Author: admin

Sunday I woke up with a mountain to climb.  The smell of coffee always fills the house in the morning and Nancy is there to greet me. The dogs and cat have taken to piling around me, in the wee hours of the morning. It is home.

We all go about our business and have comical interludes while doing so. The night before we went to the community outdoor film festival. O Brother was showing, by the Coen Brothers.  We scoot around town together, as they own the scooter shop. They also let me test drive scoots and mopeds. It is fun to imagine owning all these other bikes, but time and time again I get back on Audre and know she is the lady for me. Her one year birthday was on July 6.

She understood that I needed a break from sitting on my butt, so off to the mountain I went. Last year Daphne and I went to climb the “M” trail. Daphne was in flip flops last year, so we retreated. It’s base starts at the University of Mountain. It is not the best trail, it is winding, skinny and full of rocks. The views are the best however.

Missoula is the most active community I’ve ever seen in America. They pool their resources into numerous programs and they actively contribute to maintaing a progressive town. Everyone is super friendly, none of this “look how cool and weird I am,” crap that you find in many “cool” cities. And they decorate their mountains with Peace signs.

All along the trail people said “good morning” and “hi.” I reached the top and soaked in the panorama. It took 40 minutes to climb 700 feet. On the way down I met Karen ( I think, but I’m bad with names). I was halfway down when she yelled, “Look, an osprey above you.”

I filmed it and on her way back down she stopped to ask if I was a film student. I told her about P.E.A.C.E Scooter and it led to a fantastic conversation. Part humor and part straight forward honesty-about Peace of course. We shook hands but she said, “I think I need to give you a hug, actually.” Thanks, that was needed.

I woke up also thinking there was some work to do. The ride of my lifetime will end soon. I never started off with a measurement of success. I just had to scoot. As the months have gone on, slowly turning into a year, expectations developed. Why? Hmm.

Well, I realized that I’ve dedicated my time, safety, life, and money into a demonstration for Peace. And I saw that last year’s March for Peace had a ton of press and supporters. That groups jumped on board to promote them. Sadly, not a single Peace group has made an at large announcement or offered their public support. NUMEROUS INDIVIDUALS have come forward to offer support, and some are affiliated with larger groups. So yesterday I comprised a letter to send out to my contacts.

You can read it here.

Compiling the letter and email list took awhile. I also finalized the calendar dates. Sadly, it seems my arrival in Chicago coincides with AmeriVespa, so I’m staying a week there in hopes I can catch up with certain people. There will be plenty of work to do there though. At the end of this admin work, I was cranky and hungry.

Off to Good Foods, which beats Whole Foods aka Whole Paycheck, hands down. Back at the homestead I took down my laundry, which on a whim I had earlier hung up to dry and save energy. They smelled sunkissed. Nancy kindly sewed up my pants for me and I put patches on my new Goodwill $2.00 shorts. They are completely utilitarian shorts and so ugly they are cool.

Monday I woke up with a huge must do list before leaving Missoula.Rockin Rudy’s bought some keychains from me. I went to see the mechanic and he was really helpful. He made a quarter turn on the fuel screw in hopes that getting more gas to the engine will help my speed. He showed me exactly how to look at the sparkplug and let me put it back in. It was fun getting my hands dirty. I took off the air filter, discovering it was FILTHY. Perhaps this will help with speed also. I put on the new one. The scoot already feels faster.

I took it on a long fast ride to see if adjustments needed to be made. None. After running errands I had time to go volunteer at the local shelter. I wish there were more Poverello Center’s around the country. They provide shelter to women and men. Many shelters around our country DO NOT have space for women. They also provide three meals a day, AA meetings, business classes, clothing and a community room. It is funded almost entirely on community donations. It is the nicest shelter I have seen. It was nice to know that just two hours was helpful to them. I would rather do this work than watch TV, and most Americans watch at least 2 hours a day.

The food was actually edible, no, it was good. I have served food at other shelters that my dog would not eat. It was fun, I served with Shannon. He asked if I liked chess and then showed me his prototype for a round chess board. It is genius. He is looking for investors. China offered but he only wants to develop it here in the U.S. and use solar power at his warehouse.
I wish I could say I played a game on it, but I had to scoot off.

He’s staying at the shelter. Totally wants to making a living off his invention, but hopes that artists will contribute by designing their own unique pieces-he will provide specs for the rest of the frame. And give them 90% for the sale.

So awesome! How many milleniums has it taken to reinvent the chess board?
He says, “Flat board chess was developed when the world was flat, this is a chess board for the 3rdmillenium.”

OH, you can play BOTH forward and backward at the same time.

He also said, “It’s a game of war. But in the end, no one dies. They just get smarter.”

That I liked. A lot.  It’s a game of strategy that teaches you critical thinking. I put in an order for Christmas time.

When I wake up Tuesday, there will still be a lot to do. There is a Peace center here that I want to visit and I have one of those god awful post office trips planned. The bags are getting to heavy.

The ride isn’t too long though, so leaving late afternoon should be fine.

OH, and I JUST heard news that Shaun has made it home safely to Tucson. He covered 1,000 miles by himself! Congratulations to him!

Here is an updated photo of Amy’s lawn. Please understand that you too can have something this incredible in your front yard. If you are on my route, I will do it. If not, YOU can do it.

Today’s ride was the longest yet, in time, not mileage. I rode for 1o hours. That’s after counting “lunch break.” But here I am in Missoula, thankful to see friends. Whether they liked it or not, they’ve become accessories in this Peace plan. They kindly host me.

I’m off the road, away from the road rage, away from the impatient traffic. Away from drivers who think wherever they are going is so much more important than considering another person’s life. I suppose terrorizing a scooterist seems like a better option than just waiting 5 minutes for a chance to pass.

So, I’m tired right now. But I want to introduce you to David Hazen, who left a beautiful post on the Wall of Beliefs, and seems to have a really wise blog.

“Peace must be reframed to mean vigorous support for the economic, health, and relationship security of the land in which we live, and of the people with whom we live, in order to be seen as patriotic.”

I encourage you to read the rest and then to go enjoy your independence-in thinking, choosing and creating a better world.

I re- read the previous blog post, about the Bavarian village escapades. I still don’t feel like the moment was captured.
There I was, totally a zombie, when two really cool individuals appear. I spoke slowly. I could barely speak actually. And somehow, when I didn’t think I could even muster a conversation, the next three hours wound up touching my soul.
It was just the experience that makes me urge people to travel. There were no egos or roles being played. We said things that impacted one another and took moments to say, “hey, let that sink in for a second.” The words flowed and hit places that I know have changed me.

I was very sad to leave these ladies but we had tentative plans to meet in the morning. Becky called to invite me out onto the river. I was sick and wanted to lay in bed, changing my mind to spend two days in Coeur D’ Alene, to two in Leavenworth. I caught Shaun’s cold, the second time on this trip. That’s more than I’ve been sick in years.
They promised to call and have dinner with me. And they did, but events had transpired. By the time their call came through at 4pm, I was driving a Jeep to Seattle, with Audre loaded in the back and two guys sitting in the front.
Going back to Seattle was a hard decision to make. My front end was and still is vibrating much more than it ever has. I was worried it might have something to do with the recent fork change. There was oil on the front tire, weird. I took a photo of it and sent it to Ducati. I talked to Philip McCaleb and even Trey; another really helpful person at Genuine.

Shaun and Chad felt like it was no accident they had made an impromptu decision to come visit me in Leavenworth. Basically, if there was a problem with the front end, I still had 400 miles fast miles to travel, over the mountains before reaching another dealership. Shaun was very sweet to say, “I will do anything I can to make sure nothing bad happens to you.”

I looked over at my KOA neighbors and caught Faith’s eye. They seemed pretty interested in our deliberations. I didn’t believe that Audre would fit in the back of a Jeep Wrangler. Faith encouraged me to solicit Tony’s help. He was already standing up.
“He loves figuring things out. He tinkers, builds, and perfects.”

Well, welcome to the Pit Crew. Turns out he had four tie-downs that would keep Audre’s front end securely hanging out. Adding to the comedy was Shaun’s soon departing flight. We had to load up fast. The five of us broke camp, loaded and secured the scooter, got my refund and we were off. Faith and Tony offered to take Chad’s seat and spare tire to Everett, a closer drive for him than Leavenworth. They have already left their definition of Peace on the Wall of Beliefs. Many thanks to you both!

I didn’t think the dealership had done anything to my scooter, I thought they would be the ones to fix it if something had gone wrong. It turns out the oil on the tire was from the grease used to make the tire change. It had melted at highway heats and collected in the rim. They remounted the tire and checked all the bearings. Everything was stripped off the scooter; mirrors, windscreen and topcase. It didn’t vibrate as much, but still more than it did the previous 18,000 miles. We test drove it in rounds.

“Maybe it’s your gear.”
“Nah, I’ve got the gear down to a science.”

They didn’t find a single problem. It’s still vibrating, but I don’t feel like it was a wasted trip. The scooter has been vibrating like this since my idle was changed and valves done, in San Fran. I thought it would go away with a suspension change. It must be coming from the engine. Ultimately, the handling is fine. Ducati put my conscience at ease-now it’s good vibrations I guess.  At least I know my wheel isn’t gonna fly off.

The other difficult thing about traveling backwards is saying the goodbyes all over again. I really like all these people. And the Pacific North West will be missed. Chad says, “Hey, call me if you need anything. You’ll be SOL though.”
Thanks bud.
At 2pm I zoomed off, heading home for the 2nd time-and hoping to reach Coeur D’ Alene but knowing I wouldn’t. The campground is still charging me for the reservation. Totally unreasonable jerks. Stephen’s Pass welcomed me again. The wind wasn’t as gusty as Monday, but still strong once I passed over. The curves were more fun now that I knew Audre was fit. The GPS is a blessing, but my stats at the end of the day show some sorry news. My average speed over 200 miles was 48mph. Most of the miles have been mountain terrain. But 48 mph?

The reality of what I’m doing is really starting to sink in. This is hardcore. I’m traveling America at average speeds of 48-60 mph, for 22,000 miles. I could have gone around the world by now. Or to Taiwan, where the scooter is manufactured AND BACK. And these roads that most people never travel lead to time capsules of culture. The roads lead to front porches were people wave at the P.E.A.C.E SCOOTER.  The roads curve through towns that only seem to exist because of the road itself. Because those 6 curves of the road bring in travelers with their gas, food and lodging money. It’s a mystery sometimes how people are surviving out here. And how they define Peace.

I find welcoming in unexpected places. I trod up in my orange safety vest with reflective Peace signs and buy water. Conversations get started and laughter exchanged. I go to the next town; fueling up frequently keeps me from blowing past these small dandelions with population 750.

It almost seemed like I could arrive in Coeur D’Alene, if I had been willing to drive two hours in the dark. I was a focused 48 mph bullet through the desolate Highway 2. Up and over hills and seriously-Amber waves of grain. I passed back through the familiar Bavarian village, catching quick, awkward glances of recognition. Then through the Apple Capitol of Washington, a valley oasis hydrated by a beautiful river. Traffic disappeared as I cut through canyons reminiscent of Arizona. Suddenly I was in farmland.  Eastern Washington is very different.
Big transformers clarified how far away the sky is, and contrasted the fields of grain. Today has been hazy, a thick sky-relunctant to  allow the pinks through at sunset.

Ala Cozy sit nexts to the Shell Station, in Coulee, WA.  I can gas up and push on or unsaddle for the night. Dale and his wife (sorry, I’m so bad at names) run a surprisingly cozy establishment out yonder. A Barack Obama 08 sign seems to be the most current thing I glimpse walking into the time capsule. This is the kind of motel before advertising, marketing and pastel sterilization took over the industry. It is a shelter run by people with stories, who love other peoples stories. And it’s just where I want to be tonight.

Earlier it had crossed my mind that Peace might not be a welcomed sentiment as I travel through conservative places during a Patriotic holiday. The story, however, came spilling out. Dale asked a bunch of questions.
“How come?”
“How many more miles?”
“All alone?”
“Are you independently wealthy?”
“Who are you raising money for?”

And the next, very awesome question,”Honey, why don’t we give her the room for free?”

So, here I am, graced once again by the generosity of strangers AND saving more money to donate to charitable organizations. Incredible. Perhaps it’s because I choose to find the beauty in our world that I keep finding it! And tomorrow, I will find more, hopefully docking after a long ride in the very welcoming town of Missoula.

VIDEOS! Of the riding! Warning! Turn your volume down because the wind is obnoxious! Videos are in order of most recent!

There it was, the turn East, the invisible archway announcing my arrival upon the homestretch.

And I knew for certain because of the fancy, new to me, although used, GPS system now mounted on my dash. What’s this?

Ha, something I should have done a LONG time ago.
Chad kindly gave me his old GPS. Well, I traded a P.E.A.C.E SCOOTER tshirt for it actually.

No more wasting time and paper plotting and printing out google maps. No more worrying if I might run out of gas. I can run a search and BLAM, all the stations within 50+ miles show up. Fancy. Real fancy and TOTALLY needed. It was going to be the ONE thing I regretted never buying. Ok, and maybe a bigger top case.

I can now keep track of countless statistics- how long my stop breaks are, my average speed, my exact speed. Need a place to camp? BLAM there is the campgrounds location AND phone number!

I also know now that it’s 3,100 miles to Washington D.C. Another 140 to Richmond, where it would be nice to have a party. And then, a final 700 home to Maine. I guess I’ll just ride on home? I can’t think of where to even ship the bike in Maine.

Chuckling hysterically. 3,857 miles, that’s IT!

I can’t believe how elated my mood was from this little piece of technology.
But it couldn’t keep the hail away.

Close to Leavenworth, WA the wind gusts pounded me, even lifting up the front wheel.
Quite a beautiful Wild West scene. Trees bending in the wind, 10,000 foot snow capped mountain peaks encasing the road, and a high river swirling-swollen and frothy rapids.

I was whupped when I stopped for coffee. I must have looked like a zombie when Becky and Kita approached me, commenting about the T.S. Eliot quote on Audre’s flank. I scribbled it on there back in Austin, TX.

We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time

They revived me. Totally energetic, wise, friendly ladies-there kayaking the river for a couple of days. The brewing storm finally dropped on us. Thunder, hail, rain and lightning pummeled the village.

Next thing I know, we were searching for good German food in a town that should have some. Leavenworth adopted a Bavarian village theme back in 1960. Yes, this has given them plenty of time to find some German recipes. We kept reaching out to the locals, asking for said culinary spot, but none was recommended. We finally coaxed “The Pub,” from someone. It was “up the hill.”

Hmm. Well that’s funny, because we are in a mountain town.
Finally, we found Ducks and Drakes, aka “the pub.”

Good comfort food and drinks accented the conversation. It never ceases to amaze me just how real you can be with strangers. Lord, try it some day if you don’t know what I’m talking about. It’s like the first time every time-a new confirmation on how warm and genuine a stranger can be. Our three hours together was but a blink.

The conversation covered politics, apocalyptic forecasts, gender, sexuality, travels, kayaking, foreign languages, religion, Bill Gates vs. Steven Jobs, charity, growing up with 14 siblings, transient lifestyles, raising 9 year olds, on and on. No holds barred.
One thing that came up a couple of times was the importance of traveling our own country. Many people want to travel abroad for a grand adventure. But it’s astounding how many cultures and climates our own country has. Last year, one of the first comments made here was,

This is a huge, beautiful world, and most people only see a tiny fraction of it. Explore your own country — meet your own countrymen — then go explore the rest of the world.

I had to check in at the KOA by ten and was sad to hug them goodbye abruptly.

Just thirty minutes later a hard, deep slumber took over me. In 10 hours I would wake up to a text from Shaun. Him and Chad were actually now in Leavenworth. This will be the third time I’ve had to say goodbye to the guy.

Bavarian adventures to be continued!

This Portland stop- I can’t say if it went fast or slow. If I stayed just the right length of time or not enough.
Try to imagine what it’s like to find “home” on the road. The whole point of being on the road is that you aren’t at home. So it’s tricky. A seasoned traveler masters the art of appreciating unfamiliar spaces and faces; unfamiliar becomes familiar. Comfort becomes simply a shelter away from the scooter, traffic and elements. Loose definitions.

Since I’m not on a vacation and don’t have money to stay wherever I wish, kind folks around the country host me. And it goes really well. So far there has only been one time that was sorta awkward and that wasn’t because of my host. That was the other person she was also hosting.

I rarely visit with folks I’ve known for more than 10 years. I’ve known Erika since 1997. That’s cool. She’s seen me grow up. And her new homestead, Portland is beginning to feel like home. I can navigate around on my own pretty easily.

Thanks to their passion (and funding) I’ve been able to sample lots of tasty vittles. If you visited me here, I would know where to take you. I like that. Of course, there is lots more to explore, I can tell. I’m leaving with a sense that I’ll be back and quite hopefully with the dog and partner. Packing up the bags wasn’t so hard last night; staying has been tough, because I’m jumping ahead of myself. Duh, this isn’t home. I still have 4,000+ miles before I’m home and there’s no time to start missing mine.

My room had exploded, my stuff was everywhere and I caught myself reading three different publications. How nice to pretend I was home, on my floor in our house. I introduced them to Flight of the Conchords and so my evenings have been spent watching TV. Weird. I never do this. I was disappointed that after show 8 the writing wasn’t as good, but there were still some chuckles. Mary rides a scooter, too. Lots of people ride scooters here. There are like 6 scooter shops. And Corazzo, crafter of most things I wear while aboard my scooter-underhoody, jacket, gloves, and messenger bag!

I’m a selective person, I deliberate heavily before I buy. Last year, I searched and searched for a jacket. I looked online and went to motorcycle shops. Finally, at the scooter shop, tucked behind a sparse selection of lame jackets, I see the Corazzo jacket. Of course, it wasn’t my size, but it had lots of potential. The lame local scooter shop said, “two weeks before delivery.” I didn’t believe this and took matters into my own hands. Two days later, I had my Corazzo 5.0 jacket. And it fit, perfectly. Good, I had lost sleep worrying. I was leaving in two days, afterall. I would be screwed if this didn’t work.

Chelsea from Scoot Richmond also gave me her heavier Corazzo. Riding at this year means the weather conditions are volatile. So far, I’ve used three different kinds of jackets to deal with the climate. I’m riding with the heavier one now.

So, here in Portland, I have the chance to visit these fine folks. Cletis, the puppy, greeted me at the door. Then out comes Chad and then Bradford. We chatted; I chased puppy around, playing a fine game of tug of war and even some frisbee. Chad asked for a stack of my postcards and said he stuffs them in with single jacket purchases. That’s so cool. They gave me some hi-tech Carbone gloves. How nice! It’s strange to retire my others, but they are worn and offer no warmth.

Yesterday I was rushing to fit in little stops around the city. So after checking out Chad’s fine scooter, I was off. I’m fascinated with these two wheel machines and there is still much to learn.

Next was a visit with someone I met last year.

Justin, who runs Vespa Portland and Scooter King, which sells Genuine. Justin just switched locations and is now probably the contender for best scooter shop. In his old shop, you had hold your breath to get past someone, now we could breakdance and roller skate inside, it’s a huge warehouse. But it’s accented with warm, smart colors and just the right amount of boutique and rockin warehouse.

I played sales lady and talked to several customer; even helped answer some questions. Justin has more scoots than I’ve seen anywhere around the country. But, he’s out of the Buddy, for right now. This new scooting frenzy is unbelievable. Justin bought some P.E.A.C.E SCOOTER shirts. I wished him lots of luck, left some postcards with him and went to meet my friends for dinner.

The vegetarian dish I had at Swagats was scrumptious. Our conversation was amazing. The ride home was supposed to be easy. We were headed home to finish our shows and trade music. Erika asked if I was ok with the bridge. I thought she meant the Steel Bridge, and that one is ok. But she meant the Stadium Freeway Bridge, which is part of the highway!

I was following her and was still dubious that we were actually getting on the highway, even though we were clearly getting on the highway. I thought to myself that the ramp would actually lead us to another road, which is the case in many cities. You get on just for a second to get you over, if that makes sense.

Then I see, around the bend, a quite expansive bridge. And it’s high up. The wind pummeled me and our merging lane dumped us into the fast lane. A tractor trailer was beside me. And then another behind it. I was in the fast lane going 30. I couldn’t control my scoot in the strong wind, especially right now, with the suspension the way it is. I threw on the hazards and felt like this might be the end. Erika was gone. It was me alone, struggling. She’s not used to scooters. It’s beyond her. She would have no idea what it was like in my head right now. My arms were limp, this happens when I get nervous. I plugged along. People gave me sympathetic looks as they drove by. I think they were scared for me and wanted to distance themselves. Their looks gave reassured me. Had I been in California, someone would have made me a hood ornament. Thanks Oregon!

Phew. I made it and then I was on the Interstate. Yay! I’ve never been so happy to be on an Interstate. I jumped off AT THE FIRST EXIT and navigated my way home. See, I know where I’m going. I actually beat them home, but that’s because they were waiting at the exit further down the road. I almost puked. I had a full belly and there had been no time to steel myself for what was ahead, as I have in most bridge crossing situations.

So that’s my bridge story. We swapped some music and I plotted the route to Seattle. I’m well rested and caught up on work, kinda sorta. I’ve even had some Stumptown espresso. I’m in the Pacific Northwest, afterall, and I know exactly the shop to visit the SECOND I arrive in Seattle. Cafe Vivace. With the cold, I had to cut back on caffeine. Now it’s time to plunge into the thick, pungent espressos that await me. Crude oil. Yum!

I’m excited to switch back into traveler mode. I will be volunteering in Seattle and going on a group ride. If you are there, maybe we can meet. Let’s have some espresso!

I’ve moved all my stuff in, I have my own floor here in Portland. The house is so yummy. Can a house be yummy? Well, sure. It’s painted in bright, citrus colors, yellow, tangerine and green, that are oh so pleasant. I have two friends here, no make that three if you count Henry, the dog. Audre is outside, I wish she could come in. We haven’t ridden in two days! She just hit 18,000 miles, yowzers! I’ve been neglecting the classic turning odometer photos.

Portland has been very high on the potential home-to-be one-day-in-the-future list. For now, I happily keep my address near the East Coast Portland, Maine. But the West Coast Portland has many, many prospects. My hosts love eating. That’s mostly what I’ve done so far, along with some nice walks, conversations and lots of work. (blah)

Oh my body, sitting on this scooter for a total of 18,000 miles. Yes, there was a winter break, but I never recooped from the last long haul. And winter is for hibernating! What a great feeling to walk and walk-blood pumping hard through my heart and limbs, with sore legs today.

We went through a lovely rose garden. The dog Henry was almost more pooped than me. We played his favorite game. Check out the little video below– he loves jumping and hanging from the tree. I was worried, but apparently, he is engineered for this. My dog’s favorite exercise is moping. Just kidding, but there is no way the little guy could pull these stunts. Henry is a happy guy after being rescued 4 years ago!

Oh, the food! Last night was homecooking and then my fave-popcorn, with nutritional yeast and Braggs. I introduced Mary and Erika to Flight of the Conchords and we enjoyed many gut laughs. Fun show with songs that get stuck in your head and people wonder, “what, what, what is she singing?!!”

Tonight we indulged at the Screendoor, with lots of great comfort and soul food. Okra! Fried Green Tomatoes! Mac and Cheese! Long gone are the gritty, dilapidated kitchens of NOLA, where only the soulfood shines. Although, there was Louisiana hot sauce on the table, sassing up my greedy portions of okra.

Then it was haircut time. My long, shaggy mane has been obstructing my view. Erika, hair sorceress, took care of this matter. She seems to prefer me with short hair. Oh, kinda sad to watch the curls go. But the new doo is fantastic! My helmet was feeling all pinchy on the temples and back of head. Especially with the hood up, which I need because temps are much cooler here in the NorthWest and might just get cooler as I head into Montana and North Dakota. Bye curls, I’ll grow you again.

Before:

After:

After spending the day getting caught up at “work,” I have lots to squeeze in tomorrow. Then it’s on to Seattle, leaving Thursday, I predict. I want to give the chap fixing Audre a bunch of time. He’s facing a lot of work; a new front fork and rear shock. Shaun is in Seattle, so I think I have a place to stay. He was successful in the first half of his solo scoot back home, making it to L.A. Then he bought a plane ticket to Seattle! For those asking how he is-thanks. I told him his fans want him to blog again. Wink. Wink.

Monday I leave Seattle and begin the turn home, heading East again. It’s all going so fast, yet I never feel rushed. But suddenly, it’s almost July! I’m more than halfway done this round! Ahead is Idaho, Montana, North Dakota, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania and D.C. Then hopefully a victorious arrival at Scoot Richmond, maybe some people to toast with me! I’m tossing around in my head the idea of simply scooting home to Maine. It’s a 675 mile ride, at least. But, hey, that’s just two days!

Oh, the letters people have been sending! Oh, what wonderful people are in the world! Thank you thank you! Kelton-I will try to organize the photos, I promise. Last year I was so good about it. This year there are no stories about the people, places, and things-I know. Sorry! I stayed in a lot of cheap motels last year and had more time alone! At least I promise to do it when I’m done riding.

It’s off to bed so that I can rise early enough to squeeze in a bunch of last minute visits! Ciao from us three, er, four!

Henry’s Dance:

back to top

A father and daughter just rode past the porch where I sit, typing and drinking coffee. The daughter was on a scooter also, the Lil Rascals kind and she says, “Dad, look a scooter!”

“That’s a Peace Scooter honey!” (they see the signs on my seat cover)

“Actually, it is a P.E.A.C.E SCOOTER”

The morning finds me in Portland. My health is much better now; made better also by the pace at which I’ve been able to travel. Once outside of Chico, CA the roads and drivers were friendlier. Thank you to all the well wishers who wrote encouragement!

In Oregon, they drive at a “reggae pace.” Also helpful is the speed limit, set statewide at 55 mph. Friday night I stayed at the Featherbed Inn, in Chemult, OR, near Crater Lake National Park. After the unwelcome patch of gravel that made me wipe out, I was greeted warmly by a $30 room, dogs, cats, and horses-oh and a comfy featherbed. Neither myself, nor the scooter were hurt in the spill. The saddlebags protrude so far from Audre’s flank that nothing else was harmed. I attempted to catch my footing and push us both upright, but we were on an incline, so at the last moment I bailed, landing upright.

I fed the horses and took some photos. I joked with the owner, Don, about trading in the scooter for his horse. It was a fantasy many years ago to ride cross country on what Tom says,” is the original scooter, one horsepower!” Chemult, OR is a town, or village, maybe one mile long; flanking the road are just a few restaurants, hotels, gas stations and a trailer park. In September, Chemult will be flooded by Japanese mushroom hunters. They are hunting the Maitake, known as the “dancing mushroom, ” because people would dance in celebration when they found it. Why? Well, it is worth its weight in silver.

People pay $35 a pound for it, sometimes more! Maitake has also proven itself as an effective cancer fighter and anti-viral, also used to regulate blood sugar levels. My research show that IT IS NOT a Japanese virility supplement, which I was told. Good, that restored the image of the Featherbed Inn as a quaint, little, rough around the edges but thoroughly charming motel. I don’t want the image stuck in my head of Japanese tourists desperate for an organic viagra!

Time meanders along here in Oregon, slipping slowly into a simple future. Of course, things are probably different here in the big city of Portland. But somehow I wake up and always have an seemingly extra four hours; taking time to relax, read, and enjoy the abundance of health food markets. And to enjoy the routes through gorgeous forests, like the Willamette National Forest, or sprawling farmlands where the greens and yellows of crops stretch for miles before bumping against tall blue and green snowcapped mountains.

My hosts in San Diego, who I miss very much, tried to secure hosting with their sister in Eugene. Sadly, the timing didn’t work for us, but Josna helped recruit a host for me. Jill seemed hesitant, but curious enough to open her small space for me. I arrived to Eugene in time for the Saturday Market, the main reason to visit the town. Many years ago I dropped out of college, ignoring my scholarship in order to experience a different type of education.

Raised mainly in the burbs, I felt a calling to uncover truths that were hidden among all the expectations of what a smart, successful white high school grad should do with her life. Success meant nothing to me if I couldn’t explore what failure meant. In the process of traveling I redefined what success really meant to me; it was the beginning steps of developing my own character, which had been shaped in part by a consumer culture. I lived on the streets, basically, and camped in forests with groups of people. I rarely called home and I found ways to support myself; although I would live on just $10 a day or less.

In the process of removing myself from the culture I was raised in, I became judgemental when I saw other people embodying that culture. I saw them representing the things I had just escaped. That is a natural mindset for many people who begin to experience a drastic change. Of course, anger and judgement are pointless. Really what changed my ways were accepting and forgiving myself-that it took me so long to become appreciative, humbled and deliberate about the way I spend my life here on this Earth.

While visiting Eugene, I saw many people who were searching and had a similar mindset to me years ago. I also saw a lot of stoned hippies and was saddened that it is often easier to get high and let the world and those suffering in it just slip away. People medicate themselves in many ways though, throughout all classes and cultures. I personally feel that the first steps in spiritual awakening are to heal yourself, but then to recognize the intersection between spirituality and activism.

The Saturday Farmers Market takes up four blocks; four blocks full of farm fresh produce, handcrafted wares, street performers, food vendors, stage music and hundreds of observers. I ate a delicious tofu salad on the courthouse steps while taking in the drum circle. The market has been in full swing since 1970.

There is a demand from locals to have local food. There are many benefits. Imagine how tasty and fresh the goods are-chock full of the nutrients you and your kid need. There is less gas used in transport, friendlier for the planet also with less CO2 pumped into the air. This also lowers the price AND your money stays within the community.

I walked around and handed out postcards and then went in search of a scooter shop. Mike was parked next to my scooter and after talking for a bit, offered to lead me to the Triumph shop. It turns out they sell Genuine. The mechanic, Hunter, was very nice to fit in a gear oil change free of charge, on such short notice-they closed in 30 min. I spoke with the owner, Rod, for a few minutes.

He started off his piece by saying, “Well, our political viewpoints differ greatly, but I think it’s honorable what you are doing.”
“Wait, it’s interesting that you have no idea what my political beliefs are, but you think you do because I’m on a Peace ride.”

Grrr. We had a 5 min. conversation and he was right, our beliefs do differ, but I can’t emphasize enough that this ride is NOT about politics. In the 60/70s there was a huge cry from the women’s movement, that “the personal is political.” I’m reversing that to say, “the political is personal.”

After the oil change I went back downtown, enjoyed a Rogue beer at the brewery and caught up on some email. THANK YOU to everyone supporting the raffles. I’ve been hearing from those starting to get their prizes and I”M SO STOKED by your happiness! As I was checking email, Logan walked by and asked to use my computer to check his email. I said No at first, I had little battery power and then I changed my mind and said go for it.

He sat and we talked for a bit and I must have freaked him out because he left without taking the postcard. I said, “Hey, that was a gift.”
“Well, I feel like you are trying to teach me something.”
What was this? The origin of my disappointment went back to my time there in Eugene as a kid. Here was a guy that obviously understands community, rejects consumerism, appreciates living simply and purposefully-but he was angry. Angry that other people don’t get it and judgemental because he does. In a sense, that is being entrenched by the same system that you reject. If, as Ghandi says, “The end is inherent in the means,” then anger doesn’t generate love. If you want people to love themselves and others more, then you can’t hate them because they don’t.

If you think someone is too material, yelling at them about it doesn’t really open their mind, nor teach them about the alternatives. I listened to him judge people who walked by and even my server, Danny, who was a genuinely nice guy. I asked Logan when the last time someone yelling at him made him change his ways. He said never.

He wished me “Good Luck in Eugene,” but in a way that felt passively aggressive. I was lucky however, my host was truly a delight. After eating yet another salad in a field, in the long light of a Solstice day, I headed to Jill’s house. She wasn’t home yet and I took turns reading and catnapping on her couch. I was a little nervous about meeting her, but only because she seemed a little nervous. Like she was asking herself, “what did I agree to?”

Visiting with Jill added at least another 5 years to my life, in just 3 hours. I began asking her about her lifestyle, after noticing bottles of herbs, grains and juice and trays of sprouting seeds. She is a dedicated raw foodist. Nothing she eats has been heated over temperatures of 80-120 degrees. Perhaps it seems difficult to maintain a lifestyle like that, but I’m under the impression that once you begin to experience the health benefits, you are motivated by the way you feel. Like any new behavior, there is transitioning.

But live juice! And vegetables! And sprouts! And fermented cabbage! It was all so tasty! Jill made me lots of samples! I was so excited that she was excited to share information. And she wasn’t critical of me at all- my smoking occasionally and avidly drinking coffee! After I told her how complicated it was to sprout while on the road, which I tried last year, she gave me a sprout bag! A burlap bag that makes it easy to grow sprouts. Now I have a traveling salad bar! Sprouts are like power pellets for Pac-Man. They have tons of anti-oxidants that prevent DNA destruction; they protect against cancers, disease and bone breakdown! They could almost be considered a fountain of life! YUM!

We stayed up until 1 am talking about healthy lifestyles and the problems in the world. And how they just might be related. It was so nice to leave politics out of the conversation; instead talking about actions, like eating and shopping.

We celebrated that health, within just the past 10 years, has been recognized as something you have to pro-actively, daily, cultivate. Before, you just got sick and then got healthy. Now, people are realizing that food=health! The best part of Eugene was my time with Jill. I left the next morning after packing my stuff, including info. she printed out for me on all kinds of stuff, like how to make your cell phone safer. I can’t wait to get home and start eating with more focus on raw foods!

In the late afternoon, after a complicated, but beautiful drive, I arrived at my friends, Mary and Erika. A young, spastic deer ran in front of me. I stopped to photograph it and it came closer. There were many unmarked roads making the drive confusing and even some closed ones! I will be here until Thursday. I have a foozball game and defeat planned at one of my sponsors, Corazzo. I must defeat Chad because back in April, he sold the last pair of Carbone riding gloves,which meant I didn’t get any! If you are local, shoot me an email-let’s explore! The submit button is now working again on the contact form. OOPSIE! Use it NOW!

Well, I made it through California much faster this time than last year. I visited fewer friends this year, partly due to the split second decision to cut inland. But I’ve surely met some great folks the past couple of days on my jaunt to Eugene.

A lot of people have shown their support and struck up conversation with me. Twice today, the opener went something to the tune that, “Hey, you missed out by a couple of generations.”

And then I (always) respond, “No, Peace isn’t just for the 60’s, it’s something every individual needs to practice, despite their age, political or religious beliefs. Peace needs to be upgraded. It’s pointless if everyone thinks it only happened in the 60’s”

I met two men today whose lives contrasted one another. One fought in Vietnam and the other protested Vietnam. They both said that the worst thing the “hippies” could have done was associate Peace with anti-war and to carry out their message in anger.

Dave expressed what it was like to fight for the country and have things thrown at him as he arrived back home. I said it sucks that the hippies did that because now to say you don’t believe in the war is to say you don’t support the troops. In conservative opinion that is.

We then together came to the realization that propaganda fuels that divisive message. The media fueled, conservative message is busy pointing fingers at people who don’t want the war, saying they aren’t patriotic, that we overlook how the government itself fails to offer soldiers the best support they deserve. And that’s coming from a Vet.
I could sense that Oregon was close, drivers became friendlier, aside from logging trucks. Everyone has been really friendly and one guy I talked to stuffed $20 in my riding glove when I was inside the restroom.

The lack of distance traveled is shocking to me. I’m making horrible time, but at least my cold is gone now. My front shocks are gone, rocked out. I had to remove my sleeping bag, groundcover and towel off the front rack. Usually they are fine, but with the shocks like this, there can’t be any weight. Handling was so bad going around the mountains that I panicked a couple of times.

It’s best to take it slow up to Seattle, where I have shocks waiting. The gear is now riding behind me-giving me little leg room but more stability. I probably could have covered the remaining 100 miles to Eugene by dark, but it would have been close. Dusk brings out the deer. Apparently it brings out lots of things to watch for, as Dave warned me. Visibility also decreases earlier in the tall forests. My decision was clinched after another guy said, “Ya, they like to run motorcyclists off the mountains for fun around here.”

I arrive Eugene Saturday afternoon, if anyone reading this wants to show me your hometown, please contact me.

click on photos to go to my flickr account.
I woke up twice today. The second time was at 7:45pm, the first at 11am. Last night’s slumber was an 11 hours session; miraculous and needed. I went to the front desk and asked for a late check out. The head honcho was hesitant but the other lady, Jennifer, said, “You should see how much stuff she has to put on that scooter.”

I’ve run across a phenomenon where nowadays most motel chains are managed by Indian families. As a result of their homeland cultures reliance and familiarity with scooters, they are often very warm and kind to me. Many times they come outside and peek at my Buddy and ask a lot of questions.

I woke up still feeling horrible, glands still swollen, throat sore. I packed up, the heat was nice, making me sweat out the virus. Like I said last night, road conditiions improved about 25 miles before Chico. The roads remained the same and the scenery too changed for the best-leaving behind rather boring rice lands and industrial landscape.

Chico is a gateway to some rather substantial mountains. The peak elevation was 5,300 today, quite a hike after remaining below sea level for quite some time. My carb is jet right now for 2,200 elevation, after adding the Prima performance pipe. The scoot is having a hard time “shifting” on inclines and down hills, of which there were many today and more to come. I’m hoping to pull off this trip up to Seattle. Feeling a bit like an ass for not knowing more about my scooter and being reliant on mechanics to help. Yet, I am learning a lot through this ride.

The “freeway” switched from divided four lane to regular two way. There were many logging trucks and rude, speedy drivers.

You know, California, as cool and progressive as you’re made out to be-you have horrible road manners. I’ve seen a lot of violations of the “point two fingers,” philosophy that I employ. And while I might wave at you while you flick me off, just know that in my head there are two fingers pointing at you. I just won’t specify which ones.

I could be criticized of the same driving pre 1998, when I sold off my car, but I never tailgated a motorcycle or scooter. Maybe for selfish reasons-I mean who wants a human hood ornament?

Traffic vanished once I turned onto 36E and I relaxed because I didn’t have to frantically check the mirrors. The view that welcomed me was incredible.

It’s neat to see the inland landscape here in California. The roads were full of switchbacks, some 10mph curves. I swooped around them and then suddenly came to a halt at a gravel road. I thought it worth a noble try so I accelerated to gain momentum for the hill. I started sliding out halfway and carefully turned around and coasted downhill. I stood there calmly looking into the babbling creek, this is not the first time Google maps has led me to a gravel road.

I could hear a large vehicle coming from about half a mile away. And then a Fed-Ex guy barrels down the dirt/gravel road, blowing dust everywhere, and he hesitantly stops. He makes a hand signal that looks like “gun?” I’m thinking, would I tell you, “yes?” He barely cracks his window and I explain that I’m riding that thing 22,000 miles and have just been led to an impasse. I explain I’m on a Peace ride so he’ll roll the window all the way down. He does, finally. I grab my directions, after saying, “I know you guys try to get places on time, but do you have one second to look?”

He gives me the scoop and says be careful, lots of tiny roads, tight curves and big logging trucks. After cruising up some sharp twisties on Wilson Road, I hit the most direct stretch of good road, gorgeous scenery and perfect conditions since probably somewhere in East Arizona. I was on the Lassen Peak Hwy, which is rich with life and color from the volcanic soil. Years ago the mountain blew. Before NASA sent the rover to the Moon, they had to test it on Earth, and so it was done here, in Lassen Park-the closest terrain to the Moon.

I stopped to get gas and realized there was no way I could go another 131 miles. My fever was still strong and I just wanted to lay on the sidewalk beside the scooter. Which I did for 5 minutes. I then called my couchsurfing host and explained the situation. She promised that if I could just get there they would heal me. This sounded tempting and needed. However, at least 3.5 more hours was in front of me, riding through forests and over mountain passes in the dark.

So here I am in Burney Falls, a grand total of 131 miles traveled today. In fact Burney was my destination last night. I would give myself a hard time but the truth is I’m sick and delirious. I’m very bummed that I’ve paid for lodging the past two nights, but at least I have free hosting in Eugene, Portland and hopefully Seattle. And besides, you try driving a scooter 300+miles with a fever. 🙂

I talked to the hotel clerks for half an hour and then collapsed on the bed. I’ve had a lot of great conversations today. Two themes have been the military and peace. I constantly make the disclaimer to most people, that, P.E.A.C.E SCOOTER in not anti-war, it is pro-peace. This statement actually lets down a lot of guards.

Except for those who are militantly anti-war. But, hey, those are the same ones who never respond to my emails about promoting the peace ride. Guess I’m not angry enough…

On my way out of the motel, Jennifer asked about my next stop and where I came from. I told her all about the ride and we talked about the Dep’t of Peace. Which she agreed sounds like a great idea. It turns out that she had served in the military and she said that her experience there helped her grow.

She said, “I grew up in a town of 400 people. Before I joined the military, I had never seen a black person. I got to travel the world and so did my kids.”

Well, I don’t think that’s enough of a reason to keep sinking trillions of dollars into Defense, but that’s not the point.
She understands Peace and does agree that the word itself means more than the absence of war.

She did mention that we must have a military to exercise our freedoms and I mentioned that we might need protection but look at Canada.
She says, “yes, many nations have a military.”
And I say,”Right, and they don’t go starting wars.”

Imagine if our military was paid to keep Peace. Think that’s weird? During Roosevelt’s term he engineered something brilliant. The CCC, which was more of a work relief program during the Depression Era. The CCC took care of domestic things until war disbanded the Corp.

Basically, the military here is an industry. People have always profited from it, and some good things have come from it. For one, women finally getting work in WW2 and then emerging into the workforce. But in present times, not only is this war costing taxpayers trillions of dollars, we are paying even more at the pump than ever before and it is clearly documented that big business is in bed with our administration.

Jennifer agreed that the reasons for this war are less than savory. In fact, 80% of the people I meet are of the opinion that this war serves the interest of oil companies.

In fact, after our conversation, I went to Starbucks for a coffee and picked up the New York Times. (I go to Starbucks when I’m on the road. They’re easy to find, they fill up my CamelBak for free-with filtered water, and often they give me stuff for free. Otherwise-support your local coffeeshop-the coffee and the atmosphere will be better.)

So in the headlines today is an article that negotiations are close to return four Western Oil companies to Iraq. Not just returning, but with no-bid contracts, which is very unusual.

And there, near the top of the article;

“There was suspicion among many in the Arab world and among parts of the American public that the United States had gone to war in Iraq precisely to secure the oil wealth these contracts seek to extract.”

Hmm, what are the odds? I don’t know? Small oil rich country, resistant to Americans, with some Islamic extremists??? Sounds ripe for the picking.

“The Bush administration has said that the war was necessary to combat terrorism. “

This article complemented the one I read last night, which I ripped out of the paper, but in order to avoid ripping it off, I urge you to read it. It’s one of the best articles I’ve read in a long time.
http://www.newsreview.com/chico/Content?oid=677833

It explores the idea of the word, ENEMY, and how our current Administration has capitalized on its use. It mentions that Enemy has classically applied to someone we are at war with, but now you can find this word being applied to nations who don’t agree with us, or who sell arms to another country.

“In other words, a country can supply weapons to your enemy without becoming your enemy. Which, considering that the U.S. is the world’s largest arms merchant, is a good thing. The last thing we need is more enemies! (Not that we have any now.)

Within this propaganda, an idea is shaped concerning our Patriotism.

Which affects me greatly, like when I travel through states that are conservative, or areas that send a lot of their kids off to fight. I worry about my safety in some places, as my riding jacket is decorated with Peace signs.

And if the public mentality has been recently shaped by the “for us or against us” crap then I must not support the troops. Which is a lie and also a terrible social mentality. Tonight I spoke with the hotel clerk, who protested in the 60’s.

He said, “we made a terrible mistake to be so angry and associate peace with war.”

“I know, that’s why I’m out here asking people how they define it-because Peace needs an upgrade.”

“I don’t know what motivated so many of us. But people seemed more compelled to act.”

“I think it was the draft. You interfere with people’s destiny and their pocketbooks and their voices get loud.”

I guess what I’m asking you tonight, is can how can we avoid all of this?

Can we avoid see things that are different from us as bad? Can we be motivated to improve the world before the point where our pocketbooks get hit?

I noticed today that Starbucks has something called Coffee for Soldiers. You can buy a bag and personalize it, Starbucks sends it out to Iraq. If you decide to buy one, I urge you to put www.peacescooter.com on it. SInce I’m hosting one million definitions for Peace, we sure could use some soliders’ perspectives.

Well, that’s all from me, back to sleep. I didn’t even bother to unpack.