We continue to sneak up on the Canadian border to prepare for our assault on Alaska. We are now in Bloomer, WI, for the final staging with our reserve force and staff photographer, Hanna. Tomorrow we show the new recruit how to pack for a month in half a tour pack. Roll up everything and put it one-gallon freezer bags. Leave behind non-essentials. Fashion statements are not required on the road. If it isn’t utilitarian, it stays home. If this was a vacation, you’d have a steamer trunk. It’s an adventure and you get about two cubic feet of space. Are we having fun yet?

We had a nice ride today. It’s only three hours from Madison to Bloomer via the Interstate, but we opted for character-laden back roads and scenic farmland. Saw six deer. (Four were sleeping peacefully by the roadside and two crossed in front of me causing me to brake firmly lest I flip them over my head with the front of my motorcycle like I’ve seen done before). Wisconsin’s title as the Dairy State was driven home as we drove by hundreds of big (to me at least) dairy farms. At any given time we could survey a half dozen gigantic red barns, dozens of silos of different vintages and size rising skyward and red and green tractors and various farm equipment constantly on the move. And, of course, cows. Too many to count (unless you’re a dairy farmer keeping track of them, I suppose.) Most of the time the country smells were delicious, but too close proximity to the scenic byway sometimes made the picturesque dairy farms a little less desirable. But even disagreeable aromas are essential to the experience of riding a motorcycle, reminding you that your senses still work. I believe I’d rather take in the occasional malodorous manure pile than have my olfactory senses dulled by the constant filter of conditioned air.

I think I finally solved the communications head set problem. I had ordered parts to be delivered to me in Bloomer, but canceled the order this morning and bought a new helmet and head set at Sauk Prairie Harley-Davidson. My Arai helmet was more than six years old and all advice (at least that given by helmet companies whose job it is to sell more helmets) is to replace helmets every 3-4 years because the protective parts become brittle and thus less effective. I probably should have replaced it before we left, but it was one of those things left undone. Chanel Jadack, the motorclothes manager at Sauk Prairie, helped me select a good fitting helmet and then, as a bonus, installed the Boom Audio Headset. (Chanel, if you’re reading this, the adhesive part of the hook and loop fastener has to be secured to a solid surface, not the cloth covering over the earhole. It was an easy fix this evening. Thanks again for your help.)

One minor mishap today. One of our party (not Marilyn) moved her bike after we got to the motel and forgot to turn the ignition off. Two hours later we discovered a dead battery. But, unlike the new helmet which I neglected to get before leaving I DID get a new pair of motorcycle jumper cables which employed to great effect after spending 20 minutes getting to the batteries. All is well again.

Tomorrow I’ll spend time with Heather and Hanna, make a final list of missing gear for Hanna, and water proof various gloves, rain covers and rain suits thanks to our friends at AJ Cycle in Jasper, IN, who provided some top shelf waterproofing spray.

“I can’t wait to get on the road again.”

Location:Bloomer, WI

Not much motorcycle activity today. After copious rain and road splash over the past week, a little TLC for the HD seemed in order, so I had a two-hour assignation this morning cleansing the accumulated grime and grit from both bikes and trying to make them look worthy of their HD badges. I know, of course, they’ll be doused again with rain in the next few days, but I wanted at least to have a clean bike when Hanna saw it for the time. After gently removing dirt from Georgia, mud from Kentucky, dust from Illinois and bugs from everywhere, neither bike seems to be too much worse for wear in the first 2000 miles of this adventure. Of course, we still have about 10,000 more to go. By the end of the trip I’ll be less inclined to spend two hours cleaning them only to ride in the rain again than I am now. By then I’ll probably see a rain storm as an easy way to clean off the dirt from the previous rain storm.

The purpose of the two-day stop in Madison was to attend my older daughter Heather’s ordination as an Elder in the United Methodist Church. She’s been a pastor for five or six years, but this was an important step in her personal journey and it meant a lot to her to have us here, even if we were dressed like grizzled bikers who just came in off a 2,000-mile road trip. Which we were.

You would have to know my daughter to fully appreciated the appropriateness of the situation, but she celebrated her ordination on crutches from a blown knee requiring reconstructive surgery in a few weeks AND she had just gotten out of the hospital Friday after a bout with colitis that kept her in a hospital bed for four days on a diet that would make a humming bird the winner of The Biggest Loser. She was exhausted and pained in several parts of her body, but keeping her from this appointment with the conference bishop would have been as hard as it was to keep me from my appointment with the Great Alaska Adventure.

Parents don’t get to choose what their kids grow up to be, so all we can do is be happy if they’re happy. And she is. And so are we.

Her two older daughters–Megan and Hanna–drove from Bloomer/Eau Claire today to be here for the ceremony and she had brought her youngest daughter, Lucy, with her yesterday. The family gathering gave me a chance to see Marilyn’s great-grandson, Leo. (He’s my great-grandson too, but Marilyn seems so much more deserving. Not because she’s old but because she’s great.) As three-year olds go, he’s pretty cool and liked to play with my beard. I enjoyed stuffing him full of candy knowing I wouldn’t be responsible for controlling him when the sugar overdose exploded in his small body.

Marilyn’s ankle is better and quite colorful as the purple bruises fade into hues of blues and yellows. Unfortunately, she also injured her ribs in the parking lot fall and that impairment is taking longer to heal. Hopefully a few non-riding days will help.

Leisurely ride tomorrow to Bloomer for a few days as we make final preparations to strap Hanna and her gear to the bike for the next leg of the Adventure.

“I can’t wait to get on the road again.”

Location:Madison, WI

I like my 2013 Ultra Classic and Marilyn’s 2007 Deluxe has been a good bike. Both have a plethora of gadgets, innovations, and enhancements that improve riding. But, as an historian, I think you sometimes have to look to the past to find classic ideas, creative thinking and lessons that offer valuable guideposts for the future.

Today I woke up in a building built in 1907 whose structure and style supply the Iron Horse Hotel with its fundamental character. Solid brick walls, wooden support beams measuring 16 inches square and rising 20 feet in the air, hardwood floors that have echoed the hurried footsteps of proletarian factory workers and upscale hotel guests for more than a century, giant fire doors that no longer serve their original function but have been turned into artistic elements in a new setting. The “new” is wonderful, but it’s impossible without the old.

Short of winning the lottery, I probably won’t stay at the Iron Horse again, though if I’m in Milwaukee I may stop by for a brew and to marvel at the strength of the building and the men and women who worked there when a nascent industrial America matured into a global economic powerhouse. But I’ll also raise a glass to the forward-thinking entrepreneurs who rescued the aging building and gave it new life.

The real purpose of the side trip to Milwaukee was to visit the Harley Davidson Museum. Like the Iron Horse Hotel, Harley-Davidson also traces its history to the first decade of the 20th century when four young motorcycle enthusiasts built one motorcycle in 1903 and began a process that ultimately led to my Ultra Classic in 2013 (and about 300,000 more 2013 Harley-Davidsons as well). If you are ever near Milwaukee (and Florida is close enough) you should make it a point to visit the greatest collection of Harley-Davidsons in existence. More than 450 motorcycles line the museum spaces, including one from every year since 1906. The Motor Company had the amazing forethought in about 1915 to pull one completed bike off every production line every year, creating over the next 100 years the core of today’s museum.

But the museum is much more than a chronological display of motorcycles. It tells the story (all good museums, by the way, should tell a story) of the creation of an American icon, the value of perseverance and attention to detail, the cultural two-wheel threads woven into the American fabric and the men and women who thrive on the freedom found only on a motorcycle. If you go, don’t hurry through. Take your time. Appreciate the unfolding of the Motor Company’s past. Revel in the celebration of the building of an American company like no other.

We took about 3 hours to go through the museum today. It was my second trip to the museum, but for Marilyn it was a maiden voyage into Harley-Davidson history. She was impressed and glad to have made the visit. She, like any Harley rider who ponders the exhibits and marvels at the machines, has a greater appreciation for the motorcycle she rides.

At the urging of friends and former Milwaukeans Dan and Beth Symoniak, we took an extra hour to ride through an historic section of Milwaukee bordering Lake Michigan and lined with elegant mansions that reflected the growing wealth and power of an industrial midwest in the early years of the last century. Thanks to Dan and Beth. No doubt my slow pace on North Lake Street irritated some locals hurrying to get their Saturday chores done, but it was hard not to dawdle and dream of a different era. We thought about buying some property when we saw a “Garage Sale” sign but realized the garage wasn’t for sale and that’s about all we could have afforded so we rode on and headed for Madison.

In Madison we met our older daughter Heather and her family. Heather is a Methodist pastor who will be ordained tomorrow. She wanted us to be there for that and the timing worked out well. Then we’ll spend a few a days in Bloomer before heading west and north to Canada and Alaska.

“I can’t wait to get on the road again.”

Location:Madison, WI

Yesterday’s blog talked about bad weather, mishaps, and not much good. Today’s post will be the opposite. Seemed like everything went right today.

No rain! I looked up when I walked out of the motel this morning and thought I was seeing a big blue cloud since clouds were about all we’ve seen so far. Then I realized it wasn’t a cloud, it was a cloudless blue sky. Coolish–in the mid to low 70s–and for the first time we actually donned leather jackets. But the weather was the best we’ve had so far. And it lasted all day. About time.

Yesterday, you may recall, also involved CB problems. This morning I tested the two radios using a helmet borrowed from Sue West for granddaughter Hanna and everything worked fine. Problem is in the wiring in my helmet. So I wore Sue’s helmet today. John West pointed out in a text that it was probably a good thing he hadn’t bought her a pink one. From the bottom of my heart, John–Thank You.

Called J&M Audio this afternoon and ordered replacement parts for the helmet to be expedited for delivery to Bloomer on Wednesday. I’ll put them in and that should solve the radio problem and we’ll communicate happily ever after.

Marilyn kept her bike upright today and her ankle is healing quickly. See, everything went right.

About 10:30 I told Marilyn I wanted to stop at a family restaurant for lunch. At noon I saw a sign for “Delaney’s Family Restaurant” with an all you can eat country buffet. Didn’t I say everything went right today? And not only did they have fried chicken and shrimp and mashed potatoes and a 40-foot salad bar, they had a desert bar. With pie. I had cherry pie. And chocolate pie. And coconut cream pie. Oh yes I did.

We’re staying tonight at the Iron Horse Hotel in Milwaukee, just a stone’s throw from the Harley Davidson Museum, which I can see from my window. The Iron Horse is billed as a “boutique hotel.” I think ’boutique” is French for “expensive.” It is costly, but it’s an amazing place. Great accommodations. Great service. Great atmosphere. Walking distance to the museum and to a revitalized part of downtown called the Historic Third Ward where Marilyn and I strolled while making snide comments about 30-something yuppies. We saw a bar where you can drink and paint. And another one where you can drink and play ping pong. And one where you can drink and listen to live Jazz. And several more where you can just drink.

They brew a lot of brew here, given the Teutonic ancestry of so much of the population. Not wanting their brewing efforts to go to waste, I tried a couple with strange names: Buffalo Water and Central Waters Ouisconsing Red Ale. Tasty.

The historic Third Ward area is exactly what Jacksonville is trying to create downtown and never will. It was lively, safe, clean and eclectic. If you’re in Milwaukee, it’s worth a visit. You can drink or just make snide comments about yuppies.

Dinner tonight was chicken and donuts. You had to be there. What a great combination. Really.

Tomorrow we’ll go through the Museum and ride around and see some of Milwaukee before heading to Madison where we’ll meet Daughter Heather and some of her tribe.

“I can’t wait to get on the road again.”

Location:Milwaukee, WI

I told Marilyn repeatedly before we began this journey it would be an “Adventure” not a “vacation.” Today was one of those days that proved how accurate my prediction was.

Once again, we suited up for rain before we left Murfreesboro and hit some moderately heavy rain by the time we got to Nashville. During morning rush hour. With road construction and fender benders adding additional challenges to the mix, we were still doing OK. But then our CB radios went out, sort of. Marilyn could hear me but I couldn’t hear her. But that didn’t last long and neither one of us could hear the other before we got out of Music City.

So, with trying to fix radios on the move, dodging construction barriers, and trying to see through a dirty face shield, I managed to miss my turn programmed into the GPS, staying on I-24 instead of I-65. About 30 miles later I finally made sense out of what my GPS was showing me.

Today’s important mid-ride destination was Jasper, Indiana, where we were going to have lunch with a couple guys I rode with in Colorado last summer. Not to worry. Even with adjusting the route to make up for the missed turn, I was still going to make it to Jasper by noon, which is when I said I would be there. But then my GPS started telling me my arrival time would be at 1 p.m. WHAT?!?!? In the hidden recesses of my muddled brain I vaguely remembered that Indiana had weird time zones and uncertain commitments to Daylight Savings Time. Sure enough, I had gone from Eastern Time to Central Time yesterday in Tennessee and appropriately reset various timepieces, but when I headed north and west to Indiana I was going back into Eastern Time. And the rain continued to fall.

I called one of the guys I was supposed to meet and explained the situation and he sagely reminded me that “shit happens” and they would wait for us. So, promptly on time and an hour late we showed up at AJ Cycles and Trike Conversions where we thought we fixed the CB problem with a spare cord I carried but we actually didn’t solve the problem though we went to lunch thinking we had. Adventures are confusing sometimes.

Curt Trainer, one of our two lunch partners, told us about “The Dome” in French Lick, which was only 35 miles out of our way (each way) and said if we were this close we shouldn’t miss the Eighth Wonder of the World. So, after Marilyn and I gobbled a lunch of bratwurst and sauerkraut on a bagel, Scott Williams, our other Twisted Rider lunch partner led us French Lick to the see The Dome. Oh, but wait, there’s more to our adventure.

When we arrived at The Dome, we pulled up in a parking lot with tight spaces that all sloped severely right to left. Marilyn learned a moderately painful lesson in why a bike top heavy with packs and gear is hard to park on a slope which affects your ability to put your foot down on a solid surface. Yep, over she went. No serious harm done. Twisted ankle, a few bruises and relocated chrome. But we got her and the bike up and she soldiered on. I have to admit, The Dome was an interesting site and a good place to visit if you’re in the area. (For more information go to:West Baden Springs Hotel

Of course the side trip to The Dome added about two hours to an already long day, and we got to hotel this evening in Danville 12 adventured-filled hours after we left our hotel in Murfreesboro. Tired, finally dried out, still without bike-to-bike communication, and a little bruised. But it’s what Adventures are made of.

Marilyn’s enthusiasm for the trip may have temporarily waned. But I got to ride 400 miles on a motorcycle, see old friends and spend another day with my best friend. Sounds like an Adventure to me.

Tomorrow, a sweeping end run around Chicago (I’ll never ride in that city of crazies again) and on to Milwaukee and the Iron Horse Hotel.

“I can’t wait to get on the road again.”

Location:Danville, IL

For the first time since leaving Florida I got to lean the big Ultra over in some nice curves as we rode north and west through the Georgia hills. After we left Parthenonless Athens, we rode for 130 miles on backroads that neither Garmin nor Google would have recommended as the most expeditious route to Tennessee. Sometimes in life–maybe most of the time–you have to map out your own fun.

We didn’t ride the twisties too aggressively, but at the Tennessee Welcome Center Marilyn said she had one Georgia-road butt-clenching moment when she scraped her floorboard on a tight left-hander and visions of unpleasantness danced in her head. I wondered why she slowed down, but, still, we maintained a pace that was slightly above the speed limit through the curves and that gave the tread on the sides of the tires a taste of the road.

We are now four for five on riding days in the rain. All three Key West days involved rain suits and today followed suit as well. The skies had been overcast since we left this morning and I used weather radar on the iPad to keep track of menacing storms in front of us. We stopped at a restaurant 20 miles west of Chattanooga and the angry black clouds rolling over the mountain looming in front of us convinced us to wait it out. I suspect several inches of rain fell during the frog strangler that roared through the area (complete with lightening pyrotechnics) while we sipped bad coffee and compared notes with other bikers who had waited until they were soaked to stop. It was still raining lightly when we pulled out, but at least we could see the road. Seeing two 18-wheelers in the ditch on the east-bound side of the highway confirmed my conviction that our extended stop was warranted. After about 40 miles of rain and wet highway, we finally emerged under occasionally blue skies, though the flooded farmers’ fields around us spoke volumes about the volume of water recently released from the clouds.

Our Murfreesboro stop was planned so we could see Marilyn’s brother Bill, whom she hadn’t seen in nearly two years. We had a good visit and caught up on his family while he caught up on ours. There will be several family stops this trip as we try to get the most bang for our travel bucks.

Tomorrow looks like rain again, though we’re hopeful we’ll ride out of it about the time we ride into Jasper, Indiana, to have lunch with some great motorcycle riders I was honored to ride with last summer. (See blog posts for August 2012) Tomorrow’s final destination will be Danville, Illinois, where, even as I write this, some sick SOB is probably doing a rain dance.

“I can’t wait to get on the road again.”

Location:Murfreesboro, TN

My younger daughter “claims” to have gone to Athens a few weeks ago and visited the Parthenon. Well, I’m in Athens now and THERE’S NO PARTHENON. Makes me wonder what she was really doing.

Last week the Great Alaska Adventure began, of course, with a trip south to Key West. But today I finally got the compass fixed and headed the Harley-Davidsons north. Not far. Only 323 miles north of Orange Park, but at least we’re getting closer to Alaska.

The most notable thing about today happened before we rolled out of the driveway. Duane “Ski” Zeleski, one of my best riding buddies, drove 60 early-morning miles in the fog from Salt Springs just to wish us good luck and God Speed. And he got breakfast thrown in since we used this last opportunity to empty the refrigerator of perishables that would have perished by the time we get back. I hope I’m still riding on two wheels when I’m 77 years young like Ski. His heartfelt hug for Marilyn and vigorous hand shake for me poignantly reminded us why our motorcycle family plays an indispensable role enriching our lives.

The route to Athens threaded its way north on mostly two lane roads. The flat Florida coast quietly morphed into the rolling hills of north Georgia on the southern end of the Appalachian mountain chain, hinting at some of the great riding to be found in the hills and mountains of Georgia, Tennessee and North Carolina. It was nice to see land with bumps in it again. While clouds peppered the sky most of the way and occasionally provided welcome shade, we kept the rain gear packed in the saddlebags for the first time since we started this ride nearly a week ago. We splashed our way through about 20 miles of roadside puddles and wet roads near the end of the day from a pop-up storm that preceded us by about 30 minutes, but Ski’s wish for “good luck” clearly paid dry dividends.

Lunch today was special because we stopped at the same restaurant in Dublin a group of us stumbled on two years ago on another Great Adventure ride. If you’re in Dublin–or even near Dublin–drop in at Deano’s Italian Grille. Great food, service and ambiance. I made it a point to talk with the owner before we left to tell him that two years ago we ate there by happenstance, but that today’s visit was very much intentional. (Ruth, Marilyn liked the salad she took from you last time so much that she got another just like it this time.)

Today’s ride cleared the “planning fog” I’ve been in for the past few months and showed me what life on the road for the next two months with my best friend will be like. Life is good.

“I can’t wait to get on the road again.”

Location:Athens, GA

Today was the second and final day of our Orange Park hiatus. Tomorrow we get back on the road and this time I’m really not kidding. I’m going to Alaska.

I picked up the bikes from Adamec Harley Davidson where they had been serviced and Marilyn got a new rear. Tire. Also new rear wheel bearings. AMSOIL oil, transmission lubricant and filters for both bikes. Everything checked out and the bikes are as ready for the road as I can make them.

The trip to Key West didn’t include all the clothes, gear, and supplies we’ll need for the much longer northern leg of the journey, so we packed light going south. But today, everything we need for the next two months had to fit on two motorcycles with room left over for Hanna and her clothes. Marilyn has become expert at packing her bike. Except for her leather jacket and cold weather gear, everything she needs is strapped on the Deluxe.

The Ultra Classic has two sets of rain gear, two sets of chaps, two leather jackets, two sets of heated jacket liners and heated gloves and various other cold weather gear, my clothes, first aid kit, tools, extra helmet for Hanna, my trusty and dog-eared Milepost Alaska Highway Guide, and assorted miscellaneous supplies. And there’s still room for Hanna’s clothes and Hanna. Long distance motorcycle riders and other rolling stones know “you can’t always get what you want, but if you try real hard you just might get what you need.” We have everything we need. I think.

Another set of goodbyes tonight to great friends. Going to miss them.

The bikes now sit silently in a dark garage like two war horses on the eve of battle. Fueled and loaded. Prepared for what’s to come. If they had hooves instead of tires, they’d be stomping them.

I continue to go through my endless-loop mental check list, but in a few hours it won’t matter. If it hasn’t been done, it doesn’t need to be done. If hasn’t been packed, it didn’t need to go along. A long road with wondrous twists and turns and surprises lies ahead of us. I’m ready.

“I can’t wait to get on the road again.”

Location:Orange Park, FL

Embarking on a multi-month adventure not only requires careful planning and preparing for what awaits us on the road, it also means saying goodbye to friends who are so much a part of our lives when we’re not traveling. We’ve tried to say goodbye every time we think we’re seeing someone for the last time before setting off.

Today we had some of our friends over for a cookout so we could say goodbye one more time and let them know how much we value their friendship. The house is too small to have all our friends for dinner, so we’ve had to say our “so longs” to others individually and in different settings.

But tonight we reminisced and laughed with friends we ride with the most. We will miss them but we’ll enjoy getting together again on our return to share stories with them of our adventure. They’re good people and we’ve logged thousands of two-wheel miles with them. They would all like to join in this Great Alaska Adventure, and we would love to have them along. Maybe in the future . . .?

To all our friends everywhere: Thanks for making our lives richer, fuller and a hell of a lot of fun. You have added a joie de vivre to our lives and helped turn an unremarkable canvas into a master work awash with color and movement and light. We will think of you as we travel new roads and see new sights. And we will miss you. Very much.

“I can’t wait to get on the road again.”

Location:Orange Park, FL

1000 miles down and only 11,500 more to go. Actually 1,034 and I’m only guessing about the 11,500 since my 12,500 mile estimate will probably be off by a couple hundred miles one way or the other. But the Key West leg of the Great Alaska Adventure is behind us and it was a good start.

In the Navy, a “shake down” cruise is taken by a ship before it sets out for a long-term deployment. It gives the ship’s crew a chance to–in some cases literally–see what shakes loose when the ship is underway at full power and vibrations cause equipment and parts to shake apart.

The Key West “cruise” we just wrapped up was our shake down cruise. I’m pleased to report that the bikes and their crew stayed together pretty well. No serious problems with either bike and the crew of each bike managed tolerably well with no vital parts shaken loose. Still working out some communications issues but I’m getting better at obeying commands with the alacrity expected of one in my subordinate position. The CB radios have some static at 70 mph, but they’re working a lot better than they did before I re-secured the cables on Marilyn’s bike prior to beginning the trip. The rain gear, donned at least briefly each day of the three-day shake down cruise, performed well, though Marilyn’s concern about bulky gaiters will be addressed Monday with the purchase of some simple water-proof overboots of the same style I bought for Hanna.

We forgot to pack a couple of non-essential items (shorts for Marilyn and Jack Daniels for me) that we’ll be sure to include in Monday’s packing for the longer leg to Fairbanks and back.

Everyone who straddles two wheels is reminded nearly every time they roll down the road that the pilots of cars are frequently pre-occupied with such essential activities as gesticulating wildly while talking on the phone to an unseeing correspondent, stuffing a greasy full-pound double cheeseburger with bacon into a semi-toothed mouth, or entering a trance-inducing zen-like meditation phase. This shake down cruise was no exception, but at least Marilyn and I were able to work on keeping two bikes close together while responding expeditiously with auto-bike collision-avoidance maneuvers. The Miami area seems to be well-populated with people who enjoy practicing vehicular weaving skills in their $80,000 sport convertibles using lesser cars and elderly motorcycle riders as mobile pylons. And the Florida Turnpike was a Talladaga-like NASCAR track except with no turns where all the drivers are drafting and everyone’s waiting for the “big one” that transforms expensive driving machines into scrap metal. If you ride, be careful out there.

Really, though, the Key West trip was a good start. Now we have a couple days in Orange Park to wrap up unfinished business, say goodbye to friends, make a couple last-minute purchases, get the bikes serviced and take a deep breath before cannonballing into the deep end.

The blog, for what it’s worth, will continue daily. Thanks for stopping by. And to those of you leaving comments: THANKS A BUNCH. To those of you who haven’t yet chimed in, PLEASE DO.

“I can’t wait to get on the road again.”

Location:Orange Park, FL