After a long holiday weekend with the in-law family, I headed out 5 July for a planned trip to Buffalo, WY to attend a festival. The festival I’ve seen advertised on my frequent stops to that quaint Wyoming town was always two weeks ago or coming up. This year I planned to hit the stop right on queue. Along with other NORWESTARS and friends, nine in total (John/April, Frank/Francine, Lee/Suzy, Ike, Jeff, and myself), and 12,000 other fans of the Netflix Western. I got a 0800 before my in-laws woke, whom I later heard were a bit miffed because I failed to partake in that classic Minnesota good-bye, which is a long-standing ritual of prolonged smalltalk and hugs that usually extend the farewell out to the next millennium. Back to my trip. I thought I was going to proceed out through John Day, but at the Prineville turn off, I decided I’d ridden that route too many times this year and proceeded on Route 20 via Burns. In Burns I saw a slow motion collision when 80’s circa white van, towing a small utility trailer, pulled out into traffic and tried to merge into a Ford F350 dualie, pulling a utility trailer that could have fit the Queen Mary inside. What is this guy doing? The 1980s van guy kept merging, and then I saw the silent meeting with debris flying out between the two trailers. I pulled into the far right lane and let the collision go unimpeded. I continued out into this barren, flat, straight highway. Somewhere near Drewsey, it became rolling sweepers in hilly contours. By time I got to Vale, OR I needed to load up the cooling vest, so I dug it out of the bags and soaked it in a gas station bathroom while unbeknownst to me a line was developing outside. I was going to rendezvous with Ike and Jeff in Butte, which was a change to the original plans (Missoula had been 1st on the itinerary). I had made hotel reservations weeks in advance in Ontario, self-proclaimed Onion Country, and with the heat I stopped about 2:30 pm. Fine by me, but that meant over 500 miles tomorrow.
trafalgar adventures 