In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Then man came, graded the earth and made passages through the mountains on which to ride motorcycles (and ocassionally other modes of transportation). And The Biker saw these roads and decided he needed a vacation.

The journey began east of the Rocky Mountains, coming out of Denver along interstate 70. There’s nothing like a fast ride away from the noise of “civilization” to calm the spirit. The journey departed the super slab at Copper Mountain for a more solemn ride over Freemont pass and then Independence pass into Aspen. From there the chosen route went over Pearl pass. Unfortunately the route had to turn back after getting stuck in a snow drift. Obviously it was a bit early in the season for this part of the adventure. The end of the first day found The Biker still in Colorado, just over McClure pass. He found a campground in a stand of old Aspen. He saw that the campground was good, and pitched his tent for the night.

The next morning the tent was packed and the cycle was off to the Black Canyon of the Gunnison for a dose of twisty roads and most excellent mountain views. The trip continued on quickly from here, the plan being to camp overnight at Natural Bridges National Monument in Utah that night. The roads straightened out and the speeds picked up. Tight and twisty is fun, but it’s also nice to lean over the tank and increase the velocity a bit. Night fell on the second day, with a tent pitched in the dessert sand, the three quarter full moon rising into the night sky, and The Biker saw that it was good.

The next morning was filled with glorious red stone canyons from Glen Canyon and cool pine scented air in Dixie National Forest. The terraine was beautiful, enough that The Biker could forgive all the tar snakes that had been placed in the road. Fortunately the mount was capable, and the rider all seeing, all knowing, and all powerful. Bryce Canyon provided yet another set of spectacular views in the near cloudless skies. Pressing on towards Nevada the roads became straighter and the country more desolate. This is country designed for fast travel, and the only unearthly thing here was the rider. As the sun set The Biker noted a major case of helmet hair. In the city of Tonopah The Biker found a hotel, had a hot shower, and it was good.

On the third day there was just a short trip to California and the first destination was Yosemite National Park, hoping to see it before the summer crowds came in. Alas, the popularity of the park was a little too much for The Biker’s taste and he traveled in the east side of the park and out the west. Seeking relief from the caravans of RV’s, highway 108 twisted back up into the montains. Another campsite was found away from the highway with no RV’s, and it was good.

The next morning was also glorious, as the road up Senora pass was all but deserted. Finding Himself back on the east side of the Sierra Nevada there was nothing to do but cross back to the west. Just a little ways north another series of roads crosses over Monitor pass and Ebetts pass. Also all but deserted. Once back in the Sacramento Valley it was time to turn back south. Sequoia National Forest was the destination. A couple hours of travel and the climb back into the mountains brought welcom relief from the heat. The park was lovely and also mostly empty. According to the locals the real vacation season would not start till the next week. A room was aquired at the Montesito-Sequoia lodge with a wonderful view looking into the park.

The fourth day continued the tour of the park. It’s amazing what people do, carving a tunnel through a fallen tree trunk. Exiting the park it was time to head for the coast. One of the major goals of this adventure was to see the ocean. So back across the valley went the bike, passed orchards and vineyards till coming out at Morro Bay. Greeted by a cool wind coming off the ocean. From there it was north along the Pacific Coast Highway. The ride was so entertaining He missed the turn for the campground and found himself in Monterey for the night. Thus the forth day ended, and The Biker saw that it was good.

Early the next morning the bike was packed and on it’s way to San Francisco. The Golden Gate Bridge was on the list of things to be seen this time around and it was not disappointing. Naturally the weather cooperated to the fullest. Cool temperatures and clear skies all the way up the coast. Finding a place to camp for the night proved a little more interesting. Fortunately a kind ranger took pitty on The Biker and offered up a reservation that had been canceled. The sun set on the fith day and The Biker saw that it was good.

On the sixth day He continued up the coast. Following highway one back into the mainland. There He felt the need to stop by the Drive Through Tree Park. Sure, it’s a tourist trap, but what would any vacation be without a tourist trap or two? The trip continued up highway 101 to Redwood National Forest, where it was time to turn back east. After another day of travel it was time to find a place to rest and another fine campground was waiting in Shasta Trinity National Forest.

On the seventh day the sun rose over the land and The Biker again packed and headed out into the wilderness. As He headed back east the roads became straighter and faster. A brief turn through the corner of Oregon found The Biker at a gas station, normally He wouldn’t comment about such a thing except this station still used a hand cranked cash register. As Spok would say, “Fascinating.” The journey continued on, burning through Oregon and into Nevada. As the sun set The Biker arrived at Winnemucca, checked into a hotel, had a hot shower, and it was good.

The next morning was cool and crisp as The Biker headed into the sunrise. Nothing but the sound of the wind and the contented hum of the engine to occupy the distance as the highway stretched to the horizon. The Biker hunched over the tank as the head wind picked up in Utah. The Great Salt Lake Desert was interesting for the first couple of miles, but the other 55 miles begged to be seen faster. Once through Salt Lake City The Biker turned again to the road less traveled. Up into the Uinta Mountain and back to the cool alpine climate. As the sun fell another campsite was found and this time The Biker was harassed by the ranger who questioned the camp site registration, “It says here you have a BMW.” The Biker simply pointed to his faithful mount and answered, “BMW.” Thus the ranger was banished, and it was good.

On the nineth day The Biker packed his steed once more. The day’s journey would lead Him through a corner of Wyoming before touching back into Utah and Flaming Gorge National Recreation Area. The curves of the mountain roads taunted The Biker, a challenge not to be feared rather embraced. Down from the mountains and on the Yampa Plateau it was time to stop for sustinace. Dinosaur, Colorado was the place, and The Biker shared a table at a cafe with an aged resident of the area. The Citizen shared tales of breaking horses for the cavalry, working in the shipyards during the war, and building oil wells in Colorado. When it was time to move on The Biker thanked The Citizen for his company.

The journey back over the continental divide was relaxing. The last leg of a magnificent adventure, but it would not be over till rain, sleet, and snow had all visited themselves on The Biker. Each was a refreshing reminder of home, and the end of this journey…and it was all good.