Jessica and I set up house along with fifty other motorcyclers at the R.V. park outside of Enterprise, Oregon.
The orange line on the GPS leads us through Joseph, six miles to Enterprise and directly to the gate of the Log House R.V. Park¹ on the north side of town. Riders are showing up in neon yellow vests on rust red and pea green motorcycles bristling with mismatched bars, brackets and bags apparently designed by M.C. Escher fans. We’re definitely in the right place.
The first face we see inside the gate is a familiar one. We are happy to get a big welcome from Sam (Idahosam).¹ And of course happy to see him clinging to Pacific island life² in color-coordinated shorts and tank-top while others are warning us of the cold nights.
After setting up tent and tarp in the front yard with a dozen others, we run down the hill to Safeway for a little something to warm on the camp stove. Then we sit in our short chairs chewing rolls and spooning spicy turkey chili directly from the pot while watching others arrive from across the Northwest. It is good to be here with friends we haven’t met yet.
This is the first time the group has used this park. The owners, Brian and Margaret, are obviously excited to have us here. Although numbering about fifty, they treat us more like old friends staying over at their home than two-wheeled interlopers. They’re glad to share their own blankets, towels and tools with riders in need.
With our collective bellies satisfied, a campfire attracts us like moths, one-by-one, two-by-two, to bask in the warm glow, listening to tales of travel from every direction of the compass and grand plans for the mountains of the morrow.
While making a little run from the fire to the restroom, Brian falls in behind me and with typical enthusiasm suggests I might like to see the five motorcycles in his shop. Of course! Each bike has a little story. Brian explains his plan to have available fluids, compressed air, tools, battery charger, and so on, to make the park an ideal ride destination and base camp. It sounds practical and perfect. If you’re on two wheels or four, we can’t recommend enough the hospitality shown us at the Log House R.V. Park.¹
Jessica and I enjoy fire and fellowship a few minutes more before retiring to the dubious comforts of our canvas accommodations, hoping for a good night’s rest before the active day to come.
Either the night was warmer or the cold of the previous night had grown more bitter in the telling. Those in camp a day earlier warned us of the arctic night (their photos of frost make a good case for caution). We zipped up accordingly only to awaken in the dark needing ventilation. With that adjustment, I slept well through morning. Jessica had more pillow fights¹ so I let her be while I rose to prepare coffee.
A few others are up watching the sun begin another sojourn of the sky, slowly turning a spotlight on this majestic land shaped by prehistoric glaciers.
No doubt described in the thorough ride discussion,¹ it is nonetheless a pleasant surprise to discover Sherry² supervising a communal continental breakfast. Our oatmeal can stay in its little paper packs. Thank you! This is wonderful.
Ride plans are refined as brain chemistries achieve caffeine and sucrose equilibrium. We are blessed with blue sky and limitless ride opportunities.
Adventure riding and photography are for me both about seeing. Jessica sees a lot that I miss of subjects both material and abstract, reminding me of the limits of my perspective. But what I do see, I hope to do a better job of saying. So while adventure plans are congealing, I listen to my mom’s advice (she’s an author¹) about how to write more effectively.