2016 Deer Hunt Part 3 (Thanksgiving Surprise)

And every good buck needs a story behind it...

For the last few Thanksgivings, I've hunted in the afternoon.  I don't watch football, I can only read so much at one time and there really isn't anything on broadcast TV in the afternoon.  Hunting alleviates cabin fever.
Thanksgiving hunting started in 2013, when a doe ended my two year dry spell.  That hunt for "only" a doe ranks very high in my memorable deer hunts.

I wasn't sure if I was going to go out this year, but the weather was about right, and hunting seemed like a quiet way to spend a couple hours.  I packed up my gear and got changed into my hunting clothes.  SO is very understanding of this, so we planned to have the turkey and fixins' done about an hour after legal shooting light ended.

I got out to my stand and set up.  It was cool but not cold.  Surprisingly, I think I heard Mike's neighbor's ATV as he must have been hunting too.  Usually I have the woods to myself on Thanksgiving.

The time past slowly which was fine.  I was comfortable and the squirrels were running around enough to keep me on my toes.  Darkness was approaching and with the heavy cloud cover, I knew daylight was going to be short.  

My sixth sense told me to turn around and as I did, I saw a doe deep in the thick brush in the small ravine behind me to my right.  I initially wasn't sure I would be able to get her at the very awkward angle, so just watched, hoping she would make her way to a better shooting lane.

I heard a deer grunt loudly to my left.  Interesting - probably a buck.  Part 2 had told me there were at least a few small bucks in the area, so I concentrated on the doe.  At some point he grunted again, but wouldn't show himself.

Figuring I didn't have much to lose, I slowly got up and turned around, watching the doe.  Movement far off behind her caught my eye and I saw a buck following her.  He was in the thick brush where I originally saw the doe; I could see antler, but not very  much and was still planning on trying to take the doe.  My safety harness strap was slightly annoyingly in my way, but I won't use a climber without one.

The buck turned around and ran back the way he came.  He was chasing away at least one, probably two other bucks.  The doe must be hot!

After the chase, he ran back into the thick brush, classic buck behavior with his nose down smelling.  Now I got a look at his antlers - this was not another garden variety small buck.  My attention focused on the buck.  The doe by this point was starting to notice me.

I have taken "backwards" shots from the stand before, trying to use the back of my climber as a rest.  It usually works, but never works well.  I made the decision that an offhand shot was probably the better option should things progress.  The two deer were probably approaching, but still under 100 yards away.

I watched the doe start working away from me.  Having a few minutes to watch the deer, I was more calm now - not calm, but more calm than I was...

The buck trailed the doe out of the thick brush in the ravine.  Fading light.  Crosshairs behind shoulder.  Is it a clean picture?  Yes.  My .243 barked for the second time this season.

Mr. big took off.  I saw a couple of other deer run as well - I wasn't sure which was the one I shot at by the time I lost sight of them.  I figured either a solid hit, or a clean miss.  I wasn't sure which since all the deer running muffled any sound of a deer balling up.

I waited a few minutes, but with dark approaching, noted where he was when I shot, where he ran, and climbed down.  Before looking for blood, I decided to head to where I was pretty sure he ran.  It only took a couple minutes to find him.  And he was big.  Not just his antlers, but his body was really big too.  My shot had broken his front shoulder - I'm not quite sure how he even ran.

I noted where he was and quickly packed out my stand.  On the way out, I decided that if Mike was home, I'd ask to use his four wheeler.  Mr. Antlers had expired within 20 yards from the end of the property.  I was not looking forward to dragging him all the way out.  I wasn't even sure I could.

I texted SO that I would be late, and went to Mike's house.  Mike and I talked the ATV for a few minutes - apparently it needed a battery - but should start.  Bless his heart, Mike said he would get the ATV running and meet me in the back; I would field dress the buck.

I met Mike in the deep ravine.  His quad was a bit of a mess, he had an external battery pack, and he was sitting on some pieces of Styrofoam.  It was very slow going.  We made a Plan B.  Mike had his SO (bless her heart too) call the neighbors to see if they would let me drive back to close to where the buck was.

Keep in mind, this IS still Thanksgiving.  It is also pitch black by this point.

Neighbors were very gracious, so I left Mike to work his way back home and drove around the block.  The neighbor was a good guy and I talked to him for a few minutes before he gave me directions.  Surprisingly, I ended up driving to within 30 yards of deer, and the drag was mostly down hill.  Getting him into the bed of the truck was still a major effort.

I drove back around to Mike's to see if he needed help with the ATV.  His SO said that he wasn't back yet.  I headed down to where I had left Mike.  Not only did I not see him anywhere, I didn't hear the ATV anymore.  I yelled his name a few times.  Nothing.

Oh SH*T.  I ran back and checked Mike's barn.  Nothing.

I ran back to talk to Mike's SO again - I am terrified that he has flipped the quad somewhere on the very steep terrain.  Back at the house, Mike answers his phone when SO calls.  Good, but not good.  He got turned around in the dark, abandoned the quad and is now "a little lost."

This set off a chain of events of shining car headlights into the woods.  Me running around with a flashlight (hoping not to get lost too).  Phone calls back and forth about where Mike thinks he is.  Me feeling absolutely terrible about getting him into this situation.  More phone calls.  Yelling.  More flashlights...

And this goes on for hours.  Keep in mind, this IS still Thanksgiving.  It is beyond pitch black by this point.

Eventually Mike sees a house light and works his way towards it.  Mike's kindly neighbor gives him a ride back to his house, but not before family, 911 and the volunteer firemen are in the mix.

We all meet up back at Mike's.  SO calls off the cavalry, but a couple volunteers do show up a few minutes later.

We talk for a few minutes.  Mike apologizes for getting lost, I apologize for getting everyone into this mess.  I ask if I can come back to hunt next year if I promise to NOT ask for the ATV.  Everyone laughs and SO tells me to please come back.

Thanksgiving.  Much to be thankful for.  Very good people.  Great people.  Good endings.  Good stories.

Back at home past my bedtime, I reheat Thanksgiving dinner.  My SO is very understanding about this.  She had eaten hours previous.  Since all ended well, the situation is more humorous than anything else by this point.

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Between the late dinner (ugh), my Thanksgiving Day naps, the deer, the "excitement" in the land of the lost, I wasn't really able to sleep.  Up early, I had another deer take care of and decisions to make about taxidermy.

Processing a moose of a deer was a whole different animal (pun intended) from the small one back on opening day.  Skinning the deer was relatively straight forward, but I had to take extra time on the front half of the animal since I was almost certainly sure to have him mounted.

A post mortem on the bullet told an incomplete story.  The bullet entered his shoulder and after absolutely shattering the bone, it and/or fragments of bone proceeded into the neck and chest.  It would appear that the injuries in the neck were the most devastating.  Not perfect shot placement or bullet performance, but given the offhand shot I was satisfied.  Even without a clearly identified exit hole, I was not able to recover the slug, or any part of it.
The deer also had an older grazing shot across one leg.  Someone had missed a nice 'un.  It happens.
People get all negatively excited looking at bullet performance.  A bullet has a very difficult job to do - and the fact that any post mortem can be done says that the bullet did its job - end of story.  I'll probably continue to hunt deer with my .243, but given the size of this deer, I probably would have been better off with my 30.06.

Much of the rest of the day was spent cutting out meat and subsequently grinding most of it up.  Mr. Big had almost no fat on him, and the loins looked like tree logs of deep dark red meat.  They will be good, but care will have to be taken in the cooking of them.

I had three options for taxidermist.  Guy 1 was the guy who I've gone with for many animals.  He does good work, but takes forever.  Actually a little longer than forever.  He's a fun guy, but after my bear rug took over 2 1/2 years - and he said that he lost money on it since he switched tanners in the middle, I just couldn't go back to him.
Guy 2 did my 2014 bear.  Did a fantastic job in a short amount of time.  Not too personable - but I guess that doesn't matter.  His website suggests he is going part time soon and the location is really far away (closer to my old job).
I decided to go with Guy 3.  Younger dude I had talked to a few times.  His work looks really good and he has lots of good reviews online.
I arranged to drop off the deer in the evening.  He has a real nice shop far off the road not too far away.  We BS'd for quite a while, talking hunting.  I "helped" him skin out the skull which was fun.  He made it look so easy, but I'm very well aware the taxidermy is both a skill and an art.  I believe my future 13-point mount is in good hands.

I'm probably done deer hunting for the year.  In the short term, I'm ready for a couple boring days.  Longer term, I guess I'll have to find some other way to alleviate cabin fever.

Every deer season is different, and all are great in their own way.

2016 Deer Hunt Part 2

After letting things settle down in the woods, I was back out in my 2-tree again Monday evening.  I typically have much more luck seeing deer in the morning, but I don't like wasting time and setting up in the evening makes it MUCH easier to get going quickly and quietly for a morning hunt.
Alas, Monday was very quiet.  No deer were seen and little to no shooting was heard.  So it goes.
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Tuesday morning came dark and early.  With the stand set up, I was able to lollygag a little before heading out to Mike's.  I always try to pull in to his property quietly, even knowing that he has a driveway alarm...

Temperatures were near freezing, but with no wind it felt extremely comfortable.  As daylight brightened, it turned out Tuesday morning was go-time!
Right around sunrise, a crunching noise told me that an animal - not a squirrel - was nearby.  Looking around, the first thing I saw were two dogs.  They were both quite large, with a reddish brown one and a very pale dog that looked almost like a Lab.  The dogs were quite obviously where I had gutted my deer on opening day, and seemed quite content to sample the awful offal there.

What I had actually heard though, was a buck coming from the southwest.  He was almost a respectable deer.  He had one nice antler, but his other side was broken or misshapen somehow - it was also much smaller.  I had shot one like this several years previous so I almost wonder if there is some genetic cause for this.  More likely, his growing antler was damaged early in the year.  I had previously decided that Tuesday was the day to hold out for anything interesting.  He was not interesting enough to take, so I enjoyed watching him as he worked his way out of my area.
A short time later, a crashing, crunching noise foretold more deer coming.  Five deer of various sizes came walking right in front of me from the east.  They were all very calm and didn't seem worried, despite being very near me.  I like it when this happens as it gives evidence that my scent control is working at least reasonably well.  The five deer milled around in front of me as a noise behind told of more deer.  Slowly turning around, I saw two more deer come from the far south.  They were farther than the five in front of me, but still relatively close.
Another deer came toward me from the northwest.  This was a buck that at first I thought was the same buck I had seen at sunrise, but I'm quite sure it was a different one since his rack looked much more uniform and smaller.
At this moment, I had eight deer - all scattered within 50 yards of me.  That is a lot of eyes and noses!
I was quite curious how this situation was going to play out.  The deer all seemed to be sizing each other up.  The buck was sniffing, maybe hoping for a hint of estrous.
What finally broke up the situation was the two dogs, still on the gut pile, barking.  The five deer in front of me ran off, with the two behind me retreating slowly as well.  I was quite surprised that both the dogs and the deer had remained in the area so close to each other for so long.
The buck remained in front of me for several more minutes, before slowly working his way off to the west.
It has been several years since I've seen that many deer at one time and place while hunting in Indiana.

A bit more time past before a small button buck came on me from the west.  He could have been the twin to the deer I had already shot.  He walked right past me, unconcerned about anything other than the small amount of browse in the woods.

Another half hour or so past before more crunching brought a very large doe toward me from the east.  She was nervous, saw me and stopped.  She didn't seem to happy, but continued on her way; she was close enough that I could see her mouth open and tongue out as she walked past.  I suspect she had been trying to escape from some threat - real or imagined.

Another 15 minutes or so past when I heard and saw four more deer working their way from the east to the southwest.  Jeepers there has been a lot of deer activity this Tuesday morning.

But, I held off on the trigger to see if anything interesting showed up.  I wasn't disappointed in the least about not shooting, since seeing that many deer in one morning made for one of the most activity-filled hunting days in a long time.

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With all the activity Tuesday morning, I probably would have stayed out all day if I wasn't so hungry.  After a rest at home, I went back out Tuesday evening.

A combine was harvesting corn somewhere to the west.  It is sometimes surprising how loud something like that can be even when it is hundreds of yards away.  Rural life is not always quiet and peaceful.
Tuesday evening was quite slow.  I only saw one deer, and it was very far to the southeast.  Far to far away and through too much brush to shoot, at least I wasn't skunked for the evening.

The neatest thing that I saw that afternoon was a raccoon coming out of a hollow knot in the tree right next to me.  The knot isn't all that big, and the raccoon was quite rotund.  He struggled and grunted to actually get out of the hole that appeared about half of the diameter of his body.  I couldn't help but wonder how (or why) he got in there - or possibly he got in through the broken off top of the tree.  Watching him was quite humorous and goes a long way to explain how wonderful hunting can be even with little game in the area.  I can see no other way to observe magical moments like this.
The raccoon carefully surveyed the area before climbing down the tree.  Once on the ground, I was surprised how quietly he moved away through the crunchy leaves.  Compared to the horrendously noisy squirrels, the raccoon seemed to float above the dry leaves.

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Wednesday woke up cool and foggy.  After slowly getting ready, I drove out to Mike's.  Patchy dense fog made driving quite slow in spots.  As Tuesday had unfolded with much activity, but no big antlers, I was not planning on being very picky.

Up in the tree well before daylight, it felt colder than it actually was due to the heavy damp air.  With a very bright moon the ethereal fog could be seen meandering around.  As daylight started to brighten the sky, it looked almost eerie.

Road noise seemed much more pronounced than previous days.  Mike's house is more remote than mine, but I think his actually has more ambient noise, especially on days when noise seems to carry so efficiently.

I was hopeful that Tuesday morning's activity was a premonition that the deer would be really moving for a few days.  It was not to be.  I only saw one deer very var off to the south.
Despite the surreal foggy scenery early in the morning, it was quite a long few hours sitting on the stand.

Temperatures were rising quickly, with near record highs forecast along with strengthening wind - I can hunt in cold weather all day, but wind is not my friend - I was thinking about how to spend the next day.
With some unfinished chores at home, this was to be my last hunt for at least a few days.  I climbed down out of my stand and as I started gathering stuff up, a deer which must have watched me climb down snort-wheezed and ran off to the west.  I always look around before climbing down, but must have missed it.  I wasn't upset about not seeing much in the morning, but that deer running off made me inexplicably frustrated.  After a short walk to the far south edge of the property, noting several rubs and an untended scrape, I packed my stand out.

I'll probably kick myself on Thursday morning for not going out, but other stuff should get done before Brother North-Wind starts blowing.  And while I love hunting, coffee and waffles in the morning will also be welcome.

2016 Deer Hunt (Part 1?)

On the weekend before deer hunting, I normally clean up my motorcycle and get it on the trickle charger.  Typically this makes sense as morning temperatures are more reliably cold, even with some warm afternoons remaining.  2016 has not been normal though, as temperatures remained consistently warm.  Opening day of Indiana's gun season was also relatively early in the month.  We've only had one hard frost.

The warm temperatures made me somewhat ambivalent about deer hunting.  It is a little hard to get excited about it when I'm still wearing shorts nearly every day.

So it was either a blessing or a curse that opening morning came on November 12 as the coldest day of the year so far - not that a few degrees below freezing is really all that cold.  I was up early, and out the door.  The air pressure in my truck tire had held OK after plugging a nail hole the previous evening, and I was at Mike's with plenty of time for the arduous walk to the back of his property and up my tree.

As I was setting up my treestand, a heard at least one deer in the area, not too happy with the intrusion.  I got set up as quickly and quietly as I could, and sat waiting for light; the warm fall meant I was not yet cold-hardy and various parts of me seemed to take turns being uncomfortable.

As legal shooting light approached, I could see a deer walk slowly behind me.  It was just light enough to see it, but not light enough to see if it had antlers or much else.  Even though there wasn't enough light to see it clearly, I was glad that it didn't seem spooked so close to me.

Daylight slowly built with little wind.  Shooting started, although it seemed there was less shooting than many years.  Indiana is trying to reduce the deer population due to the threat of some communicative diseases that can affect both deer and cows.  Over the last few years it has really started to show in deer numbers.

At some point, Mike's neighbor shot a few times.  I saw a deer across the ravine.  I heard him shoot a couple more times which I thought was quite odd.  After quite some time, several deer ran down into the ravine.  They were probably at the limits of my shooting distance given my gun and the brush, but they were moving quickly and I just watched them work their way off to the west.

This is the first year Indiana is allowing centerfire bottle-necked rifles for deer hunting.  I'm not terribly happy that the law allowing this was made in the legislature.  When it comes to wildlife policy, I've always believed wildlife officers and professionals are better equipped to make sound policy.  Still, there is ample evidence that rifles can be as safe, if not safer than shotgun slugs (see search for the Pennsylvania study that look at the two - the original study keeps getting moved).  Indiana has been close to allowing this for years, but pressure from non-wildlife sources have pressured the conversation away from policy based on science, safety and wildlife management.

I'm using my .243, which is a firearm I've hunted with a few times but never taken anything with.  Compared to my bazooka 12 gauge fully rifled slug gun, my reach in the brushy, hilly area I hunt is probably about the same.  But it is an easier gun to shoot well.

A short time later, I heard Mike's neighbor working his way around on his 4-wheeler.  I suspect this made the deer I had just seen a bit nervous, and they worked their way back east, coming up the ravine behind me.  The two does and two smaller yearlings were nervous, but not in a panic.  Coming behind me from my awkward right, I had no shot.  As they worked to my left, they were moving too fast.  I tried to get the scope on one of them, but wisely let them run on their way.

I was figuring at this point that I'd be in for the long wait.  I usually spend all opening day in the tree stand as with lots of hunters in the woods, deer movement can happen all day.  But movement in the afternoon is almost always slow.

Temperatures were warming and just as I was thinking about eating a snack, I looked over to my left and a deer had approached me.  I could see it was a smaller deer, and had the telltale smudges on his head which suggested a button buck.  I momentarily thought about holding off, but with memories of years where I hunted hard all season unsuccessfully and of years where deer seem to absolutely vanish after opening day, I quickly changed my mind.

The deer saw the movement of getting my gun up - it was slow and subtle enough to not make him panic.  He turned broadside to the south and his body language said he was assessing what he saw.

My .243 barked.  He ran - did I miss?  He ran to the west, and at the limits of my vision, just before going over into a ravine that would have taken him onto the neighbors property, I saw him drop.

I waited several minutes before climbing down out of my tree.  Slowly walking over to him, my initial assessment was correct:  a button buck on the smaller side.  My shot had been a bit low, but deer shot through both lungs go down quickly.  

I packed out my stand and came back to field dress him.  The good part of a smaller deer is dragging him through the ravines is much easier than some of the large deer I've shot through the years.  

Mike came to talk for a short while as I was getting ready to check him in through Indiana's online check system. 

Back at home, Mr. Button Buck was hung in the pole barn.  I cleaned up a bit and ended up feeling like I was wasting hunting season for much of the afternoon.  History has taught me that after shooting, gutting, and dragging, plus with all the other mayhem of opening day, it is often best to let things settle down for a couple days before going back out.

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Much of Sunday was spent processing the deer.  I let things warm up a little before skinning him and carving out the meat.  Very little meat was damaged from the bullet, but it did look like a bullet fragment had separated and gone toward the neck and far front shoulder.  Spending time getting all the meat available is one of the reasons I butcher them myself.  Doing it this way takes quite a bit of time.  The kitchen gets a good scrub down after.  I should probably clean the deer blood off of the floor of the pole barn some day too.

With vacation that must be used before the end of the year, I don't think I'm done hunting yet.  And with one in the pot, I can enjoy the time and take time to see if anything interesting comes by.

West 16 Day 13

Ottawa, Kansas to Home:  647.8 miles

September is usually a month when the Midwest begins to feel like fall, but we woke up to a hot and exceedingly humid morning.  It felt more like late July than early September.  A quick check of the bike and some hotel instant oatmeal, and we were on the road.

The interstate is probably the least engaging way to get anywhere - actually an airplane is the least.  But we were ready to be home.  We were not ready for the adventure to be over, but it was hot and humid, there were some fairly energetic storms headed through the Midwest, we missed the dogs, etc.
And so we prepared ourselves for a day of the superslab.
If the weather had been more temperate, and/or the forecast better, we may have diverted down to the Ozarks for the trip home.  There will be other opportunities for that.

Getting through Kansas City during the beginning of rush hour was not too fun, nor was it too terrible.  We were soon in Missouri.  Even on the interstate the sunrise can be pretty.

The miles went by pretty fast in the morning.  Although it was muggy, the temperatures were nice.  We motored on and soon enough crossed the Mississippi river - some time I'll have to try to figure out how many times I've crossed it on two wheels.

As the day wore on, the bike racked up more miles and it got very warm and sticky.  In the western dryness, it is possible to soak the t-shirt and have evaporation cool very effectively, but when humidity is already very high, this doesn't help at all.  Clouds did start to form which helped temper the weather a bit.

I never hit "the wall" where it felt like we weren't getting anywhere, but it was a long slog of a day.  A few mind games did help though.  On the first day west, I hit 50,000 miles on the bike.  It was fitting that on the last day on the road I hit all 5's 55,555 miles.

Once through Indianapolis, it felt like we were almost on our home turf.  The final hour on 2-lanes to home was a nice change from a long day on the interstate - and fitting end to the road trip adventure.

Totals for the trip:
19 States
5897.1 Miles
1 Rear Tire
1 Oil Change
Uncountable elevation changes

I rolled into the driveway to a ferociously  long lawn.  With a bit of luck, I'll get that taken care of soon.  We had nearly two weeks without any rain, which is not only lucky, but also results in a disgustingly grubby Goldwing.  With a bit of luck, I'll get that taken care of too.

It was good to be home even if we did get back too late to get the dogs.  I've read in various magazines about people talking about the motorcycle tour of a lifetime.  I've been very fortunate to have many motorcycle tours of a lifetime and this one is no exception.
Even better, this trip has given me yet even more ideas for future adventures.

West 16 Day 12

Alamosa, Colorado to Ottawa, Kansas:  646.7 miles

Morning woke up cool and almost sticky with humidity, but it didn't actually feel humid.
We waited to leave until I could have some hotel Waffles!  They just about made my morning.  Then we were on the road around 7:00.

As we headed east, there were very few other cars on the road and most of them were headed west toward town.  Some fog could be seen which was a change from the last few days in the desert.
As we started down the road, the mountains loomed above.  In the deep morning shadows, they almost looked imposing.

We curved around some of the mountains and started our way up.  It was a gorgeous morning and I was glad we waited to do the last mountain run until early in the morning.  It would have been a mistake to go farther the previous evening.

La Veta Pass was pretty mild compared to many of the other passes we've taken on this adventure.  I kept a close eye out for deer and elk though since the cool morning would have been the perfect time for them to be out.  Thankfully, I saw none.  We saw few, if any, cars while traversing the pass.

Making our way past Walsenburg, I was reminded of our first trip out West in 2004.  We rode CO10 from La Junta to Walsenburg as we entered the Rocky Mountains for the first time on a motorcycle - then a 2004 Electraglide.  I was mesmerized by the looming mountains in the distance as they grew ever larger.  On this trip, I watched them fade into the distance in my rear view mirrors on the same road.
Much has changed in the last 12 years of roaming the country on two-wheels.  But much has not changed.  I ruminated on this for much of the morning.  The scenery change through La Junta is shocking.  Safe to say, we knew we were in the plains.

We continued east.  Elevation dropped.  Temperatures rose.  The scenery was still pretty in its own way, just not quite as majestic as the mountains.  We saw many pronghorn antelope as we rode - many of them hanging out with the cows.
It was hard to stop the mind from wander back to home:  how long the lawn probably is, how the dogs are.

By the time we crossed the state line into Kansas, it was getting hot.  Humidity was just starting to build, but it wasn't oppressive ... yet.
We continued into Kansas and I noticed the turn off for Holcomb.  Holcomb is where the Clutter's lived, and were they were brutally murdered.  The murders were written about by Truman Capote in In Cold Blood.  I have read another more factual book on the murders and I think the house still stands.  Unlike Lizzie Borden's House, which is now a museum and Bed and Breakfast, the Clutter house, if it still exists, is a private residence and as I understand, the area does not like the notoriety that came from Truman Capote's book.  As an aside, there is evidence the Harper Lee wrote as much of In Cold Blood as Truman Capote did - which may explain why it is so much better than Breakfast at Tiffany's.

Shortly after Holcomb, I think the GPS had a brain meltdown as it routed us way down to Dodge City.  I chose my own route going in a more northerly direction.  I think this was the better option.

We continued riding east throughout the afternoon.  The heat and humidity grew to oppressive levels.  The wind picked up to an unruly horror.  The effect of the wind was that it felt at times like someone was trying to tear my head off, or beat me over the head with a sack of potatoes.  At least the wind was from the south, had it been from the north, then every truck going by would have smacked us with a huge wind wall.
Between the heat, humidity and wind, the last few hours were not the most fun of this adventure.  But we soldiered on, never even finding a good place for lunch.  Snacks at the gas station it was...

Eventually we made it to Ottawa, Kansas for the night.  Our reservation was accidentally made for one person.  The hotel guy started to get into a big explanation of one vs. two guests.  We were both tired and just wanted a room.

Dinner options were limited as neither of us wanted to get back on the bike to go eat.  Papa John's pizza from the gas station next door tasted much better than it should have.

West 16 Day 11

Saint George, Utah to Alamosa, Colorado:  587.9 miles

We packed up the bike at first light.  Having a day off of the bike and time to spend with D and the boys was great.  But it was time to hit the road again.

Morning was absolutely perfect riding weather.  Dry desert air.  Cool temperatures.  Bright clear skies.  It doesn't get any better.

We stayed on 2-lane roads the whole day.  I thought about heading up to the Interstate, but that would have been a mistake.  We were headed east, toward home.  This brought a sense of melancholy throughout the day.  Vacation was winding down.
And yet, one of the great thing about motorcycle adventures is the travel is a great part of it!  It was a splendid day on the bike.

Scenery throughout the early morning was grand.  Red rocks, mesas, scrubby brush land.  The ride was mesmerizing.

Skies stayed crystal clear as the terrain turned more to canyons and large rock formations.  We've been through this area before, but it never gets old.  We were on a slightly different route from our 2009 and 2014 Southwest adventure and this allowed us to see new scenery.

As we approached New Mexico, I saw a rock formation that I thought was Ship Rock, and we got a few pictures of it.  As we continued on, I remembered Ship Rock is inside New Mexico, so I'm not sure what the formation was, but it looked a lot like Ship Rock.

We did cross briefly into New Mexico, going past the Four Corners.  Those poor bastards we saw turning into Four Corners...  I yelled out that it was a trick as we went past.

Crossing into Colorado, the scenery changed from mostly rock formations to more mountainous and wooded.  It was still beautiful, but totally different than the morning.  The skies stayed bright and clear with a tolerable level of heating throughout the afternoon.

We had a great lunch and Jack and Janelle's Country Kitchen in Cortez, Colorado.  The service was scary fast and the food was great.
Back on the road, SO tried to make hotel reservations on her phone, but it was an exercise in frustration between the areas without service and difficulties with the account.  It all worked out in the end.

We crossed the first ridge of the Rockies at Wolf Creek Pass, crossing just below 11,000 feet.  Dirty snow was still seen not too far from the road.  I spiritedly drove through the area to make sure I would not get behind this jack-wad ass-brain who was pulling a camper with the effluent valve cracked open.  Spraying his shit water all over those behind him should come with the punishment of having raw sewage sprayed all over his living room for a week.  Yet another reason to despise motorhomes - guilt by association!
Despite the exceedingly rude camper behavior, the pass was a gorgeous ride.  It was nice to leave a lot of the traffic behind.

Once we descended from the pass, we stopped in Alamosa, Colorado.  One of the reasons we wanted to stop in Alamosa was to see if we could actually see the Milky Way.  Great Sand Dunes National Park is only about 30 minutes away and is a great area to stargaze with little light pollution and high elevation.  Alas, there was rain to the east with clouds skirting the area.  Maybe things will clear up by early morning.  Maybe.

Dinner was at True Grit Steak House.  It is a pretty neat Western TV/Movie themed restaurant and the food was quite good - probably one of the better dinners we've had on the road this trip.

West 16 Day 10

In Saint George, Utah:  0 miles (on the bike)

After lollygagging around in the morning, the whole group of us left to go to Red Reef BLM Land.  It was going to get hot again, so we wanted to spend time there early, before it got too hot.
The area is just north of Saint George and has lots to see both near and far from parking areas.  We chose a few hikes that weren't too strenuous, but allowed some neat things to see.

First on the list were petrified dinosaur tracks.  This was a bit anticlimactic, but was less so when we considered they were made by beasts that had gone extinct long, long ago.  Apparently, I have dinosaur sized feet (Yes, I was careful not to actually step on the or near the actual track).

From there, we hiked toward a set of cliffs which seemed to hold an interesting looking canyon.  As is often the case, it was farther away than it first appeared.  Still, it was a nice walk as the morning was still quite comfortable.

A few of us climbed up a ways where the views were absolutely stunning.

We also hiked over to the Anasazi archaeological site.  It was interesting to see, especially with the historical significance.
From there we went to the actual Red Reef Trail.  This was a really neat canyon that became a slot canyon farther in.  This was a ton of fun to hike back into, on, over, around...
The hike in brought us past an old gnarled tree.  As I hiked past the tree, I wondered about what history this tree was witness to.

The hike brought us to several small pools that in wetter periods are likely part of raging streams.  There was a surprising amount of life living in the fetid waters, including hoards of small frogs.

The canyon itself winds itself is not too difficult to get back into, but it did take effort and some climbing.  The effort was worth it.  Again, the view from the top was dramatic.

And the view from inside got increasingly narrow.  I stopped when I reached a point where I had to think about whether it would be difficult to get back out.  This was prudent.  Besides, I was hungry.

After a nice lunch in a shady area, we left the Red Reef Area and went to another park.  Pioneer Park is a local park and much smaller.  Despite the small size, it was still fun to see.  Here, the slot canyon is very short.  But it was exceeding narrow.  I decided not to go through it when I reach a point that both my front and back touched the walls.  I didn't want to be the guy on the news that they show oiled up with olive oil, getting pulled out naked by firefighters.

Looking up from the narrow part of the canyon was a bit disconcerting.

I climbed around in the upper elevations of the park.  There were several small arches.  From one high vantage point, I could see most of Saint George with the gorgeous Southwest mountains in the background.

It was starting to get really hot and we were ready to be done hiking.  My cheap imitation Chuck Taylor's were not really hiking boots and my legs were starting to hurt.
We went back to the condo for a raging game of shuffleboard.  SO and I lost.

Dinner that night was at Pancho & Lefty's.  I was surprised how few restaurants were open on Sunday.  Someone could make a killing in Saint George by having a restaurant open on Sunday...
Food was good, but it was slow since they were swamped.

Back at the condo we played an exceedingly confusing game of Munchkins Pathfinder.  I'm not sure the rules were not being made up on the fly.  I think SO won, but we were all ready to be done for the night and turn in - at least the adults were.

West 16 Day 9

Eureka, Nevada to Saint George, Utah:  308.2 miles

The hotel gave vouchers for coffee at the gas station next door.  So after an early cup of gratis joe, we packed up the bike and headed out.  We left early since it was forecast to get hot as we went south - it got hot despite the early leaving.

We've had many sunrises push us down the road so far this trip, but this was the first day when we rode into the sun.  The bright sun made it hard to see the road, and when three deer ran out in front of the bike, it was cause to be vigilant.

The morning was cool and as with previous mornings, the upper elevations were warmed quickly, while the cold air pooled into the valleys.
Most of the road was quite straight, but there were another set of mild switchbacks near Ely, Nevada.

We turned off of US50 - The Loneliest Road - and onto US93 - which was still quite lonely.  Traffic did start to pick up as we got South, as it was Labor Day Weekend.  There were hoards of off road vehicles being dragged all over Utah and Nevada.

We crossed into Utah, and made our way to Saint George.  The geological formations outside of Saint George were very pretty.
Because we got to Saint George earlier than anticipated, I looked up a Honda dealer to get the Goldwing an oil change.  It wasn't panic time, but getting the oil changed gives me one less thing to worry about for the rest of the trip.
The dealership ended up not being a Honda dealership, but they were a sister dealer to one.  I found this slightly disconcerting which was stupid.  I was just glad they could get us in and the oil changed quickly.

Once the lubricants were refreshed, we headed to D's condo.  It was easy to find, and nobody had claimed the garage so I was able to park the Goldwing in it.  This was also nice since I was planning on taking a day off of the bike.

The condo was in a really nice area and the view from the condo was also pretty.  Yet another place I could get used to.

We visited for a while, before taking a walk/hike into a nearby gulch.  It was fun, but it was hot.  It was hot, hot.  I wished I had more sunscreen and my vacation hat.

Dinner was at Costa Vida - which was surprisingly like Cafe Rio from a few days previous.  It was good, but the quesadillas were better than the enchiladas.

We all talked for a while and made plans for the next day before turning in for the night.

West 16 Day 8

Loleta, California to Eureka, Nevada:  597.3 miles

Day 8 was a day of contrasts.  From damp, cool, and tight twisty roads in the morning to hot and dry in the mid day to cool, dry with mostly straight roads in the afternoon.

Day 8 was also a day to pour on the miles, so we were out the door near sunrise, despite the fog and cool weather.
Most of the morning was spent on CA36 - which has been called one of the best motorcycle roads in California.  Early on, CA36 twists and winds its way from the coast.  There were several redwood groves that were nearly nighttime dark with the clouds, fog and trees.  I was a little paranoid about deer, since it seemed likely they were around.  Thankfully, none showed themselves.

At one point as we gained elevation, the clouds/fog could be seen pooling in the valleys around us.  Once inland a few miles, the fog dissipated quickly.

CA36 continues to twist and wind aggressively.  Many of the curves and elevation changes are quite technical.  There are a few straight stretches, but the road is a bit of work on a large loaded touring bike.  Fun work, but still work.  A group of bikes passed us in the opposite direction toward the end of the morning - likely taking advantage of the great road.  Traffic was nonexistent, and the couple commercial vehicles in front of us were quick to move over to let faster vehicles pass.

It was tons of fun running CA36, but it would have been even more fun if it wasn't on a day where making tracks was important.
As CA36 wound down in elevation to Red Bluff, the area quickly turned noticeably drier - everything looked unhealthily dry.  The contrast to the wetter mountains was shocking.  Through the second half of the day, we saw several dry lake beds - a clear sign of the ongoing California drought.

The road also changed after Red Bluff to more sweeping turns - even the switchbacks were much more gentle and most could be taken at speed.
While looking at routes the previous evening, I had noticed and read about Lassen National Park.  It looks like a great park to explore, and crowds are supposedly pretty thin much of the year.  But alas, there was no time to do the park justice on this trip.  We may have to make a trip back at some time in the future to see it.  As it was, riding through the park was almost as nice as the previous 140 miles.

Once outside of the Lassen area, the traffic picked up for a while as we made our way to and through Reno.  Lunch was at Ranch House outside Reno; very good burgers.
I've always wanted to ride US50 - The Loneliest Road - through northern Nevada.  While it was totally different than the morning ride, it was still extremely enjoyable.  At first, it wasn't very lonely as Fallon, Nevada wasn't very much fun to get through.  Once out of Fallon, the road opened up into huge expanses of nothing.  Nope - not true or fair.  The terrain subtly changed throughout the afternoon and it was beautifully scenic in its own way.  It was also much easier to rack up the miles.

Burning Man is occurring only about a hundred miles away in the Nevada desert.  This could be a great contrast to the previous day's encounter with Bohemian Grove.  Both rural Western Events now turned ultra exclusive by wealthy people whose political persuasions are probably diametrically opposed.  There is a lesson there...

There was even one set of curves near Austin, Nevada that pushed us up to the highest elevation for the day.  I was surprised the tight twisties on CA36 didn't actually bring us up higher than the average elevation in the Nevada desert.

After Austin, The Loneliest Road earned its moniker.  The few other vehicles seemed to dry up and there was a continued lack of evidence of civilization, other than the road.  The sky was partly cloudy with temperatures near 75 and very dry air.  It was wonderful.

We ended the day in Eureka, Nevada.  We were surprisingly not exhausted, but still ready to be done for the day.  Dinner was at a bar across from the hotel; probably one of the better dinners of the trip so far.

West 16 Day 7

Chemult, Oregon to Loleta, California:  403.1 miles

We knew it was going to be cold, but the combination of temperatures in the mid 30's with the fog was brutal.
We headed out near daylight, going south; the fog was intermittent, yet sticky.  The roads still had a level of truck traffic that surprised me, but the trucks stayed on US97 while we turned off toward Crater Lake.  Elevation rose from around 4500 feet to above 7500 at some points in the park.  The cool damp air pooled into the valleys.

We got to Crater Lake National Park before anyone was at the gate.  A sign said to pay on the way out.  We made our way into the park.  In some places, the fog created a surreal scene that was almost too hard to comprehend.

We got to Crater Rim Drive with the intention of taking the west loop.  A construction worker was flagging traffic and said there was several miles of gravel and some dirt as well.  He also commented that motorcycles were having a tough time of it the previous day.  I'm sure I could have handled it (how bad can it be after the Alaska Highway near Destruction Bay), but we were not in a hurry, so we took the slightly longer east fork.

Taking the east loop of Crater Rim Drive had the added benefit of the sun at hour backs for views and pictures of the lake.  The lake itself was stunning.

We stopped a few times to view the lake and take pictures.  This allowed the weather, and us, to warm up to a tolerable level.  As expected, we basically had the road to ourselves so early in the morning.  The road was a fun drive, with parts of the surface being in somewhat tough shape - still better than a gravel construction zone.

One other view on the east fork of Crater Rim Drive was Mount Scott.  Everest it is not, but the effect of the mountain making its own weather, as Everest does, could be seen.  The phenomenon of clouds forming on the upper slope and curling away in the wind was interesting to watch.

I guess the National Parks assumes that morning people don't exist, because even after putzing around in the park for quite a while, the gate was not manned as we left.

We started to work our way farther south and west.  Traffic ebbed and flowed through the morning.  We snacked at a gas station since it would still be breakfast time and lunch was on our minds.  As it was, lunch came much later down in California.

We had been in California in 2009, but only briefly as our schedule didn't allow the planned trip the Salton Sea.  2016 comes with the intent to spend much more time.
As we got into California, we started to drive through the amazing redwood forests.  It was slightly disorienting driving through the immense trees at first.
We turned onto the Newton P Drury Scenic Parkway.  Again, more fantastically large trees.  Roads were a mix of straight and tight curves as the road rose from near sea level to well over 1000 feet.

There were intermittent views of the Pacific Ocean as US101 hugged the coast.  We stopped a couple times, but the views were almost completely shrouded in fog.  This thick coastal fog only stayed right near the water, only  a few hundred yards inland, there wasn't any fog.
Our spirits were high, but since we are loosely following Robert Pirsig's journey from Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, I'll quote him as he finally reached the Pacific Ocean.

"Coastal people never really know what the ocean symbolizes to landlocked inland people - what a great distant dream it is, present but unseen in the deepest levels of subconsciousness, and when they arrive at the ocean and the conscious images are compared with the subconscious dream there is a sense of defeat at having come so far to be so stopped by a mystery that can never be fathomed."

We stopped a couple times to look at the trees.  The area was almost jungle-like in some places, with only hints of any paths with rotting spongy earth.  The scale of the trees can be seen in comparison to the Goldwing - a bike large enough to have its own zip code.

Some of the most interesting views were straight up - a view which almost causes vertigo.

We stopped for lunch at the Lighthouse Grill in Trinidad.  Food and prices were both good, even if the refills on soda cost one clam and the place smelled loudly of rosemary.

We continued south, working our way through Eureka, where we had at one time almost thought of staying.  Eureka was lousy with traffic, and we were glad we didn't make reservations there.
We made our way to Bear River Casino, checking in and unloading the bike.
We rode farther south to the Avenue of the Giants.  This area was a little less busy, or maybe it just seemed that way since there were less evil motorhomes and caravans.  We stopped to get up close and personal with a few more redwoods.  The area was more open, less jungle, which made the short hikes we did much easier.  I couldn't help but think that this was what Bohemian Grove looks like.  Or at least what I think it looks like based on pictures I've seen.  However this grove was a bit farther north and not infested with the rich and powerful planning what will happen to us plebeians.
I really thought the root structures of the blow down trees was interesting.  They almost looked like enormous nontypical deer antlers.

After taking more pictures, we basically decided that as impressive as the redwoods were, they were, in fact, just big trees, so we headed back north to Bear River.

Dinner that night was at the Casino, followed by a few minutes of gambling.  I lost my financial input, SO won that back plus some.  We left early and slightly ahead.