Jefe's Next Chapter

It isn’t that I “like” or “crave” fear, so much as it is that the feeling of having come through it and survived is exhilarating, and makes me feel alive. I probably chase risky and frightening activities like roller coasters and such for that rush of feeling alive when it is over. I’m sitting and writing this at the end of Day 3, with a realization that each day has gotten later and later than the last, and tonight instead of pushing on to my pre-paid Bed & Breakfast, I was feeling the dark come on, and the cold, and decided to pull over an call it a night in Dayton Wyoming, about 150 miles from my intended destination. Tomorrow is a non-road day, so I’ll catch up the miles in the early morning when it is getting light, rather than while it is getting dark. Enough fear for a couple days, I don’t NEED to ride in the cold and the dark tonight.

Last night, however, my ride ended in the dark, navigating with the last moments of juice in my phone battery, and the GPS announcing “you have arrived” at a dark, empty place on a road with little evidence of humans being there, aside from the pavement itself.

The rain had started an hour before, and I remember thinking “the plants need this, the farmers need this, but I don’t need this, not tonight, not again”. I am not a natural navigator, I like to drive, and trust technology to get me where I need to be. Without technology, there is fear. Next time I’m in a reasonable sized town, I will find a second phone battery, but for now I try to find a place to re-charge every 4 or 5 hours.

Day 2 started slowly, although I slept well, I didn’t want to get up, my body was sore, and the new ritual of putting on my gear, heavy jacket stuffed with items for my move, the boots, chaps which are a bit too long, and the heavy back-pack with my technology (tablet, work computer, keyboard & mouse, power strip and assorted chargers, etc…) was less interesting than the breakfast room at the Days Inn.
Once I got rolling, it turned into a beautiful day, rolling east from Spokane the weather from Day 1 was a memory at best.

There is no question that Coltrane’s “Meditations” helped set the tone for my day, with lots of deep breathing, filling my abdomen the way the yoga teachers instruct, and then long, deep out-breaths. Idaho is really quite beautiful, and it was warm and sunny. I made a couple stops to take photos. Looking back, from end of Day 3, I’m seeing this as one of the things I did not budget for as much as I should have. I like to stop and take pictures, and it is putting me behind schedule.

Side of the road in Idaho, so lush and green

What the Idaho road looks like, from my seat

Coeur d’ Alene’s Old Mission

selfie, using smart-phone to camera remote gadget

This photo is a panorama and really should be clicked and viewed full size

Anyway, Tuesday was a nice day’s ride through lovely landscape, Since the wi-fi in my Spokane hotel was lame-to-nonexistent and I really wanted to take some time to write and post, I pulled off the road near Missoula, found a Starbucks so that I could rely on the wi-fi, and settled in for some writing and battery charging. The “panini sandwich” was mushy as if it had been micro-waved but it was adequate, and would be my last food for over 250 miles. I continued to be startled by how many motorcyclists choose not to wear helmets, and stopped to talk to a couple, turns out they are from Everett, WA, and they let me know that once you cross over into Idaho, helmets aren’t required, but they still wear them. You can see the photo of their idea of a helmet.

I rode on highway 90 for a good long way until near Butte where I chose to shoot south toward the western entrance of Yellowstone, along Highway 15. I decided to ride along until I found a pull-out on the side of the road to check my navigation, it was about 20 miles before I looked and discovered that my current route would get me to my destination inside the park at around 10:30, but if I turned around, went back up toward Butte and followed a different path, I’d be there before 8:30. I had been planning to be there before dark, and this was my first extended experience with dozens of miles off of divided highways. Much to my dismay, I HATE doubling back over the same track I’ve already covered, I turned around to take the shorter route, swallowing the fact that it made me ride an extra 40 miles that I probably didn’t need to, and I could have arrived maybe a ½ hour earlier, if I had looked at the GPS before I turned off.

The landscape is spectacular, the architecture of old farm buildings is captivating, and I wanted to stop several times per mile to take photos, but I was already quite late and wasn’t sure if anyone would be at the front desk to receive me, plus I had filled the tank with gas and was beginning to doubt that I’d also have enough to get OUT of the park, with the distance I was seeing. These are long, straight roads through fields where I was able to open the bike up to 80 mph, the engine makes such a lovely noise at that speed, it was really joyous riding.

Anyone who has spent any time here understands why it is called “big sky country”, and if you haven’t the photos can’t begin to help you understand the scope of the big sky.

What seemed to go hand in hand with that is the sky is so big, it takes an unimagined long time for all of the light to leak out once the sun goes down. I’m not sure at what point dusk turns to twilight, or where gloaming fits in there, I’m not wearing a wristwatch and don’t have a clockface visible while I ride, but a light rain started as the sun went down, and it got cool and moist, but the sky stayed light and helped me see my way for a very long time. It surprised me how long and how far I rode under a glowing sky before it became fully dark. I was barely aware of crossing a state line from Montana into Wyoming. With droplets on my visor and windscreen, and hands inside of moist gloves I made one big turn and was suddenly inside a bustling, crowded western town with a gas station, restaurants, and abroad variety of entertainment options. It was shortly before 9:00 (I’m noticing that I take long straight roads quite faster than G-Maps predicts, and twisty/windy roads much, much slower) and I hadn’t eaten supper yet, as I wanted to make my destination in time to get registered and all. I considered stopping for food, or gas, or something, but was concerned to get checked in, and reach my cabin as it was already dark. I went through the gate and a friendly, helpful ranger let me know that I needn’t worry, someone would be at the desk, and there was a restaurant close by. She handed me a map which was great, and easy to see in the light of the ranger station at the entrance, but useless sitting on my tank bag, because there was no light to view it. I asked how much further to the lodge area, and she said “about 40 miles”, when I commented that it was still a little ways to go, she let me know that “40 miles is nothing in Wyoming”. I had programmed the location of the lodge and cabin into my GPS, so I turned that on, set the audio to guide me, and put it in my pocket with headphones on.

What I wrote at the top of this post about fear…. This was me, cold and in the dark, knowing that I was hungry and just wanted to be done for the day, and realizing that I had another 40 miles to ride, on roads with no more markings than the paint on the pavement, and I couldn’t see my map. All I could really see was the white line to my right that I used to keep me on track, in the face of many, many headlights coming toward me, I had no sense if I was next to a steep drop off or an open plain, or a body of water, I could tell when there were trees, there were lots and lots of trees. Every now and then I pulled over to let someone pass, as I was in second or third gear for most of this, not approaching the speed limit. I know that it took me over an hour and 15 minutes to ride the 40 miles because when I did arrive to check in, the desk attendants let me know that the restaurant closed at 10:00, about 15 minutes ago. This was less than 100 yards past the point where the voice in my headphones announced “you have arrived” and I wondered how far off the location was, and if I was going to need to find a place to curl up in the dark and rain to sleep for the night. I decided to just keep riding, and shortly saw some lights ahead, and maneuvered toward them. As I pulled in I noticed that the laptop bag for my work computer was hanging off the back end of the bike, it was still attached, but no longer on top of my duffel, but hanging less than a foot above the pavement. No, the computer isn’t in there, I keep my critical electronics in my backpack, where I can “feel” if they are still with me, all that was inside was the power cord and headset for my VOIP phone, and some papers in the side pocket. I set it back where it belonged and located some additional bungees for the next day’s ride.

This is what it looked like, when I packed it. Was too dark to photograph what it looked like, hanging off the back of the bike

I got checked in as quickly as I could and ran to the restaurant, most of my bags in hand, worried about the few left on the bike, but more hungry than worried. I sought out some staff and explained that I hadn’t had dinner because I was rushing to get checked in, blah, blah, blah… and I have worked food service for many years, and understood what an imposition it was, and I had a friend who had worked several summers in the café at Yellowstone, and threw Sara’s name around like rice at a June wedding (not harmful to birds, BTW), I begged for anything, a PB&J, or whatever wouldn’t inconvenience the kitchen. I’m not sure if using her name made the difference, or of the manager was just helpful, but she invited me to fill a to-go box from the salad bar, offered me to-go cups for soup, and brought me another to-go box overflowing with butter and dinner rolls. I went to my cabin plugged in to recharge my electronics, and chatted with Juliette via text for a while. I knew before I went to sleep, that I’d want to see more of the park before I hit the road. I hoped that some of it would be under clear skies. I didn’t have any trouble falling fast asleep.