A quick review of the North American Road Atlas revealed that your Loyal Correspondent previously traveled the majority of roads within the range of a two-day ride. I wanted this to be a journey of discovery, not only in the sense of finding out how the Blackbird and I responded to extended riding, but also, in the sense of covering new ground (literally!).

June 6 just happened to be the anniversary of D-Day, and reviewing the plan of attack, I focused on the City of Spokane, Washington as the target of the Blackbird’s first American foray. The day of the trip dawned to a light overcast, which quickly dissipated. A quick breakfast at our local Saturday morning eatery (very long way to the bottom of the coffee cup), and at 9:15 I was on my way.

The Lower Mainland of British Columbia (if you look at a map of BC, the area at the bottom left corner) is relatively congested. A long time ago, the politicians of the day decided that road development would be minimal. The long-term consequence has been that traffic in and out of the Greater Vancouver area is a nightmare. A "two lanes each way" freeway is the main route into town from the east and it’s choked virtually all the time. However, the Blackbird showed its manners by proving a docile machine. Keep the tach below 5,000 rpm, and it’s easy to ride, although below 3,000 rpm the gearshifts are clunky.

By most standards, the Port Mann Bridge is a masterpiece. Curving long and high above the Fraser River, overlooking incredible scenery, the Trans-Canada Highway, which crosses the bridge, is a bottleneck. Currently under construction to the west of the bridge, High Occupancy Vehicle Lanes are supposed to ease the problem. Most folks say that without a new bigger bridge, or a second crossing of the river, all this will do is make a shorter, fatter traffic jam.

Having crossed the Port Mann and traveled a few kilometers to the east on Hwy. 1, I turned south toward the U.S. Fifteen minutes later, I found myself in another line, this time for US Customs. It seems that the US government has deemed the Lower Mainland to be a hotbed for the importation of Marijuana. Consequently, they take a more thorough look at vehicles crossing the border these days. Several of the vehicles in front of me had to open their trunks and put up with a search. Normally that’s very rare. When I finally got to the booth, the usual "Where are you from? What is your citizenship? Where are you going? How long are you staying?" And I was on my way.

US Interstate 5 finally gave me a chance to move the bird faster than 110km/h. Maintaining approximately 130km/h all the way to Burlington, Washington, I was able to cover the approximately 90km in just about 40 minutes. I was amazed at the smooth airflow around my helmet and the level of protection the fairing offered. It seemed about the same as my old 900F had with the Hondaline Supersport Fairing (just like the ‘81-82 CBX) without the helmet buffet.

As I headed south, a low marine cloud layer moved in from the ocean, hiding the sun. Not wearing a sweater under my new Fieldsheer Autohahn riding suit, I was glad to be able to switch on the electric vest and stay warm.

At Burlington, I turned east on Washington State Highway 20, the North Cascades Highway. Stopping a few miles later at Sedro-Woolley to acquire some US dollars, I found the main road through town closed for what appeared to be a market day. I always seem to be able to find at least one parade or some other type of civic festivity on virtually every ride I make in the USA!

Underway again, heading east on Highway 20, I left the clouds behind and started climbing. Highway 20 follows the Skagit (ska-jit) River up and up into the heart of North Cascades National Park. Although the land along the road side is not part of the Park, it is part of Ross Lake National Recreation Area. The incredible mountains you see as you follow the road are protected as part of the national park.

The road surface is excellent here, likely because the road is closed in winter. Snowfalls on the west slopes of the Cascades are huge, and I guess the road is not populated, so why spend the money to clear the road? Much of this road is motorcycle heaven. Once you get by the clusters of huge RV’s slowly churning up the hills, you can have a beautiful ride, with sweepers, long straits, hairpins, all combined with hills of various grades.

This was where the CBR1100XX really showed its prowess. Light steering, rock steady at high lean angles, and more power than you can use, the Blackbird is an absolute blast! It handles very well, way beyond my level of fear. Gone is the predictable weave exhibited by the CB900F in high-speed sweepers.

The single biggest improvement over the old 900F is that the riding position braces you for power application. While the 900F would sometimes feel like it was pulling the handlebars out of your grasp, the XX with much greater power and acceleration feels like you are on top of it at all times. So that’s why the footpegs are so high, and those pavement feelers so long!

Oh! The Combined Braking System can kick out the rear end if you are leaned over (way over!), but if you notice that happening to you on a public road, please slow down and be smoother with your brake application! I guess that the next advanced version of CBS (I hear the new Interceptor has a simplified version) will have a lean angle sensor to reduce input to the rear brake when leaning! Anyone worried about too much front brake at dead-slow speeds should have no worries.

Rainey Pass is the highest point on the North Cascades Highway at 1480m. By the time I reached there, the weather had changed again. Although the sun was gone and the temperature was very cool, the combination of the suit, vest and fairing was up to the task. Here I stopped 2P (that big coffee haunting me) and then continued on through spectacular Washington Pass toward Winthrop. A small town which, with the development of the highway, went back to its roots to be reborn as an Old West Tourist Trap, everyone traveling the North Cascades Highway for the first time stops at Winthrop. It’s a popular destination for motorcyclists from Vancouver on day rides. Passing a number of bikes parked along the boardwalks, I elected to push on toward Twisp, 15km down the road, where eating would be cheap.

By the time you arrive at Twisp, you can’t help but note a big change in the climate. The forests are not as all encompassing here. Pine is the dominant tree, and the mountain valleys are predominantly grasslands. A lot of beef is raised in this area, where ranching seems to be equal to lumber in importance. As you continue toward the east, in the "rain shadow" of the Cascades, the land is drier, without the lushness you become accustomed to on the Pacific Slope. Continuing East and descending, the temperature warms markedly.

At Twisp, you are geographically halfway between Vancouver and Spokane. This is a tiny town, where the arrival of the Blackbird prompted one teenage girl to nearly faint with excitement. She and her two girlfriends rushed off in a beat up pick-up truck to find "my boyfriend, Jason, he has a CBR too!"

I had almost finished my lunch when the girls returned with Jason, a lanky teen who had all the signs of being a walking motorcycle accident, waiting to happen. The girl confessed she would never pilot a bike because "Jason scares me when I’m on the back of his CBR." Jason asked, "have you opened ‘er up yet?" After a negative reply, he exhibited a notably interested air of disinterest.

After a fill of Chevron 92 Octane, I headed east again.

Eventually Highway 20 twists and descends to the town of Okanogan, a fruit growing centre on the banks of the Okanogan River. The Okanogan Valley is a warm, arid area where sagebrush and small cacti are native fauna. The river is heavily tapped for irrigation along its length from North of the Canadian Border (nearly a 100km to the north), to where it meets the Columbia River, (40km to the South). At this point, Highway 20 takes a turn to the north, following US 97 for 50km, before turning east again.

I too turned north, but at Omak, seven or eight kilometres to the north, I turned onto Highway 155, heading southeast toward Grand Coulee Dam. This turned out to be a wonderful road through mountainous terrain, which eventually led along the Columbia River, high above its banks.

This portion of the trip saw a change in the weather. The warm sunshine at Okanogan quickly changed to dark threatening skies and blustery cross, tail and head winds. Then the skies opened. For a half-hour I rode steadily through heavy rain, at one point slowing to 65 to 70 km/h due to limited visibility and traction.

The rain was a good test for new equipment. The bike never faltered and the Michelin Macadam tires proved quite adept in the wet. The only slipping I encountered was on tarry repairs to cracks in the road surface, which you couldn’t see with the amount of water on the road. The Autobahn riding suit, while not waterproof (it’s not claimed to be) certainly kept the worst of the water at bay. A little seeped in at the front of the unsealed shoulder seams, but generally kept me dry. The Givi E46 luggage proved totally watertight.

Grand Coulee Dam is one of those monuments to Human Ingenuity that just has to be seen to be believed. Suffice to say it generates lots of kilowatts, thousands go on tours through, over and around it every year and during late evenings in the summer, a laser light show reflects off the spillways. This trip I passed by the dam for the long, empty road ahead.

By the time one arrives at Grand Coulee, you see more changes in the land. The rugged mountains are behind you and you are on a sort of volcanic plateau. The land seems to be made of a giant lava bed, through which, rivers cut canyons with steep walls rising to relatively flat lands above. As you move further southeast the thin topsoil and fairly smooth rolling hills make the land viable for agriculture. Grains and other crops are grown here.

Highway 174 heads southeast away from Grand Coulee. Ordinarily, this road would be fairly low on the list of roads to ride in Washington, but for me, this was not an ordinary ride. Cutting almost arrow straight across a gentle rolling plain, this piece of road is predominantly surrounded by agriculture. Big agriculture, big farms, few people.

Coming over a rise I could see the Highway ahead for a couple of kilometres. I could see all the approaches to the road. Everything was clear. No habitations in sight – 120 km/h, shift down to third, pull the trigger, hang on! Ohmigod!

I only got up to 210 km/h before I chickened out, but that was the fastest I had ever been on any wheeled vehicle other than a jet aircraft. By the time I was back to sane speeds, I could only giggle and grin in my helmet. The acceleration was incredible, the smoothness amazing, the ease with which the XX cruised at over 200 km/h, ridiculous! Who needs a bike like this????

So then the ride was almost done for the day. At Wilbur, highway 174 ends and you turn east on US 2, Spokane is 100 km away. Although the countryside is pretty, with crops growing on gently sloped fields, the highway is a major route with perfectly graded bends, lots of RV’s, local farm vehicles and a lot of solid, double yellow lines.

Past Creston, a rest stop beckoned with free coffee (charitable donation accepted) and the worst cookie I ever tasted (though for the effort these folks put in, I would never tell them). The vendor came out of his booth to admire the XX. He was one of those retired gents who rode a motorcycle 40 years ago. "They sure have changed since I last rode one," he said.

Climbing back on the Blackbird, I was now getting a bit stiff in my joints toward the end of the day. The high pegs do tend to bend your legs more than any previous bike I’ve ridden, and my butt was sore on the seat. As you close in on Spokane, the road straightens, turns to four lanes, then freeway. I was glad to find a cheap but respectable looking motel on the outskirts of town.

After a dinner across the street (Cajun Red Snapper, surprisingly good for $8.00 US) and a couple of beers, I walked back to my room, just beating a torrent of heavy rain, thunder and lightning. I had watched the storm in my mirrors as I rolled down US 2, I was surprised at how long it took to reach the city.

After an hour of mindless US commercial television, and a call to reassure my sweetie, I turned in. Listening to the rain and watching the flashes of lightning illuminate the room, I plotted my return to Canada.