I didn’t see much in Ely; I guess I was expecting more when I arrived. As it turns out, by sticking to Route 6, I missed downtown, so the report on that will have to wait until next time.I stopped at a busy filling station at the 6/50 split, and had an enjoyable conversation with a guy who seemed to be ready to buy a Switchback of his own when he got home.This fill-up was an important one for me. The next stop was Tonopah, and I did not want to run out of fuel. Every drop possible was dripped into the tank. I cycled through the multi-purpose LCD readout and the range predictor insisted I was good for 220 miles when, just to make sure.Knowing that I had dropped the mpg precipitously when cruising at high speed in Utah, I backed down to about 70 mph and relaxed.At the intersection of Route 6 and State Highway 395, sits the most extensive ruins on the trip. What once must have been a bustling stop with a large motel, huge gas station, bar and restaurant was now turning to desert dust.For some reason, a boarded up home and lone bare power pole caught my eye. I put my iPhone on the hot cement and took this bug’s eye view shot. Don’t be afraid to put your camera into unexpected positions. Double yellow lines are reliably dramatic.Conditions called for the Backlit adjustment to lighten the exposure, the angle wanted a widescreen 16:9 crop, and an effect called Redscale had a dramatic impact on the color. The emptiness surrounding me allowed me to kneel down in the middle of the road; be careful and aware when trying this.Speaking of which, a vanishing point straightaway on Route 6, just east of State Highway 375, also proved to be irresistible. I could condescendingly advise you “Do not try this at home!” but I think our readers are smart enough to take appropriate care when shooting a photograph.To quote The Who, “I can see for miles and miles,” so I felt comfortable setting up this shot. No photographers or Switchbacks were harmed in the production of this photo.The scene also took me back to simpler days, with empty roads and classic V-twins. I held the camera over my head for a more unusual view, and inadvertently ended up unprofessionally tilting the horizon.The Antique effect was chosen, and a period-appropriate Vintage border added to complete the look, enhanced by an uneven horizon.The heat not withstanding, the rest of the ride to Tonopah was sweat inducing. Despite my best efforts and speeds down to 55 mph, the Switchback’s predicted range was dropping faster than the miles were added to the odometer. The farther I went, the less likely it seemed I would have the fuel to make Tonopah.Every time I would crest a mountain range, I was hoping I’d see Tonopah down in the valley. As things were getting desperate, I even shut off the motor and coasted on a miles-long downhill. It wasn’t working, as the climbs obliterated the mpg at an alarming rate.Finally, as I was climbing up a hill, the range predictor threw up its hands and just said Low Fuel. The fuel gauge was pegged on E. I was not enjoying myself.I dropped my speed to 35 mph for the last hill, trying to figure out two things. One, why I didn’t buy a gallon gas can in Ely and bungee it to the rear rack. And, two, what will it take to flag down one of the infrequent passers by.As I climbed the last hill, Tonopah came into view. It turns out it is on a hilltop, not in a valley; it is a mining town, and I should have figured that out on my own. I guess my brain’s processing cycles were otherwise occupied.A nice downhill after entering Tonopah’s outskirts send me to a sight for sore eyes-a Shell station. I filled up the Switchback and put exactly 3.75 gallons in the tank. Exactly. What?Harley-Davidson claims a 4.75- gallon fuel tank for the Switchback. The mileage I got between Ely and Tonopah, 44.8 mpg, is about what Harley claims. Either the Switchback was cheated out of a gallon of fuel capacity, or someone in the fuel tank sensor department has some explaining to do. Regardless, I was glad I didn’t run out of gas.Across the street were some past- their-prime buildings, and from the Shell parking lot I clicked off a shot, and added another vintage effect: Chromogenic. I walked out in the street to avoid including the roadway.Tonopah had been my planned overnight stop, but the clock revealed it wasn’t even 3:30 p.m. yet. Despite my photo stops, I was making good time, so there was no reason to call it a day. I figured I would make it to Bishop and find a place.After the drama of Ely to Tonopah, the ride to Bishop was uneventful. A few miles before the California border in the tiny hamlet of Mina, sits a sad, burned out restaurant.It had merely been boarded up as recently as 2008, so arsonists have finally had the last word relatively recently.The afternoon sun glistened off the Switchback’s chrome, and I had one of my last photo opportunities. Silver Gelatin, another film process, got the nod here. Stark black-and-white goes well with the none-too-subtle destruction of what was once a bustling landmark for Route 6 travellers. As drivers from California entered Nevada, this was likely the first stop.Once in California, Route 6 heads south, a welcome development as the sun was heading toward the horizon. The terrain changes, too; the desolation and desert is punctuated by more cars, some irrigation, and gas stations.Pulling into Bishop, I expected some sort of sign commemorating the end of a road that begins at the Atlantic Coast. If one is there, I couldn’t find it.So, I headed back up the road for the unofficial sign signifying the western terminus of Route 6-a choice of Los Angeles or Reno on Route 395. This last shot got the ’70s filter.My plan to spend the night in Bishop was preempted by the 5:29 p.m. on my phone as I clicked the final photo-even after 577 miles, I wasn’t ready to stop and there was plenty of light.I was running a dark visor on the Arai, so I was hoping to pick up a clear one at Golden State Cycle, a Honda and Yamaha dealer on Main Street. I was stunned to find out that they close at 5 p.m. and everyone was gone.Plan B was to ride as far as I could until it was too dark. Fortunately, a stop for gas at a Chevron station on the south side of Lone Pine also secured me eye protection that was both form fitting and nearly clear.I bought the glasses from an older woman who looked wistfully out at the Switchback and said, “I came out here on the back of a Harley 40 years ago, and never left.”The sky didn’t go fully dark until I was nearly to Mojave. There, I flipped up my visor, donned the eyewear, and scrunched behind the windshield for the final 90 miles home.I was greeted at home by a wife who couldn’t quite figure out why I wanted to ride 837 miles in a single day. The plain truth: I was having so much fun on the Harley-Davidson Switchback that I didn’t want to stop.She dutifully made me something to eat, as I realized that three Clif Bars were all I had consumed since Sonic. Darn, I should have stopped for lunch in Ely!Story from previous issue of Ultimate MotorCycling…to view the digital edition, click here. Photography by Don Williams
Motorcycle Travel Captured with iPhone
I didn’t see much in Ely; I guess I was expecting more when I arrived. As it turns out, by sticking to Route 6, I missed downtown, so the report on that will have to wait until next time.I stopped at a busy filling station at the 6/50 split, and had an enjoyable conversation with a guy who seemed to be ready to buy a Switchback of his own when he got home.This fill-up was an important one for me. The next stop was Tonopah, and I did not want to run out of fuel. Every drop possible was dripped into the tank. I cycled through the multi-purpose LCD readout and the range predictor insisted I was good for 220 miles when, just to make sure.Knowing that I had dropped the mpg precipitously when cruising at high speed in Utah, I backed down to about 70 mph and relaxed.At the intersection of Route 6 and State Highway 395, sits the most extensive ruins on the trip. What once must have been a bustling stop with a large motel, huge gas station, bar and restaurant was now turning to desert dust.For some reason, a boarded up home and lone bare power pole caught my eye. I put my iPhone on the hot cement and took this bug’s eye view shot. Don’t be afraid to put your camera into unexpected positions. Double yellow lines are reliably dramatic.Conditions called for the Backlit adjustment to lighten the exposure, the angle wanted a widescreen 16:9 crop, and an effect called Redscale had a dramatic impact on the color. The emptiness surrounding me allowed me to kneel down in the middle of the road; be careful and aware when trying this.Speaking of which, a vanishing point straightaway on Route 6, just east of State Highway 375, also proved to be irresistible. I could condescendingly advise you “Do not try this at home!” but I think our readers are smart enough to take appropriate care when shooting a photograph.To quote The Who, “I can see for miles and miles,” so I felt comfortable setting up this shot. No photographers or Switchbacks were harmed in the production of this photo.The scene also took me back to simpler days, with empty roads and classic V-twins. I held the camera over my head for a more unusual view, and inadvertently ended up unprofessionally tilting the horizon.The Antique effect was chosen, and a period-appropriate Vintage border added to complete the look, enhanced by an uneven horizon.The heat not withstanding, the rest of the ride to Tonopah was sweat inducing. Despite my best efforts and speeds down to 55 mph, the Switchback’s predicted range was dropping faster than the miles were added to the odometer. The farther I went, the less likely it seemed I would have the fuel to make Tonopah.Every time I would crest a mountain range, I was hoping I’d see Tonopah down in the valley. As things were getting desperate, I even shut off the motor and coasted on a miles-long downhill. It wasn’t working, as the climbs obliterated the mpg at an alarming rate.Finally, as I was climbing up a hill, the range predictor threw up its hands and just said Low Fuel. The fuel gauge was pegged on E. I was not enjoying myself.I dropped my speed to 35 mph for the last hill, trying to figure out two things. One, why I didn’t buy a gallon gas can in Ely and bungee it to the rear rack. And, two, what will it take to flag down one of the infrequent passers by.As I climbed the last hill, Tonopah came into view. It turns out it is on a hilltop, not in a valley; it is a mining town, and I should have figured that out on my own. I guess my brain’s processing cycles were otherwise occupied.A nice downhill after entering Tonopah’s outskirts send me to a sight for sore eyes-a Shell station. I filled up the Switchback and put exactly 3.75 gallons in the tank. Exactly. What?Harley-Davidson claims a 4.75- gallon fuel tank for the Switchback. The mileage I got between Ely and Tonopah, 44.8 mpg, is about what Harley claims. Either the Switchback was cheated out of a gallon of fuel capacity, or someone in the fuel tank sensor department has some explaining to do. Regardless, I was glad I didn’t run out of gas.Across the street were some past- their-prime buildings, and from the Shell parking lot I clicked off a shot, and added another vintage effect: Chromogenic. I walked out in the street to avoid including the roadway.Tonopah had been my planned overnight stop, but the clock revealed it wasn’t even 3:30 p.m. yet. Despite my photo stops, I was making good time, so there was no reason to call it a day. I figured I would make it to Bishop and find a place.After the drama of Ely to Tonopah, the ride to Bishop was uneventful. A few miles before the California border in the tiny hamlet of Mina, sits a sad, burned out restaurant.It had merely been boarded up as recently as 2008, so arsonists have finally had the last word relatively recently.The afternoon sun glistened off the Switchback’s chrome, and I had one of my last photo opportunities. Silver Gelatin, another film process, got the nod here. Stark black-and-white goes well with the none-too-subtle destruction of what was once a bustling landmark for Route 6 travellers. As drivers from California entered Nevada, this was likely the first stop.Once in California, Route 6 heads south, a welcome development as the sun was heading toward the horizon. The terrain changes, too; the desolation and desert is punctuated by more cars, some irrigation, and gas stations.Pulling into Bishop, I expected some sort of sign commemorating the end of a road that begins at the Atlantic Coast. If one is there, I couldn’t find it.So, I headed back up the road for the unofficial sign signifying the western terminus of Route 6-a choice of Los Angeles or Reno on Route 395. This last shot got the ’70s filter.My plan to spend the night in Bishop was preempted by the 5:29 p.m. on my phone as I clicked the final photo-even after 577 miles, I wasn’t ready to stop and there was plenty of light.I was running a dark visor on the Arai, so I was hoping to pick up a clear one at Golden State Cycle, a Honda and Yamaha dealer on Main Street. I was stunned to find out that they close at 5 p.m. and everyone was gone.Plan B was to ride as far as I could until it was too dark. Fortunately, a stop for gas at a Chevron station on the south side of Lone Pine also secured me eye protection that was both form fitting and nearly clear.I bought the glasses from an older woman who looked wistfully out at the Switchback and said, “I came out here on the back of a Harley 40 years ago, and never left.”The sky didn’t go fully dark until I was nearly to Mojave. There, I flipped up my visor, donned the eyewear, and scrunched behind the windshield for the final 90 miles home.I was greeted at home by a wife who couldn’t quite figure out why I wanted to ride 837 miles in a single day. The plain truth: I was having so much fun on the Harley-Davidson Switchback that I didn’t want to stop.She dutifully made me something to eat, as I realized that three Clif Bars were all I had consumed since Sonic. Darn, I should have stopped for lunch in Ely!Story from previous issue of Ultimate MotorCycling…to view the digital edition, click here. Photography by Don Williams