JOHN M. HOLIHAN's RIDE

Well, another great adventure is ended. On September 26th I returned to Baltimore from California. Retirement has given me the opportunity to do the touring I've always dreamed of. In 2002 I rode to Sturgis for The Black Hills Rally then Daytona for Biketoberfest. In '03 I rode to the Leesburg Rally in Florida via Myrtle Beach then to Syracuse for a family reunion then to Boston enroute to a few fun filled days in Laconia. I departed Maryland, August 23rd, for my long planned "walk about." In 5 weeks I put 8,000 miles on my '98 Ultra Classic. The bike, equipped with a Bushtec Turbo II trailer, hauls all my camping gear plus a built in ice chest (very important). I saw many of the most beautiful places in America. On my first day I rode to Winchester, Virginia, to pick up US Route 50 through West Virginia. This route offers about 150 miles of winding, twisty, 2-lane road across the Appalachians. It is heavily forested with hardwood trees, sparsely populated and beautiful. Somewhere in the center of the state I was trailing two bikes around a bend when we came across a huge tree that had just fallen. The entire top half of the tree was in the road and there was no way around. In a moment there were many vehicles stopped on either side of the tree and it seemed we were doomed to a long stay. The next scene warmed my heart and made me proud to be an American. On the other side of the tree a burley construction worker stepped down from his pickup truck, surveyed the problem then turned, reached in to the truck bed, pulled out his chainsaw and started cutting up this roadblock. Almost immediately several other people did the same while a dozen more joined in to drag the debris off the road. These were all strangers and with the roar of the chainsaws, nobody spoke. Everyone just got to work and in about 15 minutes this enormous obstruction was cleared. The chainsaws went quiet and you could hear people laughing and joking about the whole thing as we finished cleaning up the road. In another instant they were gone. As I sat on the Harley, finishing a soda, I couldn't help but marvel at just how wonderful people really are.

US Route 50 connects Ocean City, Maryland, with Sacramento, California. I selected this route because it is mostly rural two-lane road that wanders through many small towns. I did not want to spend my vacation on Interstates. While planning this trip I searched for designated scenic routes and took as many of these as I could. Leaving the Appalachians I crossed the Ohio River at Belpre and spent the night in Chillicothe. Riding the rolling hills of Ohio in warm weather was very pleasant. The second night was spent in Jefferson City, Missouri. The farther west I got the flatter the terrain became. The temperature was above 100° so when I got to Kansas City I surrendered and got a motel room. A few miles SW of the city, in Olathe, I stopped to see Dennis and Wanda at Performance Sport Trailers. I did not have an appointment but they treated me like family. Dennis serviced the trailer and found a bad wheel bearing. He had me on the road in about 30 minutes with a new one and the total bill was only $20. I already liked the trailer but he made me a believer. Dennis is a Bushtec Master Dealer and now I know why.

I don't care how you cross Kansas; bus, truck, car or Harley, there is only one word to describe it, BORING! The roads are straight, flat and there is nothing to see. I hooked up with six Harley riders from Maryland coming out of Dodge City Kansas. One was Bernie Keller, a Salesman for Rockville Harley Davidson in Maryland who was riding an Ultra Classic with a sidecar. Much to my chagrin I lost the note with the names of the rest of the group. This was an annual affair for these guys except for one. There was a father and son team. This was the son's first big cross-country ride and he was having the time of his life. We stopped in Rocky Ford, Colorado, that night and had dinner with a few brewskis. The next morning, riding through Pueblo, we could see the beautiful Rocky Mountains rising in the distance. As the road climbed and began to twist the temperature dropped and my excitement mounted. The 7 bikes were purring with that beautiful V-Twin rumble as we pulled the long mountain grades. The weather was perfect and I was elated as the Continental divide and the high passes came and went one after another. As it got late I was thinking about a campsite when we came upon the "Black Canyon of the Gunnison" National Park near Montrose, Colorado. I have an annual pass so I decided to leave the group and pull in for the night. The father/son team had already split off to go visit friends near Denver and the rest were going to split at Grand Junction with some going south to Durango and others heading north to the Jackson Hole area. I had never heard of this park but could see it was located in some very rugged mountains. I waved good-bye, dropped down a gear and started climbing the steep entrance road. Once in the park I quickly set up camp while watching a fantastic sunset. In the morning I visited the rim trail and got to see the narrow gorge. It is 2'000 feet deep, in shadow most of the time and beautiful. The 16 mile ride to the bottom of the canyon is best described by the sign at the turn-off; "Trailers over 20' cannot negotiate this road."

Southern Utah is as beautiful as Colorado with one spectacular view after another. I entered Nevada and spent a night at "Great Basin National Park" before embarking on "America's Loneliest Highway." The high desert of Nevada is beautiful - once. Passing through Carson City I could see the Sierra Nevada Mountains in the distance. US Route 50 takes you thru a half hour of steep, twisting, mountain roads before reaching the Tahoe valley. The lake is awesome in its pristine beauty, super clean and you can see bottom in deep water. Huge mountains surround it and the road is carved out of the cliffs high above the water. The view is incredible where ever you go. I camped at Zephyr Cove where the amenities are great and the coin operated showers felt wonderful after the desert heat. Leaving Tahoe the road climbs steeply thru 9,500 feet and after an hour or so of steep grades and winding road I arrive in Sacramento.

I picked up my wife, Debbie, at the airport on September 1st. I stored my camping gear in a rented locker and loaded her luggage into the trailer. The temperature was 102° and we were suffering as we headed for the coast. At Vallejo the sea breeze meets the valley heat and we experience something we had never heard of. The temperature dropped 30+ degrees in a space of about 10 miles. We went from over-heated to chilled and had to stop and don leathers. We rode on to a hotel near Fisherman's Wharf where we stayed two days and did lots of tourist things. We rode cable cars, toured Alcatraz and ate at the renowned "Aliotos" Grotto #9. Dudley Perkins Harley Davidson completed a 5,000-mile servicing, replaced a wheel bearing and informed me that I needed a speedometer drive gear and cable that they did not have in stock. Mine had failed leaving Sacramento. When I told them that I would be in Reno next Monday, they called, put the parts on hold and made an appointment for me. I thought that was service above and beyond the expected. They were terrific and I appreciate their extra effort. Debbie is complaining that her ear won't clear from the flight and she is nauseated.

After a few days we rode south to "Cannery Row" in Monterey and spent the night. We had planned to take the "17 Mile Drive" through Pebble Beach and were crushed to learn that the rich snobs living there have arrogantly closed the road to motorcycles. We left and headed back thru San Francisco to the Golden Gate Bridge. After crossing and a brief visit to the park for photos we picked up Route 1 west to the coast. The view of the Pacific from atop the cliffs was breath taking. We did not expect the steep grades, diving hairpin turns and miles of severe twisties that reduced our average to about 30 miles per hour. This road is a bikers dream and a passenger's nightmare. Debbie is badly frightened by the steep drop offs, lack of guardrails and the blind turns coming one after another. She thinks we are going to die and phones home to tell her daughter where the good jewelry is hidden in case we don't make it. I am trying really hard not to laugh because I know better. We got off the road early and spent the night in Fort Ross. The next day I drove much slower and she relaxed a little. We got as far as Eureka and quit. This is a good night for an early dinner and some R&R. Debbie still can't clear her ears and is not feeling well. In the morning we ride east, in heavy fog, over the Coastal Mountains to Redding then south to Chico. We had not made reservations and that was a mistake. The Outlaw Sprint Cars were having their National Finals and every motel within 50 miles was booked. We had to continue on to Yuba City before finding a room.

We are going to Reno to join my old Army Aviation Unit from Viet Nam. The Army Otter Caribou Association 18th reunion is at the Silver Legacy. We arrive on Sunday, September 12th. Monday morning I ride over to Reno Harley Davidson. They are expecting me and although the service department is busy they get right on my bike. The service was fast, friendly and once again exceeded expectations.

The reunion is a blast although it is hard to imagine that these old guys once were slim, had hair and could fly bush planes in to impossible places with ease. The National Air Races are on and we have VIP and Pit passes. The WWII fighter planes are hitting 500 MPH and make a sound that is unforgettable. The crews are getting 4'000 horsepower out of those old engines. The races are spectacular and the reunion is a great success.

On Friday, September 12, we ride south on Route 395. We take the back entrance to Yosemite crossing some very high mountains at Tioga Pass. This means another hundred miles of steep, twisting, "fun," roads. We can see what the natives call "Apache" snow on the tops of the mountains. You know, a patch here, a patch there. Debbie is suffering quietly and trying not to rain on my parade but I know she is hurting. The constant altitude changes don't help and the blockage is affecting her inner ear. She is losing her equilibrium, developing motion sickness and is now deaf in one ear. We are in the Park for about 70 miles before arriving in the Yosemite Valley. We are overwhelmed by the shear magnitude and beauty of El Capitan, Rainbow Falls, Half Dome and all of the other sights. We stayed at the Yosemite Valley Lodge and had lunch the next day at the famous Frank Lloyd Wright designed "Ahwanee Lodge." This park is far more than I anticipated and we hope to return someday to spend more time.

On Saturday, we arrived at the home of Bob and Tere Cordua in Visalia. I had not seen Bob since we attended the U.S. Army Aviation School in 1965 at Fort Rucker, Alabama. After graduation we went our separate ways and lost touch. We found each other over the Internet and planned this meeting for months. Bob and Tere were gracious hosts at their beautiful home. They drove us to Sequoia National Park to see the "General Sherman." This giant Sequoia is the largest living thing on Earth. The trip there covered 53 miles of winding road that climbed up to around 8,000' to get to this incredible forest. We stopped at one point to let a juvenile Black Bear approach the car. He was not large so Tere opened her window and took some pictures. The mountain road was too much for Debbie's vertigo and she became very sick. We returned to the Cordua's home and Debbie collapsed for about 16 hours. She was in a bad way and I felt sorry for her. It would have been nice to party more with our hosts but Debbie was done in. We had planned to go to San Simeon for the Hearst Estate tour but decided to cancel. We returned to Sacramento to lie up in a motel for a couple of days while Debbie recovered. Seeing Bob again after all those years and meeting his charming wife, Tere, was wonderful. We are very grateful for their understanding and hospitality and hope to see them again.

With a couple of days rest Debbie felt well enough to tackle the flight back to Baltimore. Hurricane Isabel was headed for our waterfront home near the Chesapeake Bay and she needed to get back and batten down the hatches.

After Debbie left I picked up my gear from the storage place and headed out Route 50 east back over the 9,500' pass to the Tahoe valley. Riding solo allowed me to push my Ultra a little harder and I began laying into the turns with glee. I dragged metal a couple of times and am delighted to report that the Bushtec gave me no trouble at all. I never even noticed it except when braking into a diving turn. The extra weight will push you out of your lane if you don't get it slowed down enough. Do this once and you will never do it again! I took Route 89 South from Tahoe to 395 then to 120 East. I crossed Nevada on the "Extraterrestrial Highway" stopping for the night in Tonopah. This is an area of interest to UFO followers. All I was interested in was the excellent Mexican restaurant. I am happy to report that I did not see any UFOs and was not abducted but I do think I met some aliens at the bar after dinner.

In Southern Utah I left the desert and headed up into the high country arriving at Cedar Breaks National Monument where I set up camp. The view from the rim at sunset was incredible. I got out a lawn chair, wrapped myself in a blanket and sat there by myself just staring at the heavens. At that altitude on a moonless night the stars were too beautiful for words. The Milky Way was clearly visible as a white stripe painted across the sky. Easterners are not accustomed to seeing the stars like this due to light pollution and the perpetual haze. I awoke in the middle of the night freezing, donned sweatshirt and socks, added a blanket and tried to get comfortable. I was OK but never did really get warm. The next morning as I was leaving on Route 143, I found out why I was so cold. A sign said "elevation 10,500' above sea level" then I saw the next sign and my excitement level rose. It said "Steep Grade, Trucks use low gear, 13% Grade for 11 miles." After a couple miles going down the mountain I came to a ski resort. This was a fun ride. I continued north, picked up route 20 East and headed for Bryce Canyon. At Bryce the engine began running very rough. Bryce is extraordinarily beautiful but the bike had me worried. I looked up the nearest Harley Davidson dealer in my tour book and found it was two hours away. The engine was backfiring heavily and barely running as I nursed it through Zion National Park to St. George, Utah. The engine temperature probe had failed throwing the fuel injection computer into full rich. The choked out engine threw raw gas into the exhaust where it burned so hot that my new Vance Hines mufflers were blued. I arrived Friday evening after hours and found a motel near the dealership. Zion Harley Davidson in St George is a branch of the huge Las Vegas HD and their service department is open on Saturdays. I was there early and they took me right in. They did not have the necessary parts but arranged for a courier to go to Las Vegas and pick them up. My rear tire was worn out so I had them replace it while I waited. When the parts arrived they jumped on it and had me on the road in no time. The service manager, John Ryel, was terrific. This had the potential to be a bad experience but his extra effort made it a breeze. Leaving there I took Route 9 back to Zion. Of all the incredible roads I've traveled, this is one of the greatest. There is an old, narrow, tunnel over a mile long with no lights in it but it does have a couple of windows. There are blind 180° turns around huge boulders and steep climbing or diving hairpins. All this with awesome views of huge granite monoliths and spectacular salmon colored cliffs. The tour bus into the canyon is a must but hiking is the best way to see it all. Zion National Park is beautiful beyond belief.

My next stop, after spending the night in Kanab, was the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. It is an hour's ride down a dead end road to get to the park. There are miles of meadows and in one I stopped for twenty minutes to watch a Coyote hunting rodents. The North Rim is completely different from the South Rim but just as magnificent. Everyone should go there at least once in a lifetime. There are no words to adequately describe it. You don't go to see it but rather to experience it. I am humbled by its grandeur.

Leaving there the road took me through Navaho lands to the Monument Valley area and to Four Corners. The scenery was desolate and spectacular. I reached Cortez in Colorado around sunset and splurged on a motel. In the morning I rode to Mesa Verde National Park where they have incredible tours of the ancient Anasazi Indian cliff dwellings. I then took Colorado Route 145 north up the scenic Delores River to Telluride before joining US Route 50 again at Montrose. I continued East through Monarch pass at over 11,300 feet to Salida and stopped for the night. In the morning I had about an hour's ride to Pueblo where I said goodbye to the Rocky Mountains. I was entering Americas breadbasket and it was about as exciting as a basket of bread. I cranked it up crossing the flatlands and made Emporia before terminal boredom forced me to stop. I guess I was coming down from the excitement of traveling all those mountains and deserts. I felt like I had walked on the moon and now had to deal with shopping centers and traffic jams. What a let down. As I approached Kansas City I was perked up by the prospect of seeing Dennis and Wanda again at Performance Sport Trailers. Dennis lubed the trailer while I bent his ear with tales of my trip. He finished and never charged me a penny (Freebie!). What a great guy.

I called Debbie to inquire about the Hurricane. She said we had suffered no damage but the 6-foot storm surge had filled the yard with debris. A swamped boat had floated oil in on top of it and we had a mega-mess. I needed to get home so I quit US 50 and joined I-70 where I could let it out and begin making serious time. The rest of the trip was uneventful and I arrived home on Friday, September 26th. In 5 weeks my wet suit never came out of the saddlebag. I had not been rained on at all. This trip was a dream. If you don't travel you cannot possibly imagine how incredibly beautiful this country really is.

Now it's time to start planning my next great trip. Maybe four corners of America in the spring.

Maj. John M Holihan USAR Ret.
H.O.G. Member 1644957, Baltimore Chapter
318 Carvel Beach Road
Baltimore, MD 21226
410 437-9602
jholihansr@aol.com

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