Sunday morning and we’re going to the church. I like camping OK, but motels have a few benefits. I found it a lot easier to pack up when I didn’t have to fuss with that big old sleeping bag and the tent. Rick and I left early again, slipped out of the Super8 driveway just as a couple of sheriffs deputies drove by. Rick romped onto I-15, but I watched my mirrors until I was sure the 2-car posse had found other entertainment. We followed the SLAB north a short time to MT-44, then turned west toward US-89 and the church. The air was cool this morning and I could smell recently cut wheat or barley. They grow both crops up here, but I’m not smart enough to be able to tell which it was from the road (and I don’t know anyone who is) and likely couldn’t even if I was in the middle of the field. The plants are very similar and their residue has the same sun-reflecting golden color. Put the staggered crop strips common in Montana on the rolling landscape, then add the early sun and fresh clean air, and you have a picture of why I go bonkers in every corner of Montana.
US-89 starts to climb pretty rapidly near Browning, Montana. I thought the elevation of the park was going to give us a break from the heat ("Guess again, he said, as he turned up the fire.") We arrived at the east gate of the Park and I told the Ranger that I had a sad story that would probably end with him saying “Too bad - so sad, shut up and give me the money.” He listened to my version of the unvarnished truth, then said I was right. He wouldn’t tell me to shut up, but he thought I ought to pay if'n I wasn't smart enough to hang on to my pass. He gave me pause, but in the end, his good sense won out and he accepted the credit card receipt too. Rick waited through this growing soap opera and we continued our climb to the “Road-to-the-Sun.”
I used "Bear" as a coat hanger here on the eastern approach to Logan Pass. How could it be so warm up here with last year's snow not all that far away? It is a far and steep drop into the valley below; "Bear" wouldn't hold up well on a trip like that.
I stopped about a 1/4 mile from Logan Pass and remembered to take a couple of photos. I felt lucky. This was the first time I’d visited Glacier when the sky was not cloudy (clouds live on mountains). I waited awhile, hoping Rick would come back. I wanted a photo of "Bear” and me at this location. He didn’t, so I headed on up past the waterfalls, the short tunnel, and toward the pass. Ohh, there’s Rick lounging on a rock at the entrance to the visitor’s center. We exchanged waves as I rode on by. Although the weather was clear and hot (OK, Hot!) on the east side of the pass, it was Hot and smoky on the west side. Forest fires had laid a deep blanket of smoke that filled the whole valley. It looked bad enough that I thought it might be too smoke to ride into the valley, but plenty of people were coming through it from the west end to reach the pass. Visibility was OK at the bottom of the valley, but it sure effected the photos we took down there.
This is a shot of Rick, down in the valley on the west side of the park, next to McDonald Lake. You can't see the scenic mountains in the background too well because of the smoke.
I waited for Rick and we discussed how best to get to Lolo pass. Rick wanted to go through Kalispell. I wanted to avoid that tourist trap and busy traffic, so I whined until I got my way. I had a better idea (sure I did) - let's go down the east side of Flathead Lake on MT-35 and miss all the traffic. Never listen to a whiner. MT-35 was not “reasonable and prudent.” It was too many miles of too much traffic in too few lanes on an overdeveloped lakefront. Poop, what misery ... . and the Heat.
A little later, on US-93, we came upon a slow moving truck with a geezer-driven car behind it. We followed for a couple of miles until we came to a passing place. The geezer was about 5 car-lengths behind the truck when he went out to pass and was pretty slow about completing the pass. It became obvious that he didn’t want me to pass him. He didn’t really begin to accelerate until he had completed his pass and noticed me in his mirror. I waited to see how long he’d play chicken with the oncoming traffic before he pulled in. It was soon enough for me and I went around him anyway. Geezer climbed on my tail immediately, so a little twist of "Bear's" right paw solved that problem .. . for about 25 miles. US-93 was “reasonable and prudent” most of the way, so I figured we had put a few miles between the geezer and us. Nope, I looked in the mirror and saw his lights rushing up fast behind us. The guy must have busted his gut (and his wife’s sanity) to catch us. He looked like he was about 70 years old. OK, says I, let’s see what he wants. I pulled over to see if he’d pass us or shoot me. I wasn’t sure if Rick knew what was happening, but his spinning-ear hand motion made it clear that he'd noticed this guy too. The geezer went on by, eyes glued to a distant point on the horizon in front of him. Shortly after, he went straight into town and we turned onto a short stretch of I-90 on the way to Lolo Pass. I’d always rather have a guy like that in front of me than coming up hard from behind. I was just trying to clear traffic; he was apparently trying to hang onto his old and tired bits of self. Another demonstration of why women don’t think we have a clue. This old guy was clearly pissed that I had passed him. I ‘spect he hated motorcycles too.
Rick and I rolled down I-90 into Missoula and I saw that he was getting off the SLAB. The exit ramp he chose was downhill and torn into dust and gravel. I wanted no part of it, so I passed on by. I thought it strange that he had to have gas that bad. Rick signaled for me to go on to the next exit (or so I thought). I got off at the next exit, filled my tank, and then waited for Rick ... and waited some more. No Rick. OK, I’ll go on down to the US-12 exit; he’ll have to go by there to get to Lolo Pass. There was plenty of Heat (had to be over a 100 degrees), but no Rick. OK, Rick must know another way to the pass and he’s waiting for me, so off I went. Yup, there he was, cooled off and smiling at a gas station in Lolo. Nope fool! He didn't want to go through town when he didn't need to. After a bottle of water, we scooted off on US-12 and climbed up to the (closed) visitor’s center east of the pass. The Lolo Pass sign on one of the buildings made it seem like a good place to take a couple of photos. Then ""Bear" and "Sam" played on road, going across the near-deserted pass (safely, of course) and down the other side. This pass has some real sweepers ... more fun than about anything I can imagine. How can I convincingly describe leaning this way and that, acceleration, deceleration, and exhilaration. It didn’t feel like it took long to cover a bunch of Idaho miles with a long Missouri smile.
Rick gives "Sam" a rest while he stretches his legs near the top of Lolo Pass.
We stopped at a USFS campground (I didn’t notice the name) on US-12 in Idaho and set up camp. It was a pretty civilized camp (except for the neighbor’s dogs and me - another story, another time) with the same cool river running along it that followed the road through the pass. Egad Dad! All that riding and we only covered about 407 miles today ... but what a day. Today’s ride was a piece of wonder and easily matched Saturday’s ride. Two great days in a row. There must be a plan to humor me before I get served up to a volcano god somewhere.
On to the great Columbia River and over to the coast, or back to Bear Tooth.
