollen belly and prominent teats but I am not a deer hunter (at least not in the traditional sense) and am not familiar with the natural timing of these things. I've been told that a deer would not be pregnant in June. When I reported the deer strike to the CHP, they were only concerned that it was not in the roadway, after hearing it was off the roadway they did not want anything to do with it. The CHP doesn't even keep statistics regarding deer strikes on state highways. I don't see how they can work to improve public safety when they are too lazy to even document the frequency and location of various deer strikes on public highways. I guess ignorance is bliss.

The portion of her ear that is missing was discovered stuck in the grill of my ST4s forward of the voltage regulator. It was nicely dried out from engine heat and wind. Chris Marx absconded with the ear to an undisclosed location where he crafted RealHide(tm) deer ears for the infamous ceremonial sumo wrestlers as well as a real deer ear key fob.

Stuart Fork where it flows into Trinity Lake.

It looks pretty good considering the deer it just killed. The front fender was removed and most of the bodywork is broken but still intact. The radiator was bent but did not leak until I attempted to straighten it at home so the new bodywork would fit properly. The handling of the bike was the same post-impact (after I loosened the triple clamps and re-torqued). Even though the latch of the empty pannier never popped opened during the impact or subsequent slide, it had a surprising amount of pure, fresh deer shit inside. It looked like it had been injected past the seal under high pressure.

These ST's are tough bikes and the bodywork is attached in such a way to protect the frame from damage. I don't mind the few extra minutes it takes to remove and install the screws in the wellnuts when it creates bodywork this solid.

This is the large log plant on the outskirts of Weaverville. I would hate to see the result if that pile ever caught on fire!

The following day it was time for the gaggle of Ducs to migrate to the final destination of Madness 2008, Gold Beach, Oregon. I was planning on taking the shortest route along the coast but as rode along Hwy 299 I gained confidence in the handling of my bike and started to have fun again. The lure of the twists and turns of mountain highways was too much to resist. I turned north on Bigfoot Scenic Highway (Hwy 96) and turned north onto Indian Creek Rd. to Happy Camp Rd. and then west on Redwood Hwy (199) to the Coast. Photo is Hwy 96 near Cottage Grove.

The Klamath River is a popular spot for river rafting. View from Hwy 96.

As I reached the Coast I realized I had some time to kill. Because I was getting tired of taking photos I decided to set up my portable artists easel and assorted oil paints and brushes to record this wonderful Oregon coastal scene near Pistol Rock on the way into Gold Beach. When I realized I didn't have oil painting equipment, I knew I would have to settle for a photo. I could always Photoshop it later.

Madness 2008 - Gold Beach
Index of Madness 2008

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