Wherever You Are, There You Are: Meandering in Southern Oregon and Northern California - Part 3

The experience over the Pacific Coast Ranges lingered in my mind as the bike danced along the 96 toward Hamburg. While this stretch of road was nice and curvy, it was also more heavily trafficked by the logging trucks that were clearing out the charred trees.  I recalled seeing many trees tagged with various colored ribbons as if they were being selected for removal.  Not knowing much about forestry and land management beyond the basics, and having never really thought about the restorative processes after a fire, this ignited my curiosity - and has since led me down an interesting rabbit hole of reading up on forestry, land management, and the responses and interventions conducted after severe fire events; interventions such as salvage logging.  To put it concisely: trees suffer varying degrees of death and injury from fires which doesn't always mean instant death. Some trees suffer critical injury but survive partially. The scope of tree injury and mortality is assessed over periods of time (sometimes months) following a fire in determining the potential for regrowth and the level of impediment that could be posed by invasive factors such as bark beetles and shrubs that can overtake the environment before trees can reseed and germinate. Trees that are dead or not likely to survive, are logged out. Whether or not humans should intervene at all is a subject of great debate. Some people believe you should just let the forest heal itself.

The knowledge I've gleaned so far is a bit much to expound upon without a major digression in this post, but it will undoubtedly shape my attitudes toward the lands I visit and the way I experience forests from this point forward. It also takes me back to a trip I did last year to the Alabama Hills, where I camped out of Lone Pine and visited the Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest during some explorations in the White Mountains (absolutely stunning, by the way).  I was enamored with it then, and my newfound knowledge has only enlightened my fascination and respect for forestry.  This is what I love about getting lost in the world; the way my experiences draw me away from the mundane and challenge me to feed my knowledge.

Charred bark on a tree in Oregon - kinda looks like scabs over fresh skin.

The stretch along the 96 slowly came back to life with greens as I approached my turnoff for a little road toward Scottys Bar.  Scott River road gradually worked its way into a narrow single lane that reminded me of Highway 229 in Santa Margarita; very narrow with ranches and cabin homes lining the path through the mountains. It was narrow enough to have to pull over or back up to allow oncoming traffic to pass.  The KTM flung fairly easily from side to side as I channeled her inner supermoto but our fun was cut a hair short when I caught up to a truck and we spent the remainder of the time chugging along in low gear down the last mile or so of the road left before the 3. 

Wherever You Are, There You Are: Meandering in Southern Oregon and Northern California - Part 2

It pains me to read of the fire situation in Oregon right now. Time is a funny thing, especially when you travel. It seems like just yesterday I was riding through that section and it was cold, cloudy and rainy. Now it is dry and being ravaged by fires. I recently saw some AP photos that were so devastatingly stunning. As a disaster responder and crisis worker, seeing coverage of these events always hits a little differently knowing the impact and toll it takes on people who are the most effected by the losses they endure to these events. Especially as I mentally prepare to set off on the typed recollection Part 2 of my adventure. When I look back on that section of my ride, its hard to imagine fire standing a chance against all of that moisture. But the storm eventually passed, and once I made it out of the rain I emerged into an otherwise crisp, beautiful Tuesday morning. There was very little traffic on the backroads and I made fairly decent time through the forests and down toward Grants Pass. I took a quick opportunity to snap a photo of Cascade Gorge and then cruised the rest of the way on little roads that paralleled the main freeways. These roads took me through little towns and I smiled as I rode through Grants Pass, as it will forever hold a special place in my heart as a brief home during my childhood. I still fondly remember playing in those trees, watching dad fish in the Rogue River, and eating blackberries right off the bush. To my surprise, the little corner store is still standing... as is my old elementary school. Then again, maybe it wasn't so long ago.

Cascade Gorge

The rest of the ride from Grants Pass to Cave Junction was fairly uneventful and a little more trafficked.  I cruised along as the KTM hummed beneath me.  A few towns, a near miss with an old lady in a truck, and a couple of Bigfoot Billboards later and I was sitting at a Chevron double checking and triple checking the route I mapped, the weather radar, and the most recent road conditions.  Radar was indicating some decent clouds up at the top of the Pacific Coast Ranges along Greyback Road, but nothing appeared to be an impediment.  This trip was the first run with my new Rev'it gear setup and I'll have more to report on my overall experience at the end of this writeup.  But for now I'll say I was feeling pretty confident. 

As I started the ascent up Greyback Road, I arrived at a barricade at the entry point.  The barricades were half in the roadway, but the rest of the blockades had been moved revealing quite an opening.  I took that as an all-clear to proceed and off I went. When I had mapped the route, I saw tons of images of lush green forests. This became my expectation, which was quickly uprooted by reality. 

Klamath National Forest, After the Slater Fire of 2020

As mentioned, we are not strangers to fire devastation.  I live in an area that is regularly hit pretty hard by fires and I've seen firsthand the unique culture of trauma and resilience of people who live in these areas.  However, the further I went up Greyback road, the more desolate and eerily still this once lush forest was. I didn't see a single person or animal the entire way until my descent into Happy Camp, and as I reached a crest along the peak, the view was of a horizon of hundreds of thousands of acres of charred and dying trees.  It was humbling and it made my heart heavy. Nature is as vicious as she is mighty and beautiful. My idea to deviate from the pavement onto some fire roads was thwarted by bright signage indicating the instability of the landscape due to the fire damage and unsettled ground (the recent rains probably didn't help). So I spent the next 15-20 miles silently taking in the sights and smells of seemingly abandoned forests before I finally came down into a work camp of Cal Trans Crews who were staged near Happy Camp, working tirelessly to clear out the devastation. 

The View from the Top...

Once I arrived in Happy Camp, I stopped to snap a pic with a Bigfoot Statue at an apparently abandoned gas station.  There I was greeted by a couple of Cal Trans guys, and a local CHP officer who had many questions about the bike. The CHP officer asked if the gates were open on the Oregon side and my response was: "Well, there was an opening wide enough for a truck to fit through so I interpreted that as an invitation."  He smiled.  I smiled nervously and we all went back to talking about bikes before they threw me a few recommendations for routes to avoid the summer tourists and I went on my way.

Wherever You Are, There You Are: Meandering in Southern Oregon and Northern California - Part 1

All Quiet on the Western Front...
Bend, OR Sunrise

It was 5 in the morning and the sky was already glowing. I had spent a few days with my friend at her ranch in Oregon and I was set to make my way back home on a solo motorcycle adventure. I took my time sipping coffee, watching the cows graze, and tying up loose ends in my luggage before strapping everything to the bike. In the days prior to my departure I had been tracking the weather, traffic and construction events and hoping that my timing would be well enough for all of the circumstance to fall in my favor.  Upon last glance, the storm was set to move on by just in time for me to make a clean break, but as we all know Murphy has laws and fortune favors the brave, so off I went. As I made my way out of her driveway the skies slowly opened into a gentle cascade of rain that fell on me for 2 hours. For much of the way I was actually smiling in my helmet. The KTM and her tires were handling the rain with every bit of grace and stability that allowed me to coast along at 70.  My gear was keeping me dry and, even though I got a couple of chills, it felt nice not to be in the 110 degree temps that were in store for me at home. And lets face it: the Pacific Northwest isn't the same if you haven't been escorted out by one of her characteristic showers. My first stop was meant to be Crater Lake, but upon arrival it was covered in clouds and a drizzle so I opted to keep moving and only stop for pictures at the first respite from the drizzle and haze.

Rogue-Umpqua Divide National Forest

The Motorcycle Through The Trees:
Rogue-Umpqua Divide Forest

Last year, during a similar solo trip, I came to appreciate how much of our landscape is national forests.  As such, on this trip I made a game of making note of at least 6 different National Forests or National forest areas that I would meander through.  As much as this was originally envisioned to be a coastal trip, the mountains were calling... and I went. As much as it was a mapped out adventure, there were also detours down the rabbit hole of inquiries that arise in the mind and heart of one who comes to witness nature in some of its rawest forms in any given moment.