So good to be home!

I don't know about you, but it always takes a couple weeks to recover from a motorcycle trip, a bittersweet melancholy comes over me for those days. I'm tired, but rejuvenated; excited, but bored. All those hours spent on seemingly endless ribbins of tarmac must put a spell on a rider; igniting a wanderlust inside, but yearning to be in their own warm bed every night. Yes, I am happy to be home, yet I miss "the road". Sipping a hearty cup of black coffee, I begin to reflect on a safe trip completed...

I recall hastily beginning my trip to take advantage of good weather, but riding through the worst; pushing through the snow and slush to find warmth in 40 degree temperatures; feeling a chill at the end of the day in Idaho Falls, that only a beer, steak and hot shower could cure. 

Portneuf Valley Brewing Co.

I remember waking up, hoping for warmer weather, but freezing my fingers off riding the windy Highway 91 towards Pocatello; while there, finding the Chopstick Cafe for an early lunch and searching out the only Brewery in town, squeezing a growler of Grog in the panniers; continuing on Highway 91 through the lush farms around Preston, Idaho and thinking Logan, UT must be paradise.

Looking back on the four, fun days spent with friends in Salt Lake, I had my first Guzzi's Burger (not to be my last), had a surprisingly good time at a piano bar, and had my helmet autographed by my long time racing hero. I just wished the weather would have been better.

Near Malad City, Idaho

Tuesday turned out to be the best weather day of the trip and the longest;  test drove a R1150GS on my way back through Pocatello; was nearly lulled to sleep by the flat, straight stretches of road on the way to Arco and felt a desire to stop and set up permanent camp in MacKay, Idaho. Beautiful!

Hwy 93, near Borah Peak

 I remember how beautiful the Salmon River canyon was, but too tired to really enjoy the scenery, concentrating instead on the road before me; finding Bertram's Brewery in Salmon, ID and enjoying their IPA and the biggest Reuben Sandwich outside of Montana and being too pooped to write a blog.

Lost Trail Pass

I recall my excitement the next morning, looking forward to my short ride into Montana; stopping at every Lewis and Clark Trail marker, wondering if they'd had the same anticipation to reach the mountain pass above; shivering as the temperature dropped rapidly and snow threatened to fall on me once again; and my relief to see the familiar sign proclaiming the boarder of the State I love so much.

Welcome to Montana!

A few days have passed since returning from my road trip. The exhaustion and boredom have disappeared leaving only the rejuvenated feelings of a trip safely completed. Yet the wanderlust still smolders within and soon I will be off on another adventure. This time I'll stay home... for etched in my mind is the big blue boarder sign: Welcome to Montana! So good to be home!