We have no idea why, maybe he was just bored: we checked for fox tails and other stickers, for bee stings and other insect bites, but found nothing to suggest he had any reason to start eating his foot other than he needed something to do.
|Nothing sadder than a blind dog in a cone.|
He kept chewing on his foot, no matter what we did. I tried wrapping it in vet wrap, but he ate that. I worried about it getting infected-- diabetes and all-- but I also worried that he'd get sick from licking off anything I put on it.
We finally put the cone on him on Saturday evening. This did not go over well with Parker.
He uses his face a lot to get around the house and tell where he is. With the cone on, he couldn't get his face anywhere near anything, so he had no idea where he was. Plus, he tends to get anxious (and eat his foot, for instance,) so he was not about to sit down and attempt to sleep with that cone on.
We planned on getting an "early" start on our Sunday ride, and we'd had a long Saturday, so we went to bed early....
Well; we went to bed, the BF went to sleep. I, on the other hand, tossed and turned and tried to ignore my pathetic, lost, blind dog as he restlessly wandered the house making a racket like the ghost of Marley...
SCRRRRRAAAAAPE went the edge of the cone against the wall as he bumbled down the hallway. CRASH! went the edge of the cone as he walked into the couch. CRASH! went the cone as he walked into the dishwasher. CRASH went the cone as he walked into the trash can. SCRRRRRAAAAAPE went the cone as he bumbled along the living room. SCRRAAAAPE went the cone as he came bumbling back through the hallway...
It was 3:58 a.m. when I finally got up and took the cone off of him. It was 7:15 a.m. the next time I saw the clock, when the BF was hovering over me, reminding me that we wanted to get an early start.
|Our approximate route, from home to Dunlap and back.|
Via our standard Out-of-Dodge route, we headed east around 9 a.m. with intentions to do our first will-need-gas-before-we-get-home trip.
We got chased by our first dog, a German Shepherd that meant business. He was standing vigil at a property we've passed several times on previous trips, but this was the first time we've ever seen him. I was pretty glad the BF was in the lead, gave me a chance to see the dog before he saw me.
I grew up riding bicycles on these roads and I've had to out pedal many a dog in my day. So the good news is, no one panicked. We both saw the dog, waited till he was almost to us and then revved it up and watched the poor pup dejectedly plod back to his lair.
We were having a "hey, let's check out this road" sort of day and ended up taking a little detour that led us away from Hwy 245 and right by the slathering jaws of another dog.
Actually, the chocolate lab looked more like she wanted someone to play with-- but we didn't slow down to find out. She was chasing, we were gone!
|The Elderwood store I mentioned in the last Post.|
Eventually, we got back on track and came into Elderwood via Ave 384.
Here's a picture of the bikes in front of the little store I told you about last time. Hopefully it'll be a store again someday. Especially if we're going to be making a habit of riding past it on 100 degree days.
But it wasn't 100 degrees yet when we headed through on Sunday morning.
We stopped for a brief moment under the oak tree at the random picnic table again. Had some water and discussed our next leg of the route. Then we were back on the bikes and headed up Hwy 245 toward Badger, on the lookout for the Dunlap/Miramonte turn off.
It was nice riding through Badger-- a small (tiny) mountain community at a high enough elevation that it's mostly pine trees and out of the heat of the Valley. Mmmmmm... that was nice.
And those twisties were a little less harrowing this time. I'm still in no danger of "carving" them up and I still felt bad for the BF having to hang back behind me, but I was feeling more relaxed with them this time and even having a little fun.
We found our turn off and made it through the tiny community of Miramonte where I spied a sign that pleaded with traffic to slow down... I checked my speedometer and figured they surely didn't mean me with my tire screeching 19 miles per hour, so I remained calm and carried on.
|A Turnout with a View|
About that time, we both decided it'd been awhile since breakfast.
Our plan was to take the windy roads out to Hwy 180 and then brave the busy road out of Kings Canyon Nat'l Park (Hwy 180) for the few miles to the gas station in Squaw Valley... or maybe it's in Dunlap? I'm not sure what the official address is.
Getting onto Hwy 180 was, by far, the scariest thing I've done on a motorcycle thus far. It is a very busy road, and we joined it at the bottom of the twistiest portion out of the Nat'l Park, just as traffic is starting to speed up to make up for all the time they've lost on the twisties higher up. Not unusual at all for cars to be sailing down the hill at 70 mph. And here I am on my little go-go gadget Wombat 200 with the throttle open, pushing 55 mph and trying to stay out of they way!
It was only about a mile to the gas station, but I still pulled over twice to let faster traffic pass.
|Almost 70 miles to the gas station!|
If you're ever on Hwy 180 headed to, or from, Kings Canyon National Park, you can't miss it and you should stop and have a bite to eat. The pizza is pretty good, the sandwiches are great.
We opted to split a pastrami sandwich and an order of "bear paws--" they're take on garlic cheese bread sticks. The BF had a Pepsi, I drank a small vat of iced tea.
We got laughed at by some Harley types. I call them "Harley types" because I sure as heck didn't see any other bike out in the parking lot when we rode in. I locked my helmet to my bike, the BF opted to bring his in with him. So we walk in, choose a table, and start de-gearing: helmet on the extra chair, sunglasses and gloves on the table, unzip/un-velcro and jackets off and over the backs of the chairs, then I bent down and unzipped the side zippers of my amazing Olympia Airglide riding pants (I also have the matching jacket... hint hint, Olympia, in exchange for the shameless plug, you can send the SWAG to my office at 113 N Church St....)
|Bear Mtn Pizza in Squaw Valley-- No, not THAT Squaw Valley.|
I definitely detected an air that they may have felt we were overdressed for the ride.... good for them. I love my gear, and I love my skin. Scars are only cool if you live to talk about them. Did I mention I like my gear? (cough cough, Olympia?)
In the end, the folks at the table were very nice. They chatted a bit with us and asked us how the riding was. We told them it was pretty nice out there, better than last weekend. And they wished us a happy, safe ride on their way out.
After lunch, we zipped and velcro'd everything back on and agreed that some sort of seat covers should be moved to the top of our to-do lists for the bikes. Those seats get HOT sitting out in the sun, even for a few minutes.
As we rolled out of the parking lot, a couple of Harleys rode in... my first thought was "So did those guys go home and get their bikes?" but I'm pretty sure it was an entirely different group of folks.
So we rolled out onto Hwy 180 for another half a mile or so till the turn off for "Geo. Smith Road."
|The bikes had a parking space with a view|
while we were having lunch.
The weather still felt darn near pleasant as we rode through the winding, rural roads that make up the Squaw Valley/Dunlap area. Up, over, and around hills we went. Enjoying the ride and on the lookout for Sand Hill Road.
Geo Smith road took us up some steep hills, and then around some creepy turns. The Wombat and I held it together and pulled over whenever traffic came along. We found Sand Hill Road and headed out of the hills and back to the low, flat, hot Valley floor.
Gah. That's where the 100 degree weather was. We'd already traveled more miles than either of our other rides, and home was sounding pretty good at this point...
|Turn out with a view on Boyd Drive|
Since that meant going back the way we came, we decided to cut across Boyd Canyon Road and get back on Hwy 245 and travel back through Elderwood again. For one thing, it meant keeping to the higher elevations for a little longer, and another rest and water break at the random picnic table.
Boyd Canyon road is scary in a car. It's one of those classic, one lane, steep-as-hell, mountain-up-one-side, sheer-cliff-on-the-other, twisty-isn't-the-word-for-it mountain roads you see in cartoons. Yeah, it's got a serious view, but one thing they keep telling you about riding a motorcycle is that you should look where you're going because you'll go where you're looking-- so who can enjoy the view?!
Not to mention how steep the climb was. Find a low enough gear to keep climbing in and keep on the throttle, you don't want to have to downshift on that grade, you don't want to stall! Getting going again on a hill that steep requires feats of coordination best not tested in an area where you may actually encounter traffic.
"I think I can... I think I can... I think I can..."
Seriously: If you're local to our area, find Ave 416 on the map. Head east. When you start seeing the big, yellow caution signs that say "Boyd Drive not recommended for trucks and buses" keep going. When you hit the bottom of the hill, downshift. Let me know if you disagree with my assessment. (Locals who drive the route regularly not eligible to play.)
But there are a few turn outs and we did stop for some pics that just don't adequately show the view.
|A little tweaking in the photo editor and you get a better feel for what it looked like in person.|
|He climbed up for a better view. He wanted me to climb up there too. My riding boots are not hiking boots.|
So here's a view of the BF looking at the view instead of a view of the view from where the BF is.
Eventually, the scary part of the road gives way to more scenic vistas that aren't 3000 feet straight down. We turned back out onto Hwy 245, took another short rest at the picnic table, rode through Elderwood again and began our search for the sight we rode past in the morning.
|Trip odo, under the speedometer needle, on Dr. Feelgood:|
a whole extra mile over mine.
We found the right road, but turned the wrong way. As soon as we did, I knew it was the wrong way, but the BF continued up the road anyway. In the long run, this means his final odometer reading is a little higher than mine.
We turned around and found what we were looking for and headed home along our standard Charter Oak/El Rio Road route. The German Shepherd must have gone back inside, he didn't come to greet us again.
When we reached the stop sign that I've come to determine as the entrance to our neighborhood, my trip odometer said if we just did 4 more miles, I'd be able to report that our 3rd trip was as long as both our 1st and 2nd put together... I opted to let it slide.
As we waited for our garage door to open, while sitting in our driveway, the BF asked if we had to make the extra miles for a perfect 140... I just shook my head. I think we came close enough:
|Final mileage tally according to the Wombat: 136|
They were just sitting out there, in front of all those beautiful citrus trees and roses in bloom. We'll let you make up your own story:
|We think it's a Build Your Own Rest stop Kit.|
PS: Parker is doing fine.