Detroit, Oregon

Saturday, April 27, 2002

It was supposed to be a rainy day and, I suppose, that's why it was a rainy day. The weather forecast predicted 60 degree temperatures and something between a 40% and 60% chance of "showers." You see, "showers" are one of those many names that Oregonians have for wet stuff falling from the sky. "Showers" is also a popular word with weather forecasters because it doesn't quite mean "deluge" yet it could be interpreted as "somewhat not entirely wet" in a very concrete yet inspecific way.

My destination today was equally nebulous. I couldn't stray far from civilization because I had to check in on some stuff at work (electronically, of course). I had contemplated a couple of days travel with an evening spent in a warm jetted tub somewhere that had a modem connection. So, I was packed for an over-nighter.

My first stop was in Detroit, Oregon, near Detroit Lake, about 40 miles east of the State capital, Salem. STraddle and I left the Portland area south bound on Interstate 5. That motorcycle of mine really loves the open road because, well, we wouldn't get anywhere on a closed road. Right?

SR-22 wasn't closed (at least where I was riding) as we headed east out of Salem and climbed out of the valley. It got cold very quickly and that is when I remembered that I own a nice pair of heated handlebar grips. Problem is, the grips are not installed and are, in fact, sitting in my garage. I began ritualistic finger aerobics to stave off numbness.

I distracted myself from the discomfort by enjoying the scenery. Even the man-made scenery is nice; Detroit Lake is popular with pleasure craft and fishing enthusiasts in part because the water is held back by a dam. Despite the slightly inclement weather, many people were taking the opportunity to wrench innocent fish from their homes by way of a barb on the end of long, translucent nylon strings. So much fun for the fish. You can tell how much they enjoy the experience because they dance to and fro when they are hauled up into the boats.

I was hauling my way to Detroit, a small town at the base of the Santiam Pass that winds its way into the Cascade mountain range (more on that later). My rally checkpoint this day would be the Korner Post Restaurant.

When I arrived, I was greeted by Rick, the owner of the Korner Post. As I nursed a cup of hot coffee (mostly to warm my hands and insides), we discussed motorcycling. Rick owns a Goldwing and finds every riding opportunity he can -- a difficult undertaking given the responsibilities of restaraunt ownership. A few years ago he took his bike on the Grand Tour and so was familiar with my quest.

Rick's wife, Cathy, is the namesake of Cathy's Korner, a gift shop connected to the restaurant. Therein you can find all manner of nicknacks and goodies; the kinds of things you find in road-side gift shops -- not that there's anything WRONG with that. There's a reason gift shops stay in business and it hasn't got anything at all to do with my notion of taste. Normal people will delight in the selection. Most interesting to me was the wall of motorcycle trinkets including a small bike made from branches, twigs and other bits of tree.

But don't let my jaded description of the gift shop keep you away. The real selling point of The Korner is the friendly service. I felt as if I had stepped into a small town where everyone knew me and wanted to find out what I had been up to. You just don't get that kind of personal attention in the city. Check them out.

One of the customers asked me where I was going next. I told him. And he told me that the passes had two inches of new snow on them. I believed him. Instead of heading on over the Cascades, I headed home. There would be no time today to find another way through the mountain range.

When I got home, I checked the ODOT pass cams and saw that all of the roads were bone dry. Next time I will check the pass cams before I leave home. Fool me once...

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