Day Twelve: Durango, Colorado to Moab, Utah

What an incredible and beautiful day!  The ride from Durango to Ouray along Highway 550 is the one road that everyone said I simply had to take.  (Well, everyone save one woman at dinner last night, who had ridden it on the back of her husband's motorcycle, crying and praying the whole way, and with her eyes closed.)  Let me apologize now for not having any pictures that do the scenery or route the slightest bit of justice; I wanted to ride, not stop.  So I only stopped once:

My one stop, on the descent after Red Mountain Pass (11,018').

Of course, by stopping a whole slew of cars I'd painstakingly (and legally) passed got ahead of me again.  Oh well.  The decent into Ouray really is epic.  Everyone should drive this road.  On a motorcycle, and with your eyes open.

Stopped, for no particular reason, in Ouray

 A few miles north of Ouray, Highway 155 reaches Ridgway, where I turned west onto Highway 62.  Although the road rises and turns much more gradually than on 155, the scenery is huge and spectacular.  I mean, take a look at this:

Exhibit A: Scenery west of Ridgway on Highway 62.

And this:

Exhibit B: Scenery west of Ridgway on Highway 62, just before Dallas Divide.

 Following Highway 62, routes 145, 141, and 90 took me west into Utah.  It's amazing how quickly the scenery morphed from the "Colorado Rocky Mountain" type (above) to the "American Southwest" type (below).  My day's ride ended up in Moab, and therefore firmly in the latter type of landscape.  Incredible!

Highway 90, just east of the Colorado-Utah border.

To get the above photo, I had to double back.  It's a Colorado Adopt-A-Highway sign dedicated, presumably, to the hero of Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged.  I'm not certain that Galt would've supported the Adopt-A-Highway program -- it seems so, er, altruistic.

Tonight I'm camped in another small cabin, in a campground in Moab.  One of my never-to-be-broken rules of motorcycling is that I will not have the slightest bit of alcohol until the bike is parked for the evening -- and so until tonight I've not had a beer with dinner on this trip.  Conveniently, the campground I'm in tonight is right across the street from the Moab Brewery...

Day Eleven: Carbondale, Colorado to Durango, Colorado

The night was clear and displayed a bright Milky Way, and so I wasn't surprised to find a thick layer of frost on the triumph when I started loading her up.  The frost also gave me permission to lull a bit: given that I would be crossing Independence Pass (elevation: 12,095'), I wanted to give any water runnels and seeps time to thaw.

One frosty gas tank.

I eventually headed out Highway 82 to Aspen (past a highway sign that warned of icy conditions on the pass), where I stopped for an incredible breakfast of huevos rancheros.  While eating, the couple sitting next to me told me that a 9,500 s.f. penthouse apartment was for sale in town -- for a cool $21 million.  (They weren't in the market any more than I am.)  During breakfast the heat of the sun baked me out of my GoreTex layer.  Heading southeast with an endless string of traffic, we set route for the pass. The road narrows in places to a lane's width, and winds and climbs relentlessly.  A fantastic road.  On the bike all speed limits seem stupidly low, which is rather confidence-inspiring.  I'm by no means a road racer -- but several other riders on the road fit that bill, pushing HARD down the pass.  (The packs including a couple of Ducatis, which sounded incredible.  Dang.)  My much-slower cohort eventually reached the pass, and I stopped for the obligatory photos.  Here's two, only one of which shows the bike.

Me, in full regalia, at the pass.

Yet another photograph of the Triumph, this one at 12, 095'.

After the fun descent, Highway 82 joined with 24 and then 285 southbound.  The next few hours were far less exciting, battling a fierce cross-wind along long, straight, level stretches (though with mountains in the distance to both west and east).  A short jog west on 112 brought me to Highway 160 at Del Norte.  Here the scenery again came alive.  The ride west to Durango was incredible, winding through the San Juan Mountains and up over Wolf Creek Pass (where the bike again had me thinking "why the hell is the speed limit so low?").

Looking back up towards Highway 160's Wolf Creek Pass after the descent.

Too bad the sun was right in my eyes the last hour or so of the ride; otherwise it was perfect.  I checked into yet another KOA cabin, then headed into town for a dinner that was far more upscale than I had intended.  No complaints!

This post was written on Day Twelve of the trip.

Day Ten: Montpelier, Idaho to Carbondale, Colorado

At last, a fine day -- and I covered some ground to take advantage of it! Sadly, the place I'm staying tonight has no cellular coverage and poor WiFi. So I'm typing on my cellphone, and dinner has just arrived (flautas!). I'll sign off for now and update later.

Updated 9/30/2013 (that is, Day Twelve of the trip) -- Sorry Ma!  I'll try to keep up-to-date!

As has become habit, I left the KOA at Montpelier and traveled a bit down the road (east and south down Highway 30 in SW Wyoming) before grabbing brunch.  I stopped in Cokeville at a local joint called Blondie's Diner.  A couple saw my leathers and asked where I was headed; at the end of our conversation I had a route planned -- which I've followed from that morning at the diner to here in Moab. The route followed a series of minor roads to south and east: first Highway 30 to Diamondville, WY, then south on 189 and 412 to where it crosses Interstate 80, then further southeast on Highway 414/43/44/191.  This brought me through the Flaming Gorge National Recreation Area, the first of the "American Southwest"-feeling landscapes of the trip.  Great, windy road; almost no traffic.  Perfect.  It was also warm enough to be comfortable without my GoreTex jacket and pants (which can feel a bit constricting over my leathers).

Utah Highway 44, Flaming Gorge National Recreation Area.

Highways 191 and 40 brought me past Dinosaur National Monument, which is well-signed with geological unit names, dates, and fossil types -- great to see!  Highway 64 took me from Dinosaur to Meeker, then 13 to Rifle on Highway 70.  From there it was a quick ride to Carbondale -- where I staged for the next day's ride over Independence Pass.  I stayed in another KOA cabin; I've found that while the motorcycle's luggage is very limiting in what I can carry, the bulk of what I'm wearing (leathers, boots, gloves, helmet) is considerable -- and so my tiny tent is pretty cramped.  This, plus the rain, plus the wish for a quick (if not particularly early) departure in the morning has made the KOA cabins pretty close to ideal.

The White River, running along Colorado Highway 64 west of Meeker.

After unloading the bike I headed back the ~6 miles into Carbondale for dinner (the aforementioned fajitas), then stopped to gas up before returning to the KOA.  At the gas station there was another motorcyclist, on a real crotch rocket.  As customary, we said hello (just as almost every motorcyclist still waves to every other on the road).  I turned my attention to gassing up, and heard him fire up his bike -- and then proceed to rev the holy hell out of it.  He took off with engine screaming and bouncing off the rev limiter.  I turned to watch, just in time to see his bike sliding down the road, sparks flying, rider also sliding.  What. An. Idiot.  I think he was trying to wheelie, and lost control.  Please note that I don't ride this way!  I then rode back to the campground, in the dark, down the narrow country road -- eyes straining for deer.  I hate riding after dark, and avoid it whenever possible.  (Not a deer was seen.)

Day Nine: Bozeman, Montana to Montpelier, Idaho

Escape made!

Today began with dry roads and a mostly cloudy sky.  I set off down Highway 191 towards Highway 20 and the Targhee Pass.  About a half-hour south of Bozeman I hit road construction, which stopped progress for about an hour.  In my truck I would've taken a nap; with the bike, I just stood around and watched a crew work on the overhead power lines.  It was good to start moving again.

Blasting held up traffic on Montana Highway 191 for about an hour.

Highway 191 climbs gradually as it approaches the northwestern corner of Wyoming (and thus Yellowstone), and just before leaving Montana achieved an elevation high enough to maintain the dusting of snow it had received the night before.  Fortunately, the roads were mainly dry (with no ice!) and the traffic light. 

The landscape near Yellowstone was dusted with snow.

I turned left onto Highway 20 at West Yellowstone, a bit apprehensive about conditions on Targhee Pass (7,072').  I had expected more of a climb, but highways 191 and 20 had apparently made the rise gradually.  The pass came and went, and by crossing it I entered Idaho.  At Idaho Falls Highway 20 joined Interstate 15, which carried me to the Highway 30 junction a few miles south of Pocatello.  Here I turned east, happy to leave the interstate behind in favor of a secondary road.  While gassing up in Pocatello, a local had told me that Highway 30 is crawling with deer and elk, especially now that hunters are pushing them.  I kept a keen eye out for ungulate threats, but none appeared.  Reaching Montpelier, I turned left onto Highway 89, and a few miles later turned into the KOA campground.  It was a chilly day; I'm still warming up (and thankful for the heated handgrips) as I type this.

Parked for the night at the Montpelier, Idaho KOA.

Tomorrow I'll head south and east into Colorado.  The forecast, fortunately, is looking good.

Days Seven and Eight: Stuck in Bozeman, Montana

The weather and work obligations have conspired to keep me in Bozeman a bit longer than I'd hoped.  Yesterday morning's Ph.D. defense went well (congrats, Proto-Dr. Wyatt!), but the storm dumped snow on the surrounding passes.  In fact, a bit of snow was blowing here in the valley this morning.  I've been able to use the time to get some work done (and do laundry in the bathroom sink), so it's not been a complete loss.

The forecast for tomorrow is much improved, and I'll be continuing my way south.  Unfortunately, the Beartooth Highway is closed, and road cameras reveal that the higher passes are snowbound.  So, I'll be aiming for the lower passes.

Day Six: Staying Put in Bozeman, Montana

I spent the day finishing up my reading of the Ph.D. dissertation in preparation for tomorrow morning's defense.  I'll be participating via Skype, as will the external examiner.  On the walk back from dinner, the skies were looking, well, lively.

The skies to the west and south (as seen here) are getting interesting as the storm approaches.

The impending storm will keep me here tomorrow and, most likely, Thursday.  Here's hoping the skies relent and let me move on soon.

Update: The storm has arrived.

 

Day Five: Missoula, Montana to Bozeman, Montana

After a night of intermittent rain in the KOA tent site, the morning showed partly cloudy skies.  After a quick check with the Montana road condition hotline (which indicated "light rain alternating with light rain"), I loaded up and headed east for Bozeman along Interstate 90.  Fortunately, the forecasted light rain never materialized; however, the cross-winds during the first half-hour or so were simply brutal, gusting to 45 mph or so.  The bike handles gusts surprisingly well, moving downwind 4-8" while making a slight lean to windward; loosely resting your hands on the bars thus lets the bike self-correct to the wind.  Pretty cool, even if it means traveling down the road listing 5-10 degrees to windward.  The winds calmed before the grade up to Homestake Pass (at 6,368'), which was a good thing.  This being Montana, the speed limits are pretty much ignored, even by the semis -- which fly down the descent in excess of 65 mph, despite a posted limit of 25 mph for trucks.  The pass was thus made at a rather brisk (but comfortable) pace.

I'm now holed up in a motel, airing out my rain-soaked tent and about to go down to the gym.  Later, I'll return to the task of working my way through the Ph.D. thesis in preparation for Wednesday morning's defense. Although the weather in Bozeman is fine today, rain is slated to make a several-day return.  I came here to stage myself for the Beartooth Highway, the segment of Highway 212 that runs between Red Lodge and Cooke City, Montana, meandering along the Montana/Wyoming border.  It's been named both the best motorcycling road in North America and "the most beautiful drive in America" by CBS's Charles Kuralt (woohoo!), and so it might well be worth waiting for better weather later in the week -- assuming that the high passes aren't snowbound.

I didn't stop en route to take any photos today, but here's a consolation prize: a brief clip of the Triumph idling in the motel parking lot.  (Go ahead, use headphones...)

 Update: A winter storm watch was posted at 8:24 PM MDT:

Winter Storm Watch remains in effect from Wednesday morning through Thursday afternoon for elevations above 6000 feet...

A Winter Storm Watch for elevations above 6000 feet remains in effect from Wednesday morning through Thursday afternoon.

* Timing and main impact: light snow Wednesday morning will intensify by mid day and continue through Thursday. Heavier snow is likely at elevations above 5000 feet.

* Snow accumulations: total accumulations of 16 to 24 inches possible near pass level to 7000 feet... 16 to 24 inches possible above 7000 feet.

* Winds and visibility: locally heavy snow and blowing snow could reduce visibilities below one-half mile at times.

* Locations affected include: Battle Ridge Pass... Targhee Pass... West Yellowstone... Boulder Hill... Elk Park Pass... Homestake pass... Big Hole Pass... Chief Joseph Pass... Monida Pass... Kings Hill Pass... Raynolds Pass

Dangit.

Day Four: Waiting out the Weather

Rain delay!

Not much to report today.  Despite the mere 30% POP called for in the forecast, I've enjoyed several periods of rain over the past 18 hours or so.  As a result, I've stayed put in Missoula, and have passed the day reading through the Ph.D. dissertation.  We'll see what tomorrow holds, weather-wise; another day like today would be fine given my present task.

Day Three: Sandpoint, Idaho to Missoula, Montana

Saturday morning's weather was nicer than I had feared, and the forecast models had fair weather persisting until late afternoon.  Additionally, the sky was nicer to the east (my chosen direction of travel) than to the west (where the clouds showed some structure, but not too much malice), and so after a breakfast of yogurt and make-your-own-waffles I loaded up and headed back up Highway 95.  A couple of miles north of town I turned east to join up with State Highway 200.  The route is designated a national scenic byway, and continues as a series of state highways (the longest such chain in the US) as far as Minnesota. This route was suggested by Chris and Bryan, as I'd mentioned wanting to avoid high mountain passes given the looming threat of thunderstorms.  The route is designated a national scenic byway, and continues as a series of state highways (all numbered 200, the longest such chain in the US) through North Dakota and into Minnesota.

In Idaho, Highway 200 first skirts the northern shoreline of Lake Pend Orielle ("ponderay") through Hope (then East Hope and Beyond Hope), and then follows the Clark Fork River into Montana.  The road makes an endless series of sweeping turns, heaven on a motorcycle.  I'm clearly not the only one who thinks this, as when I stopped for lunch in Thompson Falls there were several sizable groups of motorcycles already parked there.  I nestled the Triumph in among a set of Alberta-tagged motorcycles.  After lunch and chatting with the bikes' owners (who were down from Lethbridge), I continued on my way.

Parked alongside other Alberta-tagged motorcycles in Thompson Falls, Montana.

The region is ideal elk territory -- rugged and big, with a mix of open and treed terrain -- and apparently also supports a healthy moose population, as evidenced by the huge antlered head and hide sitting on a flatbed trailer across the street from the ice cream parlour I somehow found myself stopped at in Wild Horse Plains.  The town is well-named, as I can't imagine living here without owning and riding horses.

This little spur road provided access to exactly one small ranch. The Clark Fork River flows along the base of the steep slope on the opposite side of the valley.

The road joined up with Interstate Highway 90 far too soon, but before the expected arrival of rain.  I continued east to Missoula, then picked a tenting spot at the KOA campground in town.  I'm an examiner in a Ph.D. defense in a few days' time, and thus have a 200-page thesis to read; the KOA provides not just a convenient location (e.g., close to Staples, where I can have a physical copy of the thesis printed off), but also WiFi for checking references and email.  Mountain camping will commence following the arrival of better weather and the completion of the thesis defense.

Camped out at the Missoula, Montana KOA.  If my Triumph marks one end of the motor camping spectrum, some of the big rigs here surely mark the far other end.

(This post was written on Day Four of the trip.)

Day Two: Golden, BC to Sandpoint, Idaho

I woke up to foggy skies, not exactly what I wanted to ride through in such a spectacular area.  The forecast indicated that the fog would burn off, and so I headed over to the Big Bend Cafe (before that Poison Ivy, before that another name or two I can't recall) for a top-notch eggs/hash browns/bacon/toast breakfast with watery coffee.  By the time I got back to the motel room the fog was lifting in Golden.  After loading up I headed south along Highway 93/95, which follows the Rocky Mountain trench -- the (half-graben) fault system that separates the Rocky Mountains on the east from the Columbia Mountains (and, further north, the Cassiars) on the west.  There is significant geothermal activity associated with this fault system, and thus the region is dotted with hot springs (e.g., Radium, Fairmont, and, further north, Liard).  The roads here are beautiful, winding along first the Columbia River as it heads north, then, after crossing the narrowest of land bridges at Canal Flats, the Kootenay River as it heads south.  (The divide between these two rivers is remarkably low in relief, and apparently results from the fine particulars of deglacierization in this region.)  Riding south, the road rose at times up into the fog and then dropped below it, finally emerging for good north of Radium.  This town was apparently hosting a classic car show.  There were beauties everywhere.

Southbound on Highway 93, just north of Spillmachine, BC.

Highways 93 and 95 pass through Skookumchuck and Wasa and then by the hoodoos (here eroded glacial deposits) of Dutch Creek.  After Fort Steele, Highway 95 heads southwest towards Cranbrook, past Moyie Lake and along the Moyie River to Yahk and, finally, the Kingsgate crossing.  The RCMP usually patrols this area pretty heavily -- including, this time, in a very purple Crown Vic, which made me wonder whether the officer assigned to this unit was referred to as the "Royal Canadian Mounted Prince" -- and so sticking pretty close to the speed limit is wise.  That, and this area is prime elk habitat; elk >> motorcycle.

After a two-minute stop at the border, I was in Idaho.  The northern panhandle is idyllic, and I come here whenever possible.  Pick anywhere between Bonners Ferry and Sandpoint, or anywhere west or east in these latitudes, and you'll find beautiful land.  The area is known for other things too, though.  I stopped at one point to take a few pictures of some horses that were grazing along the road.  As I walked back towards them, a very large man (with a very large gut, no shirt, a shaved head, a big handlebar moustache, and a big tobacco pipe) came out of his house and walked towards me -- fortunately, with a friendly demeanor.  He excitedly exclaimed, "You're riding a German bike."  I let him know that it was British -- ah well.

Horses grazing along Highway 95 between Bonners Ferry and Sandpoint, Idaho.

A short time later I was in Sandpoint and checked into the La Quinta Inn.  After picking up a pay-as-you-go cellphone, I met Bryan and Chris (friends I'd made on one of my many previous trips through town), along with their elder daughter; her husband and young son; and a business partner of Bryan's for dinner at Sweet Lou's north of town.  After that, I headed back to the La Quinta to write last night's post, look over today's forecasts, and make a rough plan for the day.  Then it was off to sleep.

(This post was written on Day Three of the trip.)

Day One: Edmonton, Alberta to Golden, BC

Hey All,

I'm two days into my motorcycle trip, and have stopped in Sandpoint, Idaho for the night.  So far it's been glorious, if cool, though it looks like the weather is about to change.  A cold front will be moving through the region tomorrow, and thus forecast calls for scattered thunderstorms tomorrow (and a 50% probability of precipitation) followed by 80%, 90%, and 40% POPs for Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday.  It's the same picture across a pretty large portion of the northwest, and so my plan is to see how tomorrow dawns before deciding whether to stay put or move on.  In either case, high mountain passes are off the agendum for the next few days.

I've been dreaming of a motorcycle trip for several years, but my restrictive research and teaching schedule had ruled it out.  (Additionally, it would've been rather difficult to carry a large yellow retriever without resorting to a sidecar.  It's not motorcycling if you can't lean, so...)  The combination of Donjek's passing last fall (miss you, Bubbs!) and my year of sabbatical leave have allowed the pieces to fall together.  Last week I viewed two beautiful motorcycles -- a Ducati ST3s and a Triumph Sprint ST -- and chose the latter.  Not sure what motivated the choice; I think it just fit me better.

First shakedown ride, destination George Lake, Alberta.

After completing enough tasks (no mean feat after close to four months in Alaska, Northwestern BC, and Yukon), I struck out yesterday morning -- a couple of hours behind schedule, as I had to finish up installing the heated hand grips.  They've already paid for themselves.  My goal with this trip is to avoid, as much as possible, my typical driving habit of logging long days covering many miles (e.g., Edmonton to Whitehorse in two days; Edmonton to Petaluma in three days); instead, my plan is to decide each morning where to go, taking as many winding secondary (or tertiary?) roads as possible.  That rule was minorly broken at the very start as I departed to the west on the Yellowhead Highway.  Passing the exit for Highway 43 -- which leads north to Dawson Creek and the Alaska Highway -- I had the urge to exit north and revisit the places and people I so enjoy, but instead I traveled a bit further to turn south onto Highway 22.  This road meanders (as much as any road in this flat part of the world meanders, anyway) towards Rocky Mountain House and my route to the Rockies, Highway 11.  This road joins Highway 93, the Icefields Parkway, roughly half-way between Jasper (at its northern end) and Lake Louise (at its southern end), passing through some pretty spectacular scenery along the way.  As I passed Nordegg and reached Abraham Lake, the winds became blustery, making a mockery of any attempt at a smooth line through the curves.  Ah well.

My Triumph at Abraham Lake, Alberta, loaded for bear.

After reaching the Icefields Parkway (though the French name for it, "Promenade des Glaciers", is way better), I turned south, stopping only to, well, take another picture of my bike, this time below Crowfoot Glacier.  (I admit it: I'm enamored.  But I promise to limit the number of pictures of my bike.)

At Crowfoot Glacier, Banff National Park.

Reaching Highway 1, I turned west, crossed over the Kicking Horse Pass and down the gloriously curvy descent into Golden.  I checked into our old standby from our years of research on West Washmawapta Glacier, Mary's Motel, then headed to the River House for a pulled-pork quesadilla and a Lagunitas IPA -- not a bad way to end the first day of this trip.

It's past midnight here now, so I'll write my travelogue of Day 2 tomorrow. One note before signing off: Ma emailed me a few days ago, expressing concern that the title I've chosen for my blog (which I'll explain another time) has, erm, another meaning.  Well, that's not what I'm referring to.

(This post was written on Day Two of the trip.)