Sunday wrap up...

now in Kalispell, Mt
So actually left an hour earlier. Traveled eastbound out of Banff and took scenic 40. This was every bit as enchanting as 93 was yesterday. Still not getting the hang of the fuel stop thing, get on fumes on the way into XXX and took the logging road (gravel) south after talking to a couple of fellas from 'upstate Alberta' who assured me 'no problem'. No logging on Sunday but evidence is all about. In place of the logging trucks we get the pickups with monster campers. Curious how they were all coming in the opposite direction! It was sort of like a game of chicken....with me clearly being the fowl. Saw a good bit of wildlife and some cattle that was awful friendly. Nothing exotic though but still having a big buck (a bazillion points) stand in the stream and stare me down not 20 yards from me was kinda cool. Stopped at a fire base (one of two in the southern rockies) and chatted with the fireman a bit while I re-hyrdated and snacked on some sugary granola. Bliss! It didn't hurt that the base had a shiny red AS355 (Eceuriel) sitting on the helipad. Anyway, abbout midway in 38 or so miles the GPS sez...hey take this detour. The wind had been blowing me about and I was growing weary doge-em-RVs so I elected to take the detour and hopefully find pavement. More idyllic beauty ensued, now the road was dotted with vehicles when the stream approached the gravel. It was so very serene, up came a gentle up-hill right-hander and I swung wide to avoid the parked Explorer and splat... I was down and reaching for the kill switch. This new section of road, unlike the logging road earlier was covered in copious amounts of gravel; quite deep in spots. Unfortunately on this uphill sweeper, all the gravel had migrated to the outside of the bend.... just where I was headed to avoid the truck. Ooops. A fellow motorcyclist coming the opposite direction stopped and helped set things right. Getting started was tricky but I kept her up. The oil pressure light remained insistent so I stopped. Added the requisite 150ml and still it glowed alarmingly. I tell you, all of a sudden I felt very, very far from home. I guessed that more had weeped out the overflow when the bike was inverted (yeah) so I added a little more, and it resolved the issue. Otherwise the bike fared well but the rotation of the front brake lever guillotined the wires to the heated grips. A few new scuffs to the bottom corner of the right saddle bag and one bruised ego (and wrist). The fella who helped soon turned around deciding the gravel fun wasn't for him either. The road soon turned into familiar WV style paved/chipped tar/lean gravel mix. I was still chuffing from the spill and it was a few (like 8) miles before I realized I was no longer in Rocky Mountain delight but in undulating prairie-dom. A bona fide cowboy (by my reckoning, he had the hat) went past in his pickup (horse in trailer) and gave me a Marlboro Man nod. So I head toward the border and Watertown Park in southern Alberta. Along the way I stop for lunch at a roadside diner (complete with functioning garage) and in some ridiculous fit of hypoglycemia flirt ridiculously with the waitresses. I had to calm down after the 'incident' and a bowl of ham-n-beans paired with a grilled cheese sandwich and topped off with a piece of homemade apple pie absolutely did the trick. Again I do not fill up and again I'm on fumes as I cross the border into the USA. Luckily the village of BABB came to the rescue. Met another bunch of Canadian bikers and we slowly assumed the touron roles we were destined to fulfill this late afternoon. One stop at a huge tourist trap for an ATM and map, bumped into a fellow biker (there were lots) but this one was pretty. There were not lots of those. Sam is her name and I like her motorcycling priorities, even duckie got to make an appearance. So I trundle up “Highway to the Sun' in Glacier Park. Now the contrast with the Canadian approach becomes clear. Instead of meandering at 5000' along a high-valley, this highway is tight and weaves its way up Logan Pass with sheer drop-offs at every corner. A decidedly different experience and thankfully the RV density was low, low, low. Dinner at 'Wasabi' in Whitefish where I get a seat at the picture window. Any concern that I might be the goldfish faded quickly as this was an excellent people-watching spot. A couple join me at the portal and we chat for a bit. The folk festival in Butte (I passed by Twin Butte earlier, but resisted the photo-op) is apparently a must-see, have to remember to add that to the calender. They recommend going around the east-side of the lake (what?) but it looks like a storm is dumping oodles of rain as I approach the intersection. So I veer west but a scant few miles later this late evening (it was around 930) storm appeared determined to have me. So I wussed and turned around and sit in this motel room tonight. The Aero Inn, not worthy of too many stars I suspect but waaay cheaper than the room at the Y in Banff!



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