Spud Run 2002 - Part 3

In the few days since I'd left, there were a few changes at the ol' homestead. The native grasses, wildflowers and weeds had all gotten a little taller, and by following the loud buzzing sound, I found that a large swarm of honey bees had found ITSELF a brand new home...under the cedar siding on the north side of OUR house! Well they seem friendly enough so they can attend the Spud Run from a most unique vantage point. Besides, there's no time to call a beekeeper, the guys were due in on Thursday afternoon. Had a great night's sleep, home in my own bed with my own pillow (funny how great your OWN pillow feels) with my own wife, and bid Kathy a safe farewell for her Miata trip. She was on her way to Seattle to pick up her daughter for their own rally and adventure in Kalowma, British Columbia. Over 130 cars at that rally. Sure glad I only have to plan the logistics for 5 people! Kathy mentioned that Kim Cardin had called, cancelling because of the freak snow in the Sierra's. Hope you can make it next time, Kim. Checking the email, I get a note from Andy mentioning that work and life stuff got in the way, and he won't be able to make it. Ditto, Andy. The remaining Runner, Eric, had not checked in, and at last communication was going to super-slab it from Seattle to the Ranch in one day....570 miles on Friday. That after just returning from a vacation in Italy. Whew. You da man, Eric.

After putzing around the house for a few hours, the phone rings and its Mike at the Mail House, about 2.5 miles down the dirt road, adjacent to Hwy 21. I'd asked Mike to give me a call because, although Mike had been here last October, the roads to the Triple R are tricky and I didn't want them to get lost. Mike's voice sounds a little shaky as he explains that he had tried to find to the house with Duncan and Rick in tow, but had gotten lost. "Better get here in a hurry, Bruce, the guys aren't too happy with me..." I jumped on the Yamaha 400 quad and got down to the bottom as fast as I could. There the three of them are, with Duncan looking especially beat. The Curmudgeonly One, always the one to count the miles, announces "Nine point one miles, he let us follow him through these lousy roads for NINE POINT ONE MILES!!!! LOL! Thankfully, there were no drops, only a couple of close calls, and they followed me for an additional 2.5 miles of crappy roads to the Rockin' Rottie. No worries Mike, its a mistake often made. Rick said that he planned that he'd go down those 2.5 miles on his red VX only one more time. OK, Rick is the designated caretaker of the ranch for the next few days. LET THE FUN BEGIN!

Man, did they look tired! We unloaded the bikes and gear and set up sleeping arrangements. Of course our three dogs are ready to greet our visitors and our newest, nine month old Ozzie (named after the Oz man himself) was going at hyper-speed, sticking his nose in places it didn't belong (he got to know the guys in a hurry!). Marta and Murphy, our Rott and Rott/Lab mix were their well-mannered and gentle selves, waiting for a re-introduction to Mike and Rick and an introduction to Duncan. We got situated, bikes cleaned off, sleeping arrangements decided, and the guys described their ride from La Grande to their rest point for the night, Cambridge, ID. They took a wrong turn or two and had an 31 mile off road adventure of their own. We'll leave that description for one of them.....but there was no rain and Hell's canyon on the Idaho/Oregon border was its usual spectacular self. We decided to jump in the 4Runner and catch a late dinner in Idaho City. Got home late Thursday night and still no word from Eric. Hmmm...

Friday morning we decided to take a short tour of Boise, and hit the Idaho Historical Museum. Lots of cool old stuff and stories about how white man had massacred and ripped off the natives of their land, discriminated against the Chinese labourers of the late 19th century and interned the Japanese Americans during the big one. OK, there were some cool things too, like early logging equipment, a recreated barroom from the 1800's and such. Hard to forget what happened to those poor folks, though.

OK, back home and still no word from Eric. Its getting late in the day, and we _need_ to take a little hike. Rick, Mike and I walked down the property to the cliffs above Highway 21, while Duncan took a nap. _Just_ as the three of us peer over the edge of the cliffs to see the highway below, a familiar v-twin sound rumbles from the road, and the rider has luggage!

Could it be? I run up the hill and into the house only to hear the last ring of the phone before the answering service catches it. Has to be. So I jumped back on the quad and back down to the mail room. There, standing next to the black 90 VX is another friend that I'd never met before. "Eric, good to finally meet you!" He'd left in the morning and gone straight through, Seattle to Boise, only stopping for gas and...ahem....discharging....570 miles. Impressive, Eric, impressive.

Even after riding almost 600 miles, Eric was lucid and we had some fine descriptions of our various recent adventures. We sat on the deck taking in the views and talked about the rides we had planned for the next couple of days. Saturday, we take a flat land ride to the Birds of Prey area in the Snake River canyon, about 35 miles south, in the heart of the southern Idaho desert. Sunday is the BIG ONE...heading north on Highway 21 to Stanley, in the heart of the amazing Sawtooth Range in central Idaho. But first we must watch....Speed Channel! Superbike races....motocross....yeah. Love that satellite TV. We had a late dinner of BBQ chicken and potato salad and were ready for our first ride.