So here it is...the beginning of an epic 9-day adventure motorcycle ride. For those that don't know, adventure riding is not anything like 'enduro' riding. The bikes we are riding are capable of comfortably riding anything from highways to tight 4-wheeler trails. They can also carry quite a bit of gear, though my 130 lbs of crapola didn't agree with the very under-sprung rear shock on my KLR. The trip began with me trying to get the damn thing to just stay propped upright while I took off my helmet. Good thing there's a few squeaks in the rear to let me know she's tippin' over, otherwise the KLR would be doing quite a few ninja-silent tip-overs...I also had a little help keeping the bike up...what pals! I guess I COULD have left a few things at home....
On your marks, get set....go! From left to right:
Terry (a.k.a. 'Fud' - Originator of all Fudisms) on a 1996 BMW G1000
Scott on a 2004 Husqvarna TE610
Mike on a 2004 KTM Adventure 950
Me...on a 2004 Kawasaki KLR 650
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| Lined up, ready to roll! |
Pictured below is a picture of the entire trip, with exception of forgetting to turn on the GPS at Lolo Hot Springs into Missoula (more on that later) and a pink addition for day 8 when my batteries ate the weenie...
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| Entire Trip Track |
We started out riding the scenic drive around the east side of Coeur d'Alene lake in the morning, which is a great time to do it...before all the crazies are up with their motorhomes and crotch-rockets! There were a few people jogging...we had to dodge them, but other than that life was great. We stopped at Carlin Bay for a quick rest and cargo-check. That's when Fud told me my light was out. I flipped it to 'high' and wondered 'what else is going to go 'boink' on this trip?'.
After eating a quick bite at a local diner in St. Maries, we headed south toward Dwarshak reservoir. The last 'city' we hit for gas was Elk River, which I had camped at a lot during college. I thought I knew what to expect from this small town until we turned the corner....and BAM! TONS of people were crowded around the shore...we rode a bit further to see what was up. Turns out we just caught the beginning of the mini-hydro competition held every year on this reservoir. Pretty cool!
After Scott strapped his 'Liter a' cola' to his bike (for drinks that night), we made our way south on the dirt road out of Elk River, I was really starting to regret packing so much shit. You think a bike on gravel is squirly, pack enough junk to make the frame flex and try it. I felt like I was riding a noodle on a teeter-totter. I started thinking about all the cans of food I should eat as well as the 5th of whiskey and small boxes of wine I should drink to lighten the load. Needless to say I was holding on a bit tight and my hands were falling asleep. Some better knobbies would have been nice too...but we made it to Dent Bridge...some would say it's 'the most beautiful structure in the northwest'. I'd say it's just a cool bridge in the middle of nowhere...
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| Dent Bridge on Dworshak Reservoir |
Climbing up the grade out of the reservoir, there was a great lookout...
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| Dworshak Reservoir from the east |
The original plan was to find a road that went east into Weippe so we could avoid highway 12, but I was in the lead without my trusty GPS. Don't get me started on that subject...it went tits-up 2 days before the ride started...just won't power up...I was so mad, but you can thank my buddy Pat for the track pictures. He let me borrow his backpacking GPS so I could at least take some tracks. Thanks a ton Pat! I owe him some beers....anywho! moving on...
Well as I was saying, I didn't have my GPS and the maps I was using weren't the most 'detailed' when it came to regular streets. So I missed the road. Figures. So we ended up rolling down the grade into Orifino and decided to fill up and make a plan. A tiny mazda pickup full of colorful locals barked at us 'I'll run that shit over!', I just flashed them a grin and said 'REALLY'?! I've never been good at comebacks, and I figured I didn't want to make a scene, but WOW.
We decided to head up highway 12 (Lolo Pass) to Syringa, south of the beginning of the Lolo Motorway.
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| Highway 12 east of Kamiah |
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A quick stop at a great restaurant in, or around Syringa (I don't know what makes a town anymore) and had the special: Philly Steak and Cheeze. While we were waiting, we heard a crash in the kitchen and we knew...someone was gonna have to wait! The waitress came out and confirmed it with, 'It's going to be a LITTLE longer for the 4th one!'. With Mike's smooth talking, we got a free beer out of it - so groovy!
Up Smith Creek Road we went. More of that awesome gravel I was talking about earlier and we found the first nights camp spot - a flat area just around the corner from the stockpile of gravel they used for the roads. Scott moaned as he noticed his 'Liter a' cola' was no longer...it had fallen out somewhere not to be found again! I guess we're drinking the whiskey straight tonight, boys!
That first night was interesting seeing what everyone brought for gear, food, and drinks. Mike took about 20 minutes pitching the dubbed 'prophylactic' tent (Fudism). My wife let me borrow her old tent that is lighter than mine (like it would matter with my cargo load) and a nice tarp bottom in case it rained. I caught some crap for bringing a pink tent, but it was plenty big and with only two poles it was a breeze to pitch (I timed it at 5 minutes). Thanks Joycie!
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| Left: Scott's tent and TE 610, Right: Mike's Prophylactic tent and KTM 950 |
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| Day 1 camp |
Fud pitched tent off in the pucker-bushes so I didn't really get to see his setup until later, but he dawned this backpacking chair that he had never used before but thought was cool when he saw it in REI. Notice how it teeters on two feet? I figure some granola engineer that hadn't had a drink in his/her whole life designed it. That first night we were all trying it out and cussing it every time we tried to get out. You couldn't get on it sideways at all, for fear of the poles bending or just flat falling on your ass. Many a drink were spilled because of that damn chair...but it amazingly survived the first night without getting tossed in the fire. In the right side of the picture you can see part of the $10 Cabela's chair the rest of us were sporting...
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| Fud in the granola backpacking chair |
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