8 Hours on the Road
A Toronto native turned Eugene resident shares her experience touring the Umpqua region for the first time on the back of her beloved motorcycle.
Story by Ella Morgan Photos by Thomas Boyd
First, I will admit, I’m not from around here. I grew up in Toronto, Canada, and that’s a long way from the Umpqua Valley, eh?
Nonetheless, I got to take a breathtaking tour of many of the rivers, lakes, forests, peaks and towns of the region this spring on my Yamaha V-Star 750 and over the course of the longest ride of my life.
I’d never so much as sat on a bike until I moved to Eugene a few years ago to attend the University of Oregon, where I recently earned my degree. But once I did, it was love at first ride.
I rode every chance I got, including to work at a coffee shop in downtown Eugene. That’s where I met Tom Boyd, chief photographer for AHM Brands and this magazine and a fellow motorcycle enthusiast. One day he suggested we take a ride through this unknown region with the intriguing epithet, “the 100 Valleys of the Umpqua.” He would shoot photographs; I would write about my experience.
When I awoke at 6:50 a.m. on a Monday, the sun was already well on its way to risen (happens a lot, I know, but I hadn’t been awake for many 6:50 in the mornings), and the dew on the grass was already evaporating. Finishing the last of my coffee and packing a small lunch, I threw on my leather jacket, chaps and boots, threw myself onto the back of my bike and pointed it south.
Little did I know it would be eight hours before I’d return home (my longest bike trip to this point was about four hours). Over the course of 390 miles, muscles would start to ache that I didn’t know I had, and I would feel every slight bump in the road, every temperature change and, I swear, the sad splat of every single bug that met its demise on my helmet. One would have thought some of them would have been deflected by my travel companion, Boyd, a ways in front of me on his Yamaha XSR 900. But it sure didn’t feel like it.
It was 9 a.m. by the time Boyd led me into downtown Roseburg, the hub of our trip. From there we headed east toward our first stop, Diamond Lake. By the time we hit the Umpqua National Forest and the rushing turquoise North Umpqua River, I was in full-on awestruck mode. Trees were blooming, the sun warm and bright. It was the perfect day to ride.
Riding along this winding, scenic byway, and above the crystal clear North Umpqua, I found myself wondering if locals ever take for granted their easy access to this natural wonder. The more miles that passed the easier it was to convince myself that would be impossible.
We made a quick pit stop at the hiking entrance to Toketee Falls, one of Oregon’s more famous waterfalls, and further on Watson Falls, tallest waterfall in southwest Oregon.
One of the best feelings about riding is the heightened sense of awareness. Regardless of how many people tag along, it is a very solitary venture, and you are very exposed to and keenly aware of the environment as you pass through it.
Riding along this winding, scenic byway and above the crystal clear North Umpqua River, I found myself wondering if locals ever take for granted their easy access to this natural wonder.
Boyd and I arrived at Diamond Lake just in time for lunch. The lake was quiet and tranquil. I walked out on the dock and, with the lake spread wide around me and Mount Bailey standing tall above it, I suddenly felt very small.
It was exceptional, and I was enjoying one of the best Monday mornings I could remember.
This was almost the halfway marker for our trip, and I felt a sense of accomplishment, perhaps owing to my having been able to keep up with the more experienced Boyd to this point.
We’d already climbed 5,000 feet but still had another four hours to go, so headed back onto Crater Lake Highway. As I admired the beautiful Mount Thielsen in my mirror, I would have sworn it never got any smaller, just more distant.
We began the loopback on Tiller Highway with the sun shining bright, and soon I was questioning my decision to wear all black leather. With no other people or vehicles in sight, Boyd ripped his throttle and disappeared around the next bend.
We hadn’t spoken much to begin with, but this felt like the first time I was truly alone. This trip was the most time I had been out of the house since COVID-19 disrupted all of our lives. It was the perfect opportunity to finally be free to enjoy the acoustics of
the outdoors.
Ella Morgan’s first ride through Roseburg and the Umpqua Valley is one she won’t forget, even after her tired muscles finally forgive her.
After making our last stop in Canyonville, we headed to Interstate 5 and the 100-minute straight shot back to Eugene.
At least that was the plan. What wasn’t in the plan was running out of gas. There are worst things that can happen on a bike trip than having to wait alongside a freeway for your travel companion to fetch and bring back enough gas to get you where you need to go. But there are also better ways to wrap up a remarkable riding adventure.
After the unexpected delay, we finally rolled into Eugene, backs stiff and limbs numb or sore. We had been riding almost sunup to sundown. My hair was frizzy, even by curly-hair standards. I could barely hear, and my face was tingling from having spent so much time squeezed into a helmet.
Yet my experience riding through this Umpqua paradise had only further convinced me that there is nothing I’d rather do than mount up, turn on some music and hit the open road.
