After five days and four nights of enjoying Yellowstone's back country, a hot shower and a real bed was a welcome relief.
Waking up after that rest, there was frost on the bike and the thermometer outside my room registered 30 degrees. I decided to have a leisurely breakfast and spent some time re-packing everything for the ride toward Vancouver.
A mid-morning departure was in order and my route took me Northwest on US 287 across the lower part of Montana. Stopping at the Big Hole National Battlefield, I learned about the demise of the Nez Perce Indians. A nomadic tribe from Oregon, these people had been ordered by the US military to settle on a reservation in Idaho, (b/c gold had been discovered on their reservation and the settlers wanted the gold).
Running from the soldiers, the tribe had hoped to escape to Canada. They were surprised at dawn by the 7th Infantry and many were killed, including the women and children. Many soldiers were also killed in a counter-attack, but as usual the military prevailed and the Nez Perce tribe was put out of existance.
Crossing the Bitterroot mountain range that separates Idaho and Montana, I turned west on the Lolo highway, a scenic highway that many motorcyclists enjoy each summer. Testing my patience, I had to turn around, however, due to the many forest fires in the area. I back-tracked to Missoula, MT where I spent the night. The sky was gray and everything smelled like smoke.
The day started early as I had a 6am conference call. With today's technology, business can be transacted on the road almost as easily as at home. After taking care of business, and knowing that the fires were worsening, I decided to go north and try to ride around the problem. Riding up I-90 toward Spokane, I took a break and stopped at a small town, Mullen, MT. A coffee shop had advertised on the interstate their specialty of Huckleberry milkshakes. Having had one before years earlier when in Montana, I decided to try it again. While waiting, a man in the shop asked where i was from, and having said Arlington, TX, he surprisingly noted that he lived in Dallas. He introduced himself, and Patrick and I had a great time talking. He had been born in Mullen, and had decided to come back for the summer to take care of family property. He is a massage therapist, and splits his time between Montana and Texas, enjoying the best seasons of both.
Learning more about the fires, I exited the interstate at Couer d'Alene, Idaho and continued north toward the Canadian border. Just before crossing into Washington, I stopped for lunch in Spirit Lake, Idaho. A small lake town with four bars on the one block main street, a local suggested the the "Linger Longer Lounge" had the best food. He was not wrong, the sandwich and tater tots, washed down with a local beer hit the spot. Two locals, having whiskey for lunch, gave me all the local weather and hunting news, largely complaining about the drought and heat, and the fact that the elk population had been decimated by wolves. According to them, the re-introduction of the wolf to Yellowstone several years ago had gone wrong, with the wolves migrating north and multiplying much as the wild hogs have done in Texas. In Idaho, it is now open season for wolves 9 months of the year, only requiring a $11 wolf tag to hunt them. They gave me more local fire info, and I again re-routed my trip further north, deciding to bypass my western route across Washington state.
As I got closer to the Canadian border, I stopped at the information general store in Ione Washington, 20 miles from the border. The nice lady there (who winters in San Antonio) suggested that I stop for the night in Metaline Falls, a small former mining and cement town 12 miles from the border. This little town deserves a post all its' own, so stay tuned.
Nice write. Enjoying reading it after hearing about it.
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