Tom Jamrog's Maine to Montana Trip- July 3-18, 1998

Day 1
Left at 7:00 AM on a Friday. Myself and my 21 year old son Lincoln had planned to drive the Dodge Caravan nonstop for 36 hours or so and reach South Dakota where we would stop, unload the bikes, get a good night's sleep and head for our destination of Missoula, Montana for motorcycling and fishing.
I was nervous about using a trailer. I borrowed a 5 x 10 foot
flatbed trailer from Mike Allen for the price of paying his registration
fees for the year. I worried abut too much tongue weight, the Caravan being
under powered. and the bikes falling off of the trailer. They made it out fine, but we did have problems on the way back.
Despite the extra weight of hauling a BMW R1100 GS and a Kawasaki KLR 650 we were able to average 50 miles per hour for the first four hours. Our average eventually increased to 55 mph. as we headed west. Traffic
was backed up for miles in the opposite direction coming into Maine at the
toll booth in Kittery, ME.
I took an afternoon nap on the floor of the van. We had the rear seat out, with a sleeping pad and bag set up next to our gear, and a cooler full of road food and drinks. I woke up relaxed, but it was short-lived when I noticed
the Parabellum fairing on my BMW had completely cracked. It was beginning to flap against the top of the instrument cluster, so I removed it quickly with
items from my repair kit.
At 8 pm, we hit Pennsylvania, 700 miles and 13 hours from home. Tired.:

7.70 gas
2.75 toll Chicago Skyway
.75 toll
1.25 tea
.60 toll Elgin, Ill

We drove in shifts. I was on the night shift from 1 to 3 am when we passed through severe lightning storms that flashed up the whole
countryside. It warmed up (71 degrees) and rained heavily. I was concerned
about the tie downs loosening up in the rain, but they held steady.


Day 2 - In the Caravan, still moving west.
The vastness of Chicago took up nearly an hour of driving . We were
awed by the sheer size of the city and the traffic that was gearing up at
3:30 in the morning. We screwed up reading the map and missed the bypass,
but the thickness of travel right through the city on 6 lane I-90 was lean.
I took over driving just past 4 am . We were on totally different
bathroom break schedules, with me needing to pee much more often.
At 6 am we stopped for gas at a small road/trucker convenience store. A
few local boys were chewing the fat with the cashier. Lincoln and I made
our choices from what we thought was the largest selection of beef, chicken and
ostrich jerky in the US. The jerky sections just kept getting bigger the further west we traveled. I bought a couple of packs of Honey Dijon Smoked
Chicken for $1.29 for a 25 protein gram pack, about 1/2 the price of a comparable protein equivalent Powerbar. Truckers sure have a lot of good stuff on the shelves where they hang out. I was one blue button push away from trying out the display
model of the 100+ decibel Screaming Meanie Wake Up Timer, when Lincoln
intervened in his usual tactful way.
"Dad, don't do it. We'd better get back on the road".


9:45 am, and within one half of an hour of the Mississippi River.
Temperature is in the high sixties. Road dry, traffic very light.

The car, trailer, and the motorcycles were all getting beat up by the pogo
show on I-90 between LaCross, Wisconsis and Sioux Falls, South Dakota. The road was surfaced with short lengths of concrete, with gaps and unevenness caused by the
expansion spaces between blocks. A steady 3 bumps per second jockeyed us
for stretches of ten to twenty miles at a whack.
Hundreds of miles of deep green , knee high, corn lining the throughway,
stretching off to any horizon you scanned. Independence Day, 1998.

With Lincoln's encouragement, I had used the BMW Motorcycle Owner's
Anonymous Book on Thirsady night and phoned a fellow member who lived in Sioux Falls, who agreed to have us store the trailer and van at his house.


Duane Linder's invitation to stay at his house was one of the most helpful
events I 've experienced. There were about 25 members of the Autobahn BMW
club in attendance when we arrived , grilling sausages and beef. The garage was converted to a temporary restaurant, complete with a half dozen picnic tables, full
table of salads and, fresh picked raspberries and various brownies for
dessert. Just after we pulled along curbside, Duane showed each of us to
our rooms, and gave as the keys to his car so that we could head over to
the supermarket and choose our our own grilling cuts. He insisted we stay with him for the night . He gave as towels to use in the shower and mode us feel right at home. Duane made it clear that the sleep at his house was tied to the agreement to be out by 6:30 the next morning, when he was also rolling out for the BMW motorcycle interntional rally in Missoula. Duane was surprised that we
lived near Camden, ME because that was a place that he remembered
from his motorcycle trip with his wife. She had died since then, but Duane
remembered talking to her about retiring there.
These are some of the people we met, all member of a great MOA club , the Autobahn Society (#79):
Bob Vagstead- Honda Helix
Denny Ericson- R100RS
Art Krenz- brown LT
Larry Hawes- MOA Ambassador
Doc Mansfield- KLR
Mary and Wes Audus- RV
Our bikes were loaded the night before and ready to go, safely tucked into Duane's garage for the night.


Day 3 -
Sunday- July 5
500 miles- Sioux Falls, SD to Devil's Tower, WY

7.17 breakfast and tip.
6.02 gas
5.00 gas - Wall
5. 00 Salad at Wall Drug
$4.65 gas Sundance
$32.79 Walmart -battery for KLR
$30 labor on diagnosing KLR problem
$40 tatoo
$5 food for supper
$8 camping fees

We were up at 5:30 and on the road at 6: 30. Lincoln and I were both psyched to be on two wheels, with two less vehicles to be concerned about safely out of our lives for 10 days or so. We would be riding with Duane and Doc out to breakfast at
Al's Oasis a couple of hours Down West toward the motorcycle mecca of Sturgis, South Dakota.
Ate breakfast at Al 's Oasis 148 miles west Sioux Falls. I had the buffet
special for $6.95. We pulled in there at 9 am, after cruising at 80 most of
the way.
We gassed up and headed over to Wall Drug. There was a minor accident
between a couple of the guys where Doc's Gold Wing had it's mirror knocked
off. Duane popped it back on with the lubricating help of a pat of
butter he picked up at Wall Drug. Both Lincoln and I wanted to get out of Wall as soon as possible. Just the drug store counts about 20,000 customers on a good day.
The group split at Rapid City. We were hoping ot meet up with the Autobahners at the campsite at the rally.
Lincoln and I headed over through the Black Hills. There was bothersome slow traffic, little opportunity to pass, and some beautiful streams rolling through pine covered grassy hills. W passed through a monstrosity of a town called Lead, that was built up around the largest gold mine in the world. There was little in the way of scenic rest areas, or even turnoffs. We finally puled over into a
steaming hot parking lot, with no shade to cool us. We downed PR Ironman
bars, hot water and a orange.
We looped back on to I-90 west and hammered at 85 mph until we crossed the
Wyoming border, hangng a right on Rt. 14 towards Devil's Tower. We each
drank a quart of spring water, and I was ready to pull out of the lot when
Lincoln waved me back. The KLR wouldn't start.
First, I thought that the problems might be in the sidestand safety lock, then thought it was either related to the intermittent brake light or an ignition problem. We pulled off the gear and removed the seat to get at the fuses. They were
fine. Could see no bare wires, or disconected plugs. We were screwed. I
tried looking into the Anonymous book, but there was no one in Sundance.
The clerk at the store was helpful by giving us a test light that I didn't
know how to use, and then a red business card from some local motorcycle repair shop-- Iron Horse Cycle -"Complete Auto Body Repair and Painting & Harley-Davidson Parts, Painting, Service, and Repair". It was Sunday at 4 p.m. on the
Fourth weekend, but I was desperate so I called the number. Gus answered
and said the he and John would come right down.
It took a while, but they eventually arrived in a old 4 wheel drive pickup loaded with piles of rusty chains and welding gear. While we were waiting for them, I helped a bewildered and scared Japanese couple by checking the air in their rental car's tires. I whipped out my gauge and tried to convine them that their tires were fine. English was a big problem, but of more concern than that was their outlook on America. Here they were in one of the least populated areas of the United States, attaching a steering wheel lock (The Club!) on the car while the man went into the station to buy something. The doors were locked and the wife was hunkered down in the back seat of the car, even!
Our rescuers were Harley, 100%.
John Fleischman
Gus Sampson
POBox 1366
Sundance, WYO 82729
They were covered with tatoos, and had the stare and smile down cold . They did what they could in the parking lot and diagnosd a short somewhere in the system. Wepicked up the bike and lifted it the bike right into the bed of the pickup and took it over to the shop, not far away.
I was soon back on my BMW doubling back 31 miles to the Spearfish, SD
Walmart. Gus called over and they had a battery for the KLR there. I ran
at 90 to be there before the 8 pm closing. I realized that some of my closest friends would not set foot in a Walmart, because of forced closings of local department stores. A man I met named Richard from Bangor, ME got so pissed when he was thrown out of a Walmart for trying to buy out some collectible toys that he started the heavily hit Web site at Walmartsucks.com. But Walmart supported this stranded motorcyclist, with a good sampling of motorcycle batteries right in stock.
The KLR also cost me a tatoo. John encouraged me to get a tatoo from a
resident artist who just happened to have his tatoo tools and ink in the back room. First , they tried to get me to have a BMW-related tatoo for the rally. I do not
like even wearing t-shirts that convert me into a walking advertising slogan. And what if I end up moving on from BMW for any reason? It would be like being stuck for life with a "I Love Lucy" tatoo after a nasty divorce that left you bitter and wounded after Lucy made off with the house and endless alimony checks. I ended up getting a "King Pirogi" tatoo complete with a detailed pirogi, concepted by Lincoln. My bike sports a "Pirogi" license plate, I eat the Polish delicacies, and I am
accordionist and sometime Polish /English vocalist in Maine's "mainline to
Polka happiness" - the King Pirogi Polka Band. We do weddings. It didn't hurt
much and was only $40. It is unique, and I unveiled it at the band's
next gig on July 19, on Swan's Island, Maine.
Devil's Tower is a power spot. We just made it into the KOA at the base
of the mountain just as it was getting dark. We quickly set up the tent
and anchored everything down just as the wind really picked up. It blew empty
cans of Dinty Moore beef stew right off the picnic table. The tent at the adjacent sire rolled over. Huge lightning /electrical discharges, stars and the close to full moon shining overhead, clouds blowing in all directions, the monolith right in sight, and a free showing of Close Encounters of the Third Kind blaring off the wall of the office right now at 11:22 pm. Wind blowing, air fresh, and all of our bottled liquids and gasoline in sealed containers shooting out when we opened them due to the increased elevation. Time for bed.

Day 4
Devil's Tower, WY to Cody, WY
Depart 9:42 am
5.00 gas
3.50 Devil's Tower entrance fees
380 miles
Hiked long the 2.8 mile perimer trial around Devil's Tower. We passed through varying terrains, and experienced a quick jump start to the differences in the west- heat, dry air, low humidity, desert plants, and mesa type outcroppings. Just past the official entrance to the park we watched several residents of a huge prairie dog town. I'd say it was a prairie dog equivalent of New York City. A vast field the size of several football fields with innumerable holes and residents eating, chattering, fighting, and moving up toward the raod with no fear of strangers at all.
Ate lunch past Sheridan, great food. A snippet of Wyoming plain talk- "He doesn't know enough to pour piss out of a gum boot with the instructions written on the
heel."
Route 14 West through the Bighorns was spectacular. Huge mountains, with
Grant Pass over 9,000 feet high. Many , many switchbacks, hairpin turns,
and pastoral little stream-rivers rolling down green grassy slopes. It was
cold up high but soon enough very hot below as we passed through village such as
Shell- (population 50), and 2 Emblem (population 5).
At 4:30 pm the thermometer read 91 degrees. Lincoln and I were sitting in a variety store downing another quart of water. Lincoln was amusedley watching a couple young guys playing a wide screened snowboarding video game. Still 45
minutes to Cody.

"There goes Duane Linder!" I said. A blue R75 RT pulling a pod trailer can
mean only one person- Duane. I hopped on my bike to catch him and Lincoln
came behind. We ran together for about an hour trying to keep up with him when Duane pulled off for the day at the Cody KOA. We thought the $20 price was a little steep. Lincoln and I went on to the Ponderosa campground on the other side of Cody for $15. I highly recommend the Lonely Planet guidebooks. We had one for the Rocky Mountain States, and it consistently put us in restaurants and
campgrounds that were good and cheap too. We had some more time to settle
in, but washing, eating, and organizing took us up until 9:30 pm. Still light.

Day 5
295 miles - Cody, WYO to KOA campground in Bozeman, MT
7:30 AM - 4:30 pm
4.65 gas
3.18 McDonalds
21.00 tent at KOA
5.55 gas
8.00 Lincoln , and me fee for hot springs

Took Rt 120 out of Cody to the Chief Joseph scenic highway ( Rt 296).
Spectacular scenery with no one on the road. The main event was the
bridge over the Clark's Fork of the Yellowstone River, some 300 feet below
in a dark deep rock-lined canyon. A most amazing sign erected by the US
Forest Service says " Bridge for pedestrian and automotive use only" .
It took a bit of thought to realize they probably meant no fishing, for
those of us with 300 feet of line on our reels.
Beartooth Highway. Route 212. First we hung a left at the end of 212 to
get to the start of the highway up in Cooke City. Snow lined the sides of
the twisties. Crank the bikes up to 80 on the straights, and lean as much
as you dare. Most of the time we were able to double the posted spped
limit signs at the turns. If the sign said 25, you could crank it up to
45. Except for the 20 MPH signs on the downhill side of the highway. They
really meant 20.
The highway is 68 exciting miles long. Save your money, take out your
calendar, and mark down a three week vacation slot featuring this highway.
Out back on I-90 from Columbus, we saw a couple of notable sights. One
was a two man crew staked out in the center of two lanes of 80-90 mph
traffic with only a "Survey Crew " sign and a single orange cone in front.
A short while later a Driver's Education car came whipping by at 80.
We ran into Duane Linder two more times. Once at the Clark Fork bridge, where he told me he was 79 years old, and again when we came upon him on I-90 close to Bozeman. You can sure make time when you wake up at 4:30 am. I hope
that I have life force within me close to Duane's level when I am 79 years old.
KOA at Bozeman. And a night out on the town after Lincoln's
encouragement to look up good places to eat in the Lonely Planet Rocky
Mountain States travel survival kit. Bozeman will be home to two local
Maine young men , Eric Morrison and Ben Snead, who will be attending
Montana State University this fall. We drove by the campus, and gave our
stamp of approval to their choice. Snow capped mountains north, south,
east, and west. In July.
Dropped a couple of beers to cool them in the little stream at the rear
of our campsite. Then we walked over to soak in the Bozeman Hot Springs adjacent to the KOA. The hot springs were inside an old building that had that 1950 '5 look to it. Part of it was a big concrete swimming pool filled with tepid water. At one end were 5 smaller pools with varying temperatures of water. The hottest and smallest one was 104 degrees. The coldest one was very much so. We spent about an
hour moving from one to another before we walked back to the site where we
fished out a couple of Trippel Belgian Style ales that we nursed to bed as
we watched lightning flash over the range near Big Sky.

Day 6
Bozeman to Missoula
mileage unknown

$12 gondola
23. rentals
5 lunch
4.85 gas
5.70 gas

Pulled out of the KOA at 7:30 am and headed down to Big Sky ski area. Had
a peak there over 11,000 feet high. Got lost today more times than I'd
like to admit. Rented Trek Y3 full suspension bikes. I fell in the
parking lot. We paid $20 for full day use of the gondola lift. But they
gave us back $8 each after we only decided to do one run down the mountain.
We were dumped off high up the face of the mountain, and decended via the
access road. There was still a great deal of water running down and across
the road, which was rough and full of broken up rock at the top, but more
packed at the bottle. There was a 3 mile run. I liked the bike's cushy
shocks but the front end seemed wallowy and when I looked down, the
front tire was flat. We were provided a pump, spare tube, and patch kit.
I put them to quick use. After one run, we agreed to try and head up to the Beehive, but were unable to find the trail. Instead, we came upon another Montana
curiosity- three young guys on a skateboarding ramp in the middle of the woods.
We ran back down to Big Sky village, then headed back to the bike store on a
trail called the Poop Chute. Lincoln was flying and hopping over wet spots
and humps.
Later we made it from Bi Sky down to Yellowstone and then northwest back
up to Ennis, Butte, and over I-90 to Missoula.




Day 7
Missoula Fairgrounds at BMW International Motorcyce Rally

breakfast = 3.50
5.00 lunch
10. fleece bags
22 Haynes manual
4 beer
12 shirt
16 UPS

Set up camp last night in one of the ourskirts tent communites at the fairgrounds. Shade hard to find to set up near, so I put up the Moss 12 foot fly, but it ripped when the wind picked up. It got caught on a fence.
We picked a site between a grandmother from Washington State camping solo, and a grizzled tatooed Harley crossover dudefrom Texas and his hyperctive 13 year old son. The kid was really knowledgeable about BME bikes and really loud. He settled in as the 3 days here passed.
Enjoyed visiting all the vendor booths and meeting the individuals who make the products advertised in the magazines. I hd a good time talking with Al Jesse who made the aluminum saddlebags for my bike, plus Ed Korn, who is devoted to making specialized tools to kepp older BMW's running. I spent a ot of time looking at stuff, anticipating buys in the future. Maybe a half-bike cover from Ga-Zee-Bo. Maybe a brake light modulator, maybe a top case, not much else. I already have a lot of stuff.
Mostly fun just walking around visiting folks, striking up conversations easily. Asking questions. I was disappointed that there weren't any local rides or GS rides advertised for groups. We figured things out on our own.

Day 8- Missoula
3.50 breakfast
6. 25 Lunch
.50 wash bike
1.50 hot dog
3.00 chowder
1.75 yogurt2

Dirt Riding Day
Stopped by the USFS in Missoula. Profitable decision to pick up a four
dollar map of the forest roads in the area. Three of the female staff must
of won Miss Congeniality in state or national beauty contests. A ranger
spent time highlighting a route that put us up at Lolo Pass.
Ran into a herd of cows and calves that were being herded up ahead through
the pass. I asked a guy on a four wheeler at the end the herd how long they were going to push the animals and he said, "Two days".
Looked bad, possibly a turn around. I asked if there was any way we could
get by and was told that he had no problem if we wanted to head up the right side of the herd and push the animals from in front of us. I nudged a few, and we were free.
Ate at At Lolo Hot Springs. Were prisoners in one of the worst serviced
restaurant that I ever had the displeasure to frequent. I warned three
different parties in the parking lot not to go in and to give their day a
couple of aggravation free hours.
Running through gravel roads was mostly fun. W e did encounter one loaded
logging truck that forced Lincoln right into the ditch. He kept the bike
upright, and I needed to veered into the ditch to allow the truck to pass. The road
was that narrow.
The fragrances of the forest were pronounced. There was a strong smell of
citronella in the air, mixed with a form of forest perfume.
Huge blackened wind dust thunder storm dumped some light rain on us, I
didn't even put on the rainsuit.

Day 9- Missoula
Spent the morning unsuccessfully calling around trying to find a rear sprocket
for the KLR. Did a fair amount of waiting in phone lines to just call around. Hit a busy signal, or a recording, and it's hang up, and soon back of the line again. That's what happends in a crowd of 6,000. Lincoln went into town looking for a sprocket but did not find one, despite visiting two Kawasaki dealers listed in the phone book. After we had work done on the bike at home, found that the front sprocket was acually the worst for the wear.
Decided to change the chain anyway, after being told that the chain had to go , but the sprocket would get us back to Sioux Falls. We had brought an extra chain. There was a long steep learning curve plotted while removing the chain from the bike.
Two guys helped Lincoln with the job, 79 year old Herb Gunnison and Tom Albright from Georgia, the man with the most beat up KLR at Missoula. The
problem was compounded because our old KLR chain did not have a master link. No one around had a chain breaker, so the trio of Lincoln, Herb and Tom broke
the chair with brute force. They used a screw driver tip, a screw driver, a
ball peen hammer, a hatchet and a lot of whacking to finally break free one of the
links. I came back from the on site mechanics shop with a small chisel that
they didn't need that I had to put a $50 return deposit on.
Tom Allbright had a good time entertaining us northerners with his Georgia
drawl. He told us three things you'll never hear a Southerner say: "Who is
Richard Petty?', "These green beans are cooked too much.", and "Duct tape
won't fix that".
More whacking and the new chain was put on. Then a direct line to buy a
Scott automatic chain oiler. Lincoln installed it right at the sales booth with good
backup assistance from salesman Mike England. He said he met a fair number of bikers who either had KLR's ar we interested in getting a used one. We are not going to need any more chain lube in a can. We don't get the chance to forget to oil a dry chain, the chain should last longer.
Struck up a conversation with Greg Frazier who was standing by his 350,
000 mile GS.
Dealt with another rain storm in the afternoon and was able to dry out the
tent and gear before packing it all in just before listening to awards
given to the mileage award winners. The oldest rider came in from New York
on a R850R. He was 90 years old .

Day 10
Missoula to Glacier National Park , back south to Florence, MT
449 miles
6.79 gas
6.50 gas
10 glacier fees
3.50 cherries
18 groceries
22 souveniers

Ran up to Glacier National Park today. Left at 8:30. didn't get in to B &
B in Florence until 7:30 pm. Took 93 North until we hit Rt 3 at Flathead
Lake and went around the right side on Rt. 35.
Flathead Lake is the largest body of fresh water west of the Mississippi. We were there just at the start of the harvest of fat, mahogany-red cherries that we saw hanging off the trees on the innumerable orchards on the east side of the lake. I ate a pound of pinkish/ yellow Raniers, and another pound of the red ones that I bought at a roadside stand for $5 total.

Bikes whipping past us while we were cruising at 85 mph. Many bikes were cranked up to well over 100 mph as they left us crawling along at 85 mps. Montana has only a posted 65 mph sped limit at night. Daytime travel is guided by signs that state "Prudent and Reasonable speeds" That means at least 90, because we were
passed by a cruiser whose state trooper waved as he passed us when we were
doing 85.
Many clouds gathering in the sky, but one K-bike rider we talked to was dead wrong when he predicted, "It's not if you will get wet today, it's a matter of when".
We did the Going-to -the-Sun Road after we paid our $5 each to enter Glacier National Park. Very impressive road, even with battling slow driving condtions due to RV's plus the gawk factor. I did the road two years ago , and was able to
anticipate some of the featured attractions, like the Weeping Wall and a
waterfall that passes just under the road, with uplift from the wind
actually lifting the water back up onto the road and wetting us all over.
Huge, huge feeling to the land and sky there, and I saw a glacier that I
don't know how I missed in 1996. Maybe there was not much snow then , but
a glacier does not come and go with the seasons.
Our real problem was the terrible wind on the way back. We really began to notice it at the eastern tip of the park at St. Mary's where we stopped to eat some food. Downright unfriendly stop. No picnic tables there (understnadable due to dense grizzly and black bear population) , and a sign "No Food or Drinks Inside" on the door of the so called guest facilities. We hunkered down in the lee side of the building escaping the increasingly strong wind that blew a bagel off the bike
seat.
Back Down 89, using the Rt. 49 cutoff to head back west on Route 2
to West Glacier, and the retrace to Missoula. I became scared and
had to talk myself down after I passed a car on Rt 2 heading directly into the
wind. After I was swinging back into the right lane, I was pushed by the wind into the shoulder, which was lined with a long stretch of loose gravel. I wrestled
really hard with the bike to grunt it back into the center of the right
lane. It was a couple of hours like that, hunched over the bike , head
down, and fighting the wind. I was exhausted. Later Lincoln told me he
had been running the KLR flat out with the wind pushing him back and holding
his speed to 60 at best.
Our stop for the night was The Green Thumb B&B in Florence, 20 miles south
of Missoula on Rt. 93. We were given an apartment downstairs in a ranch
style house sited on a slight rise just over the Bitteroot River. The
grounds have a large flower and vegetable garden just outside of the double
glass doors framing the snow covered mountains in the distance. Plenty of
space, and we each had our on bedroom.
Fishing tomorrow. Out host, David Archer, is an experienced fisherman,
who has guided in the past. He publishes "Cricks, Creeks, and Rivers-
Western Montana's Fishing Guide" and we rented float boats from him for
the day's fishing.
Another day where we seem to run out of time. This is what happens when you try and cram a trip from Maine to Montana in two weeks, but some day I want to poke along.

Day 11-
Fishing

We took it all in as we traveled in the pickup, as David Archer gave us a crash course in fly fishing on Montana rivers and ponds.

Three main principles for presenting the fly : High and dry, gentle presentation, and a natural float.
In casting, the line is sent out by the rod, not by the weight at the end of of a line. Keep a narrow wedge of movement without cockinging your wrist. Lock your wrist. False cast only to change direction or to dry a fly. Stay with your
first cast after picking a target. Ninety per cent of fish are caught within a distance of thirty feet.
To catch fish you need to cover a lot of water with good casts. Fishing is a game of percentages.
David told us that when he was a guide, ninety-nine percent of his clients were driven, achievement oriented, alpha males. In his 15 years of
guiding David had only met two guys who wanted to listen and learn.
The goal if the day was to learn to have a good time outside seeing the
outdoors, learn about fishing, and maybe catch some trout.
We fished Diamond Lake, far up a US Forest Service road. We caught a few brook trout. Found them on the edges, mostly near submerged trees. Diamond lake was beautiful. With a snow capped peak just behind us, with a waterfall tracing across the face of it.
We fished for a several hours, covering the whole lake with our casts.
We decided to move on to fish below Superior (exit 47) on the lower Clark Fork River. David warned us that it was going to be hard fishing on the Clark and it
was. The water levels on all the rivers in western Montana were unusualy high for the time of year due to increased rainfall in June. The fast and dark water made it difficult for fish to see insects on the surface.
We floated down the Clark Fork river from 4:30 pm until about 8:30 pm.
David did not think we would catch many fish, but wanted to give us the
experience of float fishing on a big Montana river. The current was very fast and
forceful, and you had to keep the boat pointing ahead of you so that you
could alway see down river and be aware of what was coming at you . We needed to
avoid bridge abutments, and the rare rapids near big rocks. The river was
so high that there were no sand bars to beach and and fish from. I was
initially frustrated because I could not manage to cast and fish while I
was constantly correcting the boat angle with my oars. Later in the day I was
able to cast, usually around the right side of the river , by keeping a
fixed line with my fly rod in grip, and holding the left oar in my hand and
making corrections to angle the boat to the shore for casting. God help
me if I would have caught a fish. I would have spun aroud and crashed for
sure. Even David caught no fish. We were aiming for placing our dry flies
within one foot of the shore- the only place the fish could see the food
landing on the water. The inner part of the river was too dark and fast. Lincoln was the only one to catch a small trout.

We didn't get back to Green Thumb until after 10. My replacement fairing had arrived via UPS and I replaced it before Lincoln and I were to head off and find a
camping spot up the road. David told us that we could stay another night
at the B & B for free because of the time- no breakfast included this time, but we
were much obliged and were out by 7:30 the next morning.

Day 12- Heading Back
Missoula, MT to Lovell, WYO= 448

$5.00 gas
6.00 Denny's
6.50 gas
1.39 fuses
4.60 gas
7.50 food
Hot day. Pulled into Lovell, WY at about 5 pm and the temperature
flashing outside the bank display in town read 103. The thermometer that I keep up
on the instrument panel of the BMW read 116 degrees in the mid
afternoon as we were riding through the desert and watching the slow moving
derricks pumping oil from deep in the ground.

We were having trouble with the KLR not starting and having idling difficulties. It first died in a rest area on I-90 past Bozeman. There was gas spurting out of the overfow tube from the carb, and I whacked the side of the bowl
to dislodge any foreign matter that might have been plugging the idle jet or float needle. We let it cool about 15 minutes and then it started and we were off. It died again just as we came into Lovell. Lincoln was distressed. He convinced me
to get the bike looked at , and I went down to the Conoco station in town
and asked a couple of 20 year old locals if anyone in town worked on
motorcycles, and they told me where John's automotive was located. I found
the place, and we planned to head over there tomorrow morning in the hopes
of him looking at it.
The land in northern Wyoming is dull muted green, greys, and shades of brown, all covered with a patina of dust or golden sunlight. They just don't get much rain. Back in Missoula, the yearly total is 14 inches of precipitation. Here in Lovell, they get about 10 inches a year, mostly in snowfall. We got 7
inches in Maine in one day on June 14th . It was the same day that I did 1022 miles
in 19 and one-half hours to earn my membership in the Iron Butt
Association.
We are staying here in town at the town campground off Quebec St., three
blocks from Main. It is quiet, shady, and has clean free showers and a
good bathroom. Three night's stay maximun. I hoped not. We took a chance
and left the fly off the tent as a way of cooling it off. I later learned that it is not uncommon for there to be no rainfall or cloudiness from May unti October. At9 pm the wind was still warm, but the radiational cooling was supposed to get it down to
the 50's.


Day 13
350 miles
Lovell, WYO to KOA at Mt. Rushmore( base of Harney Peak)

The KLR earned the knickname Chuggy today. Chuggy got fixed by Scott,
motorcycle mechanic at John's Auto repair off Oregon St. in Lovell. We
were there when Scott arrived at 8:40, and he worked for about 45 minutes
and charged us $41.98. Diagnosis was clogged idle jet, confirmed after
pulling the bowl off the carburetor and looking up into the jet with a
mini mag light. A squirt of carb cleaner up there cleared it out, and then
Scott inserted a fuel filter in the line off the tank.
We gave each other the "Aw shit!" look later on the road when the bike
died again at idle, and Lincoln found fuel weeping out of the gasket
between the top and the bottom of the bowl. He thought that one of the 4
screws holding the bottom of the float bowl was not tight enought, but we
got the bike going and it fixed itself and idled fine for the rest of the
trip.
Hot again. Over 90 most of the day. Really baking on the highway.
Drinking lots of water. John at the auto repair place told us the little
derricks we saw on the desert were oil pumps connected to an underground
piping system.
Stopped and visited the Crazy Horse Memorial. Saw the impressive
beginning to the largest man made monument on earth. The head is done and
the arm is roughed out. The grounds and buildings are kind of funky and
home made. The slide show was moving, and I had tears in my eyes as I
listened and watched the narration of Korzak's dream. I believe in the
project and think that the family is moving ahead with the plan to finish
the mountain several generation in the future.
Stayed at the Rushmore KOA. Huge campground, horses, hot tubs, singers,
several restaurants, and us perched on the side of a drop off on a sloped
piece of ground that it may be hard to move the bikes out of tomorrow.


Day 14-
Rushmore KOA to somewhere in Wisconsin
mileage undetermined

Took an early morning drive through the Needles scenic highway. Too early
for them to charge us $3 to drive the road. Impressive twisty road, no cars, narrow tunnels carved out of rock, but the low sun and the road running through to the east crimped my style in the twisties. Don't Feed the Buffalo and Free Ranging Animal signs tend to put the hand to the brake lever too.
Headed up into Rapid City, SD and found a Denny's for the $4.99 Farm Slam
breakfast. They sure have quick service. Put the food down in front of
you 5 minutes after ordering, but not as quick at getting the bill so you can
leave.
Hammered on at 75-80 mph on I-90 to Al's Oasis where I had the salad bar
(not too good). I did score in the gift shop where they had a $.50 closeout
bin where I picked up a half-dozen state travel decals for my saddlebag.

With 50 miles used up on the tanks, we cleaned the windshields at Al's
Oasis gas station and I climbed onto the KLR to see how it rode on the open
highway. We thought we could reach the trailer at Sioux Falls and wanted to arrive there with the tanks mostly empty to save weight on the haul home. We should of topped off the tanks.
I ran out of gas 20 miles shy of Sioux Falls. I first ran out on the highway, after foolishly passing a gas exit sign. I thought I had more range in reserve, but running at 5000-5200 RPM's on the KLR chewed up gas to the tune of 34 mpg. I dumped 3/4 of a quart of stove fuel into the tank and that gave it enough gas to make it to a tiny town gas station several miles I-90. I ran out of gas 20 feet from the pump again and Lincoln pushed me in. They call alphalt surfaced roads "oil roads" out here.
Back on the road the KLR was baking my left leg with the heat coming off the radiator just in front. It was a hot day, but nothing like the 103 degrees we saw in Lovell, WYO . We took the bypass for Sioux Falls, and guessed at the exit number that would take us back to our van at Duane's house. Asked for directions and got there. No Duane, and his street was being torn up with jackhammers, backhoes, and compressors all clanging and rattling away. We quickly packed up the bikes, headed over to a food store when we blitzed through and stocked up for the trip home. We decided that it was still good light out, and agreed to try to drive straight home.
Spirits were high. We put over 3,400 miles on the bikes, and were in
a safe cocoon of familiar hardware as we careened through farmland, and
corn. Darkness settled in and a sign ahead read "Rough Road- 29 Miles".
We began to get jackhammered . The road was broken up with small poured
sections of concrete that were irregular and beat on the suspension of the
Caravan and trailer. We encountered this before on the way out. Up and Down, slam, slam, slam. Trailer trucks were jackrabbiting and loudly slamming down the road.
Sometime before midnight Lincoln yell out that my BMW was falling off the
trailer. II put on the emergency flashers and gently pulled off into the grass inside the breakdown lane. We were in pitch black farmland, stench of pig shit gagging, late at night. The bike was leaned way over against the short side rail, kept from falling by the rear inner tie down. I went back inside the van to get a flashlight to inspect the damage. The front inside tie down strap hook had pulled out of the bed of the trailer, after the bolt into the wood deck had sheared in half. The bike was not damaged badly but had earned a new scratch on the cylinder cover and on the bottom of the tank.
Lincoln's good sense suggested that we consider the bad road and take precautionary measures. We transfer moved all of the tie-down hooks from the cleats on the wood floor to the angle iron around the frame of the trailer. There were clouds of mosquitos eating us for late night snack. We worked quickly to secure both bikes, and headed back to the van only to discover the horror of a vehicle full of moquitos that were drawn to the dome light through the open side
door.
We shut the lights off, and were in a panic as we tried to kill them with
magazines. We opened all the windows and headed down the road. They
proceeded to sting us for the next ten miles until we pulled into a gas
station, opened all the doors, and let the bugs be drawn to the bright
lights while we gassed up. The bad rough road continued for close to 100
miles when it turned smooth and normal again at the Wisconsin border.
We were so paranoid that despite exhaustion , I sat twisted around in the
pasenger seat with eyes glued to the bikes while Lincoln drove at 55 mph.
Whomp, whomp, dobby horsing around careening across the one big farm of a
state.

Day 15

Still on the road in the Caravan. Hit Chicago at 7 a.m. yesterday morning and then Buffalo, N.Y. at 7 p.m. Grind. Sure there are no tolls west of Chicago but that may be why theeast has better roads. Smooth is good, and sayonara to the jack hammering concrete roads of the midwest. No problems with the motorcycles shifting around, stress decreasing in direct proximity to reaching New England.
Stopped in Rochester to visit Len Urso, Lincoln's metals/jewelty professor
at RIT. Hit McDonald's for the 99 cent double cheeseburger and then "Let's
went!"
We cheered our way cross the Kittery, Maine bridge. The landscape of Maine looked as thick and lush as a rainforest. We finally stopped moving sometime in the late afternoon after beginning the epic push home at 7:15 aafter doing 400 on the motorcycles and jumping in the Caravan at Sioux Falls, South Dakota to reach Lincolnville, Maine and home.