After a long three-day ride through the serene forest of Oregon's Western Cascade Mountains, my wife, Meri, and I awaken on the banks of the windswept Columbia River, just east of the city of The Dalles. We meet our traveling companions Lani and Barry Robertson for breakfast before loading up our bikes and heading out to continue our quest. We were off to the high desert town of John Day, Oregon, to attend the BMWRO's Chief Joseph Rally and join the gathering of the clans.

            As I pull into the Chevron station to gas up, I could sense the excitement building. The station was filled with BMWs bearing license plates from several different states and Canada.

            It was a short ride from The Dalles to the town of Biggs and the turnoff where Oregon's "The Journey Through Time Scenic Byway" begins its long, winding route through the stunning geology of Eastern Oregon.

            As we crest the dry brown hills above Biggs, we are awed by the vast openness of the land that lies for miles before us. Above, the sky threatens us with darkness, as huge squall lines slowly plow across the open range ahead. The LT's weather radio reported heavy rains hitting Portland to our west and showers filling the Columbia River basin behind us. It looked like we were riding into wet conditions on an unfamiliar road.

            Along our route were several small towns preserved by their remoteness and diminishing populations. With faster transportation, the rural ranchers bypass boarded up store fronts of their small towns to rush to Redmond or Prineville and shop at one of the big box stores. For us, these weathered buildings clinging to the dry soil gave us a brief peek into the world of our grandparents.

            We pulled into the ghost town of Shaniko, only to find the only gas station closed. Shaniko is a well-preserved town filled with historical buildings and littered with wagons, antique cars and tractors. As we were exploring the town, a squadron of Ducati and Aprilia bikes from the state of Washington flew in with their pilots looking very flashy in racing gear. After a cursory inspection of the town, the Italians mounted up and were en route to their next destination.

            After leaving Shaniko, we headed south to the town of Antelope. Antelope lies just 18 miles from the 64,000 acre Big Muddy Ranch that was purchased in the mid 1980s by Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh's 7,000 member cult. Antelope became embroiled in a battle for survival when cult members began to buy lots in town, in an attempt to take over city hall at the polls. Today Antelope is a sleepy town of less than 80 people.

            With no gas to be found in Antelope, we turned east on Highway 218 and headed for the remote town of Fossil. This lightly traveled stretch of highway was filled with enough twisties to make a Swiss motorcyclist grin from ear to ear. Each time we stopped, we were passed by groups of Beemers rushing toward the Cliff.

            At last we reach the surprisingly large town of Fossil, where Barry was able to fill up the Vulcan with low octane fuel. The attendant added a little octane booster before I could unwrap the plastic on the small bottle I carried in the trunk of the LT. We stopped for lunch at one of the town's cafes and admire the row of fossils lying on the counter. There was a fossil collecting site located in town that was open to the public.

            Leaving Fossil, we traveled south on Highway 19 through small irrigated valleys, dotted with picturesque ranches and livestock. The next town was Service Creek, the site of an old stagecoach stop. Here, we once again encountered a river to follow. From Service Creek we followed the river to the town of Spray and then on through the twisties to the village of Kimberly, where the North Fork of the John Day River joins the main branch of the river system. The area near Kimberly offers lush agricultural fields and orchards that contrast with stunning, bare rock cliffs that surround the river.

            Riding south from Kimberly, Highway 19 turns into a motorcycle rollercoaster with many twists and turns. We soon forgot the threatening skies over us as we focus on the road ahead.

            A quick stop at the dramatic Cathedral Rock for a photo, and again we were passed by several groups of Beemers heading to John Day. Highway 19 soon joins Highway 26 at Picture Gorge, named for the dramatic painted cliffs that close in on the river and us. We followed the John Day River on a smooth, graceful highway with flowing high speed curves. The Gorge opens up to verdant farmland, as each town we pass grows in size.

            We swept through Dayville, pausing only to get a bottle of cold milk and some chocolate. Thinking that all of the stations in John Day would be backed up with other riders, I stopped in Mt. Vernon for gas and take a walk into small town America. As I was filling up, I watched groups of Beemers coming and going on the road to John Day.

            Just as we entered John Day, we were with doused with heavy rain, but I hardly noticed the downpour. Not waiting to check into our motel, I followed the signs to the fairgrounds and the site of the Chief Joseph Rally. Traveling down a narrow residential street, I turned a corner and come to a stop as my eyes lit up. The Cliff of white BMW banners with a sea of brightly colored tents was stretched out before us. Meri and I paused to take it all in and then slowly followed the GPS up the street to our motel room before the next squall hits.

            Pulling into the motel, I am again surprised to see the parking lot filled with Beemers of all colors and models. Groups of riders cluster around bikes and on the second floor balcony, talking about things riders talk about at rallies. The streets are filled with small squads of riders coming and going through John Day.

            The next morning we awoke to the sound of engines revving. We meet the Robertsons for the Best Western's continental breakfast. Barry informed us that he needed to keep the adventure moving and was going to pass on the BMW rally. He and Lani were going to complete the scenic route to Baker City, then pick up part of the Elkhorn Drive Scenic Byway before returning via The Blue Mountain Scenic Byway and Highway 395. I really thought that he was tired of listening to the soft purr of several hundred Beemers and needed to get out and let his big Vulcan roar.

            From other riders we learn that eight miles of Highway 26, our route back to Bend, was in the process of being chip sealed. The gravel had been laid down on Friday but not oiled, and after heavy rain the gravel was working loose, not something that appealed to me while riding two up on a top heavy LT. When the Robertsons return, we discuss taking an alternate route. Several riders suggested that we take the remote route 63/112 that runs to the south of Highway 26.

            Sunday morning brings a forecast of heavy rain showers and possible snow in the pass above John Day. We decide to extend our stay another day and wait out the weather. All through the day, hundreds of bikes and vendors head out in different directions, leaving John Day to return to its quiet existence.

            Monday morning arrived with snow on the mountaintops. We loaded up our bikes and said goodbye to three riders from Medford/Ashland who were headed out for breakfast Ron Holzkamp and Ken Reeder riding matching blue K1 bikes and Gene Abell riding a maroon R1200RT.

            We climbed out of town on Highway 395, until the GPS told me to turn onto a very rural road designated Road 63. This route runs south of John Day and nearly parallel to the chip sealed Highway 26. The road passes through a one farm village named Izee and then on to Road 112, which passes the cow town of Paulina. Except for a five-mile stretch of rough pavement to Izee, the road was well maintained with wide open spaces crying out for speed. This was open range with the road surrounded by irrigated pasture and dotted with herds of cattle.

            The road was smooth with straight long stretches between sets of curves. I had the cruise control set on 80 mph and occasionally look into the rear view mirrors to pace with Barry and his Vulcan. You won't find any radar guns guarding the rural roads of Eastern Oregon's cow country.

            As we dropped into a small valley surrounded by green pastures, I could see groups of cows sitting on the side of the road, peacefully chewing their cuds. Suddenly I spotted dark green mounds dotting the road, and I realized we had hit a minefield of fresh cow pies. After safely navigating the gooey mess, we saw the one store town of Pauline ahead. Paulina was my idea of the perfect cow town, from its very cool little store filled with antlers and western motifs to the fire truck red outhouses located in the center of town. We spied Barry going into the outhouse clearly marked "WOMEN" and quickly rushed for our cameras to await his exit and take an embarrassing photo of a macho Vulcan biker.

            Highway 112 was a picturesque motorcycle road all the way to the outskirts of the very modern city of Prineville. It was a shocking contrast to pull into a slick shopping center for lunch, after days of traveling in another century. Back amidst the traffic and stoplights we decide to bypass Highway 97 and take the back road to Alfalfa before entering the city of Bend.

            We had reservations at McMenamin's Old St. Francis School in Bend's downtown district. What a great place to spend our last night! McMenamin's was once a Catholic school that was remodeled into an eclectic B&B, complete with a theater and several pub. The hotel brews more than 200 ales, in the school's basement that are piped directly to the pub's taps.

            Each of the B&B's rooms is named after someone from the school's past, including nuns, students and a priest who had to flee Ireland after being imprisoned for supporting the IRA. Our room was named after Mike Breen, a former student and the son of a sheepherder who lived in a tent near Alfalfa. According to his bio, being a charity case and small for his age, little Mike had to fight his way through every bully at the school before earning any respect. His wild eyes stared down on us from an oil painting that is hung on the wall near our bed. Getting tired of his crazy eyes, I tried to take the painting down, only to discover it is securely bolted to the heavy stud that supports the ceiling.

            The next morning we sadly loaded our bikes for the final ride. We decided to add another of Oregon's scenic byways to our route home. We turned west onto Hwy 372 as we left Bend and started to climb up the dark lava slopes of towering Mt. Bachelor. Highway 372 is designated The Cascade Lakes Scenic Byway. The route winds its way up to Dutchman Flat, giving a panoramic view of Broken Top and the Three Sisters, towering mountains in their own right. These mountains have often been the backdrop for Hollywood films like "Homeward Bound" and "Rooster Cogburn."

            The highway was long and straight as it flows through thin pine forests and past opaque lakes. The road connects with Highway 58, the route we took eight days earlier on our way to Westfir. At the Highway 58 junction, we turned east until we merged onto Highway 97. This time we continued south, turning onto Highway 62 at Fort Klamath and skirting the beautiful marshlands of Klamath Lake.

            It was late in the afternoon when we turned west onto Highway 140 and stared into a sinking sun. We turned off at the picturesque Lake of the Woods for dinner in its rustic log restaurant, while we wait for the sun to drop below the horizon. We left Lake of the Woods on the last light of the day. As I rode along in the dark I began to feel free and independent once again. I had been cut loose to wander solo until next year when that overpowering call, to rush to the Cliff takes hold of me again. See you in Redmond!

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276: The road to Mt. Bachelow and a view of the Three Sisters.

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