Miles and Miles to the Falls - 2012 Trek to Supai

I survived another trek to Supai! I'm not a serious backpacker.  I am more of a faire-weather backpacker.  Strictly a light-weight. I take it easy and luxurious wherever I can. As you will see if you read on.

So, as a "shake-down" hike for a future Grand Canyon rim-t0-rim,  I thought I would be far enough along (by now) with my conditioning routine that I could once again successfully manage a jaunt to Supai, and the blue green waterfalls of the Havasupai Reservation. I was wrong about that.

I did make it, but I have a dreadful case of the Supai-shuffle and my knees may never be the same.  I say the same thing of course, after every visit there and this was my seventh.

The conditions were actually pretty ideal; they had had rain and cloudy weather the past few days, with intermittent sunshine and heat. It was our good luck that those conditions continued throughout our visit (friend Linda went along for her second trip to the village and the waterfalls).

We left Phoenix on Thursday afternoon and stayed overnight in Seligman, AZ.  We stayed at the Supai Motel in Seligman, which was plain but clean.  Check-in was friendly, the price was a bit high, but not terribly so; $75 inclusive for all.

The View from Hualapai Hilltop

To hike the trail from Hualapai Hilltop (the trailhead 60 miles north of old Route 66 on Route 18) in summer, you are smart to hike very early.  You want to be in the village and out of the sun on a summer day by 9:00 am if you can.  This means arriving the night before and sleeping in the parking lot in your car (I've done that, no thanks), or getting a room as close as you can and finishing the drive before your hike. That's what I like to do.  

There is lodging available in Peach Springs, which is the closest to Hualapai Hilltop (except for the motel at Grand Canyon Caverns), but my custom has been to stay in Seligman and that works OK as well and there are more choices there.  From Seligman it is about 90 miles to Hilltop.  Route 18 is not a terribly quick road and there are almost always cattle on the road at some point, so you have to allow yourself plenty of time.  I always plan to be on the trail at first light in the summertime around here -- and that's 5:15 am or so.  By the way, Hualapai is pronounced WAL-a-pie.

Headed down the Switchbacks on the Havasupai Trail

This time though, we didn't get there that early.  We arrived at more like 6:30 or 6:45 or so.  We got ourselves packed-up, trail-ready and hiking by 7:00 am.  It was a cool morning so we didn't suffer for the late start. 

The first part of the Havasupai Trail is down some fairly respectable switchbacks -- about a mile and a half of them.  Along these upper reaches of the trail, we got overtaken by a small herd of cattle being driven down to the village by some "outside" wranglers and some tribal members.  We stood aside behind a short retaining wall and we still weren't out of the way.  One errant steer came trotting down the narrow culvert behind the wall where we were cowering.  When he saw us, he ambled back over the wall at a low spot and went on by.  I knew he would do that. 'Cause I knows cows. Ain't skeered o' no dogie.

Along the Havasupai Trail

We hiked along at an easy pace and stopped about every 45 or 50 minutes for a short break, rest the shoulders and have a snack.  My day pack was cutting into my left shoulder a little and stressing my neck.  I regularly dosed the afflicted area with some pain-relief rub (good old Flexall 454) and kept plugging along, only complaining when someone was within ear-shot.  

My legs were kind of numb after the switchbacks. They weren't aching or hurting, but I stumbled quite a bit. I felt like they were flailing along like a windmill without much control.  I must've been OK though, because I didn't fall down more than a dozen times or so.  Truth be told, I didn't hike as quickly as I usually do on this trail, reflecting my low-level of conditioning at present. The hike to the village took quite a bit longer than what I could do if I were in better shape. I drank three 23 oz bottles of water and had a 4th along for a spare.

One mistake people often make when hot weather hiking -- they don't drink their water.  If you are moving downhill in shade, it is easy to forget to drink because you don't always "feel" thirsty; but be assured, your body needs that water.  Drink it regularly while you hike. On my first hike to Supai in the mid-eighties I made that mistake and was heat-sick by the time I got to town. People who over-exert themselves on Grand Canyon trails or don't drink enough water die occasionally.

It started to get more difficult toward the end; we hit the sun and by the time we reached the outskirts of Supai I was ready to be finished, no question.  We arrived at the lodge during their lunch hour, so we went back to the cafe for a rest and I had lunch. That was the only meal I ate in the cafe during this trip.  

Supai Cafe and Village Square

The menu is strictly "fast food" these days. There used to be chili and beef stew if I remember correctly, but not anymore.  The service was friendly but extremely s-l-o-w.  I ordered a burger and tater tots; there were a total of about ten tickets on the order board when I ordered and I was still waiting for my food about 90 minutes later.  That's just the way it is in Supai.  They only have two speeds -- if you don't like the one you've got, you sure as hell won't like the other one, so don't complain. Linda and I just sat there and chatted until the ordeal was over. With good company, the time goes quickly anyway.

For all my other meals, I ate a combination of my own snacks plus some items to supplement them from the Supai store - a loaf of bread, lunch-meat, fruit, DIET COKES (which were icy cold, by the way).  Prices are exorbitant in Supai, but remember that everything is either packed from Hilltop via mule or horse, or brought in by air.  So my "chopped ham" and bread were subject to the $600 per hour tariff of a helicopter ride.  In addition, all the trash is ultimately packed out so that's an added expense as well.  If you don't want to pay a share of the costs of your visit, DON'T GO.  Avoid disappointment, I always say.

After lunch and shopping at the store, we walked back to the hotel and got our room and I took a nice refreshing cold shower.  (Yes, there was hot water, but I wanted cold).  Then like a true vacationer, I had a nice nap.  Linda read her book, and she napped too.  We weren't planning on doing any further hiking that day; we just relaxed and kept an eye on "things" in town.

Supai Lodge

The room was clean and comfortable.   It occurs to me that the nicest person I encountered on this trip to Supai was the hotel maid.  She had a smile and a friendly hello every time I ran into her.  And I forgot to leave her a tip.  What a bum I turned out to be. The Lodge manager was also fairly friendly and helpful.

People who visit Supai often complain about how unfriendly the locals are. The only surliness I encountered on this visit was from a couple of young men (which has been the case in the past, too).  Injustice rests most heavily on the young, no matter where you are. Most of the time though, the Havasupai people you meet will return a hello, or give you a nod as they ride past on their horses.  People mistake a taciturn nature for hostility.  They are usually wrong.

If you are not familiar, the main attraction of a visit to Supai and the Havasupai Reservation is a series of several gorgeous turquoise-blue waterfalls.  The hike to Supai is about eight or nine miles from Hilltop depending on which sign you believe, but the waterfalls are another two miles or so farther downstream.  So if you are using the village lodge as a base (instead of camping), you have a roughly 2-mile walk each-way every time you want to go.  Campers, on the other hand, are located in the shaded land between Havasu and Mooney Falls.

Navajo Falls -- the trail below the village.

I figured we'd probably hike to the falls twice -- once for swimming, once for photos.  In the end we did everything in one trip and didn't go back the second time. The hike back to the village in the afternoon sun was uphill and blisteringly hot, so we only did it once. That was the only uncomfortable hike we had. The others were all in much cooler conditions, which is really unusual in the summer and we were fortunate in that regard.  

We could've gone back to the falls in late afternoon and walked back in the last light of the evening and it would have been much more comfortable.  But I was busy napping by then. Anyway, I took two bottles of water on the hike from the village to the falls and that turned out to be just about right. We spent a couple of hours at the falls, swimming and people-watching.

For this trip, we were more limited than usual because a flood had damaged things on Wednesday (the area is subject to frequent flash floods during the summer rainy season). So the trail below Havasu Falls was closed. If you hike about 1.25 miles farther down the trail from Havasu Falls, through the campground, you come to Mooney Falls, the tallest of all the falls in Cataract Canyon and named for an early "explorer" who fell to his death there. We missed Mooney this time because of the storm damage and resulting closure.

Havasu Falls

But we hiked as far as Havasu Falls and spent about 3 hours there soaking in the fast-moving cool waters and watching all the other people who were doing the same thing.  Then I put my hiking shoes back on and bitched and moaned my way back to the village in the hot summer sun.  

Doing what people do at Havasu Falls

I planned on a cold shower upon arrival.  I lusted for it, I dreamed about it.  I stumbled along in the 100 degree sunshine positively feeling that cold water, refreshing me, soothing me, cooling me down after my hike, getting the dust off.  Alas. Upon arrival at the Supai Lodge, the water lines were empty.  They remained so for the next several hours.  The next time any water flowed through the Supai Lodge pipes it was late in the evening.  I had long since given up the idea and gone to bed.

At one point, I asked the hotel manager about the lack of water.  She gave me a blank stare and stated that she "didn't know anything about that." I have learned during my many visits with the Havasupai that the proper response at such times is silence and patience. After a few moments, she said "maybe the power outages had affected the pumps -- or something -- and eventually it would get fixed."  You just have to remain patient. This ain't the Waldorf Astoria. 

Eventually, we had water again, but it arrived on Indian time (that's not criticism). "Type A" people may not be able to enjoy the relaxed pace of a place like this, but I sure can.

Walking around Supai

We spent some time watching the village's stray dogs, reading books we found in the lodge "lobby" and playing cards.  I won the last round in sudden death so I am champion of the world in Crazy Eights.  We both laughed at my pathetic attempts to shuffle a deck of cards, an art I have never mastered.   There are no public telephones, no television, and no cell phone service in Supai. In Supai, you'd better know how to entertain yourself the old-fashioned way.

The last (third) morning, I woke up about 6:30 am and got up and moving -- finally had that shower, walked downtown to see what was "up," and waited around.

Waitin' around in Supai

We had decided to seize the opportunity of a helicopter ride out of the canyon.  The hike out wouldn't have been difficult except for the last 1.5 miles of switchbacks, which are always tough.  I have hiked them with pack and without, six prior times. But...

When I discovered (on arrival at the cafe on Friday) that a first-come first-served helicopter flight was only $85, there was no question in my mind what I wanted to do. I considered that price so reasonable that I offered to pay Linda's fare too if she was in some way reluctant or unable.  I was sold. I  begged, I whined, I pleaded and Linda finally saw the wisdom of my plan. How can you possibly spend four tortuous hours on a hot, dry trail when a four-minute helicopter ride covers the same distance for only $85.  Eighty-five dollars!  Woo HOO!  Especially when your knees are still suffering from the downhill hike.

The way it works is you show up at the designated time and you put your names on the list.  I hoped the guy-in-charge would show up early, but he did not.  I kept checking though.  The appointed time was 10:00 am.  The chopper would fly from 10:00 - 1:00 pm.

At about 9:30 am, Linda and I walked down to the plaza where the heli-pad is.  This is the hub of activity in Supai. The cafe is there, the store is there, the meeting hall is there. The school is there, the clinic, everything almost -- including the helicopter.  Only the lodge is a little ways away, around the corner and behind the Christian church (a surplus Quonset Hut).  Those wanting to fly were mostly already waiting. Those who were hiking were on the trail already, trudging up the dry, hot canyon toward the switchbacks. 

We went back and got our stuff together, turned in our room key, then returned to the "plaza"and waited by the "terminal" gate. There actually is no terminal but there is a gate in the chain link fence surrounding the grass patch that calls itself an "airport."

1st Class Transport at Supai

We put our names on the roster, paid our $85, and waited for the man to call us for our flight. The helicopter was a bit late, but no one seemed to notice. 

Each round trip to Hilltop takes 15 minutes.  About 7.5 min up, and 7.5 min back, including loading and unloading time. I think we got on the second "revenue" flight; the first flight was to drop the up-top staff at Hilltop, the second trip was the first revenue flight, and we got on the third one -- to the great consternation of some fairly pushy Germans who thought they should be first and shoved their way to the front of the line at every opportunity.  I grinned about that, but it wasn't personal, it was strictly a matter of weight and balance. Linda and I simply fit the load requirements on that particular flight better.  The German tourists got on the next flight, I think.

The ride out of the canyon was quick and spectacular.  It follows the general path of the trail below, so at certain points you can look down and see those poor souls trudging along in the sand and rocks.  Poor bastards.

On the Job at Hilltop

Once alight at Hilltop, we got into the cold drinks I always leave in the car, in an ice chest crammed with ice to the top (yes, it stays very cold for the three days of a Supai trip). We took a couple more photos and then hit the road for home.  It's about 250 miles, so while not a short drive it isn't a particularly long one either.  We had lunch along the way and we were home by about 4:30 pm or so.

I am now a veteran of 6.5 hikes (and one helicopter ride) to and from the Havasupai reserve, dating from about 1985 or so. I'm more than willing to answer questions about things I have learned from that experience. If you have stumbled across this essay and have questions about visiting the Havasupai people and their home in the Grand Canyon, you may send me a note at trafficschoolbob43(at)yahoo(dot)com.

There is no other place quite like it in the United States, perhaps not even in the world. 

Racism in America

Today from Dubuque, Iowa there is news about a teacher in trouble over her comments that Huck Finn is a "racist" novel.  She is both right and wrong.

If you put yourself back in Samuel Clemens' time and look at his attitudes and his actions (which we can because he wrote about these things much more than other white folks did back then), you'd have to say he was very forward for his time in terms of social justice, in race relations, and his stories quite often threw a spotlight on the problems he saw in race relations in those days. 

"Mark Twain" quite plainly lamented the way blacks were treated in his times and Huck Finn was a very anti-racist story for that day and time in our history.  But I suspect you would also find there were racist attitudes present in Sam Clemens' psyche.  He was a product of his time and environment - just like I am a product of my time and environment. 

I suspect I can find elements of racism in my attitudes -- any time I see another human being as different, or separate, from me (whether this is overt or subconscious), this is racism.  Am I a racist? I work very hard not to be -- I try to remain very aware of my attitudes and feelings about others. I think you could say the same thing about Sam Clemens - his writings show much evidence of that truth.

It is up to each of us to examine those attitudes and feelings -- and get over the fear of the "other" that we all tend to have.  I don't know about you, but I came to realize long ago that people are just people -- there is not a human being on the face of this earth who does not have the same feelings I do, the same wants and needs, the same fears. While there are differences between us, the reality is that we are more the same than we are different.

We need to talk about these things -- and Sam Clemens' books and stories provide a very useful framework for that discussion.  What's different between then and now?  What's the same -- what hasn't changed?  No one can possibly argue that we haven't made millions of miles of progress, but there are still millions of miles to go.

I'm not commenting about the plight of the Iowa teacher -- I don't know anything about that and I sure do not trust the media to portray her situation with any real truth (is that bias creeping in there?).

I do know that taking Mark Twain out of the canon of a school (or even seriously calling it a racist work) are the wrong things to do.  Even if it is a racist work in your mind, we still want those ideas and attitudes exposed. No one has ever been harmed by the exchange of ideas -- it is only when the opposite occurs that we suffer. We cannot improve the situation by hiding from it.  Let's get it out there in the light.  Let's talk about it.

Concert mic shut off in London

Guitarist Steve Van Zandt commented "who in the world wouldn't want to hear one more McCartney or Springsteen tune" after officials shut off the sound system at an outdoor (Hyde Park?) concert -- at about 30 minutes after its scheduled end and a London "sound curfew."


Uh, I can think of a few MILLIONS of people who don't care for that music -- and which several thousand of whom may live in that immediate area and probably wanted to get some sleep.  Concert-goers aren't the only ones with rights, you know.  The officials (or organizers) who shut off the microphones and sound shouldn't have to defend their actions.  They weren't heavy-handed; they were only doing what was right.  Perhaps the only thing they might have done better perhaps would have been to communicate the requirements a little more forcefully beforehand.

Just my opinion.

Arizona Motorcycle Tours – The Back Road to Prescott

Photo by Linda

Arizona is motorcycle country.  By the time summer rolls around, lots of folks think our riding season must be over but that’s not really true – you can ride year-around here and even when it is blisteringly hot; you just have to prepare yourself and take precautions to survive brief exposure to the heat!  Of course, October/November and March/April are the prime times for glorious riding, no one is arguing that fact.

There are any one of a hundred different possibilities for great motorcycle touring choices – some of my favorites are the Sonoita/Sierra Vista area of southeastern Arizona, Route 66 from Seligman to Oatman, Route 87 from Phoenix to Payson (and beyond, and the Coronado Trail in far eastern Arizona (US Highway 191 from Clifton to Springerville).  You can’t beat the Rim highway either, from Camp Verde along the Crook Trail over to Payson and out to Show Low on SR260.  Think “Blue Ridge Parkway” with high speed two-lane blacktop and Arizona’s old growth Ponderosa Pines.  It’s a “sky highway” for much of its length with expansive vistas over the mesas, canyons and valleys below.  Even the superslab from Phoenix to Flagstaff (I-17) is a gorgeous ride, even if we Arizonans take it somewhat for granted because it is so familiar to us.

Linda at Wickenburg - 06/03/12

Today, my friend Linda and I rode the “back-road” to Prescott – Phoenix to Wickenburg via US60/93, then SR89 up Yarnell Hill and through the woods to Prescott, with a return via Cordes Junction on SR69 and I-17.  It is roughly 210 miles and it took us 7½ hours, with a generous amount of time for stops and stretches; my “south end of the northbound” is not as, shall we say, resilient as it was in years past?  The ride could be done quicker by aggressive riders who do not need to stop quite so much – and some of the blacktop begs to be burned a little bit – if you like twisties.  Our pace today was more sedate.

The ride out to Wickenburg is on a divided highway – called Grand Avenue (in Phoenix) and is stop and go for about the first 30 or 45 minutes, depending on where you start from.  It’s flat, quite developed, and is skinned off Sonoran Desert for much of the distance.  It is the least interesting part of the ride. 

The "Some Like it Hot" Cafe in Wickenburg

Wickenburg, on the other hand, is a fun place to stop and eat… Hey, eating is important.   We discovered that my favorite little Wickenburg café has changed hands since last I was there – it was the “Cowboy Café” but is now the “Some Like it Hot Café.”  They told us a lots of folks think this means Mexican cuisine – but not so – it is just a neat little breakfast and lunch kind of place with a Marilyn Monroe theme.  It was clean, the food and service were good, and the prices were fair.  I guess the Cowboy Café is re-open on the near side of town these days so perhaps I will stop there again on another trip.  I have my loyalties.  But, this new little place was friendly and I am sure I will keep stopping there also.  They have fresh pies on the menu, and I will need to try some of those. Didn’t have room today after the eggs, sausage, biscuit and gravy, browns and toast for 6.95, plus a side of mac salad (just to see).

Linda riding up Yarnell Hill

Linda’s little bike can only get down the road about 100 miles on a tank, so we gassed her up there on the way out of town, and skeedaddled over (and up) to Yarnell.  Yarnell Hill was a legend back in the day of the two-lane blacktop – as famous as the Grapevine and other truck-stop horror-story hills.  

Today on the road leading up to the base of the hill, we paced a Burlington Northern - Santa Fe freight headed up the Peavine to the main line at Ash Fork -- he must have been dragging a load of empties because he only had two locomotives pulling up that long grade.  The tracks run off to the north and away from the highway - and these days the whole system bypasses Prescott altogether and rejoins SR89 north of Prescott in the area of Chino Valley.

These days SR89 is a divided road over Yarnell Hill, and the curves have been ironed out a bit – but it is still a little bit fun.  You’ve got your uphill grade, some broad to not-so-broad curves (and hairpins) and as you reach the top, the air temperature has begun to cool. Take it easy and relax on this stretch; the Yavapai County Sheriff’s Dept. knows you like to drive it fast.  They are out there.  Don’t speed through Yarnell either…

Yarnell Hill

Now you’re on top and in ranch country – the Maughan Ranch(es) were some of the ones I saw up there today.  The air was cool, the road was good and you’ll want to let it breathe a little bit.  It’s cool…  just watch out for da cops.  It's really beautiful landscape, with wide-open views, a green "ranchey" look to it and long stretches of straight punctuated by curves leading you into the next stretch. I don't know about you, but I like that kind of road.  You will be pleased to note that I took no photos of cows today.

Across the valley as you approach the next range, you see the community of Wilhoit up ahead.  You pass Peeples Valley and Kirkland Junction.  At Kirkland, you could take an alternate back-back road around to the north and into Prescott (County Roads 15 and 10 through Skull Valley), and while that is also a pretty area and a nice drive, the main route on SR89 is better for motorcycle fun (my opinion).  Had I been train-watching, the 15/10 route follows the Peavine the closest.

You climb out of Wilhoit and the rest of the way into Prescott is Arizona mountain highway - by the time you reach the divide you'll be above 6100 ft msl.  Some of the turns are deceptively tight (so don’t get carried away).  You will be twisting your ride from one side to the other as you work your way through these curves and grades.  

I saw one guy today on a Suzuki rat-bike and he was running from apex to apex about 10 or 15 mph faster than my pace (and everyone else's) – and while I am sure he was having all sorts of fun all I wanted to do was stay away from him – he was a persistent tailgater and a little reckless otherwise as well – for as long as he was in view.  I don’t care to ride in close proximity to those guys, but most of the other riders I saw today were a bit less crazy than that.

You enter Prescott on White Spar Road and then Montezuma Street -- but you are always still on Highway 89... In Prescott, I looked for evidence of the recent fire on Whiskey Row but didn’t see any of it.  There was (as usual) some kind of carnival or something going on at the Courthouse Square with the resulting crowds of vehicles and pedestrians.   I also watched for smoke or crews from last week's forest fire on top the Bradshaws, but apparently that has subsided.  The sky was clear and blue.

We rode on out of town on Gurley Street and stopped in Prescott Valley for Linda’s fuel-up.  Then it was down SR69 to I-17, with a stop at Sunset Point to stretch and relax.  I soaked my water vest and put it on – from that point it would be over 100 degrees the remaining 60 miles or so.  The water vest is a quilted vest that breathes – you wet it and the evaporation cools you as you ride – it gets your shirt a little bit damp, but makes riding in hotter temperatures a bit more bearable.  Today I wore a long-sleeved shirt for sunburn protection but I did not wear my summer jacket.  I did OK, with just a little discomfort from the wind whipping the shirt sleeves and collar.  It wasn’t too bad.  I usually do wear the jacket (it’s a mesh affair with Kevlar) and this is the first time I have ever gone (on a road trip) without it.   I had misgivings about that decision even before I got out of town, but the reality is I did alright.

Sunset Point Rest Area

From Sunset Point it was a quick run back into North Phoenix.  Sunday afternoon traffic is not the best on that road – but it wasn’t too crazy today.  There were your usual cages whose drivers think everything is related to NASCAR – but whose skills as drivers are far from NASCAR level – or even go-kart level.  There were also a lot of motorcycles today – it seems like there were a lot of others who had the same idea we did!  So my “waving to motorcycles arm” got its exercise!

I stopped at the neighborhood corner to refuel – and from Prescott Valley to Phoenix, I got 53½ mpg – the best I have ever gotten with Big Blue.  I knew it would be (good) – since the route between the two points is significantly downhill.  So I figure that will be about the best I ever get – which means normal mpg will be between 40 or 43 (town and freeway) and 53 on the road with the wind behind me and from high ground to low ground.

This is a very pretty and spectacular route – desert, woods, Arizona high country as well as low – and a good mix of the kinds of roads we love to ride.  If you want to go, take US60 (Grand Ave) northwest out of Phoenix to Wickenburg (about 60 miles); turn north on US93 in Wickenburg and follow that a few miles to a right turn-off onto SR89 to Congress.  In Congress, you make a right turn to keep following SR89, and take that up Yarnell Hill and on into Prescott (total of about 60 miles).  In Prescott, turn right up Gurley Street and follow that as it becomes SR69 out through Prescott Valley, Mayer and at Cordes Junction, bear right onto southbound I-17 and back to Phoenix (90 more miles, Prescott to Phoenix).

If you happen to be doing this ride at a time of day that gets you through Dewey, AZ (south of Prescott Valley) close to lunch or suppertime, then you're a fool if you don't stop and eat at Leff-T's Steakhouse and Grill.  It's one of Arizona's best (IMHO).

One note of caution… many Arizona communities are using photo enforcement for speed and for red light violations.  Prescott Valley is [was, the PV cameras have been removed as of 2015] one community that has several set-ups – also El Mirage along US60 as you depart Phoenix.  Even the locals forget these cameras are there and get nailed – don’t let it happen to you.  The speed camera set-ups give you a tiny bit of “grace,” but not much.  Keep it within 5 mph and you should be OK.  Should.  (No guarantees, mate.)  For a red light, you cannot enter an intersection against a red signal.  Don't say I didn't warn you...

Keep the shiny side up!

Changing the oil on a ZZR1200

The Blue Beast - Oiled Up and Ready to Go...

My first thought was “how much trouble is this going to be?”  Biker’s Bay only charges about $90 for a synthetic oil change and they check other stuff too – and the oil alone for a change cost me over $50.  Sorry, but it does not pay to use cheap oil in (what was) a $14,000 motorcycle.  Not when that oil serves several purposes.

My first question was “does the fairing have to come off to accomplish an oil change?”  The answer is no – it doesn’t.  I did a complete (and fairly easy) job tonight without even loosening a fairing screw.  No problem.

Free advert for Lucas...

So step one – and the hardest part – finding suitable oil.  I won't use automotive oil in my bikes -- there really is a difference in oils made specifically for motorcycle use. Blue normally takes 10w-40 and that’s available all over town.  But 10w-40 is limited to use up to about 104 F (40 C) and the desert around here exceeds that almost every day between June and October.  So the alternative is 15w-50 or 20w-50 and those grades are a little harder to find.  I finally got some Lucas 20w-50 at an O’Reilly’s near here – but it took looking through 4 or 5 different stores including Wal-Marto’s to find it.  I already had the requisite filter on the shelf – I bought several as it is the same one I used on Old Yaller, the ZR7S I used to have.  I changed the oil in that one about every 1000 to 1500 miles, so I bought them in bulk.  I got my oil drain pan out, a socket set (you'll need a 17 mm socket), a rag or two, some degreaser, a funnel, and a fender cover or something to lay on the concrete.  I grabbed a CH-6012 filter off the shelf and got down with it…

I am embarrassed to say that the oil I just drained has been in the engine for about two years.  I guess it looked really good for two-year-old oil but jeesh…  It didn't have that many miles on it but we won't be letting things go that long next time, now will we...

Side View

Rear drain plug and the filter assy

I removed the rear drain plug and the filter assembly and I let the oil drain for a while during which time I had a cold one.  Those who know me well understand this means a Diet Coke… 

Then, there is a second drain plug (third if you count the filter assembly) further forward, up underneath the cowl (starboard side as you sit on the bike). There is a lower side port in the fairing through which you can see this bolt/drain-plug and you can reach up from underneath with your ratchet to get on it.  I had to use a longer extension for that one.  Take a look at this one and mark its position well – it is very hard to see its location under there when it comes time to put it back in place if you haven't been careful about that.


Forward drain plug

So while this one drains for a while, I take the filter assembly over to the work bench and pull it apart. I used some spray solvent on it to clean it up and replaced the o-rings on the shaft and the mounting plate. Then you re-assemble it by sliding the mounting plate over the center shaft, dropping the spring and the washer over the center shaft, push the new element down onto those, and set the metal top flange over the element.  Smear some oil on the o-rings – and it is ready to go back on the bike; piece of cake.  

Forward drain plug

Replace the two drain bolts and you’re ready to fill it with oil again.  I try to take care not to over-tighten anything.  I go about hand–tight plus one little bit extra and that’s it.  A torque wrench and a little knowledge about the specs would be a good thing here…  don’t overdo it.

I added four quarts to start, then started the engine for a few moments to move the oil back into the places it needed to go.  Once that happened, I shut him down and added the last little bit of oil needed to bring the level up to the proper point on the sight-glass (make sure the bike is level).  Take care – add only a little at a time until it is about ½ to ¾ between the low line and high line on the sight gauge.  Do not overfill it or the Earth will tilt off its axis and careen into the Sun.  Old Blue took a little over 4 quarts total today - not even close to 5 quarts. 

That’s it.  Clean up the oil you spilled all over the floor, throw away your trash and wipe off your tools and put them back where they belong.  Go wash your hands with some Goop or Lava and feel like you accomplished something worthwhile.  Or better yet, take the brute for a spin up the road and see how great it feels to have new, slippery oily-oil in your scoot! 

It's spring, you know?  It's time to go for a ride.
Just keep it between the fence posts!  

Updated April 14, 2013
  

About Amelia...

Earhart at about the time of her disappearance

I’ve been reading a lot about Amelia Earhart.  She probably wouldn’t have been much more than a footnote to history if she hadn’t disappeared… but because of that mystery end she just can’t fade away.

Some say she wasn't all that good a pilot.  I'm not sure that made any difference and I'm not sure what point they are trying to make by saying that.  "Oh, she just wasn't very good, you know?"  I think if I had been a contemporary of hers, I'd have surely been a fan.

Here's the thing.  She was largely self-taught after primary flight school. She was a pioneer of sorts - chosen to "test" fly a gyro-plane, in which she set an early altitude record. She flew the Atlantic once as "baggage," then flew it twice more before she died. She was the FIRST to fly the Pacific from Hawaii to California and did it solo. She was the first to fly non-stop from California to Mexico City.  She was first to fly from Mexico City, across the Gulf to New York.  She flew aircraft with complex control systems and intimately understood proper engine management for those engines (mechanics were said to have respected her knowledge). She "SOLOED" an aircraft that was and is more mechanically complicated than today's modern jetliners 3/4 of the way around the world before her disappearance.  In all I've ever read about her, I know of only three or four crashes.  For comparison, Charles Lindbergh also crashed three times.  Airplanes were not as reliable then as they are now.  After all of that, I'd suggest that she was an excellent pilot - and all the arm-chair commentators who say otherwise don't know their asses from fat meat.

She was constant and consistent at working to improve her flying skills.. I have known pilots like that.  I mean, she had some wrecks. But so did a lot of other pilots of that era. What she had I think, was a keen, natural intelligence and certainly a desire to fly and a desire to stretch the limits, both her own, and limits in general. When she applied herself she could be successful and often was and she was remarkably persistent when it came to flying. There are more than a few competent pilots like that.  You have to respect her for that.

Even the best, most well-prepared pilots sometimes disappeared on long pioneering over-water flights back in those early times... Nungesser and Coli for example, the great Jacques Mermoz, even Pan Am's trailblazer, the meticulous Capt. Edwin Musick. Miss Earhart had with her one of the best, most-experienced long-distance over-water navigators of the time.  She should have been successful at finding Howland Island because that’s exactly what Fred Noonan was skilled at - finding islands.  He was one of Pan Am's top navigators - in fact was the navigator with Captain Musick on the very first trans-Pacific "China Clipper."  He was comfortable flying with Earhart, I might add. So those of her own time who denigrated her flying abilities maybe just had problems with women in aviation.

Probably the most telling criticism I have heard about Amelia Earhart is that she was haphazard in her preparations - and that particular flaw very easily could have made a fatal difference. I’ve thought a lot about the different theories about how she might have met her end – but I really doubt we’ll ever know for sure.  The odds are against that after all the intervening 75 years.  I do know that she was not as prepared as I would have wanted to be, had I been the one attempting that flight.  I would not have headed across that beach had I not had a firm grasp on every radio and direction finder in that aircraft as well as transoceanic navigation, whether I had an accompanying Pan Am expert navigator or not.  I simply would have been too uneasy about that. And she didn’t (not completely) and went anyway apparently thinking to herself all the while, “I’ve always made it before.”  But there is nothing forgiving about the vast expanses of the Pacific. 

It has occurred to me that the fatal mistake, upon which every outcome depended, was actually the crash on take-off in Hawaii at the beginning of the first attempt at this flight - which caused delay and a reversal of the direction of the flight.  Had she been successful on that first start, the trip would have had a totally different path of events, Howland might have been found and she might have died an old lady.  It has also occurred to me that there was one critical moment on that last flight upon which all depended.  She was requested to hold her mic open so that the Itasca could get a radio fix on her position. She didn't hold the mic open long enough for them to get it.  Had she done so, they might have been able to give her a course to the island.

But none of that matters now.  Even a meticulous, careful, expert airman... or airwoman... can make a simple fatal error.  Even Lindbergh himself almost got rubbed out once or twice... We can't change what she did or didn't do but in any event that has nothing to do with our care for her or the hopes that we had (as a nation) for her success, or our pain when she was lost. We loved her for who she was and what she represented. You see, she was our "national sweetheart" at the time. You know... [she had] a quirky personality with strong opinions, smart, a sly sense of humor and a certain sweetness? For a woman of her time, she was even a bit unusually outspoken... for her time. There really was a lot going on behind that shy smile. Then you add in her wild abandonment to her sense of adventure, and airplanes, and then well, there you have it.  A sure-fire love affair!  And by example she was partly responsible for helping some women get themselves out of the kitchen and out in the world alongside the men.

There are different ideas about what might have happened to her.  Some posit she was captured by the Japanese while spying for the US and Roosevelt. Japanese records from that time show no involvement in the search for the missing flight or its crew.  Japanese researchers have apparently looked back for any information related to those theories and have come up with no connection.  

Another theory about her disappearance, perhaps one with a high degree of possibility, is the one being investigated by TIGHAR (a group headed by Ric Gillespie). TIGHAR thinks it is possible that Amelia and Noonan flew down a “line of position” and may have come across Gardner Island (now Nikumaroro Island) where they are thought to have crash-landed on the reef and then, overlooked by those who were searching for them, died of exposure on the island as castaways.  As I understand it, a "line of position" is a somewhat perpendicular line drawn across the end of your planned route.  If, for example, you know that Howland Island is 2,559 miles from your origin airport, then once you have flown that distance, all you need to do to find your destination (assuming that it is not looming in your windscreen at that point) is fly along the line of position and you should encounter your destination in one direction or the other.  All of the possible points where it could be should fall on that line (assuming you calculated things correctly in the first place.)


TIGHAR will search the most likely waters off that reef this summer of 2012 in hopes of finding her airplane's wreckage.  While there has been a considerable amount of circumstantial evidence discovered (on Nikumaroro by TIGHAR), to date there has been nothing scientifically definitive – but when taken in total, the evidence they've found, if not a smoking gun, may still overwhelmingly indicate that TIGHAR's theory is the strongest one of several.  Perhaps Earhart and Noonan ended on Nikumaroro -- just based on what TIGHAR has discovered so far.  When more than one bit of evidence points to that conclusion and there is no other known, or logical, explanation for the presence of the evidence, then that's a fairly strong case.  

This is what Amelia Earhart’s last radio message said she was doing -- flying that "line of position" at what she thought was the correct distance from her starting point at Lae (New Guinea).  We know she never sighted Howland.  But Gardner Island (Nikumaroro) should have been about 350 miles down the line to the south.  This all assumes, as she thought and radioed, that she was "on [top of Howland] but [couldn't see it]." (I paraphrased her quote for clarity.) Some say she didn't have enough gas to get that far (to Nikumaroro).  I am not so sure.  I haven’t done anything more than rough calculations of my own – but I have read the book Ms Earhart was writing as she made that last flight. That’s what it was named; Last Flight.  She sent chapters home from points along the way including from that last stop at Lae.  Her husband published the book after her disappearance. 

Quite a number of times along the way she said she had throttled her engines back and flown slower (and at the optimum altitudes) to conserve as much fuel as possible.  She did this repeatedly and I cannot believe she wouldn't have continued the practice on that last, longest, most dangerous leg.  Maybe she had more range than we might think. Maybe.  No less an expert than Clarence Kelly Johnson had calculated her fuel-consumption tables and power settings. Kelly Johnson was Lockheed's ace of aircraft designers.  He was an airplane-designing god. We know she departed Lae with 1000 gallons of fuel - which at her most economical rate of consumption would have gotten her to Howland and several hundred miles beyond - given the right conditions.

But no matter.  Not now. If you think about it – in the end there are only a few possibilities for the end of the story. First, the Gardner Island theory is a possibility (or even some other deserted island).  However, I’m not so sure this one is the possibility we'd prefer...  Slow and miserable desiccation on a mercilessly hot desert island is not my idea of a pleasant or even tolerable death.  Perhaps she did make it to the Marshall Islands as some think, and disappeared into Japanese custody.

Earhart's Electra

Of course, the other possibilities are not pleasant either. She might have exhausted her fuel at sea and ditched the Electra in the trackless expanses of the Pacific. She might have crashed while trying to ditch and died immediately in the attempt; ditching at sea is a tricky proposition (though wind and sea conditions that particular day were reportedly not too bad).

Perhaps, after ditching successfully, she and Fred made it into a raft and then drifted at sea undiscovered until they ran out of water and/or food and died.  It had to be one or another combination of these possibilities. Any way you look at it though, they died. We know this because they were neither one ever seen again by any credible person during their finitely measurable lifetimes, and while we do not know the exact specifics of their crash and demise, any person with a functioning brain knows what happened to them in that general sense.  They likely died immediately in the crash, or soon thereafter of injuries sustained in the impact, or they died of dehydration either on land or at sea.  Finally, if they were captured by the Japanese, they didn't survive that captivity either.

So I ask you... what is the point of spending millions of dollars looking for the answers to the how and what of those two sad deaths that probably happened seventy-five years ago in 1937?  I don’t deny that what happened to Earhart and Noonan is of great personal interest to me, but in the grand scheme of things today, what is the point really?

Anyway, this summer, TIGHAR will spend some number of days searching the waters off Nikumaroro, looking for Lockheed "Electra" pieces, using all the most modern underwater search equipment.  If they find it where they think they will, then the mystery is mostly solved.  On the other hand, if they do not find the Electra off Nikumaroro's reef, why don’t we let Amelia, Fred and their story, rest.  After this final, intriguing possibility is checked out completely, what else is there to do? If anyone wants to spend a few millions of dollars for Amelia, here’s a better idea… 

Don’t spend it going to look for her, she’s been dead for years and years. Use it for something that would have really mattered to her – just add that money to the memorial college scholarship fund in her name at Purdue University and use it to help more deserving women who might not be able to afford a good college education otherwise. Purdue hired her and bought her the plane, after all.  I think that would be something Amelia the feminist and ardent supporter of women's rights and advocate for women's opportunities could totally get behind.  Just my two cents worth.

Postscript... 2014:  TIGHAR did in fact discover some things in their 2012 explorations that could be pieces of the Electra, that while not clear, are remarkably consistent with certain parts of the aircraft's structure.  They are now planning further expeditions to the area to check these out further.  Additionally, a piece of metal that is almost positively from Earhart's aircraft and specific to it and no other Model 10 (a patch) was recently identified.  It was found on Nikumaroro quite a few years ago. While it doesn't PROVE that's where the aircraft ended up - we know at least one piece of that plane did. 

2017: TIGHAR is back on Nikumaroro this year using "bone-sniffing dogs" to hunt for skeletal pieces of the castaways.  There are no "smoking-gun" discoveries as yet - but definitely some intriguing possibilities they are now investigating.

Last edited on August 10, 2017.