Pictures from the Road: from Sierra Nevada to Crater Lake
Probably one of the hardest things to learn - if not so much in beer writing, then certainly in fiction – is that ultimately the story itself should help determine the manner in which it’s told. One’s epic toenail-clipping adventure, despite all its charms, would probably make a better youTube video than it would a summer blockbuster (although some of the movies I’ve seen recently suggest this may be debatable). And the fall of the Roman Empire plays out with somewhat less oomph on Twitter. One’s story, if listened to, helps choose its best packaging.
This past weekend, Ali and I headed up to Oregon for a weekend of work-related obligations near Medford, followed by a few days at Crater Lake National Park. There were no bear attacks. At no point on this road trip did we find ourselves in mortal peril, or particularly frightened, or on the brink of a poignant beer-centric epiphany. Our coverage of the breweries of Southern Oregon was by no means exhaustive, or even close. The coolest thing that happened, I didn’t even see.
I will tell it to you anyway.
As Ali and her co-worker were returning from a site visit just north of Medford, they passed an accident scene playing out on the side of the road. There was a man wearing his motorcycle helmet covered in dust, sitting down on the gravel, surrounded by a few good people who had stopped to try and help him. There was no sign of the motorcycle, which must have skidded down the embankment nearby. People were making calls on cell phones, while this man just sat there: not broken and bleeding, for the most part, but dazed and confused. That was what they saw as they were driving down the highway, and then it was over.
They were on a reasonably steep hill, and a mile or two down the road they come to what appears to be another accident scene, with vehicles slowing down again and brake lights coming on. But there’s no one pulled over on the berm this time. Just cars slowing down on a steep hill, as if merging with an incoming, invisible lane. And it takes a while for Ali to catch a glimpse of what’s ahead: a motorcycle at the head of the pack, leaning against the highway’s central divider, still going.
And I’m telling you this so that maybe someday you, too, will try to share this story as well, about a motorcycle seen by the wife of this guy whose goofy little article you once read. And perhaps then you will understand what I meant earlier.
In summary, here are some pictures.
(All photos © Anneliese Schmidt)
7 Comments to “Pictures from the Road: from Sierra Nevada to Crater Lake”
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[...] This post was mentioned on Twitter by ratebeer, Ken (K. M.) Weaver. Ken (K. M.) Weaver said: Pictures from the Road: from Sierra Nevada to Crater Lake http://bit.ly/axxRF3 @SierraNevadaCA @SOBMedford [...]
GORGEOUS!
I, for one, believe your wife, but I swear I’ve heard several versions of the story over the years.
Great pictures!
Ali’s a terrible liar, so I’d be hugely impressed if she was retelling me some sort of motorcycle urban legend that I hadn’t known about.
amazing!
[...] recent trip up north into southern Oregon and to Crater Lake National Park called for two things: (1) a beer [...]
[...] out some great photos over at The Hop Press. Ken Weaver posted some pictures from the road in southern Oregon, from Sierra Nevada to Crater [...]