Russian Olive

A bit of foreshadow: I am sitting in the Sugar Shack Baking Co, in Seattle as I write this post. It is 8:00 AM and I am enjoying a breakfast sandwich on 'savory" biscuit and a latte while I await my second tire replacement of the trip. But more on that later.

Route 93 north of Missoula is a mess. It seems they are rebuilding it (no sign of "stimulus $" signs) complete with huge culverts every 1/4 mile or so to enable wildlife to cross the road without walking in front of some logging truck. Now a bit dubious about our B&B choice, we pick our way through the construction maze in the gathering dusk. Then, at mile 16, just as Bob, our host predicted is the side road he told us about. We are to head up the road about 3 miles, but the mountains look closer and the shacks and mobile homes on the road don't give us much hope. Finally, again just as predicted, we find the house #, a five digit affair, with a gravel drive leading up to a modest house. We are greeted by Francis, who announces that this is his in-laws' place and goes to find Mom in Law Judy. We get settled in our little "guest wing" next to the garage and Judy heads off to find us some wine. Mike has fairly eclectic wine requirements due to some allergies, but Judy says "no problem", and unbeknown to us, drives off to a neighbor to get a bottle for Mike.

Over the course of our one night's stay we meet the rest of the family, enjoy our wine, watch a summer thunderstorm move up the valley from our panoramic perch, enjoy a beautiful breakfast with Bob and Judy (with real maple syrup on the waffles), and take a little stroll around the neighborhood before breakfast. All in all, it represents everything that is good and magical about random travel. The next day we head back through the construction to Twin State BMW and a new Metzeler V6 tire for the rear wheel. They are great people, inviting us in the shop, and giving Mike a lesson in chain maintenance.

Bob has suggested an alternate route up to Glacier Park, and by 11:00 AM we are off.

Up to Missoula/ The Bakery

Mike and I were on the road by 8:30, eager to get on with our adventure. It would have been easy to stay on in Ketchum but the open road beckoned. We left with hugs and kisses. It was a beautiful morning. we turned onto Rt 75 north, rolled through Ketchum and into the beautiful countryside north of town, climbing gradually through meadow and aspen grove. We climbed to Galena Summit, a mountain pass with nicely graded sweepers - just right to get us psyched for the road ahead. Apparently, Mike had shrugged off the mishap because he carved up Galena Summit like an Easter ham. He has certainly learned a few tricks since our Arizona ride last Fall. The north side of Galena Summit offers sweeping views of the Stanley Basin and the Sawtooth Range and I stop for a picture at an overlook where Stephie and I stopped on our drive to Berkeley a few years ago. It brings back many memories.

We cross the Salmon River, now only a little brook, but in the next 30 miles we will watch it grow into a mighty river before it heads west. Further on, we stop for a break behind an SUV. Suddenly two guys appear, one holding a pretty impressive salmon. Now we see where the river gets its name.

Our short term goal is to reach Stanley, ID, to have breakfast at the Bakery, a restaurant highly recommended by Jay. We enter Stanley and eventually find the Bakery, a small log structure with a large line extending out the door. The crowd looks like a giant Abercrombie and Fitch commercial - count me in!

After about thirty minutes in line, we get to order, find a table and await our food - which is worth the wait. We enjoy our meal and the scene and head north. From here we follow the Salmon River, and all its twists and turns - usually without guard rails, which makes for an exhilarating ride. the river is beautiful as is the surrounding countryside.

After many miles, we cross another exciting mountain pass, with well graded sweepers, bail out lanes etc. encouraging a more aggressive approach to riding and roll into Montana.

We modified the original trip plan to get my tire replaced in Missoula, which has a BMW dealer with the tire I need in stock. We found a B&B online and after a scouting trip to find the dealer, and a good dinner at the Montana Club, a regional dinner house chain recommended by our B&B host, we head north for a run to the Russian Olive B&B. Once we are off the interstate, I grow apprehensive about the decision, because highway 93 has major construction (the sign says for 20 miles, and the B&B is 16 miles up Rt 93. We press on...

Ketchum

It's always a treat to visit Jay and Gay, two wonderful friends. Don't go for the home cooking, not that both Jay and Gay can't spin some great meals, but because there are some great restaurants in Ketchum, and Jay and Gay know where they are. This trip, we started with breakfast at Christina's a top drawer Italian spot overseen by Christina herself. Then, dinner on the veranda at the Valley Club, which included a tour of the newly renovated club house and kitchen, in which Jay played a big role. The next night we went to the Big Wood Grill, and again sat on the veranda in perfect weather. Mike and I enjoyed the trout.

We also got in a nice hike up the hill behind Jay's house, and importantly, some clean laundry. In net, another short but sweet stay with the Cassells. Sunday morning, it's off to Missoula, to get a new tire on the way to Glacier Park.

Mike's Boo Boo

Mike's bike was a bit scratched up - windshield trashed hand guard gone, fairing and bags scratched and scraped. Going over Galena Summit, a mountain pas about 20 miles north of Ketchum, Mike had puled onto the shoulder to take some pictures. he hadn't anticipated the soft and uneven sand and his bike went over at about 15 mph. Mike hit hard on his shoulder and helmet and had a slight separation of the shoulder but little other damage. The bike was as described. a passerby helped Mike patch together the windscreen, and he made it to Ketchum OK. Mike got a can of Krylon and I chipped in some more cable ties, and with Jay's suggestions, we cobbled together a pretty good solution to the windscreen. It's now about 1200 miles since Ketchum and the bike (and Mike) are doing just fine.

Over to Ketchum

The next day I rode about 400 miles to Ketchum, ID, where I was to meet Mike Bosworth for the next stage of the ride, and visit friends Jay and Gay Weake. No pictures on this section and not too much excitement, except: heading west from Bozeman, I took another "small" road numbered 84. What a treat! Like 78 the day before but even better, lusher, twistier.

I had another "National Geographic" moment. At the bottom of a long hill a came upon the Madison River, a famous trout stream that was wider and deeper than I imagined. After a mile or so I noticed some pelicans in the water to the left, a surprise to me. I thought they were seabirds, and we were about 600 miles from the ocean. As I watched the pelicans, I noticed something on the right side. There about 100 feet ahead, and about 40 feet in the air, was a big golden eagle, flapping its wings feverishly to gain altitude. For what seemed like a few seconds, it seemed to hover over my head before heading out over the river.

The rest of the ride was uneventful; a nice breakfast in Ennis, MT, where I finally met some riders not on cruiser bikes - Ducatis and BMWs; through some famous trout fishing areas, fairly crowded with tourists and over familiar ground in southern Idaho. Finally (I was tired again) up that sweet ride up 75 through Hailey and into Ketchum.

Mike's bike was already parked in Jay's driveway. I found Gay and she mentioned that Jay had taken Mike to the emergency rom, as a precaution after a minor bike mishap on Galena Summit. I hadn't noticed anything wrong with Mike's bike, but when I looked at the other side, sure enough, it was battered and bruised.

To be continued.

Beartooth Highway

What can I say 40 miles or so of high mountain twisties, about 15-20 miles in alpine environment; just spectacular, even with construction delays and tourist traffic. I'll just post some ictures and even they don't do it justice.

At red Lodge, MT, a bustling Western style resort town I took a break. I was tired and it was late. I took a left on Rt 78, a country road as per the map, and was rewarded with a wonderful romp over and around grassy hills, ranches, with beautiful sweeper curves. Reinvigorated, I made a quick run down th e50 miles or so to I 90, then blasted into Livingston, where I had a reservation at the restored Murray Hotel, built in 1904, and right out of Legends of the Fall. Nice room and a great meal downstairs in the restaurant. Read a bit, enjoyed some Moose Drool, the local beer, and went to bed.

Even More Incredible!!

From Worland, I head north on Rt 16 in desert scrub and plus 90 degree temperatures, then turn west into Cody, WY. I stop for a break and find a shade tree in a small grassy park. Lying on my back in the soft cool grass feels good. After about ten minutes I mount up and find the turn off for the Chief Joseph Trail about 1/4 mile up the road. On the road atlas this road is depicted as a low end two lane highway, but this thing is a beautiful, modern two lane highway with the wide, paved shoulders that give you confidence to cut loose a bit. The road winds through some rolling terrain and you can see the mountains looming just ahead. We start to seriously climb through beautiful grassland with big orange rock outcroppings, around a few switchbacks and up into some "high country", a fairly wide table land with big firs, meadows, and brooks. Up and up we go until we "summit" at a well developed overlook called Dead Indian. The view down the other side is breathtaking - varied terrain and mountain structures as far as you can see, and directly below another series of serious switchbacks. Lets go!!

Incredible!!!

Thursday - With the big mileage behind me, and my tire repaired (I hope), I am now ready to ride on some of the most spectacular roads in the country.  From Buffalo, I will head west on Route 16, which is billed as the Cloud Peak Skyway.  It runs westward over the Bighorn Mountains through Powder River Pass, then down through Ten Sleep Canyon over to Worland, WY.  It is a wonderful ride even though I am a bit apprehensive about the tire.

Powder River Pass is all beautiful sweepers through forests and high meadows.  No traffic.  Skies crystal clear, temperature in the mid 70s.  Another glory day!  from the west side of the pass the road winds down into Ten Sleep Canyon, a rugged piece of terrain, great twisties, still no traffic.  The road finally winds down into desert scrub and into Worland. 

Whoops!

I was definitely tired as I rolled into Buffalo.  I pulled up in front of the Occidental Hotel, a long two story brick building right out of some western movie.  I backed my bike into a parking spot next to a couple of Harleys, one of which sported a sidecar.  I couldn't help noticing that the people sitting on the rocking chairs in front of the hotel were looking at the rear of my bike.  "Probably worried I would hit their Harleys I figured. But no,  when I hopped off and took off my helmet, one of the ladies said, " I think you have a flat tire".  "Oh no" I said. "I just came in on the interstate and noticed nothing strange about how she was riding".

But a closer look indicated that yes, it was going flat.  A nail about an inch long was located right in the middle of the tread.  The thought occurred to me that I had been extremely lucky.  The flat could have occurred on the last two miles into town; or, it could have happened out on the interstate.  A few miles more on the interstate and I could have faced a serious control issue. But instead, I was pulled up in front of my hotel.  Then my lucked really turned good.  One of the guys on the rocking chairs came up, introduced himself, and said he had been a BMW bike mechanic for over twenty years, had a tire plug kit, and would be happy to help.   I had my own tire plug kit and air pump, but appreciated the help and encouragement. He helped and I bought them a round of drinks.  After some Mexican take out I went to bed and slept soundly.

  A tire plug is a reliable stopgap repair but not for a long trip. An interior patch would be better, especially since I planned to ride about a thousand miles over some hairy mounted roads before I could get the tire replaced in Missoula Monday morning.  Luckily, the front desk had the number of a local motorcycle wrench named the Twisted Piston, and when he returned my call the next morning he referred me to Elmer's Powersports, about two blocks from the hotel.  Let me just say the Erik Elmer is a saint.  For $21 he put on an interior patch, allowing me to watch how carefully he went about his work.  I am sending him some maple syrup when I get home.  It was about 11:00 AM before I left Buffalo.  I was behind schedule for one of the highlight riding days of the trip, but I had definitely dodged a bullet.

Across the Wide Prairie

Wednesday was planned as the longest riding day of the trip in terms of both miles covered (730) and hours in the saddle.  The plan was to go from NY Mills in western Minnesota to Buffalo Wyoming, in west central, Wyoming.  The route included I-94 across North Dakota, and picking up Route 85, a north south road in  the western Dakotas, riding it all the way to I-90 in Spearfish, South Dakota, then blasting out I-90 to Buffalo.  I had a reservation at the old Occidental Hotel in Buffalo, an authentic vestige of frontier days. I credit my friend Brad Miller for introducing me to the charms of old western hotels.  On our Arizona ride last October he had booked old hotels in Kingman and Prescott, and they were fun and reasonably priced.

Anyway, I figured this would be a boring part of the ride with not much to see, quintessential "fly-over" country which I planned to fly over.  Was I wrong!  North Dakota was beautiful!  Soft rolling country, multiple shades of soft green, wildflowers.  Even the designers of I-94 managed to introduce some big sweeping curves into a highway that could easily have been a straight shot across the state.

I took a break in Bismarck, the state capital, figuring I could find an interesting lunch spot downtown.  I waded through the fast food places coming into town, rode arond downtown, found nothing, and finally settled for a burrito chain place on the strip on the other side of town.  Good burrito, but I left town unimpressed.

It was another 100 or so miles to the intersection with Rte 85 in Belfield.  Route 85 was a nearly straight shot southward to Spearfish.  Some interesting undulations in the land, some butte advertised as the highest point in N. Dakota and little else of note.  but the ride was pleasant and I made good time.  At Spearfish I climbed on I-90 for the last 2 1/2 hour sprint into Buffalo, 170 miles to the west.  I put the bike on cruise control, set at 85mph (speed limit 75).  The Black Hills are beautiful, but then the land morphs into a scrub desert for most of the ride.  At one point I pulled off on an exit to take a break and looked up to see two antelope watching me about 100 feet away.  By the time I got my camera out they had moved off a bit but I got a shot of their exit.  When I finally saw the exit sign for Buffalo, I was definitely ready for a break.  I had been underway for over 12 hours.

Whistle Stop Inn - NY Mils, MN:

By this time I should realize that people give places names for specific reasons. But it was in disregard of this insight that I booked the Whistle Stop Inn, in NY Mills, MN for a night's stay.  The website indicated that the inn followed a railroad theme, but I figured it was just some railroad enthusiasts.  Anyway, I hit NY Mills, a cute little town in northwest Minnesota around 7:30, after a long and wet day of riding.  I cruised around a bit until I saw a makeshift sign for "bed & breakfast".  At the end of the street I found it, A beautiful white victorian with two restored railcars in the backyard.  The owner, a tall German woman named Jann welcomed me with the good news that she was able to upgrade me to a "suite" which had a taller bed.  The room was great, if a bit over decorated like many B& Bs.  Jann advised me that at this time of "night" (7:30), dinner options were limited: the Eagle Cafe and the bowling alley.  Jann favored the bowling alley, I went to the Eagles Cafe and was rewarded with one of the worst meals I ever had.  Enough said.

The B&B was great however, and Jann even offered to serve me breakfast at 6:30 so I could get an early start.   Which I did, heading west on Route 10 towards Fargo, ND and I-94.

The UP, Duluth

 The bridge at Sault Ste. Marie is kinda interesting - a two lane wonder that goes up and down with two main spans; the customs guy starts grilling me but eventually backs off and I'm back in the US of A.  

I head west on Route 28 across the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, flat sandy soil with small pines everywhere.  I decide to take a side trip up to Whitefish Point.  I think this might be the Whitefish Bay? Point? referenced by Gordon Lightfoot in his song about the Edmund Fitzgerald.  "...they say they'd have made Whitefish Bay if they put 15  more miles behind them".  A side road heads north towards the point and the town of Paradise.  

Well, will wonders ever cease? a curvy road?  really nice sweepers heading through the forest.  Can't be.  This is the midwest. But it is.  A delightful change from  the mostly straight roads I have been riding for the last day and a half.  After about 20 miles of this stuff, including a few glimpses of Lake Superior, I get to Paradise, a block or two long with a few restaurants.  I make some mental notes for later and continue on to Whitefish Point, following the nicely curvy road.  At the end of the road there is an old lighthouse, a few outbuildings including the Shipwreck Museum, where I find out that this area of Lake Superior has a history of Shipwrecks, including the Edmund Fitzgerald.  it's a nice little museum.  In one of the outbuildings housing an exhibit of rescue lifeboats and their crews, I come upon a museum "guide" telling a story.  I listen and quickly realize that he is telling the story of how he was on lifeboat duty the night the Edmund Fitzgerald went down, and how he went out on a lifeboat crew when the seas subsided a bit and discovered the floating evidence that the ship had gone down.  Very interesting.

I ride back to Paradise and choose a little bakery cafe that seems to have more cars in front of it.  The place is run by two elderly ladies and it's quickly apparent that pie is their specialty.  I order a chicken sandwich and listen to the pie orders come fast and furious.  There is a run on rhubarb, which I like.  It occurs to me that I should reserve a piece of rhubarb now - so it's there later when I want it.  Whoops, too late.  The people next to me are already being told the bad news - no more rhubarb!

Eventually, I try the raspberry which is wonderful.

Back to the main road and westward through endless forest and straight as an arrow highway.  Michigan may have an economy devastated by the domestic auto industries problems and destructive high state tax policies, but its highways are in excellent shape.  Later, on one particularly fine stretch, I come upon a construction zone - repaving - and join a long line of vehicles waiting for a one lane road to clear.  To the right is a big sign proclaiming that this project is funded by "stimulus dollars" - of course it's shovel ready, they are just slapping another 2-3 inches of new asphalt on a perfectly good road. At the other end of this five mile stretch we again encounter the old road, again, in excellent shape.  More change you can believe in.  

At Munising I take a break, snap a few pics, then head to my final destination for the night, Marquette.  I decide to forego a night's camping for a motel, so I can get on the road early.  A nice burger on a sunny deck an early night, and I am off the next morning at 6:15 Am. The radar says there will be a line of severe storms to ride through later in the morning.  As I head west out of the motel parking lot, I look in the rear view mirrors and see a giant orange sun staring back.  A beautiful sight..

The early morning is great for riding.  No cars cool air.  By 8:30 I have covered about 140 miles, through more beautiful country, hillier than yesterday.  I note a looming dark cloud formation in the distance take a break, recheck the weather radar on the I phone ( actually really useful in these situations).   The radar shows a particularly nasty storm cell, but it looks like it is tracking north of where I will ride.  I will probably miss that one, but there is a line of soakers that I musr ride through.  So I don the raingear by the side of the road and press on.  Within ten minutes I am in the thick of it.

Actually, riding in the rain is no big deal if you prepare for it, which means waterproof jacket pants boots, gloves, riding a bit more slowly, and getting off the road if its a real bad cloudburst - no visibility and puddles, which are very bad for two wheeled vehicles.  I slog on, reaching Duluth in a downpour.  I exit I 35 downtown and try to get my bearings.  I park under one of those overhead walking bridges which connect buildings in northern cities like Toronto, Minneapolis etc, for some shelter from the rain.

I have two reasons for stopping in Duluth:  have lunch at Nokomis, a new restaurant near Duluth which got an excellent write up in the NYT, and to go to Aerostich, a motorcycle on line gear store which has great stuff.  I don't really need anything but would like to check the place out since I am nearby.

I call Nokomis.  They can fit me in.  I get directions which are to ride about 10 miles out of town up the north shore of Lake Superior.  I get there just before noon and it is empty.  I  take off all my wet stuff, and order a cup of tea.  Then, chicken gumbo and a walleye po'boy.  Everything is wonderful, worth the extra ride.  The chef/owner comes out to say hi to this guy who claims (technically true) that he rode out from Vermont to have lunch here.  I try the goat cheese cake for dessert.  Wow - with this great sauce and cherries. The waiter asks if I like it.  "Wonderful", I exclaim.  "Are you sure it's not too goaty?"   Goaty?  "No, it's not too goaty, in fact, I would say it has just the right amount of goatiness".  and on and on.

I left my usual nice tip - 

Later, I made a stop at Aerostich, it's store located in skid row (that's the customer entrance behind me in the picture).  Inside there were a few other bikers and I tried on a few jackets for when mine ever wears out.

The skies were clearing and I was off across Northern Minnesota for NY Mills.  This part of Minnesota is all rolling farmland with some forest; the big town is agricultural center Brainerd, with about 14,000 people.  In traffic I pulled up next  to a guy in a pick-up who looked like a cross between all the cartoon likenesses of Paul Bunyan and Popeye.  "Where's the Paul Bunyan statue", I call out.  "About five miles east on Route 18".  A quick look down at my map tells me that I will miss seeing Brainerd's most famous attraction, a giant statue of mythic figure Paul Bunyan.  Oh well. And off we go. Another 40 miles west sits New York Mills, a little farm town with a two block downtown and a few blocks of residential streets. very charming.

After a bad dinner at the Eagle Cafe (the innkeeper warned me but I didn't feel like riding back to Wadena, a take a walk around town and head back to the Whistle Stop.  Good night.

 

Leaving for the coast

Tuesday, July 21. Posting from New York Mills, Minnesota, about 80 miles east of Fargo, ND.

Question: What would you think would be located next to a B&B named the "Whistle Stop Inn"? If you guessed the main line of the Northern Pacific RR you would be correct. The trains whistle but they don't stop. Well, the place is great in every other respect and my two room suite with full breakfast for $80 is both comfortable and charming; and, the innkeeper wil get my breakfast at 6:30 tomorrow so I can get another early start.

It's been 3 days and about 1,400 miles since I left Charlotte, VT on Sunday morning at around 6:15 (I love early mornings). Here are some highlights, although I must say that nothing has happened that could be labelled "dramatic" or even "exciting" - just some great riding through some beautiful country. Also, I am frequently amused at the stuff I find myself thinking about as I cruise along at 70+ mph on some deserted country road, and I'll share anything I can remember.

My primary motivation in writing this is so I can read it in coming years and remember all the little stuff that makes these rides so wonderful. Many of you will find it boring. I understand. But if you do read some of this please write me a comment.

So, here goes:

Sunday July 21 - Departure Day. I managed to do all the prep and packing chores during the last few days so all I had to do was wake up, shower, coffee, etc, say good bye to Nancy, and hit the road. Nancy has been very supportive of this adventure and today she got up early to hang around and bid me farewell. I will miss her, and I must admit that during the last few months I have occasionally wondered if this trip really make sense. But, it is 6:15 and I am off. The plan is to cover some serious miles quickly so I head north on I 89 toward Montreal in welcome sunshine. I'll head through Montreal on it's EXPO '67 era freeways before any traffic builds up. The Champlain Bridge over the St Lawrence is freaky scary in traffic, but at 8:00 AM on Sunday morning I have it virtually to myself and admire the great view of the Montreal skyline as I cross. The Montreal freeways really are awful and I am watching carefully for the inevitable potholes or hazardous junk in the roadway. The my relief the roads are actually in pretty good repair. I find myself thinking about the trip Bobby Crozier and I made to Expo '67 in our senior year in HS; in Bobby's dad's 1954 Buick Roadmaster convertible, robin's egg blue with red leather interior; a fun four days including the college girls from Calgary we met at the fair. The memories are a bit blurry, but warm .

I head up past Ottawa (785,000 people), didn't realize it was that big and the freeway morphs into the two lane Trans Canada Highway - Route 17. Destination: Sudbury. A mining center which boasts the world's tallest smokestack, attached to a nickel smelter. The road rolls over and through the ever present "Canadian Shield" a mass of frequently exposed granite that covers most of eastern Canada north of the St. Lawrence. With hindsight, I was too focused on covering the mileage that I don't remember much. I found my B&B in Sudbury, ate a few pecans and went to sleep.

Got up early the next morning, had a nice continental breakfast, and headed west, leaving about 7:30. It's foggy, and as I ride out of town, I can barely make out the kind of industrial scarring that one sees in mining regions. The fog keeps me from getting a close look at "the smokestack". It's probably not worth a return trip. Sudbury is way north of just about anywhere, except Timmons, another big mining town about 180 miles north of Sudbury. It's big claim to fame according to the travel brochures is that Timmons is the home town of Shania Twain - remember her? The fog goes in out as I head west on 17, around the north side of Lake Huron. When it lifts one can see beautiful forests, streams meadows, granite, and occasional views of the water. It clears fully by about 9:00 AM. I'm riding at a more relaxed pace, feeling more in the groove than yesterday. It's about a five hour ride to the border crossing at Sault Ste. Marie.

Later I roll through Blind River, modestly famous for a mention in a Neil Young song I like. I have been interested in seeing Blind River since I saw it on the map while planning this trip. "Long May you Run" is ostensibly about an old car that Neil reminisces about. For reasons not entirely clear to me it reminds me of my father. Neil sings, "It was in Blind River in 1962, when I last saw you alive; but we missed that shift on the long decline, long may you run". then, "Long may you run, long may you run, although these changes have come, with your chrome heart shining in the sun, long may you run". It brings back memories of an earlier time when all seemed fine, vacations in station wagons (a certain yellow '60 Ford), before things changed for him. Amazing how a song can evoke such powerful and poignant memories. I ride around town and take a break at a little marina at the mouth of Blind River(see pic).

Continuing through this near wilderness I think of the intrepid French explorers who blazed this same route before me. In particular, I think of those famous brothers, Reginald Boucher d'Irasburg and his brother, who was literally a brother, Friar Ronald Boucher D'Irasburg, who explored this route in times gone by, motivated only by their desire to trade with the Indians (whoops, Native Americans) at Fort Cassineaux, where legend has it they enchanted their Indian hosts with deft card tricks, and intimidated the natives with their loud snorting steeds with flashy chrome and leather fringed saddlery. But that was another day.