I took a week off of work with the intention of riding the Selkirk scenic loop - taking my time to stop and visit anythging that looked interesting.
Here is the album.
This morning, as I prepared to go, I kept finding reasons to bail on the trip. First of all, I just had a bad feeling about it - can't say why. I also found that I had been reading my service manual wrong and missed my 7500 mile service (though I did a full lube job yesterday). By the time I packed everything on the bike, it just looked way too top heavy. I removed some things even though I did not feel I had packed anything unnecessary.
Teri and the boys got home from church at noon, and were surprised to see I had not left. I told Teri about my apprehension with leaving, and she said to just take off and if I felt like it, turn around and come home.
I am now a few miles North of Bonners Ferry along side a logging road, and have had a very good ride.
I took Highway 95 to Potlatch, where I had to fill up. The White Pine scenic byway leaves Potlatch to St. Maries and includes the wonderful White Pine drive - a twisty corridor of trees and little traffic. From St. Maries, I went along the St. Joe river and Lake Benewah to Plummer. Back on Highway 95, I headed North to Coeur d'Alene. Just south of CdA is an elaborate tribal casino, which was just a tent when Teri and I moved here in 1997.
There's a long bridge that takes highway 95 across Lake Pend Orreille; parallel to a train track bridge. It was an exceptional view riding alongside a three engine train atop the beautiful lake. I raced tha train from Sandpoint to Pend Oreille (the city) where we parted paths.
Although it was just 6 pm when I arrived in Bonners Ferry, the sun was dropping below the mountains and I decided to begin looking for a camping sport. But first I needed to fuel up. I found a 24/7 conoco whose credit card reader slots at the pumps were duct taped over. A sign said to pay inside. I went to the doors, and there was a sign hung that said "Closed Sunday for church and restock." Luckily Bonner's Ferry is NOT a one gas station town.
About 6 miles north of Bonner's Ferry, I saw a camping sign and turned off. I followed a gravel road for about three miles before picking a spot to set cammp. Along the way, I saw a large black bear. I really need to figure out a way to get to my camera fastyer. The bear made me decide to skip dinner tonight.
Woke up at 6am after a chilly night.
By the time I packed and started to roll out, the sun was just peaking over the mountains.
Riding in the cold towards the border, I thought of the things I did right and wrong so far on the trip:
right: packing my winter riding gloves and helmet liner.
wrong: leaving my sweats (no packing space)
right: bringing long johns
wrong: bringing an old tarp with paint on it (should have sprung for a new one)
I hit the northern end of US highway 95 at about 8:00 am. I spent a bit of time taking pictures before crossing the border. Crossing was no hassle, I just had to answer a few simple questions and show my drivers license. A family of wild turkeys welcomed me as I entered British Columbia.
I filled up and had breakfast in Creston. From Creston I head north along highway 3a.
I arrived at the Kootenay Bay at 11:30, and boarded the Osprey 2000 at 12:15. The loader told me to pull up right next to a Harley Softail in front; the riders weren't too pleased about that nor was the guy in the car adjacent to me who was trying to get out just as I pulled up. The ferry ride is supposed to be the largest free ferry in N. America, and runs just over 30 minutes. The scenery across Kootenay Lake is wonderful - the type of clean blue mountain air that makes you take a deep breath and clear mountain water that makes you thirsty.
There's a real friendly local guy who asked what type of bike I had. I told him it was a Kawasaki Ninja. "Crotch rocket, eh?" He rides a Yamaha V-star himself. We talked bikes for a bit. Later he saw me typing and said "Boy you just bring yer computer right with ya hey?"
Another guy came up to ask where in the States I was from. I told him Moscow, ID and he said he had heard that there was a "Testy Festy" near there in Montana. I told him I had seen the signs but never attended. He'd heard it was a real party and was going to look it up on the internet. One of these days I might ride to the famous Testical Festival - might even try a nut.
While debarking, I apologized to the harley rider for crowding him. He smiled and said that's ok. He said he just likes to watch over his bike because sometimes when he parks it but doesn't put it in gear it likes to walk off while on the ferry.
From Balfour it's on to Nelson.
Update Sept 21 2006
The rest of the ride was beautiful - so much so that I didn't even stop to write.
On my way back to the border at Nelway BC & Metaline, WA, I had a desire to cut across Highway 3 instead. The only problem was that it was getting late in the day and I needed to find a camping spot. I flipped a mental coin and went to Highway 3. I'm sure glad I did because it is one of the more scenic roads I have been on. The highway is closed during the winter, and features nice rocky cliffs and unspoiled forested valleys.
Crossing the border at Rykerts / Porthill was interseting. I took pictures, but got into trouble because of it with the border guard. He told me it was a risky thing to do on 9/11, and asked to examine my pictures. He said he wouldn't make me delete them (I didn't care if he would have..). Although he said there was a sign posted that said no photos, I didn't see it. He then proceeded to lecture me on the risk of hitting animals I was taking by riding a motorcycle. I was in a foul mood by the time he finally let me go.
As I rode south, I was keeping an eye open for a camping spot. Something drove me to keep riding. I got as far as Sandpoint and it was still light. I began calculating how late it would be when I got home, and this combined with whatever was making me want to keep at it made me decide to just return home. This was Monday night, the beginning of what was supposed to be my week long vacation.
Riding South of Coeur d'Alene, Highway 95 is narrow and under construction with a 45 mph speed limit. It was dark, and a guy was tailgaiting me real bad. I usually pull over and let these clowns move on out of my life in this type of situation, but there is nowhere to pull over on this stretch of road. He finally passed me on a double yellow line, driving me to the edge of the road. The shoulder there was steep gravel, so I dared not go onto it. I couldn't see it due to the tailgater's bright headlights, but immediately behind him was a semi truck pulling a trailer. I don't know if the driver didn't see me or was just being a jerk, but he passed on the double yellow as well. Since I did not see the truck, I was starting to pull back onto the highway. I saw the truck just barely in time and swerved over. As the trucker passed, he laid on his horn (it was too late for the sound to have warned me). I was glad when that stretch ended at the casino.
I made it home just after 10 pm. Shortly after that I broke out in a fever and spent the rest of the week in bed with a terrible flu. I'm glad I wasn't in a tent when the bug hit me.
The trip was good. I learned I can be awake and aware and ready to react to aggressive drivers late at night on narrow roads.
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