Shasta

"Lonely as God, and white as a winter moon"

- Joaquin Miller

June came around quick this year. When June comes, it means it's time to go riding with my pals for our annual weekend motorcycle jaunt.
.
This year we picked Mt. Shasta. We couldn't have chosen a better place.



Two of us had new bikes this year. Myself and Phil. If there is one way to find out how a bike will perform and handle, there's nothing better than taking it on an 800 mile trek. That's a fair amount of mileage in three days.
.
Now, I love my bike as Phil does his, but let's put it this way, no matter how well-engineered a motorcycle is, the seat is seemingly always the last thing on the manufacturer's mind. Going for 100 mile stretches without stopping made my ass feel like something born of the devil. Ah well.



The riding was great of course. Sometimes you gotta go to where no one else is. Having Mt. Shasta in the background during the entire time we were up there was the centerpiece.

We did find ourselves on these desolate forest roads on half of our trip around the mountain. While the roads themselves were paved, twisty, and seemed perfect for bikes, the deer that occasionally jumped out in front of us tempered any speeds to be sure.

The roads layed out like ribbons. Without a single car in sight. You feel privileged to be there.

And sometimes when those roads were straight enough and blank of anyone else, they begged for a little speed.

I don't know why borders of places seem like something to go to. Like an accomplishment of some sort. But they are.

We rented a cabin. It sat under Mt. Shasta's shadow in the morning and showed its vermillion face in the evening. An ideal place for three guys and their bikes for a weekend. We barbecued, we drank beer, we rode our crazy motorcycles.

.

Then we went home to our wives and children. Happy to be home.