Why Ian is still in Salt Lake City

Ethanol gasoline. To elaborate:

Well aware that winter is upon me and not wanting to be stuck in north Utah, I planned on 4 to 5 days here. I was told I could stay as long as I want, no worries, no problem and all that but I really wanted to get out of here before any major snow hit. I realized my bike needed it's 16k mile service, so I brought it in my third day here and got it back on my fourth.

Andy was leaving for 3 days and I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye, so I decided to stick around until he got back. Meanwhile, I got my bike back from it's service, and put it in the garage. The next day, as I went to saddle up, the whole garage reeked of gasoline.

There was no wet spot under my bike so I figured some gas maybe got moved around and spilled on part of it while they were adjusting the choke cable or something. I figured I'd ride it for 20 minutes to let it air out to see if the smell goes away.

It didn't. That's trouble. I could even smell the gas while riding. That's big trouble. So I bring my bike back in to the dealer. After about 5 minutes they bring me over with a flashlight to look up close at my engine. All of the seals on the carb heads have deteriorated and are leaking gasoline. It's pretty obvious looking at it up close, it just didn't occur to me to examine it.

They asked if I'd been using ethanol gas from the beginning of this trip and said that was probably the cause.

Simply put: Ethanol gas is bad for your engine . Stabilizer helps reduce the problems inherent in ethanol gas. I learned this in Maryland, and started acting on it in North Carolina by adding stabilizer every time I filled up (my bike already had over 12,000 miles worth of ethanol gas run through it).

I stopped using the stabilizer in New Mexico. While I was in Roswell, I started to wonder if I really needed to be dropping all this money in the highest octane gasoline. It was about 40 cents a gallon more than mid-grade, so if I could have been getting away with putting mid-grade gasoline in my bike, I could have saved myself around $110 on this trip so far. So I decided, rather than the 91 octane here, I was going to put in 88.

Big mistake. My bike just started making all sorts of complaining noises as soon as I set out for Santa Fe. Filling up on 91 (which is the high grade out here) after running her down only barely helped, so I had to buy Octane booster. I didn't know if it was ok to add the octane boost and the stabilizer. I figure, the less chemicals you're adding to gasoline, the better so I'll just put in the octane booster and after a couple of tanks, I'll go back to the stabilizer.

The octane boost worked great as far as getting my engine to sound right again. She might have even had less popping than back in New York.

I ran through about 5 tanks with the octane booster and then switched back to the stabilizer in Moab.

Now the damage is done and it's 1 of three causes:
1) Ethanol in gasoline is really bad for rubber parts in your fuel system. This is what the people who sell stabilizer will tell you.

2) Octane booster is really bad for the rubber parts in your engine. I don't think anyone will claim to know one way or the other.

3) Stabilizer, while good for preventing oxygenation of fuel that goes unburned for long periods of time and preventing moisture from building up in the tank, is actually really bad for the rubber parts in your engine. This is the opposite of what people who sell stabilizer will tell you.

When I return home from this trip, I'll try and look into this. Maybe I'll get to do my research in California so I'll know for the second half of my trip.

Meanwhile the work estimate came out to over $750, but before I told them to put the work in on my bike, I spent several hours there considering other options.

I test rode several bikes, mainly out of curiosity, but there was a bike, a Honda Shadow VLX whose price was pretty much the same as they were offering as trade in value for my Valkyrie.





It handled great, as a mid-size cruiser it had enough power that I wouldn't feel the need for more, it's engine struck a better note than the Valkyrie's, typically it gets better mileage than the Valkyrie, it probably can use lower grade gasoline without complaining, and they said if I wanted to trade in my Valkyrie I could just ride it home and we need not exchange any money. That would even leave me with almost $800 that I didn't have to spend repairing the Valk.

I asked them to measure the mounting space on the Valkyrie bags vs. the VLX to see if maybe I could bolt the Valk's larger saddle bags to the VLX. They wouldn't fit, but the VLX did look like it could hold the vast majority of my luggage, and with some creative packing or possibly using a fraction of the unspent repair money to purchase larger saddle bags, it might have been able to hold everything I had.

This was the sensible thing to do. Strip the GPS mount and heated gear hookup off my Valk, attach them to this perfectly fine motorcycle, and ride off into the sunset.

I've wanted to ride motorcycles all my life. As a kid, I would always pretend my bicycle was a motorcycle. In the fall of 2001, I did not yet have my motorcycle license and had never ridden a motorcycle, though I knew that I soon would. It was then that I first saw a Valkyrie and it stole my heart. It was love at first sight. One day, I would own that bike. That was when I started saving up for one.

For the next 6 years every scrap of money I made that didn't have to go to some bill or another, I saved tenaciously to put toward my eventual Valkyrie. Sure I spent money to have fun, but not particularly expensive fun. I certainly didn't take up any expensive hobbies. The Valkyrie was always in the background.

During those 6 years of saving I would photoshop different paint schemes onto a Valkyrie, and think up different customization projects and ideas that would turn this bike into the most beautiful creation ever to grace the pavement.

In 2007, I had enough money, I found one that had extremely low mileage on it, and I bought it. To me, that was an accomplishment. It really was the only material goal that I had.

Now as I said, it would have been sensible to ride away on that VLX, but as I was considering it, and before I could say "Ok, I'll take that VLX.", I could feel my heart breaking. The Valkyrie may not be the bike for me, and I don't like saying that, but the thought of not finishing this trip on it made me feel like I was giving up. I just may sell this bike when I return home, but I'll be damned if I don't make it all the way back on the Valkyrie.

So I told them to order the parts, and fix it. That was Saturday, November 20.

Turns out the parts are on backorder and are expected to come in this Wednesday.

Ok now since this blog was so wordy, here are some context free shots from around the area:

Introspective Essay #2

"There is a madness needed to touch the gods, yes, this is true. Few mortals possess it, the willingness to step away from the protection of sanity. To walk into the wild woods of madness..."

I am 27 years old.

I have embarked on a journey to see this country, and all my friends therein.

I travel alone, on a motorcycle.

I have been on the road for almost 6 months, longer than I predicted I could be, and am less than halfway through this tour.

There is nothing particularly impossible about this journey, and while I have seen amazing things and been amazing places, what I have done and what I do is not out of anyone's grasp. It is merely uncommon. A thing not done. Does that make me "crazy"? At the very least I am not "normal".

I regularly entrust my person and my belongings to strangers (though I have it on good authority that the strangers who soon become my friends are trustworthy and hospitable folk). Sad to say there are many to whom that does render me reckless at the least.

The only remarkable thing I have done on this trip, or not done as it were, is that it has been five and a half months and I have yet to pay a single cent in lodging.

I quit my job to start the voyage, I have made precious little money on the road, but essentially I have staggered all over this country bleeding money everywhere.

I am going to have to get a job through the winter to finance the rest of this trip, which is preferable anyway because it is very uncomfortable to ride a motorcycle through the cold gray of winter. Having hopefully made my money in the spring, I'll set out again and continue to hemorrhage my savings until I return to the home of my parents.

I have been educated in the science of computers. I can do much with them. Though my skill and knowledge are admittedly a little rusty in many areas, I have at one time been educated in just about every aspect of computers and can learn it all again fairly quickly. Programming, software design, software testing, building computers, setting up networks...etc. Yet almost 6 months ago to this post, I walked away from my "career".

Walked away from my position staunchly planted in front of a monitor, plying my trade, and proceeded to enjoy every moment of every day; to leap from ledges high and wild with hardly any regard for what was or may be, but much and more for what now is. To seek out something far greater than myself.

Home and lodging. Where one returns to and where one lay's one's head. I don't rent my living space and I certainly don't own any. And where I am is in the company of generous family and friends old and new who do one or the other. And there I am laying down a long trail of all I manage to save. I live on other people's kindness and hospitality, for which I am ever grateful. People who have carved out a space for themselves in this world and share it with me. And I remain transient, flowing like water from place to place.

Yet I think this is the best way to exist. I think everyone should travel and see as much of the world as they can but I am only even able to do what I am doing because there are so many people who are not. I am living on other people's responsibility.

Does this make me ::gasp:: a "deadbeat"?

I certainly can't claim to contribute much to society overall. The only skill I can say I cultivated in my free time, outside of my "career path" has been drawing little cartoon turtles.



It doesn't come in handy much.

Salt Lake City

I have been in Salt Lake City for a little over a week now.

Andy and Lisa took me hiking on Antelope Island, which is something of a wildlife preserve out on the lake.

It is a home where the buffalo roam:




And the deer


AND the antelope play!


And of course don't forget the box turtles!


HAHA! "Box turtles"! I'm hilarious!

I also went to Hill aerospace museum.



It has a large collection of planes and contains a comprehensive history of planes in the military of the United States. Worth checking out, especially since it's free.

Have you ever seen a large plane up close and in person before?



It is kind of mind boggling how these great metal titans actually get up in the air, carrying hundreds of pounds of cargo no less. Propeller planes I mean. Most people know jet engines are magic. But those propellers, doing nothing but pushing air, manage to give that plane the speed it needs to generate lift and carry it through the sky. It is kind of just a little amazing.

I went hiking in Little Cottonwood Canyon (I think).



There is a lot of hiking available in Salt Lake City and it is all very pretty.

When I returned form my hike there was a covey (that's what a group of quail is called for all you trivia-nighters) of quail in my host's driveway!



I've never seen a quail in person before. They are adorable.

People have told me not to miss the temple at the center of town. It's supposed to be a very impressive and beautiful building, so I went to the temple to take some pictures.

It is, in a word, a building.


I don't think I have the right eye for architecture. I have never much appreciated the temples of man. I always just see a great and impressive effort and determination of dubious purpose and seemingly misguided intent. Perhaps it's not that I don't appreciate architecture, but my disdain of organized religion that sours me on it. I begrudge no man their faith as long as they do not begrudge me mine, but the organization of religion I find often gets people's moral compass all screwed up, and acts as a divisive force overall.


Meanwhile, on Antelope Island, there are rocks that look like bacon:



But do not try and eat them. They do NOT taste like bacon.

The race is lost, winter wins, and everything is beautiful.

Apparently, one can boat-hitch-hike. Hanging out at Free Meal, discussing our plans for the immediate future, some of the people are going to try to hitch a ride to Hawaii. Intrigued by the concept of hitch hiking on a boat, we started talking about it and now the plan is for 5 of us or so to attempt to get to Hawaii in the upcoming weeks.

Lacking anything better to do that night, a few of us decided to go on a "tub-crawl". Starting at one end of town we get in to a hotel's hot tub, and if they kick us out for not being guests, we just move to the next one.

We get to the first one and it was a cool setting but it was more of a tepid tub than a hot tub.



After standing around in it for about 15 minutes, we decided to just move on to the next one. Not before I grabbed a free cookie from the front desk though.

The next hot tub was a jackpot. The water was so wonderfully hot, it was outside, and it was right next to a pool. I did not go into the pool because every time I felt it was time to cool off, I'd stand up, and then not feel the need to jump in 50 degree water.



Moon-bathing?


We also never got kicked out until they had to close the pool area down. So we sat in this awesomely hot hot tub for about 3 hours. It was also right next to a Denny's.

From left to right: Me, Paul, Isaac, and Jen.


Isaac and Jen are two of the people boat hitch-hiking to Hawaii so hopefully I'll see more of them.

The next day I promised to give a friend a ride down to visit her sister in Sedona, AZ. After just beating a storm out of Moab, we embarked on a chilly but not unbearably cold 6 hour ride and didn't quite make it. Just outside of Flagstaff, we started getting rained on hard. It was a serious rainstorm and when I saw lightning, I pulled into a lone gas station.

"Does your sister have a car? Because we can't ride through this..."

So we waited in the gas station for about an hour while her sister came to pick her up, and then I continued on to Williams, AZ where I spent the night.

The ride back from Williams, once the sun had set, was the coldest I have ever ridden in. It was about 29 degrees and while my heated gear was going to prevent hypothermia, it occurred to me I may actually get frostbite on my fingers and toes. It felt like I was standing barefoot in ice-water and holding ice, but I wasn't shivering. HotHands air activated heat packs saved my phalanges! I had happened to pick some up with my new sleeping bag just in case and had them in my bike. An hour and a half from Moab, I pulled over, opened up 4 of them, and put them in my socks and gloves. The ones in my socks only lasted about 45 minutes for some reason. The ones in my gloves lasted until I got back to my Moab couch, threw them in my sleeping bag, and were still hot the next morning about 9 hours later.

Wednesday, my friend Chris took me for a hike into Fiery Furnace. He's an avid canyoneer and climber and he said Fiery Furnace is his favorite place on earth. It is truly a mind blowing experience to be in there. It's a huge mess of rock fins and spires that claw at the heavens. There are guided hikes in there, but he likes to go in by himself and go off the beaten trail.

First we stopped to fill our water bottles at Matrimony Springs, which is a natural sandstone filtered freshwater spring by the side of the road.



There used to be a pipe coming out of that hole off to the right but a short while ago the FDA decided that as an unregulated water source, it could be unsanitary and ordered the removal of the pipe. So now it just bubbles forth from the rock itself.

Fresh spring water is like the heel of civilization, and the FDA decided it is not ok to provide people with that. Guess how effective removing the pipe was at stopping people from drinking there.

Off we went into the furnace:










Legend has it, Chris told me, that the spring is cursed. Anyone who drinks from the spring will not be able to get Moab out of their head and will have to return one day.

"Sounds like more of a blessing than a curse" I said.

Moab is something else. I have to pick and choose which things I see in this area because even if I lived here for a year, and every day sought some amazing thing to see, I would not ever fail in seeking it. The beauty of everything around is both humbling and uplifting. The place just seems to resonate tranquility, and that tranquility echoes through the hearts and minds of everyone here. Something great and wonderful sleeps in Moab and if you get nothing else from my writing, heed this message:

Get to Moab at least once in your life. Stay for a week.

I believe Johnny M put it best:
“Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in where nature may heal and cheer and give strength to the body and soul.” - John Muir

The next day, I rode from Moab to Sandy which is just outside of Salt Lake City. I think I rode through colder coming from Williams, AZ to Moab, but it was cold and it occurred to me that Winter is truly here. Once again I relied on those heat packs in my boots.

I'm staying with a friend and former employer of mine. It's a great skiing area and here too, is beauty. This is the view from the kitchen:



There's not a whole lot of incentive to leave here but I'll keep rolling on soon enough.

Dancin' in the desert.

So my one of my new friends here in Moab left Moab today, and wanted to have a big party the night before she left. So: Dance party in the desert!



We went out to Looking Glass Rock, where they hooked up an ipod, a couple of speakers and a sub-woofer to a portable generator, and lit a big fire. It was bring your own everything. Some people brought drums and we apparently had some really great drummers there, and some others brought fire-spinning equipment and while everybody else was down around the fire, climbed up high on the rock and swung fire around really fast while the drummers played and everyone howled in pure tribal elation. It was probably the coolest party I've ever been to. It's probably the coolest party I can imagine. Rockin' out on the rock, under more stars than you have ever seen.

Most people brought sleeping bags and spent the night there. I didn't really feel like doing that so I headed out around 12:30 this morning. It was still an awesome time though. Glad I went despite the not yet healed wound from last week.

The best part of waking up...

I don't consider myself an adrenaline junkie. I will maintain that the perfect way to begin a day is soaking in a natural hot spring.

However, a damn close second is by jumping out of a plane at 10,000 feet.

What is it that exists in that moment between life and death that draws the gaze of the otherwise perfectly healthy?

It was amazing. I have wanted to go skydiving for over 10 years and this morning, I finally did it in one of the most stunningly beautiful landscapes I've ever seen.

I don't have pictures but my parents can expect a dvd of my experience to show up in the mail.

Skydive Canyonlands is an excellent company. I had a blast and it couldn't have been better.