aaahh fall.....

so....

is this blog going to be nuthin' but biky stuff? Hopefully not! still, it seems to be a good way to get out there. The slideshow below is from our Labor Day 'Chicken Run' down at Snowshoe. The guys are getting a tad more familiar and the company is very nearly as important as the riding.

WV Buell rally ....not quite a motorcycle gang...

so I was off to the WV Buell rally this weekend. Did not actually get to ride with the gang but camped and generally chilled by the fire, star gazed and enjoyed the good company. Mark's folks were amazing as always. Mountains of delicious food, motorcycles, corn-hole...how good is that?

wrapping up

Where are you from?

Had a hard time, given the bike trip started in San Francisco, but I'm headed home to WV but originally from Malaysia by way of Singapore. Almost always wound up with the long answer. There were a handful of times when the question was asked of someone else, like the cheery Texans I met in Laramie. Good to know I'm not the only one getting the “you're not from around here” look!

You are by yourself?

Next most popular question. Sometimes it seemed like I disappointed them, like they were perhaps hoping for better stories from my virtual riding buddy. I think most of the time they just thought I was a little nuts.

What kind of bike IS that?

Again sort of a fumbly response as I try to gauge the interest in Buell history. From the riders, the response had largely been either “I always wondered...how do you like it?”. I was minimally shunned by the chrome brigade. Up until I got to Vintage Days, I saw a total of 4 Buells (discounting showroom specimens).

Oh cool/neat/great...how much time do you have off?

Fairly binary response here, it was either 'wow' or 'that all?'

On young adults

Met a young fella in Milwaukee who'd been summoned home from Miami Beach by his dad to take on a 'real' job. To my surprise he took his runner/detailer job with seriousness and more than a dash of enthusiasm. I was impressed. The young lad parking cars at the ferry was less than thrilled by his summer job, for which I tried to encourage him. The young lasses in the diner at Escalante were intent on out-texting each other. The family run Pronto Pups in Grand Haven delivered hot corndogs between giggly ribbing amongst themselves. I'm confident our future is bright.

On being prepared

Though the trip had been years in the making, the specifics of the route had been somewhere been loosely to totally unplanned. I'm severely at risk of overplanning and am quite happy that it was the throttle body that stranded me and not some pipsqueak-itty-bitty-if-you-only-had-duct-tape problem that could have been MacGyver'd. Oh yeah, I feel vindicated.

On being unplugged

Never plugged in the MP3 player. The GPS died for good in the downpour leaving Kalispell yet there is relief in being liberated from it. It felt like the counter on your treadmill. ( I did buy another unit...unsuitable but just in case). I wore no watch. The phone was demented. The length of shadows told me how much longer I could ride and if I was desperate, I 'd get a receipt from the gas-pump.

On equipment

I used my heated jacket, chill vest, ibuprofen, sunscreen. I wouldn't leave again without the skin-so-soft. The Spot messenger worked as designed, even inside the Budget truck. 300 miles in the rain at 80mph is no environment for shim-sham raingear, my Walmart rainpants worked flawlessly.

On running out of gas

Not that the subconscious seeks an excuse for an adventure, but I certainly tried my best. I coasted into Babb on fumes, into a closed gas station in Echo with 16 miles on the reserve tank and thankfully was spared the opportunity to push the bike.

On lessons learned

The rain is good stuff, it cleans your bike of bugs. It also cleans the livestock truck full of piggies ahead of you.

On meeting old friends

I hadn't seen Felix or Lay Kian in 25 years, Sandeep and Kashmira 5. I regret waiting as long. Gentle reminders of who we are and perhaps that's enough.

On making new ones.

Not the easiest thing when you're a two-wheeled hobo at lightspeed. I had sworn off dating for a while, but it did not take long to find good reasons not to. Gobs of solitude assure no scarcity in introspection. Everywhere I found good people. Truthfully, although I liked Brian (at the Albert Lea Budget truck station), I was a little nervous when I got there with Mark. Guilty of judging by the cover, I was so very wrong the next day when his dad, Jon, took care of me above and beyond what Budget would have blithely charged my credit card. This lesson I should not forget.

On friends back home

Without them, the trip would have never happened. What can I say? Thanks!

Things I heard, that stuck in my head

“I'm going to get married like six or seven times, the bride is the center of attention” (my northern Arapaho-an beer buddy)

“Your skin is so soft? … oh you wear a helmet” (Michelle from the HD factory)

“You're not Canadian?” (Amber from Toronto)

“You should move here!” (yall know who you are)

On being alone

The Myers-Briggs tests weren't too wrong after all. I'm an introvert indeed, at no point had I no desire to strike up a conversation with the duck. Caterwauling at 90 down Utah highways does not count.

Touch

Well, that magic that was performed on me mid-journey in Bozeman. To Hillari, thanks for stabilizing the neck until the South Dakotan crosswinds whipped them into submission.

Smells

Whizzing past lavender fields in southern Utah. The whiff of pine trees that reminded me of Christmas morning as I crossed the continental divide in Montana. Wonderful.

Sounds

My Buell running after Tim and Dean brought her back to life, magical. Kids squealing in pleasure while they wind-surfed atop the high speed ferry across Lake Michigan. Total and utter silence as the light faded in Goblin Valley, Utah.

Sights

Everywhere in Yellowstone was evidence of the forest fires of 89, but just as evident, were all the re-seeded pine trees. Mother nature is pretty amazing.

Running down 189 in Wyoming, I saw two cranes hovering in the wind while the third (like I) looked on in disbelief. Someone told me “If the winds stopped in Wyoming, people would just fall over”

On newfound pleasures

Chasing trains. I really enjoy it. My first experience was coming down a mountain (somewhere along the trans-Canadian) and seeing a train running along the river far, far below. Before long I was racing alongside, over a river before passing it short of a tunnel. Fun. I had more opportunities and never passed one up. Try it sometime.

On smart-alecky people

My sun-worshipping Calgarian, 4-smartie friend, Adrianna. You're not easily forgotten!

On the 'wave'

I do not easily tire of this … think of it as 'peace be with you' at the end of mass...just on a high-speed-multi-mile radius.

On the risks involved

The two fellow bikers I met at the Aero Hotel in Kalispell (Dick and John, I think) were retired insurance salesmen. Dick laughed as he said “ I used to tell people not to motorcycle because it was dangerous”. None of us believe the danger is any less today.

On adventure

It is odd, but while you're in it....it seems perfectly normal. Everyone around you seem

to make a fuss. Like getting wet in the rain, it only matters until you get wet. Once there...well you're there. Only now, off the bike and in familiar surroundings does it feel like twas an adventure.

On mother nature

Lest we take ourselves too seriously, there were plenty of reminders to help keep things in perspective. Beauty sculpted through ages, not crafted by Madison Ave, everywhere. As a true Libran, I capped the trip off with a weekend of mechanical mayhem at a vintage motorcycle meet.

On serendipity

Release the grip on plans. Eject the GPS overboard. Paper maps are swell. Just as I was wrapping up the trip, my steed decided the adventure wasn't quite over.... and decided to die. That led to a string of encounters and experiences far beyond what I had prematurely dismissed as the long-ride-home.

On getting help

Not sure if I did anything to deserve it but like Gail said, I was blessed with good karma. There were times I needed help, and there it was. There are good people out there.

On idyllic moments

Surely I'm kidding right? Isn't this some long vacation? Yes, but the insidious invasion of lists, schedules and GPS destinations is ever present. Slot-car racing with Sandeep and Ehsan, slowing down for lunch by the Grand Tetons or spending the morning drinking coffee and uploading pics at the co-op in Bozeman or just shooting the breeze with those boys from Rhode Island; now that's the stuff of memories.

On missing home

From Rocky who saw the country with his dog, to Mark who found Colorado not-nearly-cold-enough or Hillari who saw the world but returned, I think I understand now as I've finally come home.

On advice offered

Enjoy it, it is really all that cool. Try not to underestimate the moment. Fight being a scenery snob. Pull over, take it in ....without the camera. SMILE

On advice received

I should've listened more closely.

On these serious economic times ….and taking a month off.

People were happy for me, even enjoying a moment's escape from everyday stresses by indulging in my little trip. I do not take lightly this opportunity, even if it has taken a long time to get here.

On passions

Everywhere I was reminded of people and their passions. From motorcycling, to my Armenian cabbie and his dream of success, teaching here, constant learning there, children frequently and sheer professional joy elsewhere. If there was some unofficial theme to this trip, I'd say meeting people to discover their passions would be it. It is such a comfort to know that we are not all soul-less, 'big box' shopping, chain dining, drones. The best parts of this trip have been the people. Passionate people are addicting.

On memorable events

That night in Laramie. I wouldn't have been there had I camped in Goblin Valley. A fellow biker offered two pieces of advice; no rooms in Cheyenne (the rodeo is in town) and get off the road soon (loads of auditioning roadkill). So I wound up in Laramie, looking for supper at 930. No luck in the first establishment, was going to have a beer and venture forth. Then the cowboys showed up and shortly thereafter the indians and the environmentalists. Some of them were putting in windmills in Wyoming and I'd bet you guess wrong. It was an evening that left stereotypes in tatters and I loved it. There are many, many good reasons to want to be an American. That night in Laramie eliminated any remaining doubt.

On being a tourist

I play one really well. Yet, there were times I grew weary of 'my kind'. The nice thing about fellow tourons though is that we take that magic pill that imbibes us with 'what happens in Vegas' attitude. Freed of our self-imposed constraints, getting past meteorological chit chat is, practically, effortless. It is 'getting to know you' on steroids; equally meaningful, just less static.

On physical limits

Fortunately this occurs automatically. I do better with cold than heat and long days in the saddle assure restful sleep. Thankfully I had no aches from the back or wrists (other than those self-inflicted). Midway into the trip in Bozeman, what seemed like an indulgent massage at the time I now chalk up to one heck of an idea. The rebuilt knee? Never better.

On chow

I ate far too many burgers but had a really good one in Wilderville, Or. Chowhound is helpful as always, but so is local intel and don't forget to trust your nose. The schnoz led me to the Pickle Barrel in Bozeman! Great food in Vancouver is to be expected but who'd have thunk I'd find good bulgogi in touristy-frat-boy Banff?

On keeping up with notes

I failed in this respect and sometimes procrastinated updating the journal. Yellowstone was the prime example and not only did details evaporate, I wound up consuming much of the subsequent days torturing myself (while on the move) with attempts to remember. So what happened to the experience of those days then? Ah the angst!

On motorcycle roads

• Stewart Skaggs Road from the coast to Lake Sonoma.

• Bits of trans Canadian 1, which bits? I dunno

• CA1 from Mendocino north

• 199 into Oregon

• US12 out of Bryce

• 125 north from Gandy, Co

On traffic

Hate it.

home

6701 miles on the bike, 348 miles on the rent-a-truck

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Passions

Mechanized mayhem, pragmatists lynched at the gate!
Vintage Days capped off the trip with a healthy dose of man's mechanical wizardry thus bringing balance to what might have been an otherwise lopsided tour de force by Mother Nature. The couple of days I spent there lounging, loitering and mostly loafing about with Wes and the boys was a gentle re-introduction to cellphone, the time of day and impending return to 'normal'. It has been a wonderful trip and as with music festivals of past...while the destinations helped guide the handlebars, the journey itself was in meeting the many wonderful people along the way. One last stop in Athens to thank Cheryl for her insights and it was home Sunday night in time for a load of laundry before bedtime.

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"Slower than a pregnant snail". Sorry that has nothing to do with Tony ... just something I heard...a while back...what state?

and so it was THIS big

oops wrong story ...this bike was SOOO fast

with Ed, Chris, Wes, Trevor and Tony ...at APPLEBEEES.... after a long day for fleamarketing...

soooo, you thought you got it all figured out eh?

yeah... I slept in this morning, after all I only have a 120 miles to Mid Ohio right? My steed is feeling a little mischievous I suspect. So I gear up, fire her up and as I roll out of the parking spot... life extinguishes from my mechanical mare. Long story short.. I consume all my spare fuses before diagnosing the fuel pump/level connector. Naturally I slap a larger fuse in and take off (sans turn signals). A bit of road-construction meandering and I finally get to meet up with Wes at Mid Ohio for Vintage Days. An afternoon of grazing the flea market, some cold beer and all is good.


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Yo Jimbo!

We now return

you to our regularly scheduled programming...Bike fixed!

I' d planned on revisiting the factory but backed out at the last minute. Instead I elected toouble check with the truck people (no one home yesterday) to make sure all was in order. Indeed it was. Had enough time to take a quick tour of the engine facility, where they build, among others...the Buell engines. Our guide for the morning, Michelle, is certainly one for her job; gregarious, informative and an overall model people-person. I have much to learn. The factory is impressive. Neat and orderly, and while I didn't see ISO banners or tacky QC slogans slathered on posts or walls...the place would certainly qualify. Having been to numerous factories, including Chrysler's Viper plant, the Corvette plant, Bombardier's metal shop and a number of board shops, I dare say they are on par with the best I've seen. Taking raw forgings to machined, finished parts is dirty, messy work.... but, as I said, spick and span.


The bike certainly felt tighter...throttle response, not surprisingly, now restored to the direct-connection feel. Accidentally pulled a wheelie later...must be careful. Off to the ferry I go and we sail for Muskegon across lake Michigan. The ride is smooth and along the way I get to chat with some other riders, two sisters Gail and Susan and, my neighbour on-deck, Mark. I think it'd be worthwhile to make the effort to meet and talk with total strangers regularly. Without the 'traveling across the continent costume' it might be hard... but it is so rewarding. I find young people often appreciative of the attention and respect you show them while they execute their summer jobs. They are our future and taking pride in what they do would not be a terrible habit to inculcate. Among the many things we talk about, Mark and I concur on the importance of seizing the day ...what was the other quote? Something about life is what happens while we are busy making plans. This trip has certainly thought me that. Mentally I had 'wrapped up the trip' as I tooled down the road in Minesota and maybe my steed gave up as well....or perhaps felt there was time yet for one more adventure. My Minesota experience has been limited to Mark, Jon and Brian ...but, and this is no complaint, I keep encountering terrific people. Clearly I was at their mercy, but everyone went that extra mile. That effortless generosity (and this includes Megan and her network from home) humbles me.

Mark had suggested Pronto Pups in Grand Haven and so that was l
unch, followed by a little choco sundae before I aim the Uly east. I make it to Toledo at 11; sometimes running into rainshowers, others running after rainbows. At a nearby watering hole backup duckie runs away.

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we're off to see the wizard

Soooo the trip to Oz was nice....as nice as one might have it in a big white truck. Donna, at the front desk, was super gracious and did her best to connect me with the local dealers of choice and dispatched me with a bag of loot. Lunch at Ivan's in town was fantastic...long time since I had chikn-dumplin soup that good.

OBTW, I finally updated the Yellowstone post......this is what happens when you have time on your hands....time had because the guys at Hal's HD-Buell here in Milwaukee have diagnosed the problem and, as suspected, it is the pivot shaft on the butterfly in the throttle body.... somewhere I have the souvenir screw (!!). I speak with Jon over at Budget in Albert Lea he is nice enough to circumvent the blood-sucking-Budget computer system and permits me to return the truck here in town and save a bunch of money. Oddly enough, the difference is just enough to cover the bill at Hal's...go figure eh? The guys at Hal's Tim and Dean (later Bud) are nice enough to do a duckie pic but the shop is nicely run. They run an impressive shop, tidy enough for me to be envious indeed. The part? they actually had one on the shelf, amazing. It prolly does not hurt to have the factory a half-dozen miles away either! So by 530 I'm back on the Uly...life is good. It is hard to imagine that less than 24 hours ago I was trundling down the highway in a tow truck with the dead Uly strapped in the bed. Later someone (Gail from the ferry) commented that I had good karma, and without a doubt I have been fortunate on this trip.

Dinner at an unassuming restaurant called 'Athens' which turned out to be a lucky choice. Reasonably priced and my pork tenderloin with roasted potatoes was an honest (and generous) meal. It certainly did not taste like a Sysco sponsored menu item.

cushions and what not

ya know, yesterday I felt a little bad about bypassing Boulder (and Dave) in the interest of keeping a little buffer on the return trip home. This morning, as I looked over the weather report, it seemed that mother-nature would be ready to consume my cushion as there was a wall of rain between me and home. Well, a day spent touring motorcycle factories and museums would not be all that terrible would it? So I dive headlong into the mucky wetness and charge forth. At a gas stop somewhere in Minnesota I discovered a loose bolt on my homebrew lightmount and fortunately find an Ace hardware nearby. M6 nylocks? ha! ya kidding? So intentionally cross-threaded some 1/4-20s and will have to make do. But what is with the picture?
Shortly after I realized that following a livestock truck (with loads of oinkers) in the rain was not exactly a great idea, I felt a shudder...then a hesitation and kaput. No more good vibes from between my legs. aargh. But luckily the rain spares me a moment to make a call or three. Spot has me located accurately although I had a tough time communicating that to the lady at the auto club. I whine a little to Megan but shortly thereafter out comes Mark (who moved to Colorado and found it not nearly cold enough) and rescues us. Mark echoes a sentiment I'd heard in Montana..."no need for me to go east of the Mississippi"! We swap some bs and all is good.

So for the first time in weeks, I'm going down the road, listening to music, AC and have my right hand free. After 3 hours I crawl out of the rent-a-truck in more pain than I'd been in the past three weeks. Tomorrow, the plan is to go visit Oz and perhaps get a tour and some advise on the state of my poor ride. It has been great fun, and it feels like a bit of a shame to end like this but cest la vive eh?

OBTW, it felt like I was in an episode of 'A prairie home companion'.... inside smile, inside smile

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Eastward ho!

it was a busy day indeed...old duckie and I got to chirp at prairie dogs, gawk at the fellow lemmings at Rushmore, Crazy Horse and Devil's Mountain, bump into a fellow West Virginian and sadly suffer a bird-strike to the faceshield. South Dakota crosswinds are mean stuff, my neck had been holding up quite well (esp after Bozeman) but a spanking it got as we blasted down I90 eastbound. There was not much relief but try as I might, found no magic elixir at Wall Drug either. I got into Mitchell just as we caught up with the storm, rather late into the evening. The treat was that I did get to enjoy yet another sunset in the rear-view mirror. Turns out Mitchell has claims to fame beyond the Corn Palace and while the modern-day truck-trailer building business has been hit hard by the economy, the other, a box-building company, seems to be thriving. I split pizzas with a few other fellas at the bar as we contemplate nothing of particular importance. Not a bad way to end a day. Tomorrow...Madison, a swing by Oz (East Troy, home of Buell) and maybe take in some sights. The 'plan' (ha) is to take the ferry over to Michigan and head toward Mansfield from there to hook up with Wes and Ed.

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hey so much for plans eh?

soooo the idea was to take a short break and later in the afternoon head out to Devil's Tower. While that was my plan, mother nature had hers as well! Well, after battling some wicked sidewinds for a half hour (into a two hour trip), I threw the towel in and aborted the mission. Finding dinner was curiously difficult in tourist-trappy Deadwood. I resorted to cruising the back allies and checking out the people on break... ahh mexican from a place called the Double Ds (you guess correctly) was quite acceptable and the friendly barkeep also offered route suggestions for tomorrow. Sorry if the vibe of this town just doesn't jive with me.

sitting in AC

in Deadwood, SD. This morning I awoke with an owie to my head. I made it to Laramie,Wy last night and wandered about town for a bit. Walked into the 3rd street bar and met Bo the barkeep who informed me the kitchen had just closed. So there I was finishing the one beer I was going to have and in come the Texans and then there were Jaeger shots and then came the co-eds and then came the environmentalists and... well you get the idea.

The Texans are installing windmills, the environmentalists are fighting the oil and gas companies and the students...well are angling for free booze! So there I was calling my lifeline friend, Tammy (who else will take a call at two-minutes-after-lord-knows-how-late). Anyway, twas a good time. Funny how despite our varied backgrounds, deep down we're not too terribly different. They enjoy a good drink in Laramie.

Best line from last night? From my northern Arapoha-n friend: "I'm going to get married like 10 times since my dad was married 5 and my mom 6. Those cheatin' XXXs. Besides, the bride is the center of attention at the wedding anyway and I like being the center!"

Fled up 85 past Cheyenne this morning and got to Deadwood around 130. It is hot outside and planning on waiting

Valley of the Goblins

hung out with the goblins last night. I decide to forego southern Colorado ...Durango, Silverton in order to allow some 'oops' time in the coming week. This morning, an oil change in Grand Junction, CO. Not nearly as much fun. The service manager, Tracey (?) is a stickler for processes, she'd make a great ISO boss. Some idle chit-chat with other service department hostages and then it on for a day-trip through Colorado. Got to dance with the Colorado river on the way to its headwaters, sometimes at 90mph and other times at 19. At West Glenwood over brisket, I punt on the Maroon Bells as well, urgh. For the first time I'm on a national road familiar from back home; first it is I70W from Green River, Ut and later US40 after I get off another chunk of scenic gravel (Co-1). The dirt road peaks out at a little over 9900 feet as I cross the continental divide in Colorado. I think I've crossed it like a half dozen times now.. a couple of times each in Canada, Montana, Wyoming and now Colorado. Went past a stretch of recently burned forest with new life already taking hold. Wonderful stuff. A short break in Granby for some rocky road, birch beer and map consultation with a view of the rockies is reward enough eh? But wait, top that off with a sprint (yes) up 125 north toward Laramie, Wy and it'd be hard to ignore as nothing less than a slice of motorcycle heaven. Just keep an eye out for the trout fishermen (uhm fisher-people?)

No significant conversations today, for the most part it was me and my thoughts. Here's one particularly worthless one: Tar snakes can snap at you when heated unlike cow pies that dry out and just lay benignly.

Aaah Bryce...what a spectacular sight. Today's tour was Heber to Bryce and followed by the awesome US12 scenic highway out toward Goblin Valley. Wildfires shut down part of the park and at one point on the exit, I could certainly smell it! Heat bearable at over 9000' but down in Escalante (and later Hanksville) it was blisteringly hot. Met Ed, Pete and Jake from Rhode Island on their bicycles....now that is one determined group (for a good cause). Chatted for a bit...felt a bit guilty considering they were human powered and I had just bolted on the cool vest. Great guys. Now Goblin Valley on the other hand (suggested by Hillari of Missoula) was something else. I arrived late in the day and will post what pics that were passable. What a playground it is! Had the opportunity to take in one of those interminably long and beautiful desert sunsets. Naturally on the way out, I had my plenty of opportunity to dodge local variants of wannabe roadkill...prairie dogs, pronghorn antelope and some long eared bunnies.

Made it to Green River rather weary but happy. I think this was the turning point in the trip for me, now it feels like I have to make it home. I miss my cats. Stopped in at Ray's Cafe but sadly they were cleaning the grill. Mexican owned, but otherwise traditional (honky) bar/diner. Staff seemed happy and was a little sad I didn't stay for more than a beer, the young fellas were hoping for a story... or at least some distraction from the nipple twisting waitress. Dinner at the 24hr truck stop instead...complete with vintage Billy Ocean over the PA system. The waitresses were nice enough but it felt surreal....kinda like a scene out of the movie 'Brazil'. The kitchen door swings open and I hear a much happier spanish tune blasting out the kitchen boom box. Unlike Montana, the local hispanic community is, apparently, thriving here.

I'm not cut out

to play Kramer.... all week I've been teasing fate with my fuel consumption and just about got busted this evening. Leaving Evanston after my crop (and she gave me what I asked for!) I thought I'd skip the gas stop and maybe catch a couple of exits and roll gas and dinner together. Ooops, rolled into Echo with 9.9miles on the reserve and there's the gas station....CLOSED.

BTW the pic is as taken..no photoshop...the sky is that blue.


Some nice people over at the Kozy Cafe (cliky) next door help set me straight (17.6miles, 3.9gal to fill) and I called it quits at Heber.

Those weird fences along 189? Snow fences....

Time for a short break

Evanston Wy, caffeinated and determined to crop the mop. Plus as it stands looks like i'll be running smack-dab into Slc rush hour. Picnic lunch in front of the Grand Tetons was worth the price of admission, duckie has a new home!

Twas another good one

I should try to bank days like these. Evening concert in the park after the farmer's market wraps up... Bozeman, MT

Yellowstone...yow!

and as Ron Popeil used to say "But wait, there's more"

It has taken a good long while to finally come to updating this post. I should have listened to what Jeff and Kevin said about daily journals. The day at Yellowstone was incredible. Yes, against all sage advice I elected to spend only one day at the park. I'd arranged for a guide yesterday and at the time... a 6am wake up call was 'no problem'. But sadly, yesterday extended well into the night. Trouble it was I had leaving the Filler because it was just too much fun. Trouble it was I had waking up 4 hours later to meet Davina from Yellowstone Safaris in the suburban with a huge hole in the roof.

Well, the day went beyond my expectations (to include a wee nap at the end). We arrived early enough to catch coyote, pronghorn antelope, bald eagles, black bears, osprey, bison all in their element. Davina's term for some of them 'charismatic megafauna' ...nice. Later in the week I'd see 'charismatic mega-rocks'! Anyway, one comment she made was that she was glad to see the bears...being bears. Her description 'acclimated vs habituated' was meant to distinguish between the bears in the park of 50 years ago when people still fed them from the cars. During the bear sightings, there were certainly bear-jams and I was glad not to be on the bike. Besides the Uly with its fan would've received some hard stares at all the peaceful outlooks. To her credit I we did manage to avoid the throng of people (having been recently traumatized in Jasper). Without her expertise and sheer drive (we never passed on an opportunity todo some spotting) I wound up feeling like the Griswold ...kinda going...oh yeah bear, ok saw that. But enthusiasm can be infectious and despite my (self inflicted) sad shape I couldn't help but be excited. Geothermal features came next and we treated to all sorts of geysers, pools and femorales ? The waterfalls were beautiful as well but with all the people, I was happy to spend a whole minute, take one brain-jogger picture and trundle on. Davina, a biologist by training, had done her spint with the NPS, NFS and left for familiar reasons (Cheryl!) and now spends the summers as a guide and winters as a snowboard instructor. She reminded me a lot of Julie (of Matt and Julie). We swapped some war stories, it was easy to tell her passion (beyond the wildlife) was teaching. She managed to even include 'rayleigh scattering' in her banter. Lunch was in a nice secluded spot complete with tablecloth and all the trimmins'.

During our travels across the park (miles and miles), evidence of the wildfires from a decade ago were everywhere. The sheer scale of the fire is overwhelming. But even more impressive was all the natural re-seeding that had basically re-planted the entire area! That has easily been the most impressive demonstration by mother nature. Even in mid-July, they had just recently completed spring thaw (and the rivers were wild) and wildflowers were in full bloom. Just beautiful.
Despite best attempts at staying awake, I napped on our hour long commute back to Bozeman. She was kind enough

Sorry it has been a factual account but I should have captured my impressions sooner (it is now over a week later, I'm sitting at a Super 8 in Madison, Wi). The park condenses many sights and activities and is easily one worth visits over a lifetime. My guide, outstanding even if I felt a little self-conscious as we tooled about...ya know me and my private guide. But a few people tagged along and got to enjoy her wealth of knowledge as well! Yellowstone is no park to be Griswol'd and I'd certainly recommend a professional like guide so as not to miss what's before your very eyes!

Maybe there's hope for this technology geek after all.

You're the first asian I've seen in a week!

That was Mike, fellow next over with beer in hand at the Filling Station (the Filler) in Bozeman. For what had been a semi impulsive move to stay over a little longer, the day had worked well. Honestly, I do not think I've had this many conversations, and many beyond meteorological data, with total strangers as I've had this past few days. I'd hazard a guess that the overpowering sense of isolation I felt when the bike threatened to expire in the middle of nowhere is one sensation not new to most. So herein lies the difference. The population is low, as in WV, but they are spread far, far, apart. How does this affect behavior? Not my place to contemplate I say. I'd spent the morning catching up with some pics from earlier in the trip. There's a ton to go yet. My mop has been rapidly deteriorating into severe helmet-head. Alas my search for a barber had been thwarted by impending raindrops (never materialized tho). The balance of the day consisted of a people-watching lunch, some shopping for tools to attempt to repair the grip and otherwise aimless meandering about Main Street. I'd hope to get a massage and lucky me, things fell in place and one super massage was then followed by a sunset concert, dinner at the Pickle Barrel (have pics) and later more music ….where I met Mike. There's more to say of people, their passions and beautiful dancing women but that is for later.

But for now I must stop, it is 1.24 and I've to be awake for a 6am pickup.

slightly over caffeinated

but I think I have the pics updated to Vancouver, now to get off my butt and do something today. What's with songs from the past? Last night it was 'My Way' and now 'Bridge over troubled waters'....time to scoot!

drinking a beer

at Lewis and Clark's motel...Moose Drool, to be specific...finally something with a moose but not tasting like Molson. So it is 1030 after all. Not really sure what time I left Missoula but it did take 95 minutes to cover the 123 miles to Butte. Took a gander about Butte, saw the monster copper mine. It reminded me a little of old WV mining towns...uhm Fairmont in particular. Some old buildings seem to hearken to sunnier days but it is mostly bars and some chain fast food places these days. As I wandered about the mine trying to find a good spot for a pic (evening sun was not cooperating) I stumbled upon a Chinese-American restaurant. What the heck, it was a voluminous dinner. The staff had just moved from San Francisco in May. I'm guessing winter will be a test of sorts. Friendly and with the poilite inquiries as always. However, unlike with gringos who are often taken with the notion of the trip....my chinese sisters weren't terribly impressed by my lack of work ethic. Aah. On the way from Bernice's I met a fella, Rocky and we chatted alond the road for a good while. I think we actually said goodbye several times. Interesting person he is, a native who'd seen the country alongside his pooch and decided that Montana was the place for him. He wasn't particularly thrilled by the growth in Missoula but wide spaces was his thing. Among other things, we both shared a common disdain of the boom-boom car stereos of the college scholars. I'm sorely behind on pics and will try to correct that soon. First, I must figure out tomorrow's agenda. I sorely do not want to be caught in a bear-jam on a motorcycle.

Coming over the continental divide, just east of Butte, I could smell the pine trees.... not so much the one in your car but more like Christmas morning....

And so, cherries from the Mangy Moose accompanied with Bernice's monster cookie, washed down with some drool ..... aah...only Sinatra crooning 'My Way' and an altogether different memory manages to keep me anchored; just.

Big fat and happy at Bernice's

You know life is funny sometimes. I woke up this morning to discover the storm I was dodging last night had indeed caught up with me. So a languid start of the day was in order. Chatting with Dick and John (fellow strandees) in the lobby, it was good to feel un-alone in this predicament. Weatherbonk had indeed assured somewhere between deliberate dampness and total-waterloggedness on my planned ride to Bozeman. As we sat there swapping stories (sans amplification) we heard an alert over the TV that the park service had shut down the million dollar highway through Glacier National Park due to heavy rainfall and potential flooding along the route. But I had, earlier, rather optimistically reserved a room at the Lewis and Clark motel in downtown Bozeman and so felt rather committed. A friendly staffer from the Aero Inn offered a route suggestion to avoid construction along 93S. She had a resume that's made me comment...'hey you gotta write a book!'

Yeah, I wasn't the soooper happy camper droning on in the rain. Managed a neat pic of Lake Flathead as I cinched up the wet weather gear though... but by the time I got to Plains, the sun ventured out for a sneak-peek and I took the opportunity replace the low-beam bulb in the NAPA parking lot. Haven't done roadside repairs in eons, reminded me of days gone by. Tooled about town for a sec (it is a wee small place) saw the Mangy Moose and felt a touch homesick for my own moose from home and so stopped for some fresh cherries and a chit chat about deer-resistant flowers. (yup, still me). Turns out past Paradise, 28 turns to 135 through Lolo National Forest and swooping along the riverbanks drove the rainy blues away. Thanks to you friendly lady (sorry forgot the intros) !

Swishing upstream, I could watch the squalls plot their course along the river. You could predict when the next wave of Lilipution arrows (yeah it smarts) were about to strike; ouch!

I feel compelled to make an equipment comment; the bike is simply fantastic. Secondary roads with heaves and undulations are taken with aplomb, even at ridiculous (by my standards) speeds. The GPS got soaked but that was my fault for shoddy re-assembly. The Pilot Roadsmart2s were confidence inspiring (yes, yesterday's tip notwithstanding) and that finds me here at Bernice's Bakery in Missoula. You know I actually do not know the time? Had a yummy brie samwich and a cup-o-soup all washed down with exemplary cups of coffee....yeah I'm in violation of my own rule, but today is prolly the first day I felt a little un-plugged. (hmm) I wonder how far Bozeman is? OK two cups this late in the day is simply tempting fate, best I go before I forget how I got here in the first place.....(think about that)

BTW, the handsome fella is Rocky. We chatted while I suited-up after lunch. He is an avid motorcyclist and a very much a native Montanan. Unlike places on my west-coast portion of the trip, pretty much people were 'from here'. He'd seen the country alongside his pooch and decided that Montana was the place for him. He wasn't particularly thrilled by the growth in Missoula but wide spaces was his thing. Among other things, we both shared a common disdain of the boom-boom car stereos of the college scholars. I think we said goodbye a half-dozen times......

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!



View trip log in a larger map

Chief Mountain

just short of the US border. what can I say?

this was the fire base where I took a wee breather and kept a fireman from his job with my inane questions.
And there is cell coverage!

View duckie's road trip in a larger map

packing up at the Y

from last night.... (no wifi at the Y)


Tomorrow I head out and south. Tentatively a lunch stop at Whitefish. Due to the teeming humanity, I skipped the interpretive portion of the glacier center (well, the tour-guides offered some info). So perhaps I'll catch some in Whitefish. Some cool stats though, Canada has some 35% of the world's supply of fresh water. Some of those scraggly trees were 300-700 years old! Saw the headwaters of the Columbia and much of the water for the western US, it was a wee little waterfall. Someone said it was the most 'hydro-dammed' water system with some 17 man-made lake/hydro plants. They rattle off some other stat about all the fresh water for Canada and US originating up in these mountains but I was a little confused. Coming up along the highway though, one could tell when the turquoise waters were flowing west in contrast to the ones flowing east. Apparently it takes 50 years for the waters to make it from the thaw to the ocean. I get an attaboy from our guide when I decline the paper pamphlet at the end of the tour. and hopefully by nightfall, Missoula. Tonight though, it is laundry time again.