|
|
||||
|
Ride It Like You Mean It |
||||
|
Volume 2, Number 1 May 2001 =============
New and Used Cycles, news, reviews & info:
|
Big Sky in Montana... Part 4 by Lauranne Bailey It’s early April and the temperatures are creeping just above 50 degrees. My husband has been zipping around on his KZ1000 since last weekend while my chaps are in the shop being repaired. For once I can say they are being reduced rather than expanded! As for my bike, I can only stare out the window at it resting in the garage as I tend to my spring cold. That’s what I get for bragging about being healthy all winter. When I finally feel better and crank the Triumph over, the battery gives little cooperation. It will have to wait until I return from a trip out east to visit family in Maryland. In the meantime, I bring you the second to last segment of last summer’s trip from Wisconsin, to Canada, to Montana and back. Day 7 Monday, July 31, Troy, Montana (day 7) I am one of the first to awake, and luxuriate as my eyes open, feeling the softness of the fur beneath me, the featherlight sleeping bag on top and I can feel my body purring for the first time since Tuesday. Cindy wakes up and I tell her this is my best night of sleep yet. I make some mention of not giving up the bed and she vehemently exclaims, "You promised I'd get it tonight!" I mumble, "Oh, that's right." So then I rave about the kitty blanket and say, "You know, I wonder what this is made of, cougar? lynx? wait, aren't the big cats endangered?" Cindy says, "Didn't you hear the explanation last night? I tell her, "No, I went out like a light." She says, "Look closer, it's a patchwork of tabbies and greys and…" I am really trying not to hurl at this point. She says, "Yeah, Al says he told all his neighbors if your cat is over here terrorizing my birds or fox, it's going to meet up with the rifle." Most were wild cats, I am told, but STILL…the thought of sleeping on domestic cats was a little more than this muskrat trapping, deer hunting, motorcycle touring woman could stomach. Trying to put that behind me, I prepare myself for a shower. But this takes me awhile. I am drinking caffeinated coffee on this trip, something I gave up years ago. While I'm rearranging my packs, Cindy hits the shower; then Peggy. I am the third to go in and have hot water for about 10 seconds. At this point I search my imagination, close my eyes and believe that I am really taking a shower in an ice cold waterfall spilling from some gorgeous Montana mountain spring. The other two guests on Al and Dave's porch from the evening before are Clarence and Val, Peggy's dad and sister from Washington State. Clarence offers to take us all out for breakfast in town. Three of us pile into Al's truck and three into Clarence's car and we're off to Troy for standard eggs, bacon, hash browns and whole wheat toast (no more brown toast) feast. We chat a lot, and have fun with Clarence and Val. As we prepare to leave, I am put into my little girl mode as Clarence says, "Aren't you going to eat all the bacon? Geez, looks like your eyes were bigger than your stomach when someone else foots the bill." I quickly retorted, "I am full. In Wisconsin you get three slices of skinny bacon, not this four slices of thick, long bacon. I am not used to this size portion being served." He groans a little and I add, "Can I give bacon to your dog?" (Weiner dog) He says, "Sure." So I packed up the two slices into a napkin and feed his dog treats throughout the day. As we're driving back to Al's, Peggy announces we're going to the old growth cedar forest. I say to her why didn't you tell us before breakfast so we could have brought cameras? She says I don't know, it just seems a good time to go see it. Well, it is one of two attractions we wanted to explore that day based on previous conversations. The other is a swinging bridge over the Kootenai River. We arrive into this mystical forest with childlike anticipation, where it takes four of us linking arms to circle some of the larger trees. The forest floor is bog-like with some springs, other dried streams (drought), but spongy in places, solid in others. The bird twitters are muted by the 100 or more feet of canopy above us. And just for a moment, I am in Tolkien's forest of Ents, where the trees are talking to me, and their branches are arms that welcome me and tell me I am protected in this space. Throughout our walk, Clarence takes pictures as he has his camera along. We enjoy the various poses, and tree caves, and walking the tree planks. It is so fun to feel 12-years-old and safe. It is only when we return to Al's that Clarence discovers his film was not forwarding on the reel, so our only pictures remain in our mind. It is time for Cindy, Mariann, Peggy and I to gather our laundry as this is how we were able to pack so lightly (we chuckle to ourselves). Karen, Al's sister-in-law across the road has agreed to let us use her washer and dryer for the day. Peggy mentions that Karen's husband always begins new projects and never finishes the old. One is building a house, and not finishing the interior, so when we walk in there, we see racks and racks of clothes in the living room because we are told the bedroom is not finished. We figure we can make it through three loads of laundry among the four of us, and we start one load, understanding it's going to take some time as the cold water barely makes a trickle into the washer. We will later finish the laundry by 6 a.m. the following day, and yes, it was only three loads.
Afterwards we drop Clarence off at Al's and head out to Troy for groceries, refreshments, and banking. We bring home the bounty and divide chores to prepare a feast of butterflied pork chops for the grill, steamed broccoli and cauliflower in a yogurt cheese sauce, bountiful salad greens, grilled potatoes, and pies for dessert. My job is to prepare the veggies, and I have lots of spare time to journal. I broke into a bottle of 1997 Columbia Crest Merlot (can't get this fine year anymore in Madison!) and began writing of my travels. Val is the only other one to help me out…everyone else sticks with water or beer. Dinner is served, and Al, Dave and Clarence, we can tell, are happy they didn't have to cook (yes it was another scorcher out in the sun. And here we are, all eight of us sitting on the porch, on the old couch and overstuffed chair, 50's kitchen chairs, enjoying the evening, the food the company, and difficult to say how it all began, but it's one of those things, when one's comment feeds off another’s, and a giggle here and there turns into a louder laugh the next time, side splitting laughter the next minute, and this continued until 2 a.m. This is the latest any of us four riders had stayed up the entire trip. There is something magical about allowing the endorphin flowage, letting the jokes and laughter fly, and releasing a week's worth of road tension into the Montana night, which gladly envelopes our cacophony as it echos from one mountain to the next. It is in this moment that what matters is the twilight of falling stars, the bugless air, the mountain wildflower show, and the connection of human souls on a level that may never be replicated again. Gone are the boundaries of vacuum cleaners, kitty blankets, leather coats, dust rags, hot water heaters, sleeping motorcycles. Connected, are eight jubilant souls, dancing in the starlight. Day 8 Tuesday, August 1 Troy MT to Big Timber MT 447 miles Today we leave Peggy behind. She has some business to take care of with the house she and her husband, Rolf, are building in the property adjacent to Al’s. Mariann decides to come with us. She has a new man back in Wisconsin and is anxious to be home before Sunday. I wake up fairly early, 7 a.m. and lament I only get five hours sleep until someone reminds me the time I was looking at was in Central Time, not Mountain, so I actually get six hours of sleep. I jump in the shower before anyone else gets half a chance. I need to have some warm water flowing across my body. We finish drying our laundry, pack our bags, our bikes, say some long good-byes and we are off by 9:30 a.m.. This time I lead the three of us through the mountains. I mention to Mariann that Cindy and I have reservations in a National Forest south of Bozeman down a mile of gravel road. She says she will most likely find a motel. When I add that our stop in Sturgis is down a 4-1/2 mile gravel road, she says she'll definitely be leaving us behind once we pass through the mountains. Our ride through Montana has little traffic, but much road construction. I realize I didn't miss that in Canada because there wasn't any to speak of. Mariann and Cindy have difficulties with the grooved pavement, where the first 1/2" of pavement is ground off for refinishing, and their bike tires dance in the grooves while their knuckles turn white gripping the handlebars for steering. For some very odd reason, Penelope’s (the name I decide to give my bike) tires are different or wider as the grooved pavement does not affect my riding ability. For that I am thankful, but it is difficult to watch the two behind me suffer as we move east. We meet up with a large stocky fellow and his partner from Washington State, riding on their Harley with trailer attached, heading to Sturgis. It is by chance we see each other at two different gas stops, and he is as terrified of the grooved pavement as are Mariann and Cindy. I have memories of that terror from other bikes, but am not part of this pow wow this trip. It is interesting and heartening to share these fears with others on the road, and especially with men, because men aren't always so vocal about things like this. At our late afternoon lunch stop, again, the heat becoming unbearable, we cancel the campground reservation in Bozeman and agree to ride to Big Timber with Mariann for a stay in a motel. We close in on Big Timber close to 8 p.m., when I lead us to an off the beaten path motel, only to find it full. We all nearly lose our bikes in the three inch loose rock driveway, then head back to the Super-8 only to get the absolutely last room there. We're feeling rather fortunate. Since we had a rather large lunch, we're happy to settle for some snack sandwiches and hanging out in the room. And we're pleasantly surprised to see three women and one man (husband of Laura) who are from the Milwaukee Area Women in the Wind chapter, the same chapter Mariann is from. We chat, catch up on stories, and return to our respective rooms for a good night's sleep. Join us next month for Part 5 |
|||
|
|
||||
