The
next morning was cloudy and ominous. I
had gone just a short way before I stopped and put on full rain gear because I
could see what I was approaching and it didn’t look good. I was traveling on Highway 212 which goes
into Wyoming and over Beartooth
Pass at about 11,000 feet elevation
then turns back north into Montana to Cooke City
before entering Yellowstone
Park. It was raining, cold, (about five feet of
snow on tap) patches of thick fog and at times windy. This is all on a road with numerous 15 and 20
mph curves. It could have been fun on a
sunny late August day but it certainly wasn’t this day. I was in pure misery by the time I reached Cooke City. Nevertheless, I persevered and got the two
caches in Cooke City
which took care of Park
County. One was a magnetic on the side of a café and
the other was at a log cabin behind a store.
Having
taken care of business I joined several other bikers sheltered under the
overhang of a Super 8 Motel. After
resting and visiting for a while I departed for Yellowstone
in fairly heavy rain. I had my Golden
Age pass in my raincoat pocket and the attendant at the entrance was nice
enough to dig it out for me so I didn’t have to take off my rain gloves. The rain tapered off in Yellowstone
and soon was gone to my relief.
I
had my only really close call in Yellowstone,
however. I suppose I was doing about 50
mph when suddenly a small critter zipped from the right side of the road and
went directly under my front wheel. It was
so quick I couldn’t even tell what it was.
It looked most like a small raccoon but it was moving faster than what a
racoon usually does. Whatever it was, it
was hard as a rock and knocked my wheel sideways and I almost went down. There was too much traffic for me to stop and
see what it was. I didn’t want to have
to re-pass all the cars I had overtaken.
I
did stop at the Tower
Falls overlook to use the
restroom and take off my rain gear. I
went a ways farther before stopping by a stream for my sardine lunch. It was a good break. Very soon after leaving the park at West
Yellowstone I stopped for a couple of caches to take care of Gallatin County. From shortly before leaving Yellowstone to many miles ahead I must have seen at least
a hundred bicyclists. They didn’t seem
to be racing and they weren’t loaded like tourists. I saw only two small groups and the rest were
singles or doubles. I don’t know what
was going on with that but as many motorcyclists as I saw on this trip I
believe I saw even more bicyclists.
I
stopped in Ennis to get two caches for Madison County
and to get gas. It started raining while
I was getting gas but fortunately I was under covered gas pumps. I donned my rain gear again and took off for
Dillon. Of course, having donned my rain
gear caused the rain to soon cease. In
Dillon I stayed at the same Motel 6 where I had stayed on a trip a couple of
years previously. I found a cache nearby
at a “pickers” place that was really interesting. I had dinner at a restaurant recommended by
the motel attendant that turned out to be excellent. It was so crowded (a good sign) I ate at the
counter. I had some type of grilled
chicken rollup that was really good. This
had been a long day for having covered only 301 miles.
The
next morning was cool but sunny. I
gassed up and picked up a really tasty milk type drink at Safeway to wash down
my granola bar. Now the nightmare began. I was planning to go west to Wisdom which I
have done before. However, I was paying
way too much attention to my GPS which led me to a cache about 10 miles in the
wrong direction. On top of that I didn’t
find the cache. There must be something
about this area that gives the Garmins fits because I had problems a couple of
years ago when I was in this area. I
headed back to Dillon and again the GPS led me to a cache in the wrong
direction. I had probably traveled 25
miles before I figured out something wasn’t right. I believe it was Highway 91. I decided to try another road heading west so
at least I wouldn’t go any further out of my way. I had no sooner gotten on this road which was
terrible than I was stopped by road construction. When the pilot car finally got to me I asked
the driver about the road and she strongly advised me not to take it. She said it was terrible and that a
motorcyclist had been killed on it last year.
So back I go to Dillon.
This
time I finally got it right and went through Jackson and over to Wisdom. I stopped for gas at Wisdom and watched while
a herd of cattle was being driven right down Main Street. I’m embarrassed to say this but I again took
the wrong direction. I went only a short
ways this time before realizing my mistake.
I finally was on Highway 43 heading west toward Lost Trail Pass and Highway 93. I didn’t actually get into rain but it had
been raining and the road was wet at the pass so I had to take it easy and miss
the opportunity for a fun ride down. I
stopped at a Rest Area near the bottom, took off my rain gear and had a little
break. I got a couple more caches before
stopping at Lolo for gas. The weather
was threatening but no rain yet. At Lolo
a big wind came up and I could see huge black clouds to the west. It was enough to make me don my rain gear
again.
Unbelievably,
although the road was wet I didn’t actually get into much rain. After the day I was having I didn’t even stop
for a cache. I stopped again in Kamiah
for gas and got home around 4:30 p.m. after a 500 mile day. It was a fun trip but I will have to say not
nearly so much as many of my others. I
think it was because of the weather and I had too many miles for the number of
caches. It’s nice if I can stop for a
cache on average every 50 miles or so.
So what’s next on the agenda? My
son, Yancey, did Wyoming and Utah
with me and as he lives in the Denver area I
believe I’ll try to finish Colorado and do Arizona (only 13
counties). California still waits some time in the
future when I can summon the courage. M/W
Pictures 1-Pickers place in Dillon; 2-Cattle herd in Wisdom; 3-GPS showing total mileage of 2,158; 3-My motorcycle really looked dirtier than the picture shows.
4 comments:
"courage"?
This is "motocaching," collecting geocaches by means of a motorcycle. I call it self-imposed agony. We have a car. And I'm even a willing companion. I'm just not willing to ride a motorcycle.
Well, Richard, for a kid raised in Moss Point and spending most of his adult life in sparsely populated Idaho, the prospect of tackling a 14 lane freeway on a 400 pound motorcycle is a little daunting. I can just see it now - "*%#@, I didn't want to go to San Diego yet".
As one of the great philosophers of the South once said, "Stu**d is as stu**d does". Another said, "You can't fix stu**d!" No one ever said that you can't fix courage.
But you always were a risk taker!
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