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Copyright © 2002 Edward E. Williams
I had taken two weeks vacation at Thanksgiving to visit mom in Florida and had been away from the bike during what turned out to be some unexpectedly dry and warm weather in Western Oregon. Finances prevented me from renting a bike while I was in Florida, so I had to spend the whole time in a rented cage.
Upon returning to Portland, the weather had turned typically December-like. From the day I got home, it rained hard every single day up to Christmas. I resigned myself to work and gave my bike a little pat on the seat once in a while while walking past it on the way to my Jeep to go to the office.
Then, on Christmas Day, I got a holiday surprise. It was dry. It was freakin' cold, but it was dry. That's OK - just before I left on vacation, I had bought a brand new pair of very warm winter gloves. Today would be a good day to try them out.
Pulling on my leathers while I watched the weather on the morning news, I figured that I'd have at least three or four hours of good riding time before a storm front moved in during the early afternoon. Figuring that a few hours of riding was better than none, I planned a route that would keep me relatively close to home, but take me through some parts that I hadn't been to before.
I hit the street at about 7:45 AM. Christmas morning before 8:00 AM, the roads are VERY quiet. It's kinda like riding at 3:00 AM on a Sunday, but with daylight. It was great, I tooled around the city, putting miles on faster than I ever could on a normal Wednesday morning. My route this morning would take me out trough Norhteast Portland to Marine Drive near the airport. Marine Drive, as its name might imply, runs along a dyke parallel to the Columbia River. The road starts in North Portland near I-5 and continues all the way in to Troutdale at the junction with I-84.
It's gray this morning. There's an east wind blowing at about 15 MPH and it's only about 40 degrees at this hour. Out on Marine Drive, the wind is in my face and pushing the bike around a little, but it's nothing major. The new gloves are working very nicely - my fingers are a little chilly, but not to the point of being uncomrfortable. I've got my leather neck-wrap on and overall, I'm not feeling too cold.
I arrive in Troutdale and make a brief pitstop at the TA Truckstop to get a cup of coffee. There's not much activity here this morning either. I think Christmas may be the only holiday where most of America actually takes the day off. It's while I'm having coffee that I notice something that is going to make my day a little nicer later on. The TV is on in the cafe and they've got the weather on. I notice from a radar picture they're showing that the storm we were supposed to be getting this afternoon is slowing down and may not be here until later. Sure enough, the sky is looking a little brighter, but in Oregon in December, that alone is nothing to base a weather forecast on.
I ride on after a twenty minute stop and decide to tempt fate a little and add some miles to my day. So instead of going back toward Portland on I-84, I head east some more toward Cascade Locks. The trip from Troutdale to Cascade locks is only about 35 miles and gets into the western edge of the Columbia River Gorge, which is always a nice ride.
The east wind makes things a bit of a challenge, but I've run in to worse in the gorge before, so this is no big deal. The sky is bright to the east and by the time I get to Multnomah Falls, I have to stop and change to the smoke face shield. Traffic is nearly non-existent and the ride is easy and relaxing. The exit for Cascade Locks comes up before I know it and I pull off with the intent of turning around and heading back west again.
Now, originally when I had thought of heading to Cascade Locks, I figured I'd just head out on I-84, put some miles on and head right back on I-84. When I got there, however, I made the decision to go ahead and cross the river and come back on the Washington side of the river. Now, this requires crossing the Bridge of the Gods. Besides the $0.25 toll, the bridge is a bit on the nerve-wracking side. The bridge deck is a good 400 odd feet above the river. It's steel grating all the way across. It's narrow. The guard rails never feel tall enough. I feel a little twinge whenever I cross this bridge in a car - I've never crossed it on a bike.
I pull up around the approach after having stopped to dig a quarter out of my pocket for the toll. After paying, I summon up all my logic and remind myself that if 80,000 pound 18 wheelers can cross this bridge, than a motorcycle can. I remind myself that the guard rails ARE high enough. I remind myself not to look down...
The steel grating on the Bridge of the Gods is actually not bad - not as squirrely as some of the other bridges I've crossed. About half way across, I relax and then I make the mistake of looking down. Oh boy. When you're doing 25 MPH across the bridge, the grating sort of visually disappears. I look down and see my boot and bike feeling like they're suspended, as if by magic, 400 odd feet above the river. I get a bit more than a "twinge" at this sight. I immediately point my eyes at the horizon and fight the churning feeling that's building in the pit of my stomach.
When I reach the other side of the bridge, I stop for half a minute. Partly to decide which way to go next, partly to let my stomach settle...
I decide to turn west again toward Vancouver, Washington and eventually Portland. This part of the trip is on Washington state route 14. SR 14 has several places on it that are nice and twisty and you motor along through some amazing scenery. I stop at one of the many river overlooks about 25 miles east of Vancouver and sit in the morning quiet for a few minutes looking a the river, the sky and Mt. Hood.
It's gotten a bit warmer now. It's about 45 and it's time to get rid of the heavy gloves and change to my lighter Thinsulate pair. The sky to the west is looking dark again and I wonder about that storm front again. 30 minutes later finds me in Vancouver at the junction of I-5. I cross the interstate bridge and motor south toward Portland. I've only been out for a couple hours so far at this point and the weather hasn't closed in yet, so I decide to swing over on to US 26 west out of Portland toward Beaverton, Hillsboro and the coast.
I pull off at Helvetia Road and head north into the hills. About 5 miles north of the highway, Helvetia Road turns really twisty and is a popular road for motorcyclists of all types. I get about 10 miles up the road before the amount of sand and gravel on the surface has me going so slow around the curves that it's no fun anymore, so I decide to turn back. There had been ice and snow in this area a few days before and the road was still covered in sand. A couple of the tighter curves are ones that you DON'T want sand in the middle of.
On the way back down toward the highway, I notice that the temperature has gone way up. It's over 50 degrees now and feels considerably more damp than it had just a short time before. This means that the warm front is moving in and that the rain and stormy conditions that the weather guys had been predicting probably wasn't too far away. I decide to begin heading in the general direction of home.
I stop for gas in Beaverton because I had left the house with not quite a full tank and I'm nearing "E" now after 103 miles. The kid at the gas station wondered if the bike was brand new (in other words, did I get the bike for Christmas) - no, the bike's not a Christmas present, only the riding weather.
I take Cornell Road back toward Portland. Cornell is a relatively gently twisting road that runs up through the West Hills and drops down in to Northwest Portland. It's a road that you can comfortably take at 50 all the way without having to slow up for the corners.
I tool around through NW Portland for a while before heading back over the Willamette River to the east side. I manage to find the one and only Starbucks in the city that's open today, and stop in for a late morning coffee and scone - along with 200 other people.
It's almost 11:30 now and I'm thinking that the rain storm should be coming any minute. the sky has gotten very dark again and I've changed back over to the clear face shield. After coffee, I head for home. I get there a few minutes later though and it's still not raining. I can't just park the bike. So I head out again to no place in particular, just bombing around town. I head up to the hills, I head down to the river, I run around the empty warehouse districts, I buzz over the bridges.
The ride now has simply turned in to time on the bike and plain relaxation therapy. Before I know it, I'm stopping at a Shell station for gas again. Time to go home yet? It's still dry. No.
For the next three hours, I celebrate Christmas in my own way by just motoring around looking at the city and the surrounding areas with no place to go, nowhere to be, no deadlines to meet, no commitments to keep.
When I finally pull in to my garage at about 4:00 PM, the rain is just starting to sprinkle a bit. I haven't had anything to eat today except two cups of coffee and one blueberry scone. It's time to make some dinner, open my Christmas presents and call the various members of my family.
But I've already had my Christmas. A present to myself, totally indulgent, completely without responsibility. A Christmas Day ride to nowhere of almost 350 miles.
I think a new tradition has been born.
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