WEDNESDAY, JUNE 22, 2011

Arco, Idaho to Seeley Lake, Montana

366 miles/2,254.5 miles

“One reason I’m on the trip is because I have such a long list of things to do on the house.” (Tom)

We got up at 6 am this morning and, by 7 am, we were sitting at Pickles, ordering breakfast, along with a few of the locals (Tom noted that attendance at Pickles is what happens to local retirees).  As usual, Tom was first up and first packed, namely because he has way less “stuff” than either Al or me, and we feel like we eliminated all but the absolute essentials.  If anyone is possibly more efficient than Tom, it would be our neighbor, Wayne, who, by the time Tom and I left the campground, had not shown any indication of even getting up.  Yet, while we were just ordering our food at the restaurant, Wayne walked in, packed and ready to go.  For the Lafo brothers, this would be an utter impossibility; admirable, but impossible.

We finished breakfast and wished Wayne safe travels, and then we left to gas up at a nearby station.  A couple of minutes later, Wayne showed up.  “We’ll shake you, yet, Wayne,” I told him.  He’s on his way to Yellowstone National Park – we warned him to be patient, as there is heavy traffic in the park during the summer months, though its spectacular pleasures are worth the visit.  He was concerned that the TV travel programs and various literature about Yellowstone depicted bears coming right up to the cars (“What am I going to do on the motorcycle?” he worried aloud).  Then he’s headed for Mt. Rushmore and I told him to look up an old college friend in nearby Custer, South Dakota, who owns a wonderful pizza place there in a nifty building that was once an opera house.

After gassing up, we headed north on Route 93, intending to take it all the way to Missoula, hoping to get there in time to stop at the BMW shop to have a look at my oil leak.  When your range is around 150 miles, gas stops are frequent and one of a variety of stops we take for the necessities of fuel, or to just stretch the legs, take in the scenery, or to chat for a few minutes or something more personal.

Fuel Stop, One of 27 (for me) Along the Way

Tom and Al Stretch and Chat

Tom and Al Looking for Mountain Goats

Something More Personal

When Dale and I went on the wilderness horse trip in 1999, we usually rode together and, therefore, had ample time take in the passing scene and to just shoot the breeze.  Motorcycles, by their singular nature, don’t afford riders that constant opportunity to talk, but we make frequent stops to gas up, drink some water, stretch our legs or to just stop at an interesting spot along the road, providing us the time to talk about interesting things we’ve seen or thought about as we ride along the way.  There are certainly systems now that allow motorcycle riders to communicate while riding, but none of us has that.  They’re also pretty expensive.   

Personally, I enjoy the solitary and contemplative nature of the ride through the changing landforms as we move north and the sagebrush gives way to agricultural land due to the proximity of rivers, from which farmers can draw water.  On one side of the road, green, lush crops being watered and, on the other side of the road, sagebrush.

One Side of the Road and......

....the Other Side of the Road

The mountains are ever-present throughout the trip, as we rode by, around and through them, and their differing shapes from soft to hard to foreboding - often snow-capped - were always engaging and mysterious.  Even looking back to where we had been, it seemed we were often surrounded with their presence.  The mountains lend a feeling of isolation to many of the areas we rode through and, even after we left the deserts of northern Nevada behind, the population, while increasing, were certainly spread out far and wide; we wondered how it would be to live in relative isolation, where the only hint of the number of families and individuals tucked out of sight in the surrounding hills, was the occasional group of mail boxes.  Tom noted, more than once, that he would enjoy such a situation, though his wife, Kathy, would be less than thrilled at the prospect - she would opt for Paris!

Looking Back-1

Looking Back-2

The "Neighborhood"

The ride down the longest and steepest grade change on the trip thus far started with a spectacular vista of mountains as far as we could see as we dropped over the crest of the pass; unfortunately, the road offered no safe apron on which I could turn off and take a photo.   Once we had a brief glimpse of that view, the ride down was completely unnerving and hair-raising, as the sharp turns and steep incline combined with treacherous road conditions – particularly, the open paving gashes that ran parallel to our path of travel, which can be deadly on two-wheeled vehicles - contributed to a less-than-enjoyable ride down the mountain.  No casual sight-seeing was allowed, as all concentration was with the task on-hand – the road in front of and ahead of us.

A few miles outside of Missoula, we encountered another road construction slow-down, often stopping at construction stop lights, which went on for several miles.  Riding on loose dirt and gravel with bikes laden with a heavy pile of stuff, is not particularly enjoyable; one little slip of the foot on loose gravel, and we’d be down in an instant.  At one point, we finally got to a sign that read “END OF CONSTRUCTION,” and we each let a little joy creep onto our countenance but, just when we put the bikes into second gear, ready to take off, we were confronted with another sign, "START CONSTRUCTION.”  What the !?!#@*!!!

We rolled into Missoula proper around 4:30 and, fortunately, I had gotten directions when I called the shop yesterday, and we pulled into the BMW service department before just they closed, to have them take a look at my previously-noted oil problem.  Thankfully, it really was just a faulty gasket on the oil filler cap and they took it right in to change it in 15 minutes for a charge of $3.90.  I told the guy it was the least expensive thing I’ve ever had done on the BMW.  More typically I blink and it’s $100 plus labor; naturally, I was thrilled that it was such an easy fix, and that nothing serious was wrong with the bike.  Otherwise, the bike has been running flawlessly, as has Tom’s and Al’s bikes.  Tomorrow, on our off day in Seeley Lake, Montana, I’ll have to wash the oil off the left pannier and the various components on that side of the bike that have been receiving leaking oil blown onto them for the past three days – messy but cleanable.  Naturally, Al and Tom bemoaned the “quirky” and “unreliable” European bikes.

Route 200 Out of Missoula

Waiting for Al and Tom at the Route 200/Route 83 intersection

As we got on highway 90 out of Missoula, just 5 miles on the freeway to Route 200, east towards Seeley Lake, we found ourselves beneath the first rain cloud of the entire trip, including a bit of hail.  Before heading up the hill, we stopped to gas up in Bonner, with covered gas pumps and the rain abated, though we weren’t sure we wouldn’t get dumped on before reaching our destination, about an hour's ride away.  We felt chased up the hill  by the threatening clouds – a 35-mile ride to the turnoff intersection onto route 83, north, which goes to Seeley Lake – but stayed ahead of the moving weather front and Tom and Al made it to our stepfather Bud's place and I made it to my sister’s house without further rain.


After spending some time at my sister, Les', and brother-in-law Gary's house, the three of us headed over to the other side of Seeley Lake, to Bud's, place, where our Mom lived for many years before passing away several years ago.  We have many memories of her there and it is the place we can best remember those times past.


After a dinner of tacos (what else!) and - for some of us - beer, we talked for awhile until Les had to leave to get ready for a trip she is taking tomorrow to be celebrated as the Queen of Montana, as a member of TOPS, a weight-loss group.  She looks great!