Peenie Wallie: Day 2 - Craig, CO to Diamondville, WY (Sun 7/20/14)

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July 20, 2014

Day 2 - Craig, CO to Diamondville, WY (Sun 7/20/14)

(Additional Photos in the Extended Entry.)

7/20/14

I am alive and well and resting peacefully in Diamondville, WY.

Starting Odometer: 14,969.0
Ending Odometer 15,295.0
Miles Driven Today 326.0
Miles Driven This Trip: 643.7

Max Speed: 112 mph
Times stopped by police: 0
Injuries: N/A
Near accidents: Drifted across the enter line a few times. Drove 90 mph through a rainstorm outside of Diamondville on a road covered in tar snakes. Going 80 though a 50 mph curve, my additional 2 gallon gas tank slid off the seat, nearly melting against the muffler.

Here's a map of roughly where I drove today. Basically west along US Highway 40 to Vernal Utah, then right in Vernal to the Flaming Gorge National Recreation Area. Then north to I-80 on US 191 to I 80. Then West on I-80 to exit 66 to Diamondville, WY. The reason I came this way is that I want to go up the Star Valley tomorrow. Haven't seen it in a long time.

Task Avoidance
In the morning, I wake up madder at the motorcycle than a wet hen. Why won't the fucking gas tank work?

I've never really tried to do anything in this life. I've been very fortunate in that, my life has been very easy, and I've never really tried to do anything. In school, my teachers used to admonish me. "You're the smartest kid we've ever seen and you won't even make an effort to get good grades. Albert doesn't have near the ability you have, but he works harder and gets better grades."

"Yeah. Good for him."

So, that's sort of always been my life. Just sleep-walking through this world. And I have an issue with task avoidance. I tend to avoid tasks that I don't deem desirable for whatever reason. I suspect that we all do this, but I don't know why. I really don't.

And the odd thing is that doing the things we don't want to makes us better people, somehow. I never thought that Jennifer would be happier working, than not working. But getting up, going into work, talking to other people. It's what we were designed to do, I think.

A sword is forged in a furnace. It doesn't want to go into the furnace, but the furnace changes it into something different. We are this way also. Our experiences forge our character.

And task avoidance just leads us down this meandering stream to nowhere. Yet we all do it. For reasons that aren't clear to me.

Recently, I did try to do one thing. I tried to move my Peenie Wallie web server off of an old XP machine and onto a new Windows 7 server. The task was enormously complicated, and a task I put off for a great amount of time. Let's say 5 years. Because I knew it was going to be a royal pain in the ass and I didn't want to deal with it.

So, finally, I decided to migrate to the new box. I ran into problem after problem after problem, but I kept working at it for a period of several weeks. I worked on it every day for about a month. Each day, I took notes on the progress I made, technical issues I ran into, and how I attempted to solve them. Many times, I went down the wrong path, and had to backtrack. But finally I was successful at the project.

What surprised me about the project was that I realized that making mistakes was part of the process. Making mistakes on a daily basis and backtracking was, in fact, part of the solution to the problem. Because it means that you're trying. I always had felt that, if you didn't know how to do it, then you shouldn't try. And if you made mistakes then you were a moron, and that much more reason to drop the process entirely.

But what I came to see was that testing, experimenting, and backtracking are, in fact, part of the process. They are the forge that makes the sword. This was an enlightening experience for me.

So now, as I'm facing this fucking motorcycle nightmare in the parking lot of the hotel, it occurs to me that I don't know what's wrong with the bike, but there's only one way to fix it. The KTM dealer in Vernal, Utah is closed today, even though it's a Saturday. So I have to solve this problem. Or I have to tuck my tail between my legs and go home crying like a little baby saying it was too hard or something.

And, even though I don't really understand how the fuel system works on a KTM 990 Adventure, the process of solving it looks like this: 1) Tear it all apart in the parking lot 2) Make sure that the tank has gas in it and that it will, in fact, drain out through the fuel petcock. 3) Make sure that there aren't any fuel hoses that you forgot to reattach.

Now, the people that designed the KTM motorcycle should be found, corralled, and hogtied. Their skin should be pulled from their carcasses the way a man skins a catfish. And they should then be soaked in rubbing alcohol. And then the process should be repeated for the people that designed the Owner's Manual.

There is no excuse for the poor attention to design of the bike, or to the documentation in the manual.

The directions are the same for reinstalling the front right side cover and front left side cover. The front Left Side Cover had 2 vent lines to connect. But on the Front Right Side Cover,

So, I can't figure it out, but I to tear it all down, make sure fuel is coming out of the petcock, and reassemble everything. Then, I start brainstorming other solutions: 1) Call a KTM dealership. The one in Vernal, Utah is inexplicably closed. 2) Post on ADVRIder and ask for help with this issue. 3) Buy a gas can and carry extra gas 4) get a siphon hose so I have to siphon the right fuel tank on the road.

So, I took a shotgun approach to solve the problem, and i was very proud of myself for doing this. For not just packing it all in and saying "forget it". Oddly, riding down the road with a 2 gallon gas can behind me didn't really change the ride noticeably. The gas can is far enough back on the seat that I have to scoot back to touch it. And it essentially negates my fuel issue. If I can get the fuel tank working, it actually adds greatly to my range on this trip.

It's 120 miles to Vernal, so that will be a good test of whether the right tank is working or not. I can usually go 120 miles on each tank, roughly.

I picked up a travel-size container of sunscreen at Wal-mart, and put this on at the gas station before I leave town. Too hot to be wearing gloves, and I don't want the skin to peel off the back of my hands. But now, as I'm rolling out of Craig, it's cloudy. I always feel like I'm ready to fight the last war, but never the new one. The sunscreen on my hands is useless as I fight this insane storm coming in. Wind blowing me all over the road so that, I honestly feel as if it might blow me off the road. Very dangerous high winds. I'm running about 80-90 mph. Trying to stay on the road. Drops of rain fall on me occasionally, but you look around and you're like..."seriously? this is a freaking desert...how much rain can they get out here?"

As I roll out of Craig, Colorado, it gets drier and drier as I go west. The trees seem to cling to the river now, as I follow the Yampa River west. Gradually, the land flattens out and becomes more arid, and I realize I'm in the desert again.

Cross over into Utah, and now at the Green River. Suddenly, the mormons have everything irrigated and growing farms again from the Green River, I'm sure. But it's nice. A welcome change. Now rolling into Vernal Utah. Vernal has a main street lined with American Flags and countless pots of flowers hanging from the lamp posts. Really stunning. Stop and talk to a guy on a BMW street bike. He says he has a 7 gallon tank and gets 42-44 mpg.

Now, in Vernal, I notice that my fuel light hasn't come on. I don't really know where to go, but I see signs for the Flaming Gorge. Matt told me to go through the Flaming Gorge. And this is what you live for. Advice from people on the road.

Normally, I don't really talk to strangers, because I figure that the juice isn't worth the squeeze. Like, most people are so stupid that's you don't want to get involved with them, because they're only going to hold you back. But now that I'm on the road, I find that it's nice to talk to people, so I try to strike up conversations with complete strangers. I hand them my little business cards that explains my trip, etc.

And, for people working in the gas stations, some of them really get it. Some of them are completely excited for my little adventure. But it's nice for me because I get to actually speak to someone, which is not something I'd normally do, which brings us back to the task avoidance issue.

At Vernal, I turn right, heading up to the Flaming Gorge, without getting any gas. The road winds uphill, with the scenery getting greener and greener. Now, I see Aspen trees, with shiny green leaves. And I'm thinking...what does this place remind me of? Cripple Creek! This place looks exactly like the mountains around Cripple Creek and Victor back in Colorado.

Beautiful, but makes you wonder why you left, really. Climbing up this hill, now descending into the Flaming Gorge. Beautiful winding road through the green lush mountains. Finally, a turn to the Flaming Gorge Recreation Area and a gas station just as my fuel light comes on at 150 miles.

So, this puzzles me a bit. The fuel light shouldn't come on at 150 miles. It should come on at 200 miles, not 150 miles. But this does clearly mean that I'm getting some fuel from the right tank. At most the left fuel tank would only let me go 125 miles. So, I'm sort of confused by this. But I fill up at the gas station...both tanks are empty. This is a good sign, imho. Although I'm still confused by my gas mileage. It must be much lower due to the extra weight. I'm get 40 mpg instead of 45. Possibly this is right.

Now, rolling along this amazing reservoir, across the spillway day with massive dam. As we take Highway 191 north, away from the reservoir, through this winding beautiful road, and this is the best part of the trip for me, I think. Always, at some part of the day, I think...this is the most amazing ride I'm on and I'm so happy to be here. For me, this is the Flaming Gorge. A beautiful scenic winding road twisting through the mountains, past the reservoir, and through the hills beyond.

Now, the land quickly becomes more arid again. I never really know how to get to Yellowstone from Denver. There's so many ways to go, but always you have to spend a good deal of time int the desert, it seems. Not that the desert is bad. The desert is beautiful in its own way.

I don't have a compass on my bike, per se. I'd like to have a separate compass, like a ship has, so that I can glance and tell which direction I'm heading. The signs point to Rock Springs, Wyoming, but I want to make sure I'm going North and not East. I've been going west for so long, out into the desert, and it keeps getting hotter and hotter. It is July, after all. And it occurs to me that I need to stop going West, and start going North.

Pull over, check my iPhone, taped over my brick/Gamin Montana 600 P.O.S., and see that 191 does, in fact, run pretty much due North into I-80. So I keep rolling north. I decide to open it up and run triple digits, just to remember how it feels, and now I see some cars pulled over up ahead at an overlook. I'm sure one of them is a pig, but it isn't. That was a close one. I really don't want to go to jail.

Now, I'm driving north in 191, going into a curve going 80 mph. Signs says 50 mph is more advisable, and I feel the back tire slip a little. Noticably. Not a good feeling, but I'm not sure what just happened. The brain is trying to piece it all together. Reach behind me, to find the fuel tank not resting not he seat where it was 4 seconds ago. Turn back to look for the gas can. Big hill where it might have gone over. But can't see it. Turn around to find it hanging on the side of the bike by the strap, against the hot exhaust pipe. If that exhaust pipe melts through the plastic gas tank, I'm going to be fucked in a big way. Riding a meteor of burning gas/motorcycle combination.

Somehow, I get stopped, get the gas tank off of the exhaust pipe. Now, I asses the way I had the gas tank strapped down. Make some adjustments to the rigging, and go along my way.

At some point, I cross back into Wyoming.

At I-80, I see that Rock Springs is east 10 miles (the wrong way). I've always wanted to go to Rock Springs, as that's where Matt and them go ride 4 wheelers in the sand. But I don't want to drive 10 miles the wrong direction. I'm tired. It's nearly dark. I got away so late today from the town of Craig due to my motorcycle tear-down. If I'm going to get in 300 miles today, then I've got to keep moving, and not in the wrong direction.

Head West down I-80 towards Kemmerer, WY.

Now, it's about 8:00 in the evening. Not much saying left. I'll have to ride I-80 west for a short distance...maybe 20 miles or so...to get to my exit 66 for Kremmerer, WY. Rolling west on I-80, I see a massive storm ahead. No chance of driving around it. Stop and put on all of my gear. Pack the cameras away. Pack all of the electronics away...put on my Frogg Toggs...just the cheapest rain gear money can buy, but also very light, thin, and effective.

Now, rolling west on I-80...bring on the storm...take exit 66, rolling west now on US 30. The storm will be upon me at any moment. Cars emerging from the storm clean and shiny. Headlights on. Windshield washers on high. This will be like driving through a car wash for 40 miles. It's going to suck in a big way.

The winds pick up, batting me about on the open highway. I hunker down and watch the odometer on the bike. Only 40 miles to go. I can drive through a 40 mile rainstorm, right? It starts raining on me...raining so hard it's coming inside my visor. Apparently, the visor isn't sealed very good against the helmet. It's a new visor I put on for the trip.

Matt like to take everything out for a shakedown cruise before he goes off on a long adventure. I'm sure that's what smarter people do. I tend to just make all the changes, hit the road, and figure it all out on the highway in the motel parking lots. I'm sure his way is better, but I wanted to get on the road.

So now, water is coming inside my visor, and I'm hunkered down as low as I can get, watching for the road through the blinding rain. Honestly, I can barely see the road. I'm going 90 mph. My theory being that, the faster I go, the sooner I get out of this nightmare.

After about 20 miles, the rain lets up, and I roll into what I think is Kemmerer, WY. Turns out I'm in Diamondville, WY. Close enough. Find a cheap motel for the night and crash. I've got to keep my expenses down on this trip. Can't be staying in fancy places.

Photos in the Extended Entry.