Reluctantly leaving the park, I hopped Interstate 40 for a quick ride back to Flagstaff to find a hotel with a laundromat. I'd received a voicemail for a follow-up phone interview which I'd scheduled, so I took the next day off for the call and as a maintenance day; washing clothes, cleaning the bike, paying bills, replying to emails and returning phone calls. It's amazing what you can do with a laptop and an Internet connection.
On day 29 of my trip I reached the south rim of the Grand Canyon. From Flagstaff I took Highway 180 north to Highway 64 and into Grand Canyon Village. It's a pleasant enough drive if you don't mind going the speed of the three motor homes in front until there's room to pass.
By noon I had set up camp and spent the remainder of the day sitting on the rim enjoying the view.
At 4:20 the following morning I rolled out of my sleeping bag, grabbed my JetBoil and a cup, found a spot away from the jabbering tourists, and enjoyed a most spectacular sunrise with a hot cup of coffee. After spending a couple of hours watching the sun "paint" the canyon walls in a kaleidoscope of colors, I spent the remainder of the day hiking along the south rim.
Going into a restaurant for dinner, I met I met a fellow biker and his wife and asked them how long they were out. His answer? "No idea." It turns out that they are retired and average 50,000 miles a year on their Honda Gold Wing. Neither of them looked a day over 60, but he was 77--she didn't offer her age. And here I thought my trip was epic. It did, however, give me a clear picture of what I want in the way of retirement.
Back To The Desert
Friday morning I retraced my route along Highway 64 to catch Interstate 40. Although Flagstaff to Kingman is one of the prettiest sections of Interstate 40, it wasn't conducive to stopping, so I made good time and turned south on Highway 95.
It was hot at 106 degrees and I needed to be safely ensconced in a hotel room by 3:30 for my final phone interview, so I reluctantly bypassed a stop in Lake Havasu City to see the London Bridge.
I made it as far as Parker, found a hotel, and was on time for my call. It went well and within hours I received the call: "How soon can you go to work?" Delighted, I celebrated with a steak dinner and then went back to the hotel to plan the remainder of my ride.
Mark Silva and Pat Hagerman, my new employers, are both riders and highly recommended the route through Twenty-Nine Palms. It fit with my desire to see Yosemite before the trip ended, so the following day found the sun at my back as I rolled west along Highway 62.
A portion of this highway follows along the edge of the Joshua Tree Wilderness. Joshua trees, mountains of twisted rock, ocotillo, and creosote bushes combined to form almost a moonscape feel to the desert. The road is well paved and easy to enjoy. Outside of an occasional pickup and other bikers, I encountered few other souls.
Shortly after a quick breakfast in Twentynine Palms, I turned north on Highway 247 that borders the Bighorn Mountain and Recreational Lands. I picked up Highway 18 out of Victorville before turning north again on Highway 395.
As I headed north on Highway 395, the Sierras begin to rise up on my left, and the snow on the peaks looked cool and inviting compared to the over 100 degree temperatures of the desert. The eastern slope of the Sierras gets less rain than the better known western slope, and it is primarily known for its strong rock formations where it meets the desert.
I pushed on to Bishop before stopping to find a campground and spend another grateful night smoking a cigar by a campfire.
Yosemite National Park--Almost Home
Mark Silva recommended the gas station at Lee Vining as one of the best hamburgers available, but I came through around 9 am and missed it. Gee, guess I'll just have to go back one weekend.
Timing is everything. The eastern Tioga Pass entrance to Yosemite ( at almost 10,000 feet) had just opened for the season, saving me a long ride around and providing one of the more memorable stretches of pavement on the trip.
The scenery changes almost immediately as you turn into the Sierras. The snow was still on the peaks, making for a stunning ride. I spent a couple of hours riding the 60 or so miles from the park entrance to Crane Flats where I secured a campsite and then promptly did the entire ride again that afternoon returning to loop through the valley floor around dusk.
This is a phenomenal ride. It was still a little early for tourists and the snow melt had the falls at full capacity. I stopped once to photograph Yosemite Falls and there were no other tourists in sight; just deer feeding on the valley floor, completely ignoring me.
I've lived within three hours of this place for over 10 years and finally experiencing it had me feeling foolish for not taking advantage of it much earlier.
In no hurry to leave, I spent the following day exploring the valley, hiking up the Mist Trail to Vernal Falls (not really a good idea in motorcycle boots) and smoking my last Avo from Pete around the campfire that night. I even saw a brown bear about a quarter mile from camp.
Only three hours from home, I took my time packing up the following morning and suited up for the rain that the incoming clouds were promising. Then I spent a nerve-wracking hour and a half coming down out of the mountains on Highway 120 in torrential rain and thick fog.
Once out of the Sierras, the rain stopped and it was a pleasant (if uneventful) ride back to San Francisco via Highway 120 to Interstate 580.
End Of The Trail
At the end of the trip it's difficult to say what was most impactful about it. I could tell the trip had done its job because I was as happy to be returning home as I had been to be leaving. It was still months before I had a clear picture of what the trip meant to me.
Thirty-five days, over 7500 miles, eight states, two provinces, and 11 national parks--an epic first motorcycle tour. I connected with old friends, made new ones, saw some of the greatest views God ever created and in the process learned some things about myself; I don't have to plan everything and I don't have to know all the options to make a decision. Sometimes its best to just embrace the moment and live it.
My advice to anyone that will listen, is this: Next time you find yourself with time on your hands, no matter what the reason, saddle-up and head out. You'll experience something grand; you'll learn something valuable about yourself; and I can promise you this--it'll be cheaper than therapy! Hope to see you out there...
Bill Sanders is advertising executive in San Francisco who spends most of his vacation time on his bike. More pictures and commentary on this and other trips are available on his blog at www.sitein.com/blog