30 July 2017
The morning was somewhat overcast as I headed east(!) on US2--I hadn't checked the weather, not that it mattered, but it soon cleared to flawless blue.
I was somewhat apprehensive about traffic--US2 is part of the "Cascade Loop," generally clogged on the weekends, but it wasn't bad until I got to Leavenworth, where it backed up at every light, most of which took two cycles to get through.
After clearing that, I thought to check for fuel ahead--there was some in Peshastin, then not again until well beyond my RTE. Peshastin it is, then...except it wasn't, couldn't find the alleged station--so back to Leavenworth. As I approached and was confronted by a line of traffic waiting for the first stoplight I changed my mind again, and searched for fuel anywhere, finding a Shell station a half mile east of my proposed turn south--so not 'on my route!' (Except I had put a waypoint there, anticipating this eventuality, then forgot about it.)
South on US97 through the Wenatchee National Forest, a gorgeous ride through spectacular scenery, and fairly well-behaved traffic...the really slow stuff taking the turnouts, and the rest moving at least close to the speed limit, and regularly passable on lanes designated for such.
All good things come to an end, though, and forest gave way to desert, and a chunk of I-90/82 down to Yakima, continuing on 97 to the Colombia River crossing at Maryhill, into Oregon. Where I do the speed limit. Always. Even when local traffic passes me.
When the low fuel light comes on, I check and there's a station ahead in Grass Valley, then not another for 55 miles. Except there wasn't--there were concrete barriers around what used to be a station. There was a fuel station if you had a Co-op card, which didn't do me much good, and the town looked very empty. There was an open knick-knack business, that claimed rest roooms, which I needed. There was nobody inside, but wandering around brought me to a garden where a garrulous oldster pointed to the outhouse. I asked about fuel; he sympathized, then noted that there was a racetrack two miles to the east, running bikes on Sunday, and they would sell me gas. Beats returning 20+ miles to the river, so east I go, tiptoe down the gravel entrance road toward a couple of tanks a guy is walking toward. Fortunately there's a concrete pad next to them, so I park and he says he'll take cash, credit, etc. I've got a $10 bill tucked into a 'Stitch pocket, he consults a chart and says that'll get me 1.8 gallons of "92 clear," hands me the hose and I start pumping--I can't see the gauge very well, overshoot to 1.9, and he consults his chart again and wants $10.45. Geeze...I have to dig out my purse, but do have exact change, fortunately. Back to 97 and south again.
Excellent mileage on that stuff--the bike's computer says 52 mpg, and even after I fill up with normal gas in Madras it's still high-40s. (Since the last time I rode in Oregon, they've changed the law to allow 'motorcycles and classic cars' to fill their own vehicles.)
All that time wasting has me looking for end of day stuff before I'd hoped--the timing is good for Bend, and there's a Days Inn next to a grocery. Before I get to the Days Inn, there's an older looking motel, so I pull in. He wants $160--on a Sunday! "There's lots of concerts and stuff..." Suspecting everybody else is going to be at least that, I continue south to La Pine and a Best Western. Commiserating with the clerk gets the rate down; it's still over $100, but I'm not going out again. It's a nice place, big room, and the whole place feels kind of old-fashioned. Groceries across the street, and I'm done.
Motel: $114.24
Groceries: $13.04
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