August 5th, 2010 - Day 6
It’s unfortunate that we can only recall so few days with perfect clarity. These days are generally punctuated by happenstance, for good or naught, that scars us permanently. It could be a day that gives you so much joy that normality seems dim by comparison, or it could be one of those days that breaks your heart so completely that you wonder if you’ll ever be whole again. Sometimes you experience something so indelible, so deeply affecting, that you think you know what a true epiphany must feel like. August 5th, 2010 was one of those days. That day will scar me forever, both mentally and physically.
I woke up in Afton, Wyoming and did my morning routine. This may not come as a surprise to some of my friends and associates, but prior to my embarking on this grand adventure, I wasn’t the cleanest person. I’m still not, I have a stack of unwashed dishes in the kitchen that I’m always meaning to get to, but don’t, for whatever reason. However before the trip, personal grooming wasn’t the biggest priority either, but during the trip, and since, I’m pretty fastidious. I make sure not to leave the house until I’m showered, teeth are brushed and my clothes are clean. That is now my routine. My routine on the trip also included packing up all the chargers, dirty clothes and laptop; then I had to secure everything to the bike. I’d then check out of the motel/hotel and then start riding for the day. Today was the first time I had trouble starting the bike for lack of oxygen, it took a few minutes of choke and throttle adjustment to find the right mix to get the bike rideable, thankfully.
On my trip there ended up being lots of places that I decided that I could see myself quietly retiring to that I’d happily live with my dogs, that elusive lucky lady and some goats - living lawnmowers that you can also eat. As long as I could get reasonable speed broadband, I’d be happy. Swan Valley, Idaho was the first. My first dream property was at the top of a waterfall along US-26, Swan Valley Highway. I envisioned a house that had the 3 season’s porch extended out over the river with thick glass floors, a small waterwheel to capture some of the kinetic energy of the falling water that would power the inductive heated floors.
After the blissful peace of small towns, going through Idaho Falls, Idaho was a little jarring, there was too much traffic, it was warmer than it ought to be. Idaho was also the first state I noticed these small buildings in parking lots of other buildings that appear to be everywhere west of the Rockies, even western Canada. In Idaho these buildings were selling snow cones.
Idaho Falls also sits in the high desert part of Idaho, there is a series of long straight roads, passing through “Idaho National Laboratory.” There are a few cool cities on this stretch of desolation: Atomic City, directly south of the INL; Arco, home of a cool little restaurant called “Pickle’s Place” that has a giant sized Adirondack Chair painted green; and Butte City, which has the “Pirates” as their high school mascot - this led me to a fit of chuckles, until I remembered it’s pronounced “byoot,” oh well, still funny.
Just prior to reaching Arco, and having lunch at the aforementioned “Pickle’s Place,” the weather began turning, the skies darkened and the wind began picking up, I figured stopping for lunch and waiting out the front of the storm wouldn’t be the stupidest thing I could do. Sitting at the table in Pickle’s it was interesting watching the evolution of the storm. It began as a general darkening of the landscape, then sand being put aloft. Then rain with the intention of punishing the land for having the gall to forsake it. Whipping in great lashes, the rain chased down every mote of dust that dared think its place was anywhere but the ground. This lesson in natural domination thankfully only lasted as long as it took me to eat my burger - I’m not sure which one it is, but it had ham and swiss on it - I want to say it was the “Pirate” burger, but they all looked good.
After the rain had quieted down to a small whimper, I headed out again, I wiped off the seat with my trusty Sham-wow and headed for Challis, Idaho, from where I’d head west to Boise. Just south of Challis there’s an awesome piece of road that goes through Grand View Canyon, as you approach it almost feels like you’re going to smack into the side of this large rocky mass, before the road sweeps right, then left, into the canyon. When there are no other cars on the road in front of you to slow your turns, little roads like this that follow the beds of long extinct rivers become your playground on a motorcycle.
After the rush of Grand View Canyon, it was time to fill up for gas in Challis and head west. As I was pulling up to the station I noticed quite a few cars and bikes loitering on the side of the road and near the convenience store. Apparently the showers that had passed through Arco had hit here first and the road west was blocked by a landslide. While I waited roughly an hour or so for the road to open I spoke with some of the other bikers that were in the same boat as me - a couple on BMWs that were headed south and a older gentleman on a Can-Am Spyder (Sport). The beamers had been riding together for quite a while and had just done Yellowstone and Glacier National Parks, the 3-wheeled rider was a retired postal worker and was just riding around the region, no plans, no schedule; after speaking to him, and hearing him profess his love for the Spyder over the Goldwing and Road Glide at home in the garage, I made a mental note that I was going to have to test ride one someday. (Waiting until I can make it an impulse buy if I like it before I ride it.)
Finally the road opened up and it was clear to ride west on Idaho 75. Now, when I say the road opened up, what that means is that the detour was declared “safe.” The detour consisted of an old cattle road across a stream that was unimproved (read dirt/mud). My bike isn’t the biggest one on the road, and I’m not a tiny guy, so when I say the going was rough, I’m putting it lightly. My bike is a road bike, it has no knobs on its tires, she’s not meant for that kind of surface. I couldn’t ride my bike so much as walk it while I rolled on the throttle while trying to keep the bike upright and her end from fishtailing out of control. During one of these great maneuvers the bike did rear went out to the left and the bike started falling to the right, I tensed my left arm and pulled as hard as I could to prevent the bike from falling over and it didn’t, I was rewarded with the sensation of tearing near the bottom of my left shoulder blade. An RV right behind me, witness to all of my trials, decided it was in their best interest to try to creep up on me while I was having my moments, they were even bold enough to honk at me even though I was right behind the vehicle in front of me. I rewarded them with a windshield full of mud when I revved the throttle.
After finally navigating the detour and back on road proper, I found a gas station that had a garden hose out for use so I could was the mud of the radiator, tires, windshield, brakes, engine and finally rider. From there I rode on to Stanley, Idaho, through Challis National Forest, a beautiful ride, where I the only bears I saw all trip, a mother and cub that were off the side of the road a ways walking away. From Stanley I went to Boise, following Idaho 21.
It may sound weird to say this, but I love Idaho 21, in so much as if you can love something that isn’t alive and can’t reciprocate that love. We’re talking sappy teenage poetry, one that got away type love. She wasn’t perfect, what with her 20 miles of loose gravel, but that made her real. nearly 40 miles of the 90 or so that weren’t gravel were continuous 25 mph dangerous curves, you know, the sign that is all squiggles with an arrow at the top. Since she lays on top of the mountain ridges her grades were up and down too. I rode her for nearly two and a half hours, ignoring my muscle aches and my body’s protests of ‘enough.’ Unfortunately I had to stop in Idaho City for gas, then we went at it another hour before hitting Boise for the night. I had an Idaho Pizza Company pie delivered and a glorious night of sleep.