SUNDAY - DAY 12. Aaaah, that dull, dreaded feeling of turning back crept upon us as we turned around to return from whence we came. Gloomy weather fit the occasion. It was goodbye to L, J, & J, and off to catch the early ferry from Nanaimoto the mainland. The first ferry on Sunday morning and there were still lots of folks on it. What a ferry; big, BIG, and clean. A friendly Canadian motorcyclist with a young son secured on the back of his bike showed us how to "chock" the Concours and stop it from tipping on the ferry in rough water. We sputtered off the ferry and turned north on Highway 99 to follow the coast for a while before it headed inland. What we could see was real purdy. It cleared up about the time we arrived in Whistler, the famous ski area. Nobody was skiing in August, but they sure seemed to have a good time north of town. Every few minutes, I'd spy one to three motorcycles in my rearview mirror, but only for a short time. These locals were flying low and straightening road curves with practiced ease.... lots'a flash in gaudy leathers, but skills to match. We'd catch a quick wave as the riders whizzed by, tires singing, engines screaming. Packed to the gills and 2-up in mountains and curves was no place for me to try to ride with those boys. We talked to a few of the riders along the way; they explained that Highway 99 was part of a loop frequently used by Vancouver riders for a one-day ride away from and back to town. We rode up Highway 99 until we reached it's furthest point, then turned east on Hwy 12, south on CAN-1 to Hwy 8 and Merritt, then south again on Hwy 5a to Princeton. We were ready for beer and bed after only about 325 miles (sounds good and is true, but we walk a couple of miles most evenings on the road).
A lake of glacially clouded waters near the B.C. Pacific
coast, off of Rt. 99.
MONDAY - DAY 13. I have a tough time imagining a better ride than the one from Princeton to Cranbrook on old Hwy 3. But alas, the weather stole a good portion of the beauty of this ride; it tried, but couldn't get it all. We'll be back another day to see if we can see it. The miserable weather didn't improve in Cranbrook. The people were pretty friendly there, but I think we found the unfriendliest motel in North America - the manager just didn't seem to like people from the USA. People who know me say "No Steve, he just didn't like you!" Oh well, maybe the Sandman will visit some night and he'll wake in the morning all pleasant and bright. Rrright. A mere 320 miles in the mist and the rain that day.
TUESDAY - DAY 14. We planned to follow Hwy 3 east again that morning and tour Waterton Lakes National Park before dropping down from Canada. We wanted to ride through Glacier National Park on our way to Big Mountain, Montana (hell of a name). We saw that gray old sky and the mist on our face shields, so after a short ride east of Cranbrook on Hwy 3, we turned south on Hwy 93 to Montana and US-93. We had reservations for 2 nights at Big Mountain (near Whitefish). After finding our room, we spent the day wandering the streets and shops of Whitefish and Kalispell. Uh, we may have found a tavern once too. Geeze, 130 miles closer to Grandview. Notice how the urgency has subsided?
WEDNESDAY - DAY 15. THE PARK. Did you ever notice how different things effect different people in different ways. Glacier National Park is a very special place and I cannot explain what it does for me. It is the most beautiful country I've seen in the lower 48. I've been there in 3 different years, only once on a motorcycle. I'll spare you the hype, but, but...... it was a beautiful day that we shared with our niece, Cindy.
Want to see a Glacier family?
I figure that one more donut ought to just about bust the zipper on that jacket.
THURSDAY - DAY 16. Well, back to early mornings, even if we are heading east and into the sun. Hey, that's what sunglasses are for, right? We couldn't resist another ride through church, so we took an early morning spin across the "Going-To-The-Sun" Road on our way to US-2. Down the hills we went to Browning and Cutbank, then through Shelby to Chester. I tried to find an old acquaintance in Chester, but missed him somehow. Everything about Montana amazes me, the Sweetgrass Hills off in the distance, the people, even the high, dry plains off US-2. Motor thinks I've lost a log when I talk about Montana. We scooted across the high line of Northern Montana until we came to Wolfpoint. There, we celebrated our 26th anniversary with a steak at the town cafe and spent the night at a budget motel. Pretty romantic, don't you think? Motor was just saying how she hopes we can spend all our wedding anniversaries in budget motels. Oh well, the locals were curious and real friendly. The truth is that Motor missed the lodge at Big Mountain that night. So did I. Well what do you know, we did 530 miles that day and had a tour of the PARK to boot.
FRIDAY - DAY 17. We turned south onto Hwy 13 out of Wolfpoint early that day. The weather was clear and the miles were smooth as we cruised down Hwy 200. We were fine until we approached that dreaded I-94 at Glendive. The interstate made us antsy, and the prospect of going home added to it. After we turned onto I-94, the ride was a chore, but we rode (and rode) until we crossed the length of North Dakota, then we rode some more. We hooked up with I-29 at Fargo, banged a right and blithered south to Watertown, SD. You've heard the expression "butt ugly?" Well think about a state of being "butt tired." Motor did 647 full miles on the back of a motorcycle that day; but then, she's crazy and that's precisely why I love her.
SATURDAY - DAY 18. I-29 South from Watertown to Kansas City, skirting the borders of South Dakota, Nebraska, Iowa, and Missouri, just across the Missouri River from Kansas... . been down that road too many time to describe it. It tires me to think of it. It's like Columbus to Indianapolis, or Omaha to Des Moines. The only "bright;" side of this last leg-o-prairie was a burning farmhouse next to the interstate in Northwest Missouri. Seeing some poor bastard's home go to hell isn't a real good way to end a trip, but end it did. After these last 490 miles on the trusty Concours, we turned into our driveway and rejoined the rat-race.
The dog was glad to see us.
Hey, thanks for stopping by. We hope you enjoyed the ride.
If you're not yet bored to tears, you can skip around our shortened, but still handy-dandy little referral index below. Don't stay up too late; somebody may get upset (not that we care, mind you)
