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Highway 9 and beyond: Make Sure A Dead End Is Not A Dead
End
by
Dave Preston
Here’s what appears to be an April Fool’s joke, or at
least an odd concept – but one that’s ironically useful: Go ye forth and seek
out dead end roads! But… to get to the dead end roads, we have to take a detour
of sorts.
Most of us have been up Highway 9 as it curves itself north from Seattle toward
Canada. I’ve been traversing this route in both directions for decades, and
never tire of it. I find that I’ve memorized entire segments – not just the
corners, but where the potholes are to be found, and where there might be a
deceptively gentle moraine of gravel across a corner apex. I usually cannot
remember the exact order of the segments, but I’m pretty confident about the
challenges of the particular segment I am enjoying.
With that comes the need for some caution, as repeated runs over the same route
will lull you into the certainty that it will always be the same. Picture… a
1957 Chevy, in yellow.
In 1968 I was riding a Yamaha 250 across Montana on back roads. Some of them
were dead ends, but all were worth the effort if you had the time, and I did.
(ah, those were the days – sigh) Back then I was scary fast – meaning that had I
possessed common sense and an honest appraisal of my ability, I would have been
scared. That was pre-first crash, when I was enjoying the honeymoon of riding
where you just “know” you’re so good nothing could ever go wrong.
I was on a winding back road, riding too fast… as I normally did. A sharp corner
loomed and I set up for it in my usual manner – out by the center line, a couple
of snappy downshifts and a dive to the apex of the corner. When I got there, I
found the 1957 Chev parked on the inner edge of the road – with the driver’s
door – open. Standing next to the car, enjoying the scenery, were a man and his
young daughter. I remember that she had blond hair.
Should they have been there? No. What a stupid thing to do: park; open the door,
and stand there gazing at the mountains. With my “perfect” style, I was aimed at
the center of the open door, and directly at the man and his daughter, with
little traction left to do much about it. With panic reactions more than skill I
yanked on the bars and jogged the bike left, whizzing by them in a
non-controlled drift – just as their mouths began to open in surprise.
Stupid, stupid, stupid…. and really stupid. Me, not them. They were merely
careless, while I was (almost) terminally stupid. I would have badly injured or
killed all three of us, …plus let us keep in mind we are talking about a 1957
Chevy here! I can still see that car, and the man, and the little girl, whenever
I think I know a road well and am about to strafe the apex.
I’m now a strong proponent of the late apex approach to corners. Slow in, see
the road, and accelerate out. Why would anyone insist on taking the “racing
line” when one is not racing? In fact, I’ve never raced, nor have most of the
people dive-bombing corners on public roads. However, I do occasionally suffer
from “testosterone poisoning,” as do many motorcyclists – even those fueled
primarily with estrogen. Remember the ’57 Chevy – it will be there for you
sooner or later.
Having said that, back to my recent discovery of the joys of the dead end road.
All along Highway 9 are dozens of roads with the ubiquitous “Dead End” signs.
They are routinely ignored, BUT, on a day where you have a yen to explore,
they’re well worth your time. Most peter out in a mile or two – but some of them
offer miles of winding asphalt with no traffic. You’ll see glorious views of
scenery most people never access as they stick to the tried and true route.
One is called “Lake Armstrong Road”, although the sign is virtually invisible
from Highway 9. About two miles north of Arlington Highway 9 sweeps to the left,
and Lake Armstrong Road shoots straight up a hill and is only one lane wide. At
the top there is a 120 degree right, and the road widens for a two mile romp
through the forest. I used this one for an event I was laying out. Of course,
the tree that fell across the road that morning made it even more interesting,
as did the deer that came out to watch the bikes.
Another area to explore is the east of Highway 9. You come to “Grandview Road”
about five miles north of Arlington, and turn to the right. Eventually, all the
roads in this are either come back to Grandview in a series of loops, or dead
end – and all offer some quiet and interesting riding. There are even a few I’ve
yet to try.
Another discovery – I was laying out the route for a Cycle Barn event using my
car, because A.) the weather was crap and 2.) I needed accurate mileage counts
for each leg – difficult to do with the reset knob on my ZRX. I discovered a new
way to suffer from the “’57 Chevy problem.” The past twenty dozen trips up
Highway 9 had been on a variety of motorcycles, so I had lulled myself into the
mental concept of an appropriate pace. Guess what – an appropriate pace on
almost any motorcycle is way to fast in almost any car! I could not see well
enough on the way into corners, and the car was always being overdriven. About
the time I adjusted for all of that, I noticed that the one lane bridge I had
always shot across could present a frightening problem – I’m glad the guy in the
older Lincoln Continental decided to stop.
Bikes ridden casually are much quicker than cars driven with gusto… bet you knew
that….
Dave Preston
is the author of Motorcycle 101, a sensible book for the new and returning
rider. Pick up a copy today in the
Sound
RIDER! store.
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