September 6, 2014

Immediately on exiting the park I made a wrong turn. On the map, it looked to me like I needed to make a right and within a few miles I’d make a left. Clearly, I was deranged. I stopped at one of the many scenic pullouts for a picture and to ask which way to US 287. A biker had come from where I was headed, but he was unable to tell me where to go. He was from St. Louis, and he was so enthralled by the mountains he didn’t really know where he was or where he was headed.

I got my navigation straightened out. Here, US 287 and US 26 are conjoined, By now, US 26 was an old friend. And, in theory, I could take US 287 to within a few miles of my house. The road in the first 30 miles or so east of the Tetons is quite interesting and scenic. But we are in Wyoming, where most of the interesting bits are on the borders. The terrain quickly transitions to high desert.

The speed limits in Wyoming are a bit higher than in Idaho, but I didn’t really want to chance another ticket so I kept to my 5-8 mph over the limit strategy. Soon a big diesel pickup towing a Wells Cargo trailer passed me, so I sped up and followed him at a respectful distance. We made good time until a construction zone where they were essentially rebuilding the road. I was at the end of a line where we waited for a pilot car. A few miles later we arrived at the junction where US 287 headed south and US 26 continued east. Obviously, I’d be in Riverton well before dark and wouldn’t be stopping there. So the argument could be made that I should have followed 287 to Lander. But the pickup stayed on 26 and I followed him.

I stopped for an early dinner at the Arby’s in Riverton. There was a high school girls athletic team still ordering, so I had a long wait. That’s okay, it was time to figure out my navigation. I didn’t want to backtrack to Lander and didn’t want to follow US 26 to Casper and I-25. So I brought the atlas in from the car. That led to a conversation with a farmer from South Dakota. The unfortunate fellow was in Riverton with his wife when she had to go to the hospital. That left him in Riverton with a few days to kill. We talked about a number of things, but I was curious what he planted, how he decided what to plant, and so on. He has corn and beans now, and rotates his crops with peas or whatever the canner will give him a good price for.

Seismic Crew Ahead

I decided WY 135 was the way to go. Fuel was the next stop after food, and at the gas station I talked with a local. I asked him if WY 135 was a good road. He said yes, and directed me: right at end of Main St., go across the bridge, make a left turn at the green sign, keep to the right at the junction with WY 136. At the junction with US 287 there’s a rest stop. His directions were spot on, and it was as good a road as he said. It was well travelled but not crowded and passed through some interesting landscapes.

After a few minutes at the rest stop, I continued east and south on US 287. I went slightly under speed limit until a faster guy came along. I tried to keep a good distance from him, a quarter mile or so. We made good time. After a while another car came up from behind, going about five miles per hour faster than me. She wouldn’t pass until I slowed down to about 60, then she sped up to 75 again. Now I’ve lost my pace truck, so I went back to slightly under the limit. To the east, several thunderstorms were in progress, maybe 20 miles away this way, perhaps 25 that way. Not real active, but throwing a nice lightning bolt every few minutes.

I soon caught up to the last car to pass me. She had caught a truck and was unwilling to pass. I passed them both, and she followed me past the truck. I knew she’d be on my tail for a while as she wanted to go faster but seemed to have difficulty passing people. Luckily I caught another truck and managed to peel her off. The car is so low, tailgaters are particularly annoying after dark.

I arrived in Rawlins not long after dark. I was not tired at all. The drive has been pleasant, interesting to watch, and with little traffic. I won’t stop for the night here and head to Laramie where I’ll again decide whether to stop or continue.

It’s I-80 from Rawlins to Laramie. Now that it’s dark, I don’t mind the interstate so much. I know there’s not much to see, and I already saw it two weeks ago. I find night driving less tiring on the super slab than on two lane roads. There were two 10 mile stretches of construction where we were down to one lane, but otherwise easy. Those stretches were tough, though, as the pavement was so dark as to be invisible.

At Laramie I was still feeling great. I grabbed some munchies to eat while I drive, which I generally don’t do. I could have taken US 287 south to Ft. Collins but decided to stay on I-80. I didn’t want to drive any two lane road at night and if I got tired, there was no place to stop. (Don’t confuse me with the facts that 287 is four lanes much of the way).

Staying on I-80, my next decision point was Cheyenne. There were two more construction zones between Laramie and Cheyenne, also quite black. I was still going strong at Cheyenne, so I kept going. Next stop: home. Sitting on the beach at Leigh Lake, I had guessed that I could be home by midnight if I left the park by two. That turned out to be a pretty danged good guess. I pulled into my driveway at 12:06.

The whole trip was fantastic. I had one day where the weather interfered, but I can’t really complain about one bad day in a two week trip. This will be a hard trip to top. I drove a bit over four thousand miles, had a fantastic time for three days on the Deschutes River, enjoyed the challenge of learning three race tracks in four days, made three very interesting hikes, and even managed to get in a few days at the office.

Next I’ll put together three time lapse videos and at least one video from each track day. I hope to get all this done and posted by next weekend.

Wow. What a blast.

September 2-4, 2014

This is not a work blog. We don’t talk about work here.

I will note that this was my first trip to Portland where I didn’t go downtown to Powell’s City of Books. I did have a couple pints of Ruby at John Barleycorn’s one evening and a nice sturgeon dinner at Five Spice the next.

Thursday evening I hit the road right after work. It took me an hour to get through rush hour traffic and onto I-84. My plan was to get to Richland, WA. I needed to get as far down the road as possible, as the following day I wanted to make it to Rexburg, ID, without spending the day on boring interstate highways.

The drive on I-84 through the Columbia Gorge is quite scenic for an interstate. Earlier in the trip, I went west on the highway on the other side of the river. I think the trip on I-84 is perhaps prettier than that one. As I drove, I kept an eye out for someplace to have dinner. I saw a sign for a brewery in Hood River and got off the highway there. I circled the central business district a couple of times but didn’t see the place and nothing else jumped out and grabbed my attention. I ended up eating at Wendy’s in the Dalles as the sun set. After fueling up I returned to the highway. Now that it was dark, scenery was in short supply. The only notable sight was the John Day dam lit up in red, white, and blue lights. Other drives on this trip ended as darkness fell. Not so today, as I spent two more hours on the road before I stopped at a motel in Kennewick, WA.

August 27, 2014

Had lunch at the café with Mark before I hit the road.

Going north from Maupin on US 197, Mt. Hood dominates the view at first. Then the Oregon high desert transitions to straw colored rolling hills. Before long I reach the Dalles and the Columbia River.

I fuel up here. It’s still Oregon, so still full service. I get the atlas out and ask the attendant about the route I want to take. “Yes, that road is open. Very scenic. But it’s dirt, at least it was last week when I was on it.” So, to Plan B: through the Pinchot forest and the east side of Mt. St. Helens. I cross the river and head west on WA 14 – the Lewis and Clark Highway.

On the river I managed to fill up the SLR’s memory card. Completely full, can’t take another picture. I find a rest stop with the idea of firing up the laptop and transferring all the photos to my external hard drive. However, technology is my enemy today. Microsoft has all of a sudden decided my copy of Windows 7 is not authentic and won’t let me boot up. No photos for the rest of the day, and I’m left considering where to buy additional cards for both cameras.

My atlas shows the town of Carson at the junction where I want to turn. I note while writing this that Carson isn’t significant enough to merit appearing on Google maps. I head north here on a road with no identifying route number.

It’s an interesting route. Deep in dense forest, at times it’s like a tunnel – the branches arch over the road. It also smells quite like a lumber yard. I’ve been in many forests before, but never with such a powerful pine smell. The road twists and turns as it climbs, so it’s quite fun. After a while, though, there is a significant amount of road damage. In places, half or two thirds of the road has subsided six or eight inches for twenty or thirty yards. Nasty bumps in a low-slung car.

Being that the road is so poorly marked, I make an occasional navigational error but I’m never side tracked for long. After a while, I finally get to a gap in this dense forest and have momentary glimpses of Mt. St. Helens. The sun is starting to get lower in the late afternoon sky, making lighting conditions difficult – dark shade broken by bright sunlight right in my face. The road turns north again, toward Randall, and the difficult conditions are done. The last twenty or so miles to Randall the road is in rough shape again, so caution is warranted.

My only photo of Mt St Helens – taken with the phone

Arriving in Randall at dinner time, I hit the Mt. Adams Café. There I chat with the proprietor. He’s a muscle car guy and very interested in the car. While I’m showing him the car, somebody pulls up at the stop sign.

“Is it fast?”

“No,” I answer sarcastically.

“Like a Honda Accord?”

“More like a Toyota.”

After this interlude, I’m headed west on US 12, again with the low sun in my face. About fifty miles later I’m on I-5 headed north to a junction with US 101 and the final few miles to Shelton. I arrive at the motel parking lot a few minutes after sunset. This motel is only a few miles from the track, so I’m not surprised to see three Porsches there as well.

I manage to get the laptop booted up in safe mode. I didn’t think I’d be able to connect any devices in safe mode, but it lets me copy all the photos and videos onto the external hard drive.

August 24, 2014

Having gotten so far ahead of schedule I didn’t hurry to get on the road. I was expecting to be able to grab a bagel for breakfast at the motel but my choices were toast, cereal, or waffles. Not even a banana. So I packed up the car and hit I-84 expecting to be able to find food and fuel at a single stop somewhere along the interstate before I needed to exit. I managed to get the fuel.

My first navigation point was the exit for US 26, again conjoined with US 20. There’s a wide variety of agriculture here – corn, beets, alfalfa, onions, and potatoes too, I expect. The road has a rhythm, cruise at 70, slow down for a town. Speed back up for a while, come to the next town.

I soon noticed that there were fewer road signs. The only speed limit signs were entering and exiting towns. And the highest speed was now 55 rather than the 65 on US highways the rest of the trip. There were also far fewer route markings. At one point found myself going due north for a while and I began to wonder if I’d made a wrong turn.

Farming transitioned to ranching as the valley narrowed. There were few trees, either along streambeds or on the tops of the hills. Traffic thinned out and towns were smaller and farther apart. The road transitioned, too. No longer straight, it began to climb and writhe like a snake.

We come to a crest and another transition. I would have called the crest a pass, but here they are marked by signs saying “summit”. It’s hardly a summit when you can see higher ground on both sides of you. The western side of this particular summit takes us back to terrain reminiscent of deserts of northern Arizona or southern California.

I was going my standard five over the limit when a big pickup caught up to me. He stayed behind me for quite a while. I kept thinking he’d go around, but he stayed behind me so long I figured he’d never pass. He took his time going by, which is not unusual on the interstate. Usually it’s because the passenger is taking a picture. Not this time – the gal in the passenger seat just politely waved as they went by.

After some miles of this desert we finally enter terrain that looked like the Oregon I’ve always imagined. The road snaked through fragrant pine covered hills. This is the Malheur National Forest, where we join the Journey Through Time Oregon Scenic Byway. This pleasant stretch lasted only thirty miles or so before exiting the trees and descending into the John Day valley opposite Strawberry Mtn. I decided the weather was pleasant enough to take off the top, so I took a short break at a scenic overlook and slathered on some SPF 3000.

Strawberry Mtn

The John Day valley is broad at the eastern end. The valley floor is free of trees that cover the hills on both sides.

As it was getting on noon by my stomach’s clock (an hour off the time my cell phone displayed) I stopped for lunch in the town of John Day. Entering town, the church parking lots were packed. One had somebody directing cars to parking spots. The business district was quiet. I spotted the Grubsteak Restaurant and parallel parked behind a motorcycle a couple doors from the place. I happened to park in front of a brew pub, but it was closed. Oh well. I had a tuna melt and iced tea. The radio gave us a fishing report and the cowboy show. I’ve heard the farm report many times in the past, but never the fishing report.

John Day was also my first refueling stop since entering Oregon. Having been here many times, I knew about the no self-service law. This station had handwritten signs: “Don’t touch the nozzle! By state law we have to pump it.” As usual, the car drew a crowd. One guy looked at the tow ring (which is yellow) and asked if it was my dipstick. That’s probably the best one yet.

The next navigation point is at the junction with state route 19 and into the John Day fossil beds. While the scenery has been pleasant through the valley, the road has been a bit on the dull side. Here the river drains through a narrow canyon. US 26 leaves the John Day river and continues west. We follow the river north.

After diversions to the visitor center and a short hike to Blue Basin, I continue north on SR 19. This is clearly a secondary road. The shoulders are narrow or non-existent. The road is not new, but is nearly unblemished. Best of all, it clings to the banks of the river, bobbing and weaving as the river bends to the west. This is a lovely Lotus road. Finally the car is in its natural element. I drive as fast as I want (which is not to be confused with as fast as I can).

At the junction with 207 we depart the John Jay river and once again head north. Although I’ve seen a number of cars going the other direction, I’ve only encountered one going my way, and that was just a few miles past Blue Basin. The road is generally a series of long curves, arcing this way and that. Occasionally there are short stretches that are quite twisty and nicely cambered. It doesn’t get much better than this.

At least, that’s what I was thinking. Then I made my left turn onto Oregon 218. Driving this road is like riding a bucking bronco. Up and up, switchbacks and sweepers. Over a summit and down into the next valley, writhing manically. I finally started running into more traffic. At least four cars over the next thirty miles, a regular traffic jam. But they were easily dispatched, disappear from the rear view mirror after only a turn or two.

At Antelope, I’m on the east side of a diamond I need to get to the west side of. Shall I head north or south? North has been working well, so that’s where I go. Again the road rollicks up and up, tight turns right and left and right again. Eventually the road drops onto a plain, the fun is over. Just before Shaniko the road drops through a ravine for one last spasm of fun.

Shaniko marks the return to the US highway system, US 97 this time. Back to straighter, more heavily trafficked road, this one with lots of trucks. But the treasures of the terrain continue as we enter the Deschutes River valley and see a series of mountains strung along the western horizon. Mt Jefferson and Mt Hood standing proudly above the rest, separated by squalls, rays of sun like stage flood lights.

Mt Jefferson (10, 497’)

A few miles later US 97 meets US 197 where we turn right for the final few miles to Maupin where the road drops fifteen hundred feet or more to a bridge over the Deschutes River. The Oasis, my destination for the day, is just before the bridge.

Today’s drive was far superior to yesterday’s. Lovely roads and incredible scenery. With food and fuel stops and a nice little hike in the middle, I covered 362 miles in 9 hours and 20 minutes, never felt pressed for time, and arrived in time for dinner and a beer.

August 24, 2014

The pamphlet for the self-guided tour of the EBR-I says:

On Dec. 20, 1951, EBR-I became the first power plant in the world to produce usable electricity unsing atomic energy. After that day until decommissioning in 1964, EBR-I generated enough electricity to supply all the power for its own building whenever the reactor operated.

The blocky reddish tan building sits alone, miles from anywhere. I imagine in 1951 it was forty miles from electricity. Essentially, the first breeder reactor had the output of a good, modern, diesel generator.

The EBR-I facility.

Caution! Door Sticks.

I expected at a place so remote to be the only visitor, but there were a couple other cars. Just passers by who stopped for a diversion on their road trip? Or did they plan to come here?

I’ll admit to a bit of concern over the radiation warnings plastered all over the place. It’s not every day you visit a national historical landmark with these things all over the place. Upon closer inspection, they have to do with working in the building.

The place hasn’t been upgraded to include any modern landmark amenities like a gift shop. I was looking forward to the opportunity to get a shirt that says “I visited EBR-I and all I got was a few rays!”

One of the interactive features of the place was the opportunity to try out the mechanical arms used to handle the fuel. The picture below is a view into the materials handling room. The arms visitors could try out were outside this, we wouldn’t want any amateurs knocking over the bottles of colored water. We’re looking through 34 layers of leaded glass.

I missed taking a picture of the fuel rods. They’re quite a bit smaller than I expected. Six pieces make up the rod assembly, each piece no thicker than a pencil. Around the corner from there is the rod farm where they stored the spent fuel rods.

Another exhibit I neglected to photograph was the recreation of the string of light bulbs that were illuminated when the thing was first turned on. They light four bulbs. The recreation has that early-50’s look to it, so I’m guessing it’s pretty accurate. The four bulbs combined were barely putting out enough light to read by. Nuclear power sure has come a long way.