Germantown

We added another 197 miles to our journey traveling from Indianapolis to Columbus. The weather was outstanding. It was clear and dry and in the seventies.

This evening, we decided to go into Germantown and try a restaurant there. We chose Schmidt’s Restaurant Und Sausage Haus. While waiting for a table, we visited the Fudge Haus next door and sampled some of wonderful European chocolate as appetizers. Umm good! When we finally sat down for our meal, Judy and John had the buffet with an assortment of sausages included. I chose the cabbage rolls, which were superb.

Later we roamed the brick paved streets enjoying the neat houses decorated with flowers in beds and window boxes. The neighborhood was turn of the century with many houses constructed of brick blending nicely with the bricked paved streets. It was another interesting day to add to our annals.

The Brickyard

Being in Indianapolis, IN after driving 277 miles from St. Louis, MO, we wanted to tour the Indianapolis Motor Speedway the site of the Indianapolis 500. As a storm rumbled through Sunday evening with high winds, we hoped it would clear out for Monday. Except for a few clouds early Monday, the day turned out sunny and warm.

We visited the museum and viewed the historic racecars. They ranged from the first racers to modern racers including Danica Patrick’s racecar. Advances in technology like superchargers and gas turbines were used to get more speed from the cars. Superchargers were banned after the speed became too great for track conditions. The use of gas turbine cars was the rage in the 1960s but with flameouts and technical problems they soon went out of favor. There is a beginning collection of motorcycles began with the start of motorcycle racing on the Formula I course built on the infield in 2000. In 1909, the first vehicles to race on the track were motorcycles.

Part of the tour was a bus trip around the track with stops to kiss the bricks and view the press areas, winner’s circle, and pits. Kissing the bricks is a tradition. There is a yard wide strip of old brick next to the finish line where a good many of us kept this tradition alive. I picked a spot where a racer had burned rubber on the finish line to get the taste of the track.

Left There Sober

In the afternoon, we toured the huge Budweiser Brewery. It is an awesome complex. We saw all the processes for brewing the beers and saw bottles and cans speeding along conveyer lines so fast they were a blur. Also included was a visit to the Clydesdale horses and wagons. Then we were bused to a huge room with chairs, tables, and a bar where you were allowed two free beers with pretzels. The Brewery covers quite a few city blocks and of course has a large gift shop. A memorable day!

Cheers,

John

Up in the Air

Today was fabulous day sightseeing wise. We drove into St. Louis and went to the Gateway Arch. It towers over the city and the Mississippi River at 636 feet. Rectangular in shape the outer skin is made of stainless steel plates. You enter and go through security like the airport. Then into a very large area holding two theaters, a museum and the proverbial gift shop. You show your tickets and go to an area where there are eight small doors in a row. You have a number and go to the capsule matching your number. Each one holds five persons in very close quarters. Riding to the top is similar to being on a Ferris wheel. At the top, you enter a long span with windows on each side giving you a gorgeous view of the river and the city. You lean against a slanted area for your window viewing. A great experience!!

Cheers,

John

Another Trail

Today, the clear, warm weather made it time for another scenic road to get away from the tedious driving on the interstate. It came at the end of our trip to St. Louis, MO from Kansas City, KS. We chose Route 19/Route 94 running along the Missouri River from New Florence, MO to St. Charles, MO. This was a choice by the website http://www.motorcycleroads.com/ recommended by motorcyclists for “twisties” and scenery.

This route followed part of the Lewis and Clark trail along the river. It was not hard to imagine Lewis and Clark’s journey along the river. When I stopped to take a photo mosquitoes quickly attacked my gloveless hands. Probably similar insects gave Lewis and Clark the same welcome. The road made sweeping turns through hills along the river over narrow bridges and then it would straighten out along the fertile plain along the river. Corn was the dominant crop with vineyards taking a close second. The vegetation was lush and obviously benefited from the rivers regular replenishment of the soil.

Larimer Street Style

Looking for some sights to see in Denver, we focused on the “Lo Do” (Lower Downtown) District. After parking at the Plaza Hotel, we rode the free shuttle down the pedestrian mall in the center of the city. We were looking for Larimer Street where Victorian buildings reflect the styles of the 1800s.

Larimer Street was named for General William H. Larimer, Jr. founder of Denver City. Larimer Street escaped the 1863 Denver fire and gained a reputation of being Denver’s main shopping and entertainment area. The Vanderbilt’s, Guggenheims, and Rothschild’s dined and shopped in Larimer Streets finest establishments.

We marveled at the soft colors and intricate architectural detail. I went off to photograph these architectural marvels. With the temperature in the nineties, John and Judy partook of a cool drink in the Market, one of the shops on Larimer Street.

Lebanon Silver Mine

Arriving at the mine by rail, we were met by a guide who had worked in the mines in his youth but as he said “I finally got smart and became a brick layer” to avoid the risks and back breaking life of a miner. A boy would start his mining career at 8 years old working 10 hours a day running errands, keeping the stove in the miner shack going and learning the trade.

Our guide showed us how early miners worked in teams of twos with one holding the drill bit and the other a sledge hammer pounding holes for dynamite sticks to blast the rock face loose. This was done by candlelight with the sledgehammer hitting the end of the bit just inches from the holder’s head. They would swap regularly so if one missed there would always be a chance for “pay back”. He showed us the tools used and focused on one long instrument with a small spoon like end. This was used to remove the dynamite sticks that had not exploded. This task was always assigned to the person who had set the charges. It was not unusual for an unexpected explosion to occur in this process. Add that to cave-ins, flooding, gas explosions, and damage to the lungs by breathing in silica dust and one could understand why unions and federal regulations developed. To get us interested in the types of ore, our guide showed us samples taken from the mine. The copper mixed with silver was our favorite.

Then we entered the mine. The temperature plunged about 20 degrees from temperatures in the nineties outside. We all donned hard hats, which were to become very useful. We walked on a narrow plank between the old rusted tracks used to haul the ore out occasionally whacking our hard hats on the low rock outcroppings overhead. We developed a hunch to avoid the overhead and wondered what 10 hours of this would be like. Alternately we would look up for obstructions and down to stay on the narrow, slippery and unstable walkway. One misstep and the waterlogged mud would suck off footwear. Water ran over the floor below the planks and dripped from fissures above our heads. We stopped at one of the intersecting mine shafts to see a vein of silver, which could go for miles through the rock. That is what the miners would follow for as long as it was profitable.

Georgetown Loop Railroad

After a swift and “twisty” ride from Glenwood Springs, CO following the Colorado River on I-70 to Silver Plume, CO, we stopped to take a ride on the Georgetown Loop Railroad and visit an old silver mine. My motorcycle odometer now registers 11,947 miles or 5,006 miles since we started our adventure.

Judy and John met me at the parking lot so I could put all my gear in the car. We boarded the train and started the climb toward the mine. It took 4 miles of track to raise us 450 feet to the mine entrance at 9,000 feet above sea level. By now we have adapted to the altitude by drinking lots of water and pacing ourselves having driven through the altitudes (4000-7000 feet) of the high deserts of New Mexico, Arizona, California, Nevada, Utah and Colorado. The train banged and lurched as the small diesel engine struggled to pull the four cars up the steep grade past rushing waterfalls and over a very high trestle. The conductor suggested if we were afraid of heights not to look down. The strong smell of diesel fumes permeated the bracing Colorado mountain air. Some cars are completely open and others are covered. The Colorado sun is really intense and sunscreen is required. We continued through the pines occasionally blowing the whistle when going around a sharp curve.

Early Morning Run

Ever since my daughter Megan gave me a poster with the magnificent sandstone shapes of Arches National Park in Moab, UT, I have wanted to go there and experience the spirit of these great monoliths. Now I am here.

To see the park when the light was perfect for photos and tourists would be at a minimum, I arose at 5:30 am. I mounted the bike and quietly rolled it out of the motel yard before firing it up. The air was cool and fresh and I was glad I had put on a couple of extra layers. I drove through the Arches park entrance past “watch out for Big Horn sheep signs”. This is the first national park I have encountered that is open 24 hours a day every day.

The ride started with a nice “twisty” with no roadside barriers making one cautious in outside turns. The bike was running well and occasionally I added full power out of a turn to get the full performance out of the bike. Then the spectacle began.

All around me were gigantic shapes of rocks formed millions of years ago when a large sea dried up and water began its work to shape one these amazing rock forms. There were arches, monoliths, rocks balancing on other rocks, and towers. My gaze was captured and held by these giant wonders. Occasionally I had to include the road in my view so as to not get too distracted and drive off into the desert. I pulled over every chance I could to take pictures of the forms as the early morning sun painted the rocks in contrasting colors accenting their unique shapes and forms.

It was a very spiritual experience and I could see how Native Americans could consider some of these forms special in their belief systems. I felt at one with the environment and breathed in the fresh desert air constantly lifting my eyes to the wonder before me.

With no tourists in the park, I had no distraction from my viewing and wondering. I realized my time on earth was insignificant compared to the time it took for these rocks to form only to be worn away and replaced by another work of nature in the next million years.

Helped in Helper

Along the 207-mile journey from Provo, UT to Moab, UT, I came across the small mining town of Helper, UT. Initially what attracted me to the town was the road sign directing me to the Western Mining and Railroad Museum in Helper. Throughout our travels in this area of the country, history is filled with mining and railroad stories and there was never an opportunity to stop and dwell on the subject.

I pulled into Helper and per my usual routine of keeping my gas tank full in this area of great distances between stations; I filled up and then got into conversation with a couple motorcycling in the area. As we exchanged pleasantries, a local fellow joined us on his trike.

Billy quickly began to explain the area and its relationship to mining interwoven with his and his family’s involvement with coal mining in Helper. As we talked, I mentioned that I was interested in ghost towns and he said, “ If you are interested, I can show you one about 5 miles up a local canyon where my grandfather worked and lived.”

I jumped at the chance and as soon as he had finished his coffee we headed up a winding canyon road. His trike was very quick and he soon left me behind enjoying the canyon scenery. We arrived at the town site and he showed me where his grandfather had built his house. Next he pointed out a dark coal seam in the rock high above. A rusted steel mine structure showed where the ore was moved out of the mountain. His conversation continued showing me a rock outcropping where mountain climbers loved to practice their craft.

Then the conversation turned to the difference between a pictograph (a native American painting on the rock) and petro glyph (a carving of figures into the mountain varnish by native Americans). He then invited me to climb up the rock face to a place where both were represented. This was not a national park just a canyon that had been home to Native Americans many years ago. To look on these primitive drawings filled me with wonder. There were no fences or barriers between the drawings and me.

At this point, I began to think of the rest of my journey to Moab and mentioned I wanted to have enough time to see the museum. He thanked me for taking the time and we parted. These impromptu experiences are what make a trip memorable. Traveling on ones own forces conversation with strangers, which many times will develop into a special experience.

I spent a pleasant hour or so at the museum and became familiar with the day-to-day activities of miners and their families in the Helper area. They had their share of mine cave-ins, explosions, labor strife, and the loss of their jobs through the years. A hard life measured by anyone’s standard.

Long Days, Zion and Logan, UT

We are spending the night in Provo, UT preparing to make the journey to Moab, UT. The last couple of days have been long covering approximately 800 miles through the desert landscape. Even though we carried the bike in a U-Haul trailer, it has been a struggle. From keeping the speed at 60mph to alternating between fourth and fifth gear to handle the hills and mountains, the trailer has not proven to be really advantageous. It might be the last time we use a trailer.

We stopped in Zion National Park on the way to Provo, UT. It was spectacular. The red and white rocks were vertical and gigantic making one feel humble and in awe. We took the propane-powered shuttle used to move people around the park during the day. The park road is always closed between 10am and 4pm daily. Without air conditioning, the coach’s open windows save energy even with temperatures in the nineties. The park people found that the shuttles took two thirds less energy to move people compared to people using their own vehicles. Traffic congestion has been eliminated.

Today, I was able to make the trip to Utah State University my alma mater and located my Victorian fraternity house and cruised around campus. The usual renovations on campus changed many areas but I was able to recognize major landmarks like “Old Main” the most historic building on campus. It reminded me of the Wilbur Cross building on the UConn campus. Then I headed back to Provo and battled 60mph winds all the way home. The bike again performed well and was stable as I shifted back and forth to counteract the gusts. Riding along surrounded by mountain ranges with some showing snow on their upper slopes really uplifts one’s spirit.