I fought the law...

After riding over 7,000 miles attending the National Meet in West Virginia, I was given a ticket less than 200 miles from home. It was for crossing on a double yellow line, but within mere yards of the beginning of the dotted line. I knew that I could at least make the ticket smaller, if not non-existent. This is how I fought the law, and what I did afterwards.

September 7 ~ 10, 2006
Total Miles: 871 miles, 4 days
Seattle, WA to Okanogan, WA to Yakima, WA
Tickets: 0
Mishaps: 0
Puckers: 0

Click on map for larger image

My weekend was to be a good one, and would start earlier than most. I had packed up the BMW when I got home Wednesday night and rode it to work on Thursday. I had to be in Okanogan by 9am on Friday for a court hearing in order to contest a moving violation I had incurred on my way home from the National Meet in June. I left directly from work, heading north on the 5 in order to take lovely Hwy 2 over Stevens Pass and into Okanogan, where I planned on finding a motel for the night. However, 45 minutes into my ride (taking into account the massive back up of traffic from an accident) I saw a motorcycle on the side of the road. Having my extensive array of tools and ‘stuff’ in the trunk of the BMW, I stopped to see if I could help. It turned out that all he needed was a little gas, which was of course the only thing I didn’t have in the trunk. But I did have plenty in my 8-gallon gas tank. After quite a bit of fiddling around with hoses and mouth siphoning (ick!) we got some gas into his bike. That’s when I learned that my bike wouldn’t start. We (the biker and I) spent a good 45 minutes trying to figure out why, moving hoses and checking connections. A DOT truck had stopped by early on and he hung around to see if we needed anything while he waited for a real emergency to come up. I used the DOT guy’s cell phone to call my mechanic to get some ideas, but Mick couldn’t pinpoint the cause. By then it was almost 7pm and I was going nowhere fast. I used the cell phone again, called the #800 number that came with my BMW membership for roadside assistance and made arrangements to have the bike towed to my mechanic’s shop. The DOT guy drove off, the biker reluctantly left and I pulled out my book and some earplugs. I climbed over the guardrail and sat down in the grass to read. It got darker, so I pulled out my headlamp and continued to read. As promised by the woman on the phone from the towing company, an hour and a half later the tow truck showed up and we loaded the bike. He drove down to the mechanics to drop off the bike and then agreed to take my gear and me 10 miles further to my house. It was 10:30 by the time I got home and immediately packed all of the gear from the BMW onto the KLR. Then I had a choice to make: do I get on the bike and make the 4 hour ride across the mountains in the dark but relatively warm and then hope to find a cheap motel when I arrived at 2am –OR – do I go to sleep in my own bed with my kitties and leave early, knowing that it would be cold and dark and hope to arrive in time for my court hearing at 9am. I chose the later.

I was in bed by 11pm and the alarm went off at quarter to four. The moon was full and it was 55 degrees out. But at Snoqualmie Pass it dropped down to 47 and dropped another degree as I descended the eastern side of the pass. The sky was perfectly clear and my moon-cast shadow kept me company. Surprisingly, there was a quite a bit of traffic the entire way across I-90, so I was never really alone. I made the turnoff for Blewett Pass and took it as fast as I dared in the dark. By now the moon was playing behind the trees, giving me great views and lighting up the exposed rocks in the mountains. I had a bit of a surprise when I had to go to reserve at only 192 miles (I usually can get to at least 240 miles before flipping the petcock). Apparently the mountain climb, the big side cases and the heavier load all had taken their toll on my gas mileage. There were no gas stations for the next 30 miles and I knew that I could go maybe 30 miles on reserve under good conditions, so it was with quite a bit of apprehension that I kept going north, hoping to make it to the junction of Highway 2. With half a gallon to spare, I filled up at the first gas station I came across and then dropped down into the Wenatchee valley.

John, no longer out of gas	Sunrise out of Wenatchee

The sun was coming up, ever so slowly in the east, giving definition to the mountaintops and gently lighting my way. By the time I reached the valley I no longer was driving by my headlights and I could enjoy the view. Unfortunately, a heavy haze of smoke now obscured the view. The forest fires to the north were burning strong and the winds had moved the smoke around and filled the Okanogan valley. It was an uneventful ride north to Okanogan and it took me but a few minutes to find the courthouse. I even had 45 minutes to spare. As I was getting off the bike a local struck up a conversation and I asked if there was a good diner nearby. He indicated that was where he was heading and offered to walk with me. We crossed the street and a couple of blocks later I was in front of a very dingy and unappealing-looking diner. Sometimes those are the best ones, but this wasn’t the case. The food, while edible, was not satisfying and I didn’t finish my meal. Even the hot chocolate went unfinished. I left the restaurant and walked back to the courthouse with 15 minutes to spare and proceeded to nap in a chair while waiting for the hearings to start.

Doing my part to keep the bug population down	Okanogan County Courthouse

There were at least a dozen other scofflaws in the courtroom with me who were all contesting or mitigating their traffic infractions. I was the third one to be called to the bench. The judge was very kind and understanding with the previous people and just as much with me. When I explained the circumstances regarding my pass and my reasoning behind it he agreed, and even went to far as to offer up that sometimes it’s safer to pass a little early than to wait. He offered a deferred finding and no court costs. This meant that I didn’t have to pay any of the $101 fine (he had cut fines for other people, or even left them as they were) and if I don’t get a ticket for the next year, this one will disappear completely from my record. I thanked him, left the courthouse and got back on my bike. It was 10am and I had all day to go wherever I wanted. But I didn’t know where I wanted to go. I could turn around and go back to Seattle and spend the weekend at home. Or I could head north into Canada to explore some. Or I could go south to Toppenish (near Yakima) and meet up with some BMW riders. I chose the latter, taking my time to get there, as it was only a little over 200 miles as the crow flies. I headed north to Omak and then east on 155 towards Nespleem, rising out of the smoke-filled valley and into the clear and dry hills to the east. Along the way I passed a sign for St Mary’s Mission, a sign I had often seen but never stopped for. I took the turn off and wandered down a nicely paved and curving road to the mission. The Mission was founded by Catholics in 1886 and is still an active church. I took some pictures in the nearby cemetery, marvelling at the age of the headstones and the sheer number of marked crosses. Not wanting to interfere too much, I got back on the bike and continued down the road, not sure where it would take me. It took me to a lake, the road ending when it reached the shoreline. I turned the bike around and went back up the curvy, peaceful road and continued on my way east. I passed through Nespleem, considered taking some of the beautiful side roads north of the Columbia but instead was lured south by places on the map that I hadn’t seen before. I should have stayed north of the Columbia. The thermometer in Ephrata read 97 degrees and I felt every one of them.

Cemetary at St Marys Mission	Cemetary at St Marys Mission

Curvy roads to the Mission	End of the road past the Mission

A brief stop in Grand Coulee at the grocery store supplied me with some lunch snacks that I enjoyed in the shade of a tree at the top of the dam. I then headed south and rode though places with interesting names on the map only to find that they weren’t interesting to ride though. Summer Falls sounded beautiful but I was disappointed to find that it was a hydroelectric plant in the middle of an arid valley. Eventually I found myself at I-90 with no direct route to Toppenish, the campsite for the evening, and no enticing way to get there. I continued south along the Columbia and wondered at the incredible number of orchards and the variety and quantity of foods grown along its banks. By now I was so warm I was tempted to ride my bike through the orchards where the water was being liberally sprayed onto the leaves in an attempt to cool down. Traffic was building up and the countryside was becoming monotonous. I rode south of where I had to be in order to take some back roads into the town, hopefully finding some fun roads in the process. This led me through more farmlands, along straight roads and 90 degree turns as one road turned into the next. But I was eventually rewarded when the road turned once again and I found myself following the lush and beautiful Yakima River. This led me all the way into Toppenish and it was just one stop for directions before I was able to find the campsite.

Rest stop near Grand Coulee Dam	KLR in desert

Views near Summer Falls, WA	Summer Falls

The All-Important Potato	Now I know where to go

I hadn’t met most of the members of the Washington State BMW Riders Club, and those whom I had met previously I didn’t know very well. This would change over the course of the next two days, as we spent a lot of time together, conversing over dinner, the campfire, during rides and in between rides. Saturday morning I was excited to join a couple of GS riders as they headed out to explore some dirt roads, but when I went to adjust my failing chain on the KLR I realized that there was no more room for adjustment; it was toast. So instead of exploring dirt roads and high, hot ridgelines I explored Yakima, looking for an open motorcycle shop with a mechanic on duty. I did eventually find one and it wasn’t more than 30 minutes later that I rode out on my KLR, one less link in the chain. It would be enough to allow me to get the bike home on Sunday where I already had plans to replace the chain. Instead of freewheeling on my own, I spent the afternoon in the hack of a GS, touring wine country, tasting sour grapes and riding down dirt roads. The evening was spent with the group grilling chicken and corn and telling stories around a blazing campfire. It was a late night, and every enjoyable.

Steve and Mike	Teepees and motorcycles

A GS and hack!	Riding in the hack

Bike to hack connection	Wine tours in Yakima country

View of Mt Adams from the road	Harvest machinery

Full of grapes	Field art

Boot-legging, taken literally	Nothing beats a campfire at the end of the day

Looking east from Forest Service 70	The KLR at home

The next morning we broke camp after breakfast, each of us riding off in our own directions and time schedules. I hooked up with one of the GS riders that lives near me and we took off for Mt Rainier with the idea of exploring a forest service road I had heard about. We weren’t sure if the road went through, but we were willing to try it. The paved road branched off at Little Naches campground and led us on a lively ride along the Little Naches River for quite a few miles before we reached the sign we were looking for: “Pavement Ends”. We weren’t sure if the gates indicated on our map would be open but there wasn’t anything to stop us from checking. The road was in good repair and we made good time on it. The views expanded as we gained elevation and soon enough we had an incredible view of the Cascades all to ourselves. I stopped to take some pictures but Steve kept on riding. He came back soon enough. I assumed it was because he missed me but it turned out he came back because the road ended. It wasn’t gated; it just wasn’t there. We checked the map, the GPS and took a careful inventory of the peaks and cirques around us. Steve estimated that we had missed a turnoff about three miles back and asked if I was still game to find the way across. Silly question. We headed back down the mountain until we found the turn off. The smooth packed dirt gave way to some loose gravel, causing the heavier GS Steve was riding to act up a bit, but my KLR never flinched, despite having worn tires and a shot chain. Eventually we came up to what we knew must be Windy Gap, the ridge that marks the east from the west side of this route. The area was surprisingly populated with people, some of them hunters looking for bear (they didn’t see any) and some of them hikers making a trek that didn’t look like much fun along this dusty road. Within half a mile of crossing Windy Gap the road came around a bend and there before us stood the glory that is Mt Rainier on a clear summer day. Its white peak glistened in the sun while deep mysterious forests flanked its sides. Shadows showed the vastness of the crevasses and ridgelines in the snow covered heights and soft silky clouds hovered in the sky above it. It was time for more pictures.

Steve found the end of the road	Great views for a dead end
Cutting through the Cascades	Double checking the route
Coming up to Windy Gap	Clear cuts everywhere
Coming up to Windy Gap	BMW poster material
Mt Rainier	The road not taken

The ride down from this point was pleasant but uneventful. It wasn’t long before the gravel road became paved. Our pace picked up considerably and I experimented with the clearance of the hard bags on sharp corners. FS 70 came to an end at 410, where it was a quick mile to the town of Greenwater and a good spot for lunch. Steve and I chatted with a couple of women on scooters before heading north again, our last leg before reaching home. This was even more uneventful than the last stretch of FS 70, the road clogged with weekend travellers and a shortage of good roads. It wasn’t long before we crossed into West Seattle and parted ways, each of us with grins on our faces from our great ride home.