Wednesday, October 12, 2011

The York Burger and the Hill that Bit.

Over the past year, my friend Rick and I have been hounding Pete about buying a motorcycle.
"Pete, you need to get a motorcycle... all newly divorced guys need one." Rick quipped.
"Yes Pete, I got one when I divorced, Rick got one.. now you should get one." 
"Well...", said Pete, not committing just yet.

Knowing Pete has an appreciation for travel, I invited him to the house to watch the two-wheeled adventures of Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman in their "Long Way Round" and Long Way Down" TV series. Over the next few nights, Pete's interest peaked as we watched each episode; the months of persuasion were about to pay off...

Over the summer, Pete decided to take the required Motorcycle Safety Foundation class, yet couldn't find the time to get out into real traffic. The three of us talked about getting together for a day ride, but could not coordinate a time mutually beneficial. But with winter rapidly approaching, our riding days were numbered... we quickly organized a ride.

Our plan was to head towards Wolf Creek and the Recreation Road. However, storm clouds moved in and hung over the intended route. A last minute decision was made to ride to the York Bar for a famous burger. Our ride to York was cool with spots of rain and our new rider was taking to his motorbike with great confidence.
Near Vigilante Campground
Since Pete was doing so well on his first ride, after the delightful burgers we decided to continue up to the Vigilante Campground were the road turns to gravel.

York Rd
At the campground, we took the opportunity to take a few photos and talk about where to go next. Pete was enjoying the challenge of the gravel road and Rick suggested the Jim Town Road. I wholeheartedly agreed knowing there would be some great locations for photographs and video.
"Maybe we can find a good forest road?" I asked.
"Pete and I scouted for deer around here last year." 
"You lead the way.."

Near the top of Jim Town road, Rick led the group on a nice soft road leading towards Hedges Mountain. As with most forest roads, this road deteriorated the further we rode into the hills, but not to a point we couldn't handle. The road now was marked with sporadic rocks and roots, climbing off camber to a ridge line. At a turn in the road, Rick hit one of those roots at slow speed with his big 1200GS and... over he went. The three of us raised the hefty BMW back on two wheels and helped Rick get moving again. Pete and I avoided the root...
"Let's keep goin!"
Not knowing what lay ahead, we continued to the ridge above to make our next move. Soon we came to a grove of trees and a steep, shale covered hill stood before us. All were in agreement to ride up the hill,
"Stay on the throttle and don't get boged down, stand on the footpegs!" I suggested.


Leading the way, I made it to the top without issue and waited for the others to catch up just over the crest of the hill. After a couple minutes with no signs of Pete and Rick, I dismounted and walked back to see where they ended up. One side of the road was Pete with his F650 laid over on the ground; on the other side was Rick whose big bike was resting on the engine guards. Seems as though Pete hit a rock that through him off balance.. and off the road. Rick, trying to avoid Pete during his tumble, rolled off the throttle, lost all momentum and set the bike down where he stopped. Despite the carnage, the riders were fine, a few pieces broken... but what a view!

After we pulled the bikes up and surveyed our situation, I thought it best not to go further.  We hadn't hadn't planned to go off road, so we hadn't packed any water or even a map, and it was getting late. We rolled back down the mountain, over the shale and roots and rocks, back to the soft tame forest road that was enjoyable to ride. Being very thirsty, the closest establishment was O'Malleys near Canyon Ferry Lake, so we made it our next stop.

Sitting around the bar, chugging the water our bodies craved, we reviewed the days ride. I was very proud of my friends. Rick handled the Big BMW with ease; you'd never know he hadn't ridden the bike before today. But it was Pete who amazed us all. On his first day on a motorbike, he tackled the rocks and the roots and the hills without fear; a natural born biker. Hope this is the first of many motorcycle adventures he will take.

The day ended with the leisurely ride back to Helena, through wind, rain and traffic. As we pulled into the shop, I took off my helmet and said,
"So Pete... when are you gonna get a bike?"
"Soon, my friend, soon."
The Three Musketeers

Thursday, October 6, 2011

Friends, don't let Friends Ride Scooters

You would never know it... but this man has a BMW in his garage. 

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

The Beartooth Bonanza

Several months ago, my buddy Steve and I talked about flying to Spain in September to watch a MotoGP race. The Iberian peninsula has always been of particular interest to us and motorcycle racing is manically popular there, so the venue seemed perfectly natural. However, life gets in the way, opportunities rise and our plans never got past the "dreaming" stage. Come September, Steve still had vacation to use, so I invited him out to Montana... for a motorcycle adventure.

Steve's flight touched down in Helena on Tuesday about 6:45pm and we immediately dropped in at The Windbag for dinner and beers. Catching up on the "good 'ol days" tends to pass the time quickly and before we could say "pour me another pint" it was time to get some rest for the next days ride.


Near White Sulphur Springs, MT
Steve's only agenda for the trip was rest and relaxation, so he left the plans to me. We packed up and headed east on US Highway 12, over the Big Belt Mountains, headed toward Wilsall for lunch. But in a last minute decision, I altered our route to scenic Highway 294 with the destination of Wade's Cafe in Harlowton, MT.
Wade's Cafe in Harlowton, MT
After a hardy meal and friendly service, we rode south on Highway 191 towards the city of Big Timber. I had never traveled on this stretch of Highway 191 and found it to be very scenic with wide open prairie to the east, the eastern slope of the Crazy Mountains to the west and the dominating Beartooth Plateau to the south. Our delicious meal started to take a toll and made us sleepy; not a great feeling while riding a motorcycle. A quick rest stop at The Fort in Big Timber revived our senses for the next leg of our journey.

Brumfield Rd between Reed Point and Columbus, MT
Our destination for today was Red Lodge and one of the roads leading there is Highway 78, arguably one of the nicest in Montana. Always one for avoiding Interstate Highways and exploring new roads, I decided to take a short cut on Brumfield Rd. This road was surprisingly more paved than expected and offered a beautiful vantage point in which to overlook the Yellowstone Valley to the north. Once we reached Highway 78, we quickly moved thru the town of Absarokee on our way to the Grizzly Bar.
"Where IS the Grizzly Bar?"
"In Roscoe, MT!"
"Where the hell is Roscoe, MT?"
"Right here...."
Grizzly Bar in Roscoe, MT.
After a refreshment, we had to be getting on the road. The sun was dropping and the temperature with it. The last leg of our days ride was only 20 miles and was filled with sweeping corners and smooth pavement, but at dusk you must stay vigilant for wildlife crossing the road, especially in the rolling grasslands.

Red Lodge is a small resort town at the eastern entrance to the Beartooth Highway. It's a vibrant city, full of saloons, hotels and restaurants and active year round. Nearby Red Lodge Mountain Resort draws skiers and snowboarders in the winter; Yellowstone Park and the many fishing streams draw tourists in the summer. There is even a motorbike rally in July.

We decided to stay at the historic Pollard Hotel on the main drag. Rooms were affordable and included a full breakfast. New to the Pollard was their Irish Pub that offered a nice selection of beers and delicious food. We must recommend the Fish & Chips; they also have a tasty Gazpacho.
Starting up the Beartooth Highway
The next morning we anticipated cool weather and dressed appropriately. However, to our delight the morning temperatures were in the 50's. Perfect! After a quick stop at the famous Montana Candy Emporium, we made our way out of town and up the switchbacks to the Beartooth Plateau.

Normally this 65 mile road is about a two and a half hour ride to Cooke City, but today we took six hours traversing this winding ribbon of alpine asphalt. Every ten miles we would stop, take in the scenery and chat with other travelers. Our BMW motorcycles seemed to get attention at every stop, drawing out questions like: "Where ya goin?" or "Looks like fun.." and "Those bikes are beasts!"

One of the more interesting spots we stopped at was the Top of the World Store. Roughly halfway between Cooke City and Red Lodge, the store sits at 9400 ft elevation and is only accessible by snowmobile in the winter; though the Beartooth Highway closes to vehicle traffic in October, the store stays open year round.
Looking back... we should have camped here.
By the time we made it to Cooke City, it was getting late in the afternoon. Our goal had been to ride thru the park and end the day in West Yellowstone. Although possible, we decided it would be best to find lodging in Cooke City and drive into Yellowstone in the morning for a full day of sightseeing.
Beartooth Cafe in Cooke City, MT
During a late lunch at the world famous Beartooth Cafe, we inquired about accommodations with our server; she seemed skeptical that we'd find a room as most hotels already turned on their "no vacancy" signs. However, the cafe next door advertised cabins for rent.
"I have one left..." said the woman behind the counter. "You wanna take a look?"
After a quick inspection we decided to take what could have been the last room in town.
Cozy Cabin Lodging
A cool morning and breakfast at the Bistro followed the great nights rest. We packed up our gear, headed down the road and passed through the northeast gate of Yellowstone at about ten o'clock eager to see the Worlds First National Park. Our first stop was to view the Buffalo herd lounging about in the Lamar Valley; popular for anglers too.
Lamar Valley, Yellowstone NP
Second stop was along the Yellowstone River just south of Roosevelt Lodge. There we met Brian Ross, a 23 year old fellow from Queensland, Australia who had been riding his Suzuki DR650 through South America. I gave him a business card and offered any support I could give if he was going to be in Helena (the next day, took me up on my offer and I helped him change a set of tires and gave him a place to rest for the evening).  

Our third stop was Tower Fall. We mistakenly stopped here, but used this time to go to the restrooms. While shedding layers of clothes and suiting back up, our bikes garnered more attention from passers-by. I noticed a young woman taking a photograph of my motorbike from the front seat of her car, I also noticed she had a "Triumph" motorcycle sticker in her window. I struck up a conversation and she introduced herself as Amanda, a writer on a soul-searching trip through America who was headed toward California. We shared some stories and I suggested places to visit while in Montana (I would meet up with her again as she passed through Helena).

Lower Yellowstone Falls, YNP
Our fourth stop was at the Lower Yellowstone Falls, one of the best features in YNP. We walked to an overlook to take photos, but ended up taking more photos for other visitors. Hiking down to a closer vantage point seemed like a good idea until we started our accent back up the trail; 25 extra pounds of gear makes a big difference. 
Don't Drink That!

After lunch at near by Canyon Village, it was time to head towards West Yellowstone and beyond. We made a couple short stops along the Gibbon River and saw a large bull Elk along the Madison. By the time we made it to the west gate it was 4:30 pm. I called ahead to reserve a room at my favorite Montana Hotel; I'd been bragging about the Sacajawea for days, and thought it was time Steve experience it. 

Not happy to leave YNP
We were about two and a half hours away from the hotel, so that meant we had to race the sun if we were to make Three Forks by dark. Our route followed the Gallatin River along Highway 191 until Bozeman Hot Springs; there we headed west along Highway 84 to the "surprise" road of the trip, Highway 288. Sometimes called Churchill Road, Highway 288 rolls through the country side on its way to Manhattan. The views of the surrounding mountains behind golden fields lit by the fading sun was postcard perfect. I should have stopped to take a photo...

By the time we reached Three Forks the sun had descended behind the Tobacco Roots. The hotel was buzzing with activity; live music, a rehearsal dinner and a full restaurant. After unloading the bikes, we found an empty spot at the bar and enjoyed Montana craft beers from the tap and a tasty meal, then retired to the massive front porch to talk about the days ride. Steve was impressed!
The Sacajawea Hotel inThree Forks, MT
The last day of riding would be brief as Steve had a flight to catch that afternoon. Three Forks is a short distance from Helena so we had time to do a bit of sight seeing. The Headwaters State Park is located just minutes from the hotel and since Steve grew up near the Missouri River near Rocheport, MO, I thought it would be perfect to show him where that grand river begun. We stood on the banks of the Madison River where it joins with the Jefferson and wondered how Lewis and Clark decided which route to take.
The Headwaters of the Missouri River
Soon we were on the road again, but our route was to take us to Helena. I chose a gravel road, short cut to Highway 69 and the city of Boulder. When we reached Helena, we had a few minutes to spare and I decided to take a route through the South Hills section of town. There, a road leads to a vista that overlooks the entire valley and an opportunity for one final photo.
Overlooking Helena
Steve made his flight but I sensed that he wanted to stay and continue to ride. Montana is hard to leave behind; we met some great folks and saw some beautiful country. Good to see you in my rear-view mirrors for a few days, ol' buddy. Come out again soon! 

Saturday, September 17, 2011

Letting the Wind Decide, pt 2

Livingston Montana has become a second home for me. My good friends Sarah Ann and Justin live just outside of town and are always gracious to loan their couch to me when I roll in for a visit. The coming weekend was the famed Art Walk in Downtown Livingston and Park County Studio Tour for local artists, and I thought I'd stick around to lend my support. There were a couple of days before the festivities started and I decided to ride towards Yellowstone to see what business contacts I could make.

After breakfast at Pinky's in downtown Livingston, I rolled south towards the Paradise Valley. This Valley, possibly the most famous in Montana, follows the Yellowstone towards the Park. I chose to ride the East River Road to avoid the busy Highway 89 and check out the little community of Pine Creek. The East River Road winds leisurely between the pastures and mountains with numerous access points into the National Forest and Wilderness.
Paradise Valley near Pine Creek
Near Pray is a popular destination called Chico Hot Springs. "Chico" is known for its local charm, soothing waters and having one of the finest restaurants in Montana. This is a perfect stop for weary bikers in need of a soak and a toddy at the end of long days ride. I decide to stop in and introduce myself. After a nice discussion with sales associate Ching Ling Coleman and a brief tour with a wonderful Breve Latte, I continued my journey in the Paradise Valley letting the prevailing winds take me. 

After a couple hours of exploring gravel roads, I found myself in Gardiner at the North Gate of Yellowstone Park. Time had gotten away from me and I made the decision not to back track to Livingston but enter the park to find a campsite. Like a needle in a compass, the natural inclination was to stay in the Northeast sector, my favorite part of Yellowstone.

Yellowstone Park east of the Lamar Valley

Tourist traffic is typically heavy this time of year, but for some reason todays traffic was light, making the ride through the Bison filled Lamar Valley enjoyable. All campgrounds along the way were full and I continued up Soda Butte Creek towards the Northeast Gate. In my rear view mirrors I could see a storm brewing, following my path into Cooke City. Uh-oh..

State Campgrounds are plentiful just to the east and I thought that any of those would be perfect. However, all had restricted tent camping due to the Grizzly Bear activity; RV camping only. My only choice was to enter onto the Beartooth Highway and the plateau that is home to the highest peaks in Montana. The storm behind was bearing down quickly and cracks of thunder could be heard ricocheting off the exposed peaks. Time to find a campsite... and quick!

Near Island Park Campground with thunder getting closer, I found a primitive site, quickly set up my tent and dove in as the wind started to buffet the walls. Soon the rain would fall and I would drift off to sleep and awaken hours later to the sound of a distant Coyote. With the storm gone, I would spend a peaceful, chilly evening at 9500 ft before riding the "most beautiful road in America" and making my way back to Livingston.







Thursday, September 8, 2011

Letting the Wind Decide

Summer is short in Montana. One could bet that May through September are the six solid riding months, but this year winter lingered through May and into June. Suddenly, six months turned into five. Having spent a month doing my duty for King and Country, I rode very little... and five months turned into four.
Feeling the crunch that the summer was going to get away from me, my endeavor was to ride as much as possible; cataloging routes, taking photos, meeting business contacts and enjoying the open road. 

Wetting my finger and raising it to the air, I set off from Helena with no real plan. The prevailing winds were blowing SW, so I started towards Livingston, MT to visit friends. My preferred route to the SW is always Hwy 69 that runs southerly from Boulder to Cardwell. I spotted a route on the map that cut across to Three Forks and was curious and decided to take an adventure. The loose gravel of Dunn Ln gave way to a sandy two-track in a dry and barren landscape reminiscent of something you might experience in Kenya. In fact, if I had seen a Zebra or a Giraffe, I wouldn't have been the least surprised.

Price Rd and the wheat fields.

The route continued on as Price Rd, dissecting farms, ranches and a subdivision until it reached Highway 287. Crossing the Highway, I decided to take Old Town Road and the back way into Three Forks. "Old Town" refers to the old town of Three Forks that was moved to accomodate the Milwaukee Road Railroad in the early 20th Century. 

My goal was to stop and check out the Sacajawea Hotel as a possible host destination for future motorcycle tours. Up the stairs and through the squeaky wood doors, I was transported back in time. The lobby, with its dark wood staircase, columns and reception desk, makes a delightful first impression; the Big Band Jazz playing in the background added to the atmosphere. I was immediately hooked. After a wonderful introduction and discussion about future cooperation, Dorothy Meyer, the Hotel Events Coordinator, took me on a tour. She showed me a couple of rooms, Pompeys Grill and Sacajawea Bar; I was even more impressed now. Although I didn't want to leave the Hotel and considered staying the night, I decided to continue on to Livingston but promised to return in a few days.
Sacajawea Hotel - Three Forks, MT
The afternoon heat was increasing as I swung a leg over the bike and started the engine. I slowly made my way to Bozeman, stopping briefly at the Headwaters State Park to pay my respects to the mighty Missouri River. Upon reaching Bozeman, I stopped at REI to pick up some supplies and see a friend of mine. We had planned on getting a beer after her shift was over, but decided to wait until later in the weekend as I was too pooped from riding in the heat.

Livingston is a short drive over the Bozeman Pass by Interstate. But always in favor of avoiding the Interstates, I chose the backroads through Bridger Canyon and Jackson Creek. When I finally pulled into Livingston, I stopped at the Town and Country Supermarket and called my friend Justin.
"Hey, I'm gonna pick up some beer, what kind do you want?"
"Yes.." he replied.
Rephrasing the question, I asked.."Do you want Bayern Amber or Keystone?"
"Yes.." he repeated.
I then realized I'd asked a silly question. Like myself, Justin fears no beer and so long as it is cold and wet, any beer will satisfy. Though I like Montana craft beers, I chose Keystone because the cans fit better in the panniers. Ah, the sacrifices we make traveling by motorcycle.

Tacky, yet refined

The day ended with a perfect, windless night. Anyone familiar with Livingston, Montana appreciates those few days the wind DOES NOT blow, so we sat out on the patio watching the Absaroka Mountain Range turn orange, then purple and sipped on some ice cold brews. Tomorrow I'll be on my way towards Yellowstone Park and points beyond with no agenda. 
"Where ya gonna go from there?" asked Justin.
"Dunno. I think I'll just wet my finger, hold it in the air and let the wind decide."

Evening in Livingston


Wednesday, August 17, 2011

A New Friend, Glacier Park and a Monkey Butt Ride

Many weeks ago a motorcyclist contacted me through Horizons Unlimited, a website designed for world motorcycle travelers. Sasan was looking for cheap accomodations and general help on his long haul from Tampa, Florida to Prudhoe Bay, Alaska. I agreed to help and offered up my shop to conduct any repairs he needed and to put him up for the night as I have a comfy couch.

When he arrived, we picked up some fresh oil and fluids for his R100GS/PD and got a snack from Wheat Montana Farms. Once the fluids were changed and he caught up on emails, we headed to the Marysville House Steakhouse and Saloon for a truly unique Montana experience. After a great steak dinner and a short ride to the Continental Divide, we headed back to the house for some much needed rest before a long ride to Glacier Park and beyond the next day.

The Rocky Mountain Front near Augusta, MT
The morning started off cool, in fact a little too cool for my Florida friend as he quickly had to dig into his Alaska clothing. The mid fifties is unseasonably cool for early August so I didn't blame him a bit for feeling chilly, I thought it felt great however.
Fields of Wheat near Dupuyer, MT
Our route, US 287 and US 89, is the most direct route from Helena to the east side of Glacier Park through Wolf Creek, Augusta, Choteau, and Browning. It's a route of contrasts, with rolling grasslands to the east and towering peaks of the Rocky Mountain Front to the west; one of my favorite routes in all Montana.
St Mary, MT
By the time we made it to St. Mary, the eastern terminus of the Going-to-the-Sun Road, it was 1pm and we were ready for lunch. The St Mary Lodge was jam packed with tourists, especially motorcyclists; it was if there were a motorcycle rally in Glacier Park! (not a bad idea actually). After a quick bite to eat, Sasan was on his way to the Piegan Border Crossing, Calgary and beyond. Though I was feeling very envious of his adventure to the Great White North and would rather have joined the expedition, I turned back towards Helena. Should I retrace my steps or turn to enter the park?
East Entrance to Glacier Park
Well, being this close to my favorite place in Montana, not venturing across the Going-to-the-Sun to West Glacier was out of the question. Knowing this would extend my trip by two hours, I proceeded through the gate and slowly made my way up to Logan Pass.
Going-to-the-Sun Road
Due to the large amounts of snow and the late winter, the parks lakes and waterfalls were full of mountain run-off; the forests greener than I'd seen in ten years. However, the construction crews also got a late start and this year the congestion along the GttS Road seemed to be the worst I'd seen. What usually takes 2 hours with photo stops took 3.5 hours this time.

Mt. Reynolds
Frustrated and hot, I reached Apgar Village ready to put some miles behind me. Helena is at least a four hour ride from West Glacier and riding through the Seeley-Swan Valley is a long, dangerous stretch of highway; not the best when tired. Near Big Fork I pulled over to have an ice cream cone and a Red Bull (doesnt sound appealing, but it hit the spot) and begun my long evening ride. I tucked behind a large SUV that was part of a long line of cars. Somehow I feel safer surrounded by vehicles going through the Seeley-Swan; theory being the larger autos scare wildlife from wandering onto the road. 80 miles later I emerge from the valley unscathed and seeing very few deer. Maybe my theory works...

Dusk is upon me as I pass through Ovando and must change my smoked faceshield to clear. It's Monday night and there is hardly a soul on Hwy 141; I passed only one car in 40 miles. The closer I got to McDonald Pass the more I wanted the days ride to end, but caution is needed this close to home. The decent into the Helena Valley is a wonderful series of sweeping curves, perfect for two-wheeled scoots. Though my 1200GS is a dual purpose touring bike, it handles like a sportbike; sure footed and true. I breathe a sigh of relief that the 14 hour, 465 mile day is over as I cross the city limits and pull into my drive. I thought of my new friend and wondered if he had made it to Calgary safely, dreaming that someday I can take the trip.

Motorcycling is a wonderful sport and the community of riders that accompany are just as wonderful. Through the power of the internet, we can make new friends and share adventures and I'm glad to have been a small part of Sasan's. I look forward to meeting more new friends along backroads of Montana and maybe someday the backroads of the world.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

The Pony Express

Virginia City is a lonely town at 7:30 in the morning; no traffic, no people, just peace and quiet. We took advantage of the tranquility to snap a few photos along the boardwalks and enjoyed having the town to ourselves. My hunger could not be satisfied with two granola bars and a cup of coffee, then out came the words "breakfast" and I had biscuits and gravy on the brain. Within minutes we were packed and ready for the last leg of our adventure. 


Boardwalks of Virginia City

Fairweather Inn
The next stop on the adventure was to be the town of Ennis, in the Madison River Valley; arguably the most beautiful valley in Montana. This is a small ranching community which is known for its seasonal influxes of hunters and anglers. Having never spent more than 10 minutes passing through, I knew nothing of Ennis and where to get a good, hot breakfast. Biker mantra number two states: "ask the locals, they know" and heeding that advice we made a hasty stop at a local coffee shack. A very attractive, middle aged woman slides the window open with a strange look on her face; She must be thinking "How are these guys gonna drink coffee on their bikes?"
"Hi there! Where can we get the best breakfast in town?" I ask.
Quickly and confidently she replies, "The Sportman's Lodge, don't go anywhere else."
"Wow! That good..?"
"It's that good."

The Sportsman's Lodge didnt disappoint; the breakfast was hardy, service was excellent and we were happy with the check. On our way out the door we were greeted by a fellow who ask about our bikes, "Love your bikes, where ya headed?"
"We're headed to Pony and want to take Meadow Road to Norris. Are you a local?" I asked.
"Yep, I live around here, and thats a great road with very distinctive rock formations; the Indians used it as a landmark, you two will love it!"
Joel had been watching a storm build over the Tobacco Roots all morning and now the darkest part was over our planned route. "Looking pretty dark over there." he stated.
"No worries, I'm sure it will be fine."
Prepare for the emerging storm!
At the town of McAllister, we pulled over to make last minute preparations before turning onto Meadow Road and into the storm. Meadow Road heads west skirting closer to the mountains and is dotted with ranches and vacation homes. As we enjoyed the scenery, I spotted some large birds and decided to stop and take a closer look. Perched in a tree were three Bald Eagles above the pasture looking for a noon meal. Though I live in Montana, Joel sees far more Eagles than I do as they have become quite common along the Missouri and Mississippi Rivers near St. Louis. Joel was burning up inside his rain gear and wanted to get going, so we only stopped long enough to take a few photos.
A bird in hand...
From here, the road narrows and snakes its way up through rock formations that resemble military fortifications. This ridge would be easily defendable and hard to ambush; no wonder the Indians used this area. Meadow Road changes names to Warm Springs Road, but also changes characteristics from packed shale to loose sand. If you are not used to it, loose sand is intimidating; but once you learn to  lighten the front wheel by staying on the throttle, sand can be fun. Eventually we made to Norris without getting wet, the fast moving storm out ran us; poor Joel sweated in his rain suit for nothing.

The next destination was Pony, our fourth old mining town but not quite a ghost town. It was just before noon when we arrived at the Pony Bar and folks were already waiting for the bar to open... hmmm, they start early in Pony. Turns out these folks were members of the band that played a gig the night before; they were waiting for the bar to open so they could pack their equipment. Seems as though the band camped out that evening, and having been kept awake by a fierce thunderstorm, were still reeling from the effects of too much gin. When the bar opened, they had Bloody Mary's, we stayed with Root Beer.
The Pony Bar
After discussing Wine, Women and Motorcycles, Joel and I departed on our last leg of the day to the Ghost Town of Comet, near Boulder, MT.





Comet had two boom year's, one during the mid-1880's and the second in the 1920's and 30's. Ore mined here was shipped by rope tram, down the steep hill, to the nearby smelter at Wickes, MT. As many as 300 residents lived here patronizing 22 saloons... wow! Sadly, all that is left of the town is the old mill and company buildings (built in 1926), some store fronts and homes. The mine is on private property, but the public is welcome to visit. Please respect these treasures and tread lightly.

Comet, MT
(Note: It is NOT recommended to travel the road from Comet to Wickes, down the steep hill mentioned above.

"How do I know this?" You ask.

I travelled this road against the recommendation of a local.

Fellow bike riders: this was the steepest hill I have ever descended, comprised of the slipperiest shale. I locked up and slid both tires the entire slope. When I surprisingly reached the flat ground at Wickes, I dismounted my bike and kissed the ground.)


Joel's Montana trip was quickly coming to an end. It was getting late and we had to make a break for it to avoid an incoming storm. Reluctantly we took the Interstate back into Helena and made our way to the Sushi Bar for dinner.
"We saw five ghost towns, a bear, a moose, some eagles; lots of mountains, lots of sky and lots of mosquitos. So, what was your favorite part of your trip?" I asked.
"Comet," he replied, "was just what I came to see."
Happy to know that the last site we visited was icing on the cake, we toasted the last three days with a bottle of beer.

Tuesday morning, Joel left Montana, back into the heat of the mid-west summer. Driving back home from the Airport, I started to reflect on MY favorite part of the trip; was it the bear, the mountains, the ghost towns? Nah... my favorite part was riding with a good friend. Come back soon, Joel! I'll have the bikes ready for another Big Sky Adventure.

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

The Streets of Virginia City

After a great nights sleep on the banks of the Wise River, our priorities were to light a small smoky fire, enjoy a cup of java and pack up camp before the mosquitos returned for a morning meal. Within minutes our belongs were secure, the fire doused, and we continued our trip on the Pioneer Scenic Byway. The road switched back and forth to the top of the pass and onto a plateau of meadows and marshes backdropped with 10,000 ft peaks; a beautiful mornings ride! Joel saw a Moose... I missed it.




Our next stop was Bannack, the short lived, first territorial capital of Montana, located just west of Dillon. In 1862, the town started to boom when gold was discovered in Grasshopper Creek nearby. I think they should have named it Mosquito Creek, because I sure didn't see any grasshoppers. 


The boardwalks of Bannack
Walking up town along the boardwalk, I could hear the music of an old piano coming from the Saloon across the street. "Hey, I'll buy ya beer, and maybe a Hurdy-Gurdy Girl." "Sweet!"
But as we opened the door to the saloon there was nothing but dust, skeeters and the ghosts of the ones who came before us... it was just my fanciful imagination. But I couldn't go back on my word and bought Joel a round.
Bar tending in Bannack

A good Guide makes a point of everything...
After our imaginary beer, we stayed long enough to say hello to a few folks and pack our bags. The next stop was Dillon with lunch on the docket. Sparky's Garage was the first restaurant we came to as we slipped into town. I heard about this place years ago and always wanted to stop... this was my chance.
The inside is decorated in automobile memorabilia including old fuel pumps, cans and assorted tools. Just the place for a couple of gear heads to have lunch. The service and biscuits and gravy were excellent. 

Storm clouds ahead

We rolled out of Dillon about 1 o'clock. Our ultimate goal for the day was Virginia City, where we decided that we would try to get a hotel room instead of camp. VA City is a quick trip by pavement, but we wanted something more exciting and decided to take Sweetwater Rd into the Ruby Reservoir. A good sized thunderstorm was developing over the Ruby Range; soggy road ahead? The rain started to fall on us halfway into this leg of the trip. The road was packed sand, so the water drained quickly making easier going across the sage covered, high prairie ranch land. Dipping into a canyon reminicant of the old west movies, water started to pool up and the road became slick. However, the BMW's are very capable when loaded down with heavy gear and we made through wet, but unscathed.
Virginia City, Montana

Virginia City was bustling just like the old days; except it was full of tourists instead of prospectors. Within seconds of arriving Joel had popped across the street to get ice cream while I watched over the motorcycles as if they were tied up to an old hitching post. There were plenty of people browsing around the muddy off road bikes, curious to know where we were from and what adventures we had encountered. One fellow from Helena had just returned from a 6000 mile trip to Alaska on his bike; One character stumbled out of the Pioneer Bar to tell us his story of dumping his Harley-Davidson on a sandy road in Baja, Mexico after he had done some "blow" and refused to accept any help from some hikers, "By God, if I can't pick up the motorcycle by myself, I shouldn't be riding it." He claimed. Joel and I looked at each other thinking,  "Hmmm, maybe you shouldn't do "blow" before riding?" Just a thought....

The next order of business was to find accommodations. The place I had in mind was the Fairweather Inn, named after one of the first prospectors in Alder Gulch... and located right in the heart of the bustling city. The Hamiltons (John and Linda & John and Carolyn) helped us get a room for the night. We discovered they were avid motorcycle riders and they told us about the trails that could be explored in the local mountains. Gonna have to come back soon.

Afternoon fell into dusk and the number of tourist dwindled. Wandering over to the Pioneer Bar for a quick beer, we talked about dinner and decided to try Outlaw's Cafe; Joel could not stop thinking about their sandwich called the "Robbers Rooster" which he had spotted on a menu at the hotel. I had my doubts walking into the cafe, but when the our sandwiches arrived we were both amazed; how can you beat a deep fried chicken breast topped with a grilled green chili pepper and pepperjack cheese between slices of buttery Texas Toast.. and fries? Yum! We both HIGHLY recommend the Outlaw's Cafe!


We continued our evening walking the barrooms of Virginia City, swaggering into the Bale of Hay Saloon and being served by the Commissioner of Silver Bow County; striding to the Wells Fargo for margaritas made by a bar tender who deeply missed living in Los Angeles, and ended up where we begun at the Pioneer Bar. The ornate wood bar back, we discovered, had a history; it was brought up the Missouri River by boat and transported to the Lemp Bar in Butte. Coincidentally,  Lemp is an old brewing family name from St. Louis and Joel thinks there is a connection between the two. Stay tuned, he's doing some research.

The night quickly passed and we needed to get some rest for our final day of riding. The town was now deserted as the tourists migrated to their quarters; only the sounds of laughter from the locals at the Pioneer Bar drifted into the street. The wind picked up and cooled off the hotel room... is that thunder I hear?

Monday, July 18, 2011

Wise River Rampage

My good friend called and wanted to be the first to ride with Moto-Montana Outfitters.
"What do you want to do; what do you want to see?" I asked.
"All I wanna see is a Ghost Town, the rest I leave to you." He replied.

His request was simple, but it became a difficult decision for me to make. Knowing how much Joel wanted to escape the sweltering heat of the Mid-West to ride under the Big Sky, finding the perfect course was important. I scouted out three or four possible routes and each time I thought to myself, "this is where I'm gonna take Joel." But I came to the conclusion that in Montana, anywhere we decide to go, adventure and good times will be had by all.

After a late arrival, a couple of beers and catching up, we caught some zzzz; summer mornings come quickly in Montana and we had a long day ahead. When the sun rose, Joel got his first glimpse of Montana in ten years. He complained that the "mountains were getting in the way of the scenery".  I took this sarcastic quip as a sign of his eagerness to get on the road; my sentiments exactly! So, we loaded up the bikes and headed West! 

First stop along Highway 12 was the overlook at MacDonald Pass; up there, Joel's Montana scenery would not be hindered by mountains. Instead he would be atop the Continental Divide looking east into the Helena Valley and west over the Little Blackfoot to the peaks of the Flint Creek Range. Joel did his best "Lewis and Clark" pose and said, "lets get some breakfast!" Right...! Next stop - The Avon Cafe!
Joel and his "Lewis & Clark" pose on MacDonald Pass
At the Avon Family Cafe we met a old Montana gentleman; he was interested in our BMW's and where we were going. I explained we were headed into the Pioneer Mountains and the Wise River.
"Oh, you'll like that... beautiful country." He said excitedly.
Being friendly I asked, "What are you doing this weekend?"
"I'm waiting for a friend, we're gonna ride ATV's..."
"How old ARE you?", noticing he was no spring chicken.
"I'm 82", he said proudly, "..in the fourth quarter of life. But my friends think I'm in overtime."
We all had a good laugh and parted ways. Something tells me he's gonna make it to double overtime.

After a great breakfast (try their biscuits and gravy) we continued our trek, heading towards Deer Lodge. Joel mentioned he wanted a milk shake, and made it our mission to find one soon. We took our first gravel road of the adventure, a short cut called Beck Hill Road; there Joel could get a better view of one of my favorite mountain ranges... The Flint Creek Range. As we rolled into Deer Lodge, I noticed the Yak Yak Cafe advertised "shakes" on their sign, so we had to stop. Walking through the door we were greeted by two exuberant young ladies intent on giving us "food with an attitude." They tried in vein to sell us really good looking sandwiches... but were happy to whip up a couple of malted milk shakes instead. I must return there soon...

Having completed that mission, we motored on; sweeping south through the valley towards County Rd 274/569. This patchy, blacktop road has many names; carries you over the Continental Divide without announcing it, and eventually ends at the Big Hole River and Hwy 43. Its a short road and has plenty to offer; abundant pullouts, fabulous scenery, and light traffic. We stop for a short break...
Embracing the Big Sky on County Rd 569

Always up for trying something new... Giardia Lamblia anyone?

Where are we, Kyle?

hmmm... uhh... let's see here... ummm
Beats me....


Mule Ranch and the Anaconda Range
Our favorite spot along this route was the Mule Ranch. It's hard not to admire the old homestead with the beautiful mountain backdrop. Joel has a spot picked out for his cabin. Both of us didn't want to leave this site but we had to get going... we had a ghost town to find.

Our goal was to reach the old mining town of Coolidge, which is nestled high in the Pioneer Mountains. From Wise River, MT we took FS 73 which is a nicely paved road along the Wise River and dissects the Pioneer range in half. We anticipated camping along this route and kept our eyes open for a site along the way. After 25 miles, a gravel road heading east led us to the town. Upon our arrival we were greeted by the local welcoming committee... swarms of Montana mosquitos impervious to bug spray. Knowing that I'm a very attractive man... to mosquitos at least, I keep my riding gear on. Joel, however, braves the swarms and goes in his t-shirt.
Coolidge Ghost Town
Its hard to believe that Coolidge was a thriving town with telephone and electrical service, even a school system that lasted into the 1930's; no evidence of any kind would have clued me to that fact. I was disappointed to know that the old mill was sold off to an Oregon Company for its distressed wood. Old wood seems to go for big money in the crafts industry.

Whatcha cookin?

It took about an hour to see the town and by then we were rightly tired of the pesky insects hell-bent on sucking our veins dry. On the way down to the main road we passed a beautiful camping spot overlooking a marsh. This would have been a prime site to spot Moose, but fearing more mosquitos we chose a site closer to the fast moving Wise River.

Building a crappy fire
Occupying our site above the river, we soon realized the mosquitos were a continuing nuisance, quickly constructed our tents and set to building a fire to help keep our irritating friends at bay. I gathered what small amounts of firewood I could find, but Joel found a pile of poop; horse poop, cow poop, even elk poop. Having read about nomads using poop to burn, I agreed with his plan to get a smoldering, smoky, anti-mosquito fire going.
finally some relief
The fire helped to abate the aggravating insects. We sat down to have dinner and toasted Clint Eastwood with swig of whisky. Joel walked over to take look at the river while I toasted Steve McQueen.
"What was that?!"
"What?" I replied.
"I saw something in the bushes... I think it was a bear!" Alarmed, he grabs a pistol. "Do you see 'em?"
"Nope.." with my camera at the ready. "Did he have pointy ears or round ears?"
"I don't know" he said, "didn't get a good look. Why?"
"If it has small round ears we may have problems...."

Out of the bushes near the river came a small, skinny cinnamon colored Black Bear looking for a meal and walking straight at us.
"Shouldn't we make some noise?" Joel asked.
"Yep, I guess we should.."
Clapping our hands and yelling startled the little fella and he trotted off in the opposite direction.
"Great, now I won't be able to sleep"
"No worries.." I said. "at least it wasn't a Grizzly."
Hey BooBoo... I smell a picnic basket!

The temperture dropped to the forties driving the "skeeters" into hiding and making good sleeping weather. We retired to our tents for some much needed rest to be ready for tomorrows ride. Lets hope the bear doesn't come back...