I left Austin late in the day after a morning of sightseeing and exploring. The dash up US-290 was uneventful. My mom came out of the house as I pulled into the garage and admired my bug-encrusted BMW. That night over dinner, we finally dared to joke that this was my first incident-free long tour in a long time.

Trip Costs:
Gas: $393.90
Food: $139.59
Lodging: $592.04
Misc/Petty Cash: $285.89

Total: $1411.42

Mileage: 6089
(from Mapsource, GPS was inaccurate and my odo was waaaaay off)

The interstate exit at Van Horn, TX is all screwed up.

I could see the inviting sign for McDonald’s and my morning coffee and yogurt right on the other side of I-10. I headed south towards what looked like the underpass and instead found myself trapped into getting onto I-10 west!

Being in west Texas, the next town was about 30 miles away, so this was a serious situation. It was around five miles down the road before the first exit appeared, an unnamed ranch access road. I exited and passed under the interstate through a barely one-lane wide tunnel on a barely maintained paved road. With a burst of speed, I re-entered the freeway and headed back to Van Horn, finally obtaining my breakfast about 20 minutes after leaving my motel!

The southernmost east-west interstate is very familiar to me, after several recent Texas crossings. I settled into my saddle for some serious mile-eating.

Four hundred miles later, I left I-10 just east of Junction, TX. I had never ridden this segment of US-290 and it was a welcome change of scenery.

Fredericksburg, TX with it’s German restaurants, quaint shops, and peach stands was interesting to ride through although with all the traffic, I‘m not sure I‘d care to spend much time there. I always enjoy history, so Johnson City and LBJ Historic park might be worth a stop sometime when I’m not hurrying home from a large trip.

I’d been hearing from my parents and boyfriend that Texas had been enjoying some especially crappy weather while I’d been out enjoying all the spectacular scenery and blue skies that the West had to offer. The weather started to look threatening as I approached Austin, TX. When the first rain drops hit, I decided to enjoy the coolness and continued riding instead of stopping to zip up my jacket vents.

A classic Texas pounding rainstorm hit me as I rode the overpass from US-290 to the Mopac in Austin. I was dripping as I geared down to greet my boyfriend in the parking lot of our hotel.

A pack of sport bikes passed me as I backtracked east on US191 this morning. I watched wistfully as they made the turn to head north on the Coronado Trail and I continued east on AZ-78. It was very hot, so I was glad to find that 78 attempted to mimick both US191’s cool elevation and twistiness with a very desert-y flair of it‘s own.

I made my way south on US180 to Silver City, NM where dark clouds and lightning strikes ahead encouraged me to take an early lunch. I sat down to an eggplant sandwich with sweet potato fries at the Adobe Café while thunder shook the building.

Gearing up, the dark clouds around me told me that though that particular storm had passed over, I would still have lots of cells to worry about.

Following a line of vehicles down NM-152, I anxiously watched the sky and the GPS. I told myself that I would stop if the route seemed to take me through an area with active lightning. Somehow, it seemed to keep missing storms, gently easing away from black cloud areas.

I was less sure of my decision to continue as I passed San Lorenzo. The road narrowed, traffic disappeared, and curves began. It was raining and I was on a tight mountain road.

I kept looking for that ethereal break in the clouds….. The place which I had to reach to get out of the storm. The road would tantalize me with a view of it… and then swoop away.

Hyper-aware of the slippery conditions, I rode cautiously. Deep turns that might normally be worthy of a WAHOO! got barely any lean.

I passed several interesting rock formations and beautiful vistas. I would have stopped, but I generally try to avoid exposing my camera to rain.

I was hugely relieved upon reaching I-25. It had been a stressful morning and I was very ready for the soothing ease of interstate riding.

Reaching Las Cruces and my turn east, I saw dark clouds hovering over my next mountain range. I stopped for gas to consider the situation. The mountain range ahead was somewhat familiar. I had ridden it in April with a group from Sport-Touring.Net. I really had no pressing need to ride it again in a storm.

Decided, I got onto I-10 and resigned myself to getting as far as possible into Texas before stopping for the night.

I think Mother Nature really wanted to throw some freakish weather my way, because there was a major dust storm going on in El Paso. The sky was brown and the wind strong.

Bottles, cardboard, lumber, and all sorts of miscellaneous trash was getting tossed around the freeway. At one point as I rolled down the left lane, the center lane played host to a rollicking horde of tumbleweeds. I eyed them cautiously and hung back with the rest of the cars before passing them in a quick burst of speed. A few got me, but I got them back. Looking in my mirrors, where one large tumbleweed had been, three little ones remained.

When the speed limit changed, I ramped up to just over 80mph. The ride across west Texas was mostly uneventful. The only really bright spot was the frog-strangler that hit just as I was going through the Border Patrol checkpoint.

I checked into an inexpensive hotel in Van Horn, TX and followed the clerks recommendation to a local Mexican restaurant for dinner.

Having eaten only fruit salad and fruit juice the night before, I was happy to get back to my normal yogurt and coffee prior to starting off the day on I-40.

Reaching Flagstaff, I headed south on US-89Alt to Sedona. I was somewhat disappointed to find more Native American bazaars at every overlook point. Makeshift booths full of wares lined the walkways, making it hard to get great shots of surrounding landscape.

Just north of Sedona, I enjoyed the views of Slide Rock State Park but didn’t enjoy the traffic. I had no qualms over skipping a dip in the famous swimming hole.

The town of Sedona itself appeared to be a lovely place to while away an afternoon. Cute shops attracted hordes of tourists without feeling kitschy. There was lots of construction in the area, with red dust drifting over the road in many places.

After a short stint on I-17, I headed east on AZ-260. The ride was mostly unremarkable with long portions of busy slab through hills around Payson. It was very hot. I stopped often to refill my camelbak and even took a short break for some gas station soft serve ice cream.

I began to take interest in my surroundings again while riding through the foothills of the White Mountains.

Late in the day, I turned onto the most anticipated road of my day, US 191, the Coronado Trail. It was past 4 PM and I had around 150 miles to go.

The main thing I’ll say about US191 south from Alpine, AZ is that it was a whole lot of work.

I love these kind of roads…. Slow turns, switchbacks, curvy runs down shaded forest paths. I was doing a whole lot of back and forth transitioning.

It was high elevation, so cooler than it had been in the heat of the day. I went through a few areas that had seen recent rain (judging from the wet pavement) but saw no rain myself.

I was constantly worrying about making it out of the mountains before sunset, but I just HAD to stop whenever I saw a great photo-op.

Too many pictures…. Yeah.

Reaching the area of the huge open pit Morenci Copper Mine, I was shocked by the contrasting landscape. The largest (in total output) copper mine in North America, Morenci covers 60,000 acres.

After rock has been crushed and copper removed, it is put back in place. These terraced “benches” are all that remain of the mountains in the area.

US191 wound through Morenci and the very obviously company town of Clifton.

Finally getting out of the hills, I enjoyed the sunset and braved the heat of the desert plains on my approach to Safford.

I parked the R1200ST next to several large mining trucks at the Econolodge in Safford.

As always seems to happen on those days when I most desire an early start…well… it didn’t happen. I decided to skip breakfast and just hightail it west to Mesa Verde National Park.

Some ominous road construction signs outside the park were making me nervous, especially the one that said “Motorcycles Use Caution.” The gate attendant reassured me that the roads were easily manageable.

After a quick stop at the visitor’s center, I headed down the park road to the “Mesa Loop”. I didn’t have time to actually hike down to one of the cliff dwellings, and a ranger at the visitor’s center said that the loop was the best way to quickly experience the park.

The road toward the loop was very much under construction. I used to say that the worst rain grooves I’d ever experienced were on US101 just north of Los Angeles. These were FAAAAAR worse. Initially I was taking it slow and cautious until I realized that a little bit of speed smoothed things out nicely.

It was hot. Walking around the “Pit Houses” (early structures built by the Indians who lived in the area), I was constantly sipping from my camelbak. I was making lots of quick stops, so it made no sense to remove my helmet and gloves.

Interestingly, the Indians didn’t construct the famed cliff dwellings until very late in their occupation of the area.

It was just past noon by the time I got to Cortez. I had a quick lunch before dashing west.

My big goal for the day was to make it to the Grand Canyon while there was still light to see. With this in mind, I decided to skip the big tourist trap at Four Corners. I crossed into Utah on scenic UT-262.

I turned north on UT-261 for a brief visit to Goosenecks State Park. The view at the end of the park road was spectacular. The winding San Juan River has managed to entrench itself 1000 feet below ground level in an ever-deepening canyon. I’ve never seen anything like it!

Returning to UT-261, I carefully turned south. Just a few miles north was Mokee Dugway and the infamous 1100 foot descent over three miles of steep unpaved switchbacks. Perhaps someday I’ll be back with a more capable motorcycle (or rather, a more capable Rocketbunny).

Heading southwest on US-163, the unmistakable sight of my next trip highlight soon appeared in the distance.

The mesas and buttes of Monument Valley have been photographed countless times. I felt somewhat sheepish adding my clicks to the multitude.

I crossed into Arizona at Mexican Hat. This state line crossing was more exciting than most because Arizona is one of my “missing” states….that is… a state that I’ve driven through but never RIDDEN through.

It’s really a shame that the scenery at the state line consisted of a Native American bazaar.

From that point, the ride was mainly just a race to get to the Grand Canyon during daylight hours. The ride in was tantalizing, with glimpses of the beginnings of the canyon to the north and the sun inexorably setting to the west.

I paused to take a deep breath at the entrance to the park…. Before crossing roughly 100 feet of dirt to get to the gate (under construction!).

Just past the entrance, I parked the R1200ST in a half-full parking lot at Desert View and carefully stowed my gear. I grabbed my camera and walked down the path, passing the 1933 Indian Watchtower, a combo gift shop, visitor’s center, and fire lookout tower.

The canyon was glorious at sunset.

To the west, layers of rock in shadow…

To the east, bold warm colors…

After a quick stop into the gift shop, I rode west to Canyon Village and another view.

I decided not to take the time to walk out onto this viewpoint, but it brought back some memories.

I was last here in late November 2004. My boyfriend of the time had never seen the Grand Canyon. We were headed to Texas for Thanksgiving and decided to make the 80 mile round trip off the interstate.

The snowflakes coming down as we drove up the access road should probably have told us something. Arriving in the deserted parking lot, we carefully walked out onto the viewpoint (very icy).

I stood there and ruefully told him, “Right there, stretched out before us is the most amazing, thrilling view of the Grand Canyon…. Trust me!”

The canyon was a white-out that day and he got his views of it from a large panoramic picture in the visitor’s center where we went to warm up.

With my 2004 trip on my mind, I wasn’t terribly concerned about the ride south to Williams, AZ. The sun had officially set (according to the GPS) by the time I was halfway down what was in my memory as a fairly straight road.

As it got darker, I realized that the shine of my headlights was far too white. I stopped to look and found that the halogen headlight in the top slot had blown and I was running only on the HID in the lower slot.

I found a car to light my way and continued to Williams, where I a found a hotel room and satisfied a strange craving for fruit.

Leaving early this morning, I easily managed the coveted “!00 miles before breakfast”, sitting down to my coffee and yogurt at about the time I’ve been getting onto the road this trip.

US191 south of Pinedale was essentially straight and flat until just after Rock Springs.

It then got interesting, with sweeping curves along ridge tops and views hinting at the geology lessons ahead.

I stopped at the state line for some pictures. After snapping the Utah sign, I turned the bike around to get Wyoming. I entered Wyoming twice on this trip, failing to get the sign each time. From South Dakota, I was distracted and missed the sign. The sign in Yellowstone was a little brown NPS sign that wasn’t worth the trouble. I didn’t want to “cheat” on acquiring the sign, but it might be a while before I’m back, and I’ve certainly earned it.

Utah is very proud of it’s geological heritage. Besides the many state and national parks covering rock formations, there are formation identification signs pointing at the rock strata along many major roads. US191 was no exception. For example, I learned that “such and such” formation was composed of an ancient seabed during the whatchamacallit era.

I stopped at a couple of vista points to take in the view of Flaming Gorge Reservoir and dam. I vividly remembered stopping at the same vista points in 2004 and almost leaving without taking pictures. That was not even a question this time.

Utah is also very proud of the switchbacks on US191. For miles prior, I was continually getting warned about the 10 (count ‘em!) steep switchbacks ahead. I might have gotten excited if I hadn’t ridden the road back in 2004 and found out that the *switchbacks* are huge sweeping curves on a mostly 4 lane road.

Reaching US40, I got gas in Vernal, UT before entering Colorado at Dinosaur.

Riding down CO-139, it was as if I’d never left Utah… until I got up into the higher elevations of the pass. Unfortunately, at that point, I was stuck in a line of cars and motor homes on a steep mountain road with no paved turnouts that I noticed. I think I took one picture on the entire road.

I decided to have an early dinner in Grand Junction, CO before crossing the Grand Mesa to Montrose.

The mesa was HOT! I was dying in my full gear, with my only thought being the headlong dash toward US550, higher elevations, and cool air.

Cooler air was achieved as I ascended the switchbacks above Ouray, CO. I stopped to look down on the historic mining town from a turnout on the road above.

US-550 roughly follows several historic routes important for finally making it feasible to mine claims in the high Colorado mountains. It’s called the “Million Dollar Highway” for the purported cost of building the road.

The climb out of Ouray was steep, with a rock face rising high above me to the left and sheer cliffs dropping to the river to my right. I carefully focused on the road and tried not to look down as winds rocked the R1200ST. I think I prevented myself from freaking out by speculating how much my friend Rebecca would be freaking out.

The road was memorable, with great curves and ever-changing views of colorful mountains and high elevation flora.

Going over three passes, one over 11,000 feet, I think I spent at least an hour above 10,000 feet.

It was getting dark and I was very tired when I reached Durango, CO around 8:45pm. I decided it was safer to just get a room than try to continue to Cortez. It had been my longest day on the road this trip and US550 had been an incredible workout.

The big challenge today was *trying* to do justice to two national parks while getting through them in a timely manner.

Of course, this endeavor was not helped by my late start.

The first order of business was to head south on US89. Interestingly, this road (the only access road open year round) parallels several historic roads and rails into Yellowstone. In several places along the route, cuts can be seen in the hillside both above the current road and in the cliffs across the Yellowstone River.

Just before entering Gardiner, MT, I stopped at a turnout to read about the preservation of Yellowstone’s winter range, where 10,000 elk, bison, and other animals migrate each winter in search of milder climate and grazing area.

The northern entrance to the park is historically the most popular. In the early years, before good roads, it was very difficult to get to the park. Visitors increased dramatically in 1903 when a railroad line was completed to Gardiner. That same year, the “Roosevelt Arch” marking the north entrance was completed and dedicated by visiting President Theodore Roosevelt.

Of course, the NPS sign was just behind the arch. I had to wait in line for my pictures yet again.

And with a flash of my National Parks Pass, I was inside the park. It was already noon and I had a long way to go, especially with 45 mph speed limits and frequent stopping.

The time constraints weren’t worrying me hugely. I did not have any plans to do any hiking or sightseeing other than that possible from very close to the road.

I’ve been to Yellowstone several times in my life. I’m not exactly sure how many times because my memories of visiting the park go back to my youth. At some point in my visits, I’ve walked all of the major geyser basins, some many times. I remember what it was like before the fires of 1988 (in fact, I was in the park only a few weeks before the fires started). I’ve stayed in the lodges, licked ice cream cones while waiting for Old Faithful, screamed at the sight of large insects, and watched bison walk through the parking lots in the morning.

Just driving past places brings back memories. For example, passing “Artist Paint Pots” instantly brought back memories of the sights, sounds, and smells of walking through those particular hot springs with my cousins. Driving past a picnic grove brought memories of finishing a cold-cuts lunch before grabbing toy animals to play make-believe with around the creek.

So really, just being in the park was a walk down memory lane… a cascade of experiences past in only a few hours of riding through.

I started with Mammoth Hot Springs. The town looked just as I remembered. We stayed there many times. I think the colorful terraces there are my favorite springs in all of Yellowstone.

I got my only wildlife shot of the day while riding through a parking lot trying to get a better view of the terraces. This elk was on her way to graze on a lawn.

The amount of fun to be had on the slow winding roads heading south from Mammoth was amazing. Several Rvs pulled over for me, and many turns were tight enough that I wasn’t exceeding the speed limit. Much.

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When I came through the park two years ago, one of my major disappointments was the lack of activity at Echinus Geyser. I have fond memories of spending hours sitting around the geyser watching it fill, erupt, and empty before repeating the cycle. Back in 2005 I brought a book and sat around the geyser for two hours while absolutely nothing happened.

While on a “Happy Fathers Day” call with Dad last night, he suggested that I ask a ranger about the status of Echinus. I parked at Norris Geyser Basin with that intention. The ranger sadly told me that Echinus no longer erupts regularly. Once every few weeks is more likely, with the last eruption noticed by a passing visitor a few days prior.

I walked over to the Porcelain Basin overlook to take in the view before continuing through the park, Echinus unvisited.

I saw some wildlife on the way between Norris Basin and Old Faithful. In each case, there was a lack of paved turnouts and too much traffic to stop and get my camera out. While elk were plentiful, I saw only one bison. I guess next time I should plan to drive through Hayden Valley on the eastern side of the park.

I did not stick around for an Old Faithful eruption. The interval is now around 90 minutes and I felt like I’d seen enough of them in my life to not be missing much.

The historic Inn at Old Faithful is still under construction, but I was able to walk inside while looking for stickers at the gift shop. (I’ve been stickerfying my top case with national park stickers). I love looking up to see the rough timbers that hold the dizzyingly high roof.

Heading south, I crossed the Continental Divide several times. This was not the highest elevation crossing, but it’s the only one I stopped at.

The sun was getting low in the sky as I entered Grand Teton National Park.

Riding alongside Lake Jackson, I marveled at the jagged snow-covered peaks to the west.

The Teton range was formed when two fault blocks slipped vertically. Lake Jackson sits in the pit of the lower fault block while the mountains are the remains of the higher block. Grand Teton, the highest peak in the range, is almost 14,000 feet high. Several peaks in the range top 12,000 feet.

I looked down at the GPS in horror as I left the park. It told me that I would get to my intended destination (Rock Springs, WY) after 11pm. Thinking that it was a supremely bad idea to ride in wildlife-infested Wyoming in the dark, I decided to ride to the next major town past Jackson (a freakishly overpriced tourist town). Pinedale, WY at 100 miles north of Rock Springs was the winner. I found a motel and vowed to get an early start to make up the 100 miles that had been added to my next day’s route.

When I started planning this trip, there were so many places I wanted to go and things I wanted to see. It was truly heartbreaking having to pick and choose what would fit into my limited vacation time.

I pulled a lot out, but one thing I couldn’t bring myself to remove was Lolo Pass.

I first rode US-12 between Kooskia, ID and Lolo, MT back in 2005. I remember it as having endless easy-feeling curves with no surprises in a pretty river canyon. River canyon is generally my favorite kind of road…and Lolo Pass generally makes it to near (if not) the top of motorcycle roads top ten lists.

But in order to ride Lolo Pass on this tour, I would have to compromise. It was kinda out of the way of my intended route. I left it in, but it meant that the rest of the day would be spent pounding miles to get positioned for the next day.

After Erin fed me breakfast (Thanks Again!) I headed south from Kalispell on US-93. It was at times a two-lane and at times a 4-lane highway. It always had traffic, but I entertained myself with watching Flathead Lake pass to my left.

I made it to Lolo, MT around 11:00. I wasn’t yet hungry for lunch, but I knew that I would be starving by the time I finished riding the twisties, so I got a snack after filling up the gas tank.

I headed up the pass, roughly paralleling the route of the Lewis and Clark expedition.

Westbound from Lolo, the road starts out as a 70mph speed limit river canyon with wide sweepers smoothly transitioning to the next. Then it climbs to Lolo Pass on the Idaho/Montana border.

I bagged the all important signs at the top of the pass.

After that, my picture-taking intentions kinda fell by the wayside. I was having so much fun…. And each time I saw a likely turnout, I was moving too fast to stop in time. Also, I went through cells of light rain…enough to wet my face shield, but not enough to impact visibility or traction. I saw temperatures as low as 41 degrees at the top of the pass, but I was warm and dry with my waterproof touring suit and Widder electric vest.

Once down the mountain, the road settled into *river canyon* mode. I swept along the Lochsa River, powering around the curves mostly in second or third gear. I think I spent more time in a hard lean than upright. No sooner did one curve end than the next began in the other direction. They seemed endless.

I was throwing the R1200ST back and forth, pressing hard at the bars and enjoying the feeling of the suspension settling into each curve. There were plenty of passing opportunities and most cars quickly got out of my way as I approached.

I seem to remember sticking strictly to the speed limit of 50mph (on the Idaho side) last time I was through here. I don’t *quite* think I managed that this time…considering that I was almost always within 2000rpm of redline in 2nd and 3rd gear. The R1200ST loves revving.

A little while later, while stopped at a historical ranger station, I looked down at my dash to see that I was at the half tank mark….after ONLY EIGHTY MILES! I decided it was probably a good idea to turn around then… in hopes of making it back to Lolo without assistance.

My reserve countdown was blinking angrily at me when I finally pulled into a gas station in Missoula. I had almost completely smoked a tank of gas in 160 miles. (Normally I get 220 miles out of a tank before the countdown ends)

It was 4:30 and I was starving. Riding through Missoula, I found a Mongolian BBQ chain restaurant that hit the spot. The both of us fueled up, it was time to pay the price for spending so much time on Lolo Pass.

I put my Widder vest back on, carefully buttoned up my suit for rain, and set my glove gauntlets inside the cuffs of my jacket.

Missoula to Bozeman is 200 miles via I-90. I spent the first 40 miles going through rain cells. After that it cleared slightly, but I was still getting occasional drops. The suit did it’s job. I was completely dry and managed to keep warm with the extra assistance of my heated grips.

It was late in the day, so I wanted to just get to my destination without stopping. I successfully managed to run the entire segment without pulling off even once.

For an interstate, the road was surprisingly fun. The speed limit was 75mph, through several steep and winding mountain passes.

I finally arrived in Bozeman around 8:30. The skies were threatening more rain, so I found myself a hotel room and bedded down for the night.

Birdrunner (Jeff & Colleen) were already on their way back to Canada by the time I finished packing the bike. Ninjagirl and her guy were still around though.

Initially, it was a warm morning. However, as I approached Glacier National Park over the plains on US89, it got progressively colder. I stopped to put in my liners only an hour or so after taking them out at the campground.

I had lunch in Browning, the heart of a large Blackfoot reservation, before entering the east side of Glacier at St Mary.

I knew that Going to the Sun road was not yet opened all the way through, but I wanted to do a little of each side to get the full “Glacier” experience.

Sadly, the day was overcast, and the tops of the mountains were in the clouds.

Leaving Glacier, I took little MT-49 to the town of East Glacier before continuing on US-2 toward the west side.

MT-49 was narrow and dirty, with very little shoulder and a 25 mph speed limit. I *probably* had too much fun on it.

I stopped briefly at the Continental Divide on US-2. The clouds were lifting and I was beginning to be able to see the snow covered peaks that dominate my memories of Glacier.

US-2 dipped in to Glacier at one point. I saw several cars stopped on the side of the road and decided to check out what they were looking at. Mountain goats!

I went through a little rainstorm while approaching West Glacier. I strongly considered ditching the visit to West Glacier and just continuing on my way. Happily, the rain ended and the skies cleared by the time I reached the turn off. I entered the park again and was not disappointed.

I’m not sure how far Going to the Sun road was opened, but I went about twenty miles in before I decided that it was getting late and I needed to move on.

Reaching Kalispell, I followed my GPS to the home of a “motorcycling friend of a motorcycling friend.” Erin was a great host! We went out to dinner at a local restaurant and then spent a pleasant evening over our laptops, discussing riding, touring, gear, and various other issues of interest to riders. I did a load of laundry and then went to sleep in probably the most comfortable bed I’ve experienced this week.

I had a big day planned, so when I awoke (feeling surprisingly refreshed for camping) I immediately wriggled out of bed. The KOA we were staying at holds a $2 pancake breakfast every morning, so the group of us STNers went down for breakfast before showering and packing up.

Walking around saying goodbyes, we discovered that we were all headed to Great Falls, MT that night. We decided to meet up again in the evening at the KOA there….i.e. group incentive to camp!

After a quick shopping trip to get the BMW some oil, I was on my way up WY-296, the Chief Joseph Scenic Byway.

Clouds were rolling over the mountaintops as I approached the summit. I worried that it would be foggy with low visibility.

I was pleasantly surprised when I finally crested the 8000’ Dead Indian Pass and found a valley filled with sunlight.

While carefully navigating the seven switchbacks that took me down from the pass, I remembered reading up on the history of the byway back when I came through in 2005. It follows the 1877 route of Chief Joseph and about one thousand Nez Perce Indians as they tried to escape from the cavalry and reservation life.

Out of the valley, I enjoyed the high elevation scenery while nervously anticipating Beartooth Highway.

Beartooth Highway (US-212) is generally recognized as among the best motorcycling roads in the country. It’s also the “highest elevation highway in the north Rockies.”

I’ve wanted to ride it for years, but I was also a little scared. Not knowing quite what to expect, I imagined steep rocky switchbacks, snow banks melting all over the road, and high winds jostling my bike.

Instead, I was pleased to find easy 20mph marked curves and dry pavement as I climbed out of Cooke City to 10947’ West Summit.

The treeless alpine fields of the plateau were spectacular.

Having found the ascent so easy, I was fully relaxed going through the tight switchbacks on the north side of the summit. Once down, I stopped to look back at the terraced mountainside.

Even at high elevations, the weather was perfect. It was in the 60s. While I was wearing all my suit liners, I never needed my heated grips. Vivid blue skies greeted me as I crossed into Montana.

I stopped often during my descent into Red Lodge. Walking back to my bike at a vista point, I found Bird runner (Jeff) and his fiance (Colleen). I had assumed that they were far ahead of me, but they had stopped for lunch in Cooke City, allowing me to take the lead in our mutual drive towards Great Falls.

Getting hungry, I hurried down the mountain to have lunch in Red Lodge.

I proceeded to I-90 in Laurel for a 100 mile slab-o-thon west. About 50 miles into this jaunt, I began to feel tired. After stopping for gas and a snack in Big Timber, I suddenly realized that it was 5pm and I’d only covered 200 miles. I had fully half my route remaining before I reached my intended destination.

It was time to buckle down and eat miles. Finally leaving the interstate, I took US-89 north through more plains and valleys.

Just because I was hauling ass didn’t mean that I was no longer interested in the history of the region. I was stopped at a marker honoring the mountain men who explored the area when Birdrunner pulled up behind me with his Blackbird and unique Uni-go one-wheeled trailer.

We decided to travel together over the remaining 135 miles to Great Falls.

Close to the longest day of the year, it was still very bright out when we pulled into the KOA at almost 9pm.

We were negotiating for a cabin when Ninjagirl and her S.O. arrived, only 10 minutes behind us. After unpacking the bikes, it was time for another evening of camp food, burned campfire popcorn, and roasted marshmallows.

After lots of “Goodbye’s”, “Ride Safe’s”, and “Have Fun’s”, I rolled out of the resort and what felt like another beginning to my trip..

Just outside Custer, US16 narrowed as it went through Jewel Cave National Monument. Due to traffic and lack of shoulder, I didn’t feel safe stopping for pictures.

It was safe enough, but I didn’t feel inspired to stop for pictures on US16 after crossing into Wyoming. (I missed the border crossing while passing some RV’s)

Feeling like my planned route was less than interesting, I decided on the spur of the moment to swing north to Devil’s Tower. I had been there two years ago, but the R1200ST had never seen it.

US14-Alt to Devil’s Tower was fun and scenic.

Next I hopped on I-90 to express back to US16 out of Buffalo.

There are essentially three popular routes between I90 and Cody: US14A, US14, and US16. I did US14A two years ago. Dad has always raved about US16 through Ten Sleep canyon, so I decided to give it a try.

I was wondering about my decision about fifty miles out from Buffalo when I started getting pelted with advertisements for US16. “Most Scenic! Shortest Route to Yellowstone! Least Grade!” All those things might be nice in a car, but to a motorcyclist they evoke thoughts of slow-moving traffic and boring roads.

I decided to stick to my route, figuring that I will probably be back to try US14 in the next few years anyway.

The Cloud Peak Skyway climbs out of Buffalo to scenic Powder River Pass at 9666 feet. The air was crisp and smelled of pine trees and wildflowers.

I was stopping often for pictures. I played leapfrog with a couple of fellow travelers who were doing the same. At one point, one of the drivers asked me “Is that stuff against the fences SNOW?!?!” With car license plates from Florida, I decided to excuse him.

The byway then descends into Ten Sleep Canyon where I was delighted to find colorful high rock walls and long sweeping turns.

Out of the mountains, I stopped at a rest stop about fifty miles from Cody. A aviation museum, next door provided a photo op.

Approaching Cody, I waffled between finding a hotel room and finally managing to use my camping gear. The KOA appeared and the driveway looked paved. I turned in and parked in front of the office next to a very recognizable Honda Blackbird. Birdrunner and his fiance were just checking in. I checked with the office to make sure it was ok, and followed them out to split a $32 campsite.

Ninjagirl and her other half rolled in several hours later. Between the STNers and two cruiser riders who were also in the campground, we had quite a group roasting marshmallows over the fire and telling tales. After so much solo travel, it was admittedly very nice to have a group to chat with.

I decided to take a day off today. I didn’t go anywhere, didn’t see anything.

I slept in, finished a book, and took a long shower. Twas good.

We had a big potluck bbq tonight. There was way too much food and way too much fun.

Some pictures from the evening:

The huge vacancy sign at my motel had advertised “Wireless Internet! Reasonable Prices! A Relaxing Night in the Sandhills!”

Good thing I’m a sound sleeper. I’m not sure if it could be considered false advertising, but nights tend to be more relaxing when you don’t have coal trains passing within half a football field of your window all through the night. They didn’t bother me, but I can imagine that they might bother some.

My day began with a continuation of the ride through the sand hills.

I caught a coal train just as it crossed under an overpass.

A sign notified me of my passage into “Mountain Time”. I mentally recalculated in my head, deciding not to bother changing the clock on the bike.

I was keeping a wary eye on the sky, worried by dark clouds ahead. I began getting drops three miles before Ellsworth and my turn off NE-2. Rain pelted my helmet as I slowly road past the general store, wondering if I should pause to wait out the storm. Looking down the road, I thought I spied lighter skies.

NE-27 was supposed to be my one fun road in Nebraska. It was advertised as “sweepers” on a motorcycle roads website. It might have been fun, but it was 40 miles of pouring rain with the skies ahead teasing me ever forward.

I love my R1200ST. When the temperature dropped to 60, a flick of my thumb turned on the grip warmers. The wind off the shield kept my visor clear without ever needing to wipe it with my gloves. The bike wasn’t phased by the gusts of wind I could see rocking the trees around me.

I called Mom for a radar check while stopped for lunch in Gordon, NE. She advised me to wait for a little while before continuing, but that I probably wouldn’t see any more heavy rain that day.

Nevertheless, I switched from my soaked summer-weight gloves to the Racer Multi-tops. It was still cool and I continued to see light misting rain past the South Dakota border.

I began to get excited as the Black Hills appeared in the distance.

I found it remarkable that virtually the instant US385 split off from SD-79 I was in the hills. One moment I was flattening the center of my tires, the next I was leaning hard through turns, passing RVs.

After passing through Hot Springs, SD, a tourist-trap horror of an old-West town, I found myself passing over a cattle-grate at the entrance to Wind Cave National Park.

I didn’t fell like investigating the caves, but I did stop to enjoy the scenery and wildlife.

A group of bison near the road seemed spooked by all the stopped cars and were running along the road. I slowed to watch but lack of shoulder prevented me from getting out my camera.

A little colony of these critters near one of the scenic overlooks provided my wildlife shots for the day. Isn’t he cute?

I was very much enjoying my ride through the Black Hills. Rocky outcroppings and ranches nestled in the hills provided a teasing taste of what I will see in the next week.

A sense of dread filled me as I approached the resort where the meet was to be held. A group of riders who had arrived the day before had posted that the driveway to the resort was gravel, uphill, and turning.

Oh, and yeah, it was raining again.

I stopped on the concrete shoulder at the base of the driveway and looked at it. Very uphill, very turning (at the top), very gravel, and very wet. A sign said “200 yards” to the office. I couldn’t see it.

I sat there with my engine running for five minutes, trying to decide what to do. Several cars came and went from the resort. A glance in my mirror showed an FJR1300 (Yamaha sport-touring bike) approaching. The rider waved at me before turning off the highway and riding up the driveway without hesitation.

At that moment I decided to be brave. I got myself to the other side of the highway to give myself some running room so that my clutch would be completely out before getting onto the gravel.

It wasn’t awful. I stayed loose on the bars and gave myself a little bit of speed to make sure that I had enough grunt to get up the hill. The tires didn’t wander at all.

Cresting the hill, I saw the FJR parked on a concrete pad by the office. I slid in next to him and turned off the bike. My hands were trembling, but I had done it.

After initial greetings, I registered at the office and found out where my cabin was. Slingshot was kind enough to take the R1200ST up the gravel road to the cabins for me (and exclaimed at the smoothness of the R12 engine next to his old R1150(?). I started a badly needed load of laundry and explored the resort.

The Canadians had already gotten to the welcome sign.

The rest of the evening was a blur of names and faces. I saw old friends from California, people I had met at last years meet, and lots of new people.

DantesDame had surprise for all of us

Stargzrgrl’s new bike gathered some admirers.

This guy (Spectre?) had hit a deer during his ride the meet. The bike went down, lost it’s windshield faring, and entirely ground off the highway peg. Before running off into the bushes, the deer left some hair on his gloves and clutch lever. He was advised to glue that stuff on….such a neat souvenir.

Dinner was yummy, followed by birthday cake, coffee, and various beverages. People were hanging out and swapping stories around the campfire late into the night.

I am not an early riser. I usually don’t even get to work until 9AM or later.

When touring, I find it difficult to jump out of bed at the crack of dawn and get going. There is always one more chapter of a book to be read… or one more website to check. In the past, I’ve felt guilty for not getting that “early start,” especially on long days.

On this tour, a friend has constantly been reminding me that I am, after all, on VACATION. This break from work is not a time to feel bad about not keeping to schedule, but to enjoy the freedom from it.

So today I finally got checked out of my hotel room at the decadent hour of 10am. After having a quick breakfast, I found myself rolling back into Nebraska under gray cloudy skies.

I was taking the scenic route. In Nebraska, scenic apparently means cornfields, cattle, arrow straight roads, and 60 mph speed limits.

(No, I didn’t take this road.)

Jamming along through the fields to disco on my XM radio, I was shocked to see a brown Park Service sign advertising National Park information on an AM channel. I was puzzled. A National Park? Here? I *had* to investigate.

Just a few miles off my intended route, north of Beatrice, NE, I found Homestead National Monument.

The park commemorates the 1862 Homestead Act and the over 270 million acres of land given away for free by the federal government, opening the American Dream to anyone who could carve a farm out of 160 acres of wild prairie.

Located at the site of one of the first homesteads claimed under the act, curators have been struggling for decades to restore a native prairie ecosystem on land ravaged by 75 years of farming.

Walking around the exhibits inside, I was fascinated both by the stories of hardships endured by the pioneers and the anguish of Native Americans again displaced from land that had been formerly given to them by the government. The last homestead claimed before the act ran out was in Alaska in the mid-70s.

The park was a welcome break, but after leaving, I went back to grinding across Nebraska.

Clouds often play a starring role in my photographs, so I was disappointed with the overcast skies of the morning. After noon, I found that the clouds were thinning out, with patches of blue showing through. The skies continued their metamorphosis throughout the day, with a brilliant blue emerging in the late afternoon. As I got closer to my evening destination, the clouds socked in again and I feared that I would hit rain.

The cornfields all but disappeared heading west on Nebraska 2, the Sandhills Byway. The rolling hills with frequent exposed drifts of sand are not friendly to agriculture, so much of the north-central Nebraska region has never been plowed.

The railroad tracks next to the road were busy. I passed coal train after coal train, with many being only 10 or 15 minutes apart.

Back in 2004 when I was planning my first two week tour, I noticed that there was a National Forest way out in the middle of Nebraska. At the time, bad weather prevented me from visiting. Subsequent trips suffered similarly bad weather or lack of adequate time.

I felt a sense of triumph upon finally reaching the national forest.

Over a century ago, a university professor thought that he could encourage settlement of the sand hills by providing an easy supply of timber. The original forest of Ponderosa pines planted at the time is now aging and slowly being replaced by hand planted oak trees. Because the forest is artificial and located in inhospitable grasslands, it is not self-sustaining.

Getting tired, I decided that I wouldn’t try to make the additional 135 miles to my intended destination of Alliance, NE. A “vacancy” sign in Thedford, NE called and I turned in for the night.

Tomorrow I reach Custer, SD and the Sport-Touring.Net meet. This trip report may be on hiatus for a few days while I focus on being social and not holing up in my room to write for a few hours each night.

I was backtracking down the highway in Talequah, OK, happily sated from my $2.19 McDonalds Fruit’n’Yogurt parfait (160 calories!), small (but huge!) coffee, and the accomplishment of 50 miles before breakfast, when I saw it.

A Starbucks.

Somehow I had missed it, being completely focused on my goal of morning yogurt, coffee, and the known reliable supplier of such. I briefly lamented for the tall soy caramel mocha (no whip) and maple scone that could have been. Then my wallet punched me in the gut and reminded me that I had sixteen days on the road to budget for. *sigh*

All was forgotten soon after I turned north on Scenic OK10. Half river canyon (along the Illinois River), half foothills romp, I was very happy as I swooped along the road.

The idyllic countryside felt far more “Arkansas” than “Oklahoma” to me. I guess my perceptions of the Sooner State need to change.

Dropping out of the hills, I found myself back on US59. I think it might be the newest of my favorite roads.

Back when I was living in California, few roads made me happier than driving east on I-80. It wasn’t that I particularly love interstate riding. It’s the possibilities… knowing that I’m on a road with the potential to take me clear across the country. When driving on I-80, I was always thinking “What if….. I keep going…? What adventures lie ahead?”

With this trip, I’ve really realized that little US59 is one of those roads close to home with a lot of traveling potential.

Approaching the state line, some weird sand dune formations caught my eye. I was in Picher, OK and the dunes were actually lead-contaminated piles of mining waste. Billboards all over town reminded people to wash their hands frequently and avoid lead contamination. Picher is a Superfund site, and with federal buyouts taking place, it’s only a matter of time before this early 20th century mining boomtown becomes a ghost town.

The creek alongside the road was pretty, but I wouldn’t want to touch it.

I had to do a u-turn to catch the state line sign just outside Picher.

On a nice day, I would consider US69 through eastern Kansas a bad choice. The road was arrow-straight and scenic in the way that an interstate is scenic. Fortunately I was in *make time* mode most of the way. Dark clouds loomed to the west and while I managed to outrun the thunderstorms, I still got pretty wet near Ft Scott, KS.

I mentally waved at my friends on the I35 corridor (from Oklahoma City to San Antonio) as I passed through Kansas City.

Leaving the KC area, I passed the “Big Top”, the infamous United States Penitentiary in Leavenworth, KS. Completed in the 1920s, it is most well known for housing Prohibition-era gangsters and serial killers in it’s maximum security cellblocks. Today Leavenworth is a medium security federal prison.

For some reason, someone thought it was a good idea to put a small herd of bison between the Leavenworth historical marker overlook and the prison. Most of them were hidden in the grassy field, but this guy was very interested in the parking lot.

I dunno…. Do you see a resemblance?

A farm just outside Atchison, KS caught my eye.

I approached Nebraska on KS7, the Glacial Hills Scenic byway. I was impressed by the relative twistiness… it totally didn’t feel like I was in Kansas anymore. (hehe)

Soon after entering Nebraska, I crossed the (signless!) Missouri River and bedded down for the night near Interstate 29 in Rock Port, MO. I’m perfectly positioned to cross Nebraska tomorrow.