The Lightness of being
Calgary to Sturgis and back
MAG and HOG member John 'Goldfinger' Snelgrove gets about a bit
Rode south to Glacier National Park to ride through Logan's pass which was closed due to forest fire (120 mile detour). I met my first grizzly bear cub 300yds from the border crossing; poor little thing was lame and limped across the road, however within a milli-second a picture of MUMMA BEAR crossed my mind so the thought of 'what can I do?' became a 'what should I do?', the first of many occasions where my survival came rapidly into focus as the primary option when I started out thinking what can I do to help.
The rolling hills east of the Rockies flattened out and curled around a beautiful lake toward Missolla. Then the first road works, nine miles of loose gravel and big trucks with very nice road side lollipop style stop-and-go (women usually) and a follow-me car took me through the dust. It was reminiscent of the wild west high plains on the TV.
South to Dillon through Missloula where I crossed my first white line and Mr Plod saw me, turned on the Christmas tree and fired up the band. When I realised he meant me, well I pulled over immediately, assumed the submissive body language position (head down, hands out facing forwards). He then said something you never want to hear, 'I am citing you for dangerous driving crossing a white line.' My response - 'I am very sorry Officer, in England it's common to filter up to traffic lights in stationary traffic, I did not know and I will not do it again.' Driving licence, passport and he adjourned to the mission control centre on the front seat next to his Lady boss. He took 30seconds before coming out to say 'I accept your word that you will not do it again,' then to reinforce his position he looked at me like an executioner and said with big eyes 'I can arrest you for doing that over here.' I thanked him for his kindness, bid him farewell and carried on south.
Dillon, next to Yellowstone, was where I met a truck driver who firstly warned me about deer crossing the road at dusk where they will group up in bush next to the road and then cross - 'not the cleverest animal' he said. More importantly, he explained the wordage behind the meaning of 'a shot to drink'. One of my hobbies is finding out where words come from like Henry Wink, who would close one eye to let the ladies of Queen Victoria's Court know that he was about to tell a risqué story. Anyway, a shot, ie. a drink, comes from the cowboys who would come into town without any money and trade a drink for a bullet and when the paymaster arrived they would buy their bullets back from the barman - hence a Shot Glass.
Then on to Yellowstone - I actually waited one hour for Old Faithful to spout and to compensate for the wait I had someone take a photo of me with my hand over the sign so it read Old Geyser.
Buffalo have the right idea - they stand in the middle of the road, think about moving to the right, change their mind and move to the left, then stand in the middle of the road thinking about going to sleep, then nip off after 20 minutes to roll around in the sulphur spring with all their mates. I am sure they were laughing in a buffalo chuckle - you know, slobber chuckle slobber, face into the wind pretending to be Chinese and inscrutable, then saunter off with that reassured strut of a Sumo wrestler.
Everyone drives at minus 10mph in Yellowstone and there is good reason (they are all American and they haven't found second gear?). No, it's because it is stunningly beautiful and everyone is going through there in August.
On the way out through the North Rim exit the weather decided to say hello, and does it say HELLO! Cooke city - (6 shacks and a petrol station), was full and at 9pm I met a nice chap at the junction of Bear Tooth pass, 10,987ft, and Chief Joseph - a Jewish Indian? He came from Jackson Hole and being a local he said 'the weather's breaking up, it should be ok.' Now I often take pictures as I ride along and I must say that catching the sun set at 10,000 ft with that deep red glow was moving.
We got to Red Lodge in one piece and what a great town and bars they have.
The next day, as I got up early and was up the pass with an apple pie for breakfast at the top, the phrase the lightness of being came to mind. On my own at the top of the mountain with that sweet smell of clean air and deafening quietness. lightness of being is being aware and filling it with consciousness, my head and heart being in harmony which riding magnifies, opening my senses and literally being in touch with the earth air and sky.
Chief Joseph Pass and the history of the Indians being hunted down to the last man, was moving as I imagined them running and fighting and losing with desperation.
Running across from Cody into Shell Canyon gave a good insight into the change of elevation from an average 5,000ft down to 3,000ft and up to 9,000ft in just two hours. The air pressure change and clean cutting riding with no screen above 5,000 ft is Nirvana.
Shell canyon runs up to Sheridan and then a run across a plane to Gillett where I stayed before Sturgis.
Checking out the route took me to Devils Tower 1,296 ft - an old Indian site which looks like Close Encounters next to Hulat. The party there was just starting culminating on Wednesday with their own rally, much to the relief of the locals in Sturgis.
This year the numbers were down from an expected 500,000 (how the hell do they know? It's a constant sea of bikes and people). On to Custer, Crazy Horse and Mount Rushmore - all fantastic. Then it was up to Rapide city where I was based.
In the ride-in show HD Rapide city I came runner up in the Pro Big Twin Section (I am not a Pro bike builder but they thought I must be with all the work on my bike. Mr Willie G Davidson shook my hand and I thanked him for changing my life. I had moved house because I bought one of the first rods in the UK and needed a garage.
Sturgis is all about the people. The Broken Spoke bar being the place where it all started. This is where I met two English guys who were bumming it and having a great time.
The Mayor's ride-out created some memorable moments; when 300 of us rode to Crazy Horse and I met a policeman from Chicago. Remember Hill Street Blues and Animal - well he was the man. We swapped stories and laughed. Next the man with the megaphone asked everyone to line up for the official photograph of the Mayor's ride. I knelt down next to the Secretary of the Interior (Dirk Kempthorn), who was the Governor for Idaho, and sugested that it had 'been a long time since you got down on one knee' and his wife said 'He wont be doing that again and I love your accent.'
I then rode from Sturgis via Casper in Wyoming (huge open cast coal mine with 4 trains waiting and a 100 containers on each train) toward Jackson Hole.
The Titons mountain (which means tits in French) range is where I stayed the night and the gun fight every night at 6.15pm is worth seeing. There I met some folks who were secret service agents looking after Dick Cheney whilst he fished for salmon. They asked if I played pool and after seven balling them I saw an absolutely gorgeous woman across the bar and sauntered over to meet Randy Joe who was on her own until her boyfriend turned up. He looked like some one from the Poges and lost at pool for the first time (had to be done since I was not going to get any further with his lady).
On to Ketchum and then Stanley (population 100, altitude 7500ft), where I had planned on staying the night, but it was full, so after a fuel stop I carried on toward Lowman on route 21 before being forced to stop.
A couple of people in a rough off-road vehicle arrived and pointed a radio aerial across the valley as they were tracking wolves. I asked them if they could help me get back to the town as the bike had developed a bit of a problem.
Lynne Stone (www.wildwhiteclouds.org ) was a tall statuesque lady with a strong and determined face, but shy on the inside) She offered me a lift in their pickup which was in the middle of nowhere.
After a few stops it became apparent that Stanley was still full so they said I could sleep in their garage.
The garage turned out to be a millionaire's pine lodge that they were house sitting.
The evening progressed and we discussed the problem they had with the Wolves eating the cattle in the common land area. I suggested that the wolves could be GPS collared (a tingler or aversion therapy pulse system included) and a boundary fence be allocated which would keep them away from the cattle.
Ed is an amazing bloke who hitch-hiked through South Africa to Ethiopia and was made up that I had come up with the idea of the GPS collars for the wolves. He said he could never repay the favours that he had been given in his travels but to help a traveller like me was a part pay-back.
He and I at that time, were in a different world. We were exchanging thoughts and feelings without even thinking about what we were doing. It was a consciousness meeting of the minds which is so rare. The last time I felt this way was when I met Cecil Collins the Surrealist when I worked at Harrods Dept store. He also changed my life.
I then showed Ed pictures of me and the Secretary for the interior (ex Gov Idaho, the guy I knelt down next to at the Mayor's ride) and he said 'well this is meant to be.' It was one of those moments where as a rider, despite all my self reliance and solitude which is ingrained in me, I asked myself how amazing is this? These people helped me in the middle of nowhere and I could help them with their quest to recreate harmony with the Wolves and the cattle men. It was and remains with me as an amazing moment in my life.
The Film producer Ed La Grande (wildfire films) thought the same. 'That's amazing that we helped you and you could help us.'
I said I would send this story to Dirk Kempthorne the Secretary for the Interior and hoped that he would be able to reconcile the Wolves with the cattle men.
I fixed the bike problem and rode back through Stanley, then on route 21 to Lowman and up to McCall taking in some of the most remote and stunning scenery so far.
Never trust your GPS entirely.
Leaving McCall on the edge of a lake the GPS told me to turn right. So 60 miles further on and having run out of fuel three miles from my start point, I checked the map and stayed on route 95 up and back to Canada.
Crows nest pass is on a main interstate across toward Levi Bridge and is quite stunning.
Total distance approx 4,500m. Total days riding 14 out of 21.
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