7/31/22

Travel Day - I have 370 scorching hot miles to go today from Missoula to Red Lodge. My sole reason to go to Red Lodge is to ride the Beartooth Highway and Chief Joseph Highway.

https://goo.gl/maps/ke7bEUvtQxvjiQ4F7

Missoula will always have a special place in my heart. It's the first city that I've visited out in this part of the country almost 20 years ago. I fell in love with the mountains, wide open space, the big sky and the western art, culture and values. I saw some incredible views on my way out of town as I head southeast towards Helena.

120 miles southeast and I enter Helena. Time for a quick coffee and lunch.

Besides being the capital of Montana I don't know much about Helena. So to my surprise, this cafe & mercantile shop I went into was swimming in RGB, pro-choice, and progressive stickers and paraphernalia. It's no surprise that most cities in even the reddest states are liberal but I suppose this place caught me by surprise. I looked at their menu and realized they didn't serve food. I found a crepe place and had a light lunch and an Italian soda - how every European in Montana. Helena seemed like an interesting place and I would gladly come back to explore more another time.

On my way back to the bike, I found an older guy looking at my the stickers on my luggage. He struck up a conversation and it turns out he's from outside Toronto and is driving a RV with his grand kids followed by more family in another car exploring the region. He told me how he and a few of his friends rode Goldwings when they were young out to Nova Scotia and camped on the beach. He would like to pick up a motorcycle for him and his grand son and take a trip together. The more people I meet on the road, the more people I talk to, no matter what country you're from, what era you grew up in, regardless of your sex and race, that deep desire to be out on the road on a motorcycle is timeless and boundless for those crazy few that are willing to accept the risks. Like most things in life, great risks, great rewards.

About 106 miles southeast of Helena on US-89 is the Shields River Valley. Right on the side of the road is a bronze statue of Thunder Jack to commemorate ""the mountain men, weathered and wind-bitten," according to its plaque, who explored the Shields Valley in the early 1800s. That is an impressive statue and a hell of a rugged character from an era long ago.

12 miles later and due to a navigation error, I missed a turn and ended up in the limits of Livingston. I enter the town see right away the tractors and used cars lots. I found a gas station and an interesting coffee shop but sadly it was sunday and the coffee shop was closed. Might have to swing by another time.

After getting back on 89, my navigation had me turn off the main road onto a smaller road named Convict Grade Road. It starts off paved for a few miles and then turn into hard dirt and light gravel. It didn't bother me much even though at this point of my trip I was wearing my much more comfortable casual low cut motorcycle boots and had my enduro boots strapped onto the top of my side cases. There was a beautiful section that runs by the Yellowstone river.

The road starts to climb up and it was still manageable until I hit some river rocks. The road is now made up of river rocks the size of oranges. The bike seems willing to keep climbing but the gentle wiggle of the handlebars when it was on gravel is now swinging side to side in a much more aggressive manner. I firmly apply the brakes until I come to a full stop. There was no way I was continuing on this road in these casual boots. The road is narrow and aiming up. I put the side stand down and get off the bike. The road is uneven from the the river rocks and the bike is leaning over so far on its side. I evaluate the situation, thankful no cars are in sight.

I see two choices - I can continue up and will have to switch boots or turn around and head back. It's now about 5pm, the sun is beating down on my, sweat drips from my forehead. I am so close to being home at this point, I just don't have it in me to tackle this road and risk laying down the bike and potential injuries. Am I copping out? Part of me says yes and part of me is ready for wrap up this trip safely and get home.

I lift the bike up from the side stand and try to push it around to aim it down the road. The road is narrow and the footing is so uneven from the river rocks that the tires are slipping back and forth over the rocks as I try to push it. I don't get very far pushing it this way. I'm expecting a truck to come up on me around the road anytime but none has shown up so far.

I decide to get back on the bike to turn it around. But the bike is leaning over so much I can't even lift it up straight once mounted. I dismount and look for something to place under the stand side to prop the bike up. I find the biggest river rock I can and put it under the side stand foot. I wiggle the bike to make sure the side stand will stay in place on top of the rock. I quickly step up on the peg and swing my leg over to mount. I kick the side stand up and start the bike. I gently release the clutch to power walk the bike around. I can barely walk the bike around with the river rocks giving out under my feet. This moment here seems way more dangerous than any stretch on the Dalton.

I manage to turn the bike halfway around but trying to push it back to give more head room to turn seems impossible with the river rocks on the road. I see the narrow shoulder is dirt and grassy. I take a chance and move clutch the front tire onto the dirt shoulder. That seems to give me enough room to finish the U-turn. I release more of the clutch to give more momentum to turn the bike all the way downhill now. I open the throttle a bit to add gas, put my feet up on the pegs and start to ride down the hill. About 50 yards down the hill I'm past the river rocks and back onto the dirt and gravel. Maybe four or five miles back and I return onto the main road. What a detour.

At this point, I have about a 100 miles to go until Red Lodge. I was hot and exhausted. I decided to do what I normally avoid: take the interstate into Red Lodge. 50 miles on I90 east puts me in Columbus, MT and another 50 back road miles on 421 and 212 takes me into downtown Red Lodge. What a hell of a day.