Short Hopping Lolo Pass on the ST1300

[CaptCrash]

170627
Day 1 Nampa ID to West Yellowstone MT
395 miles.

Hail. Oh hell yes. Hail. Big, fat, paid too much for it at Whole Food pea sized hail. That serious, hurts like a M*&%#^[%$&er hail. Yes, we had stopped and put on the rain gear. Yes, I had the windshield all the way up. Yes, this idiot in a Toyota Corolla actually pulled over and stopped on the highway because he was scared—and YES, he stopped on the railroad crossing. ON THE TRACKS. It was special kind of stupid. AND there are no overpasses on US20 heading east from Rexburg; there is nowhere to hide just miles and miles and miles of stinging and welt generating hail. We stopped in Rexburg to put on the gear got back on 20 East and it started raining and went downhill from there. But I’m way ahead of myself.

We rolled out of Nampa at 8am. Things were great, the temperature was about 60 degrees and steadily rose throughout the morning to 78. Our plan was to get on I-84 and beat feet east, with an 80mph speed limit running 85 all the way to Idaho Falls made sense from a strategy standpoint. Fortunately I am not know as a strategist and I decided to bail out at Mountain Home and get on US 20 East, where we would spend the day. Had a lovely drive and was able to keep my speed in the 70 to 80 range because of wide open turns and some long straightaways around Fairfield. I did find Picabo Idaho a real pleasure. We rolled in to gas up and Julie went in to find some cable ties. They didn’t have any at the General Store/Service Station so the proprietor actually phoned the Ace Hardware across the street to check to make sure they did. Both shops were clean and tight, very sanitary and I kinda want to move there now. We continued through Shelly and on to Craters of the Moon which doesn’t really look like the moon I saw Neil Armstrong land on but…so it goes.

Craters of the Moon is a strange land that sometimes looks like it’s a rubble field and others appear like the earth burped under a lava flow and the bubble almost burst but only created a cracked dome. The lava comes in different colors as well as textures. Black in the dominant color but there is reds and an odd brownish hue mixed in. If the “Naked & Afraid” producers really wanted to kill someone they would drop them out in that lava field. What made Craters? It is part of the path that a superhot spot under the earth has taken over the last 16 million years as it has moved from the Idaho/Oregon border to its current location under Yellowstone National Park. Who knew super-volcanos moved around? Not me. Later I did get to see a coyote running across the highway into the Idaho National Laboratory. They move around. I believe Jules wanted me to run it over but I deferred. I did get a kick out of Arco which sits below large rock faces and every high school class since somewhere in the fifties has inked their year in 10 foot tall numbers.

After Arco came Atomic City and all kinds of “Restricted Area” signs on gates and fences. There is an atomic museum out there somewhere but since we had hung out at the Craters of the Moon visitors center learning about ambulatory super-volcanoes we motored on by. In all frankness I really enjoyed US20 crossing Idaho. Beats the heck out of the interstate. It was cooler by temperature and sights, I was able to run fast and keep a good pace. The transition from Craters of the Moon and its desolate blacken landscape to a running grassland and then into the lodge-pole pine forests of the Targhee National Forest was interesting and entertaining. We did get hailed on. It was unpleasant but we’ve talked about that; thing is as we bore down on West Yellowstone the sky when vivid blue with the occasional classic fluffy white cloud welcoming us to Montana and the edge of Yellowstone National Park.

This wouldn’t be a real Capt Crash report without the obligatory food report. Had a small signature pizza delivered from The Gusher Pizza and Sandwich. Really, really good stuff, I was trying to pinpoint what I really like about it and I realized the cheese was generously applied but somehow different. Turns out it was a mozzarella, fontina and asiago mix which played nicely with the house marinara sauce. I will sleep well tonight and breakfast is waiting in the fridge. Tomorrow may make a lap around Yellowstone as we work our way east to Hill City SD. Watched “Dinosaur 13” (story of Sue, the largest, most complete T-Rex ever found and the court fight that ensued) and felt we’d give the town a shot of tourism that the feds had stolen from them.

Just to put a capper on the day around 7pm the management of the motel stopped by to hand out bottles of water. Turns out that due to damage from heavy winds the town’s water supply cut in half and they asked us to use as little water as possible.

 

[bcj]

Thanks. Great reportage.

 

[CaptCrash]

Day 2

Day 2
West Yellowstone to Lolo MT
Mileage? Ask the Lord.

Not going to BS you. It was a good and a bad day. First, we got up and decided instead of heading for Hill City we’d go to Bozeman to see the Museum of the Rockies which is curated by Jack Horner of Jurassic Park fame. He’s the guy who helped the world realize that dinosaurs were warm blooded, birds are dinos descendants and that a bunch of the “nano-saurs” were actually juvenile dinosaurs. This route means going up along the Gallatin River and running through some beautiful, beautiful country. There is always the Gallatin River by your side. It was such a glorious morning I said, “Self, you should get the GoPro out and get some footage.” So I did. And I learned that the ST’s battery is a little soft. It taught me that if you stop 3 times in 5 minutes the bike will turn over without issue BUT, if you make it four and leave the ignition on for a moment or two then things get crappy and turning the crank will means you don’t have to worry about disturbing nature or the lovely sound of rushing water because nothing happens. NOTHING. And you will lose all your mileage information as well as having the clock reset to the time of day in Chechnya. With an assist from gravity it bump started easily and I decided that if it gave me any crap when we were done at the Museum after 2,3 hours that I would go find a new battery. It started, so I’m reasonably confidant things are cool for the rest of the journey but starting it tomorrow morning could be its own adventure.

If you’ve ever taken a motorcycle safety class you’ve been drilled on the idea that motorcyclists need to understand how vulnerable they are compared to a car. One of the idioms folks will use is: YOU are the crumple-zone. This is to remind you that cars have bumpers and doors and airbags. We were riding along and all of a sudden everybody jams on the binders and stops. I look in my mirrors and I see this big white semi coming up behind me. I say to myself, “Self, he’s going to have a hard time not stopping on top of us, what should we do?” There’s plenty of room on the fog line so I bail out to the right of the van in front of me and hope it ain’t gonna get pushed up on top of me. The semi gets stopped on the other side of the van in the oncoming lane. Driver looks at me. I look as the driver. We exchange a karmatic look of “well, that could have been the shits” and traffic starts rolling very slowly forward. Over the intercom Julie says, “Look! A baby Grizzly!” Lo, and behold there was a small Grizzly rolling around eating grass about 20 feet to our right. In the Boy Scouts one of the first things they taught us was “If you see a baby bear be very, very careful because Mom is somewhere nearby.” Sarah Palin taught America how dangerous and mean Mama Grizzlies are in particular and there I sit with my wife, pretty much the closest human to a baby Grizzly and I can’t lock the doors or roll up the windows if Mama shows up. Remember the “Motorcyclists are vulnerable” bit. Needless to say as folks rolled down their windows and took pictures we split the scene.

We hit Bozeman and spent way too much time at the museum. It’s cool. They have a collection of T-Rex heads that includes the largest ever found and they are just massive. I also learned that there are basically 2 flavors of Triceratops. One has horns that curve up, the other has horns that curve down. Mr. Horner has set up a display of about 10 different skulls of triceratops in different stages of life. It’s striking and I was amazed by how big them suckers got. They also have a wonderful collection of automobiles as well as excellent displays on early Montana life. Because we killed so much time looking at fossilized critters we decided that rather than go east to Hill City and having to hustle across the entire state of Montana we’d rather head east to Butte and overnight at Lolo Hot Springs before heading over to maybe Spokane. Hey, we got no real agenda here. The bike snaps to life without issue in the parking lot and I figure “it started this morning” and should tomorrow morning too…unless I start it and stop it and start it and stop a few times which would be really, really stupid.

We decided to stay at The Lodge at Lolo Hot Springs and after reserving a room for 99 bucks we loaded the Google maps and took off. The run west from Bozeman to Butte to Missoula is all four lane interstate but really quite pretty. The speed limit is 75 or 80 the whole way and the only excitement we had was having a state trooper pass us at a good clip. We later came upon the scene of the accident he was rushing too: a crossover SUV had somehow rear-ended another trooper who looked like he had been stopped on the side of the road issuing a ticket. Julie asked me, “How much trouble do you get in or hitting a police car?” I offered that you got bonus points for stupid and probably a charge of reckless instead of inattentive driving. Oh, and I guess you get a secret you’ll want to keep. We pressed on.

Remember how we had put our destination into Google? Turns out that once you’re rolling up US12 you lose cell service and you never get another update on location/time/distance, whatever it has loaded is what you have. We’re busting along and the thing simply says “turn right on Graves Creek Road.” I see a sign that says, “Lolo Hot Springs, 9 miles”. Julie says, “You just passed it.” “Passed what?” “Graves Creek Road.” After a quick conversation I turn around as go up Graves Creek Road. As I turn onto the dirt road that is Graves Creek the ST starts a countdown. A fuel/distance countdown. She figures she has 40 miles to empty. I go up the dirt road about 2 miles. There’s a bar/restaurant/cabins/campground. But it’s “Jack’s Saloon” or some such. I stop, leave the bike running, go in and ask for directions. (*Note to all other husbands and lovers, if you are holding your helmet while inside a bar and you smack talk your love’s navigational skill—she may be listening on the intercom. ‘Nuf said.) The news is-go back to the main road and keep going up the pass. If you’re doing the math that means that turning back on the main the ST says 36 miles to empty. I go up the road 9 miles and find the Lodge at Lolo Hot Springs. The ST says we have 27 miles to empty. As we check in I ask the kind lady “how far to gas?” Gas is 25 miles away in either direction. Should be an interesting morning, the ST should start and I maybe I’ll coast on the downhill parts.

A word about the Lodge at Lolo Hot Springs, I can fully and happily endorse it. We upgraded to a big room for an extra 20 bucks and it’s spectacular. Also, there’s no cell, no sat TV (they’ve got DVDs to loan), and limited internet (as in only in the lobby and off at 10pm wifi). It really is a lodge, with log walls inside and out. Very clean, very well maintained AND it has indoor hot springs. Indoor as in 2 large 8x20 finished pools, one at 102 degrees and the other at 105. All enclosed. Wonderful. In honor of Jim Van Andel, Bruce Grant, Tom Halliday, Stacey Vajta, Lynn Kopf, Linda Beck, Enrique Jevons and other associates from 1981 I sat in that big boy until I was falling asleep. The only thing I really pined for was Wilson, the Halliday’s faithful, gray muzzled basset hound who used to walk the wall between the hot tub and the pool. I think I heard him patter by a couple of times. Here’s to 1981 and a motorcycle that starts in the morning!

 

[CaptCrash]

Day 3

Day 3
Lolo Hot Springs to Lewiston ID
200-odd miles

The ST started without issue this morning. There was the obligatory mountain morning fog that left everything damp and quiet. The foliage is dense and the road (US12) tries to hide the Lochsa river from view but the fast flowing river is readily visible. The Bitterroot Selway Wilderness Area is on the other side of the river and an occasional bridge crosses the gap but the bridges are designed so motor vehicles cannot access them. As we were rolling along we stopped at the Lochsa Historical Ranger Station and Museum to take a look. Again this is one of those “never saw that coming” events, a very interesting stop where we met a lovely couple from Austria who had immigrated to Oakland and are now RV-ing around the country. While we were stopped a 200cc big wheel scooter rolled up with a load of camping equipment strapped aboard. Turns out the gentleman riding it was from Washington, had recently retired, and was heading to Glacier National Park to ride the Going to the Sun Road. His spouse had scoffed at him, teasing him that he would be back in 2 days so he had taken it as a double dog dare and was going to push that scooter to the sun if he had too. Sometimes what’s teasing to one is a challenge to another. Spouses can be that way; unintentionally harsh without realizing.

I scared the bejeezus out of Julie today with my fuel management. The ST starts a range countdown and then eventually switches to simple flashing lights. Julie can see the fuel gauge over my shoulder and it made her very nervous, she’s the sort that never lets the gas gauge get below ½. Myself, I’m a lot more loosey goosey about stuff. Let’s be honest, I’m riding a bike that we could wakeup in the morning and need to bump start. I let the fuel situation go critical and was fairly nonchalant about it. Coasting down the hill was fun, not a sign of impending catastrophe. We get up in the morning and I’m not worried about where we’re going or how we’re getting there, I’m ready to go east, west, north or south. I also know that Julie likes some sense of direction and order; where are we going and when are we getting there is important to. Route is important to her so I let her do all the navigating. I trust in my own dumb luck and ability to fake my way out of a tight spot; Jules likes to know the end from the beginning, plans are important to her. Me? Not so much. That may be why we work well together on the bike. I’ll stop to let her take pictures she hasn’t planned to take or stop for random historical sites while she makes sure we’ve got a room for the night. I am chaos, she is order and it works out wonderfully.

Since there was no food report yesterday let’s do one today. Stopped at a place called Augie’s Deli in Orofino Idaho. Orofino has a lovely downtown and you have to cross the river to from US12 to get there. 3,000 folks call Orofino home and we lucked into two fine examples at the deli. Smart, helpful, attentive—all the good stuff. Had a Prairie Pastrami panini with red potato salad, a slice of orange and a pickle. It was GREAT! Hot and crunchy, mustard, pickle and plenty of pastrami. Topped it off with some huckleberry ice cream. Julie had a Margarita panini which featured fresh as well as sun dried tomatoes, pesto, and mozzarella on sourdough. Good food well made. Not a lot of miles today but they were super quality miles that featured all the good sensual features of motorcycling: sound, movement, food and the company of another.

US 12. I suggest you ride it. Stay at the Lodge at Lolo Hot Springs. Stop in Orofino and hit Augie’s, over-tip the help just because the day has been soooo good you’ll want to share the love.

 

[CaptCrash]

Day 4

Day 4
Lewiston to Nampa
Mileage? How would I know? Let the bike go dead at a rest stop. Bump start. All mileage gone. Clock reset to Pakistani Standard Time.

Let’s talk food shall we? I mean I love the ride down US 95 and the Palouse is really special country but food first. Stopped in White Bird, Idaho for lunch. Wound up at a place called “Red’s River Café”. White Bird is a little town with a population of 150. It’s down in a gorge that you pass over on a bridge that’s elevated a couple of hundred feet so you don’t see the town. There’s just a left hand turn at the south end of the bridge and then you drop down, down, down into town. Food is a language that has no borders, we all eat and we all like to eat well. We rode up and down the main drag to get a feel for what was available and Red’s just stuck out…and it had a t-shirt on a rack out front that said “Feed Me Bacon and Tell Me I’m Pretty” so it was a done deal. The building is old style western with a façade and plank siding, long and narrow, very old school. As with any good hometown eatery you get the “sit wherever you want” from behind the counter as you walk in. Folks are friendly in tiny towns. They want to know where you’re from and how you found them, it’s good old fashioned human curiosity. We desire to know about strangers and there are few places where it’s safe and often expected to share information and where we eat is the safest; you have to interact, you have to talk, you have to share. We walk in and an older couple is sitting there and they immediately speak to us and we chit chat about riding and weather, windshields and bugs.

There are only 2 people working at Red’s, one in the front of the house and one in the back. Don’t forget the back of the house—they make the chow. Part of my philosophy on tipping requires you to remember the back of the house. You’re not just tipping customer service you’re tipping the chef and, in some form, the town. When you drop a couple of extra bucks in a small town it might go to childcare, or groceries, or (as in the case of our server) auto repair. Yeah, auto repair. The guy who was finishing up when we walked in went out to check the steering column on the car of the girl running front of the house. Our tip could help cover parts or labor then that money might return at lunch tomorrow. Don’t be stingy in a small town, tip well because you never know how big a difference you might make in that tiny economy. Also remember you’re an ambassador for motorcycling, you rode in and they know it. Hell, there’s only 150 residents and 2 more on a bike are rather obvious. You’re in a spotlight so act like the hero not the villain. Julie had a BLT and I had a meatloaf sandwich. A grilled, homemade meatloaf sandwich. With cheddar and a touch of catsup. Woof. Meatloaf is easy to mess up, too dry and it crumbles, too wet and it’s a weird sloppy joe; this was spot-on money. Come on, meatloaf and cheddar grilled? It’s a great reason to share the cheddar when you leave.

We came down White Bird Hill to get to Red’s. It’s a crazy grade, there are no trees and it descends 2700 feet in 7 miles and includes grades up to 7%. Loads of runaway truck escapes. Truck speed limit is 35 but if you pay attention the logging rigs are running about 50. There are no wild surprises on the trip down and engine braking is generally enough to hold your speed down and be comfortable. US 95 is wonderful because it goes through so many different biomes. There’s the Palouse, rolling hills full of wheat and other field crops. (Mrs. Crash points out that the fields are often labeled with what they are, soft white wheat, hard red, winter, or even canola). You have the pine forests around New Meadows and the blazing hot naked canyon at Riggins. You’re along the north flowing Salmon river for a big chunk of the ride and later the south flowing Weiser. The southern portion is home for us, been here, done this. A prophet is without honor in his own country and often a country is without honor to its residents; feel free to love where you live. Try and look at it with fresh eyes and see the beauty that a new visitor would see. So often when we get home we simply wrap ourselves in the safe cloak of routine and we neglect to remember to see the unique that surrounds us. It’s good to be home and remember to occasionally see home as a stranger would. Be safe.