Day 8
Back into the US. Some proper frolicking and some great moments.
Woke up to cloudy skies and some rain. Spotty rain cells here and there. Rain gear on, and a ride around Nakusp to find breakfast. Found a nice little coffee shot where a chilled a while over coffee, a fresh blueberry muffin with nice plump berries, and if I remember right a small omelette, chatted with an HD dude and his wife. Friendly as could be. He was saying he wasn't comfortable on the mountain roads, and couldn't believe all the bikes "just like yours" running so fast on the roads. I wasn't sure what he meant by "just like yours", but I figured he just meant non-HD standards?
I ran to New Denver where the sun broke. I found a bench next to the lake and reveled in the sun. Took some pictures and wrote in my journal a bit.
Then Great Motorcycle Road #5, 3A out to Kaslo. This is the one everyone talks about. And it's a fine road.
These are the Kootenay Mountains. And while 3A is a awesome road, all the roads around here are awesome. This is motorcycle paradise. It is a destination. I could have stayed two weeks just in this area.
3A took me to Kaslo. The sun was out and the town was inviting. Folks walking around not in a hurry. They seemed content going about their days, not tourists looking for the next thing to check off their list. I parked down by the lake and walked up to town. Went into a bakery and sure enough they had coffee, so I got a cup and a croissant to eat outside.
While I was in there I guess I made some comment about currency, or maybe it was my accent, but this other customer says "You're American? What the hell are you guys trying to do to the world down there?" Kinda humorously, kinda aggressively. I smiled and apologized, and it turns out he was an ex-pat Oregonian. All good fun.
I sat outside all ready to chill and catch up on my journal, when ex-pat came out and asked if he could share the table. Honestly, I was a bit disappointed, I was looking forward to some writing. But of course I said sure, and we had a chat.
So, first of all I got squared away on the Kooteney Mountains. Story I got was that Calgary is full of folks with lots money from the tar sand mining. And those folks need to go somewhere to vacation and spend their money. So they go to Banff and places like that, and create monstrosities of overly-intentional quaintness where they can wear their carefully selected and expensive fashions so to look properly "casual".
But, the Kooteney Mountains are just a bit too hard to get to for a long weekend from Calgary. Mostly because of the lakes and ferry system. To get in there you are going to wait for a boat somewhere. And you can't fly in, the local airport strip may be long enough for a Leer, but there's no facilities for instrument landings.
So, folks there are folks that have the time to get there. And while there is money there, it's not defined by the money. It was pleasantly quaint, and had a real local feel to me. There are condos on the lake that look kinda like the shoreline villages on Nova Scotia all brightly colored. And plenty of characters around. Apparently the spirit of the local Quaker commune populated by folks avoiding the Vietnam war is still a vein in the local character.
I thought the town had a European feel (although, I've never been there so what do I know). I deeply love living where I do in the Driftless region of Wisconsin, and this is probably the first place I've been in while where I thought, I could pick up and move here.
We talked politics. It was easy because we largely agreed. I told him I used to be more politically involved, and have put in time trying to get my favorite candidate elected. But I couldn't find the energy to deal with the negativity anymore. He had actually run for office.
Think about this: If you walk into a grocery store that is crowded with stressed people on a weekend day, you can impact that place with, well, not even kindness. Just basic human decency. If you smile at a person, are calm, let people go first, just basic stuff, that energy can be almost physical. It can permeate the entire store. Not that suddenly folks break into choreographed dance singing they Sound of Music. Just that you can be part of the solution, and in a real way have an impact.
So we hit on that that is being politically involved enough. Just walking in the world rejecting negativity and hate and setting expectation for inclusion and respect for your fellow man ... well, these days that is a political statement and we need more of it. Sadly enough.
So, there we are. A long conversation. But on a trip you need to know when you are at your destination. When it is time to enjoy where you are, and not time to rush off to get to the next place. I don't know how many times I've said "this was a high point of the trip", and I'm going to say it a few more times, but sitting there on the street talking life in Kaslo is probably the moment I would most like to re-live from the trip.
We traded contact information, he was a writer and local ... well, dude living life pretty fully. http://www.kasloinstitute.com, www.rgmorse.com.
This is how dense I am. I was keeping track of Triumphs I saw on the road. I had seen a Thruxton on the Icefields Parkway. The day before I had met a guy on a Bonnie along with a guy on a Moto Guzzi V7 loaded up for travel. In Nakusp I had seen a T-100 strapped to the back of an RV parked on the side of the road. I scanned for the owner and knew him the moment I saw him, white bearded dude looking laid back and happy. It was obviously his, and it was confirmed when I got the thumbs up for my bike.
But riding 31A there were several packs of Triumphs I passed going the other way. And walking down to my bike I found a few more, and a group of guys in Triumph shirts chatting.
And it dawned on me finally. Is there a rally nearby? Sure enough, there was a big Triumph rally down in Nelson. I didn't get down there, but when I told folks how much I loved Kaslo I got strange looks. Apparently, Nelson is the "cool town". Next time ...
Apparently there are a lot of rallies in the area. It is a motorcycle destination. There is at least one "motorcycle resort" near New Denver. Before leaving I explored the shoreline on the bike a bit, riding down the the marina, etc. A guy waved me down and thanked me for not having a loud bike. Nice enough guy, apparently early in the season there is a huge rally full of loud pipe guys. He was happy to know we aren't all jerks.
I worked my way down to Balfour. A group of three twins caught up with me from behind. I wasn't riding that fast and they clearly knew the road well. I expect they had been running up-and-down it all morning. So I let them pass, and fell in behind, screwing on the throttle and smelling the gas from their pipes, listening to the coolness of the sound. Most fun. This morning, when the HD guy talked about bikes "just like yours" whizzing by him, now I realized, yes, they were exactly like mine, riding exactly like this.
There was a long line and a long wait for the ferry in Balfour. Which was fine. Chatted with some dog owners. Hung out with an HD dude, a retired railroader, foreman from a switch yard (or something). Real laid back easy-going guy. The ferry ride was a longer one, quite scenic and relaxing.
From there I headed down to Porthill and crossed back into the States. Another easy crossing, not had a problem yet.
I worked down to the intersection of Rt 95 and Rt 2 and got some lousy gas station food, which I'm strangely addicted to. It was pretty hot, and a storm building up behind the mountains to the west. This is the moment of the trip where I will switch from complaining about the rain to complaining about the heat.
My plan was to camp just north of Whitefish that night. As I was planning my route there, a new Thruxton R pulled up. Triumph Charlie, the floor manager from the dealership down in Missoula. I mentioned I might head to Missoula that night instead of camping, and without missing a beat he said "stay at the Belle Aire" and gave me some bar recommendations (all of which were already well on my radar and in my plans). I am not one to ignore a recommendation like that, so I booked a room and headed to Missoula.
It was a prolonged high speed run. If I pushed hard I'd make it by 10PM. I actually enjoyed it, but it's not often I ride that long without a break. My knees were locking on me a bit.
I did stop at Callahan Creek, named after me although I'm not sure why.
See that blue sky? See it? It was warm and dry and marvelous. It put a smile on my face.
I made it to the motel a bit before 10.
I unloaded, moved into my room and hit the street. I went to school in Missoula for a year back in 1986 and was eager to revisit my old haunts.
First, of course, to Charlie B's. They've started serving cajun food there in the back, I got something, I forget what. Talked to some young guy in law school, all ready to change the world practicing tribal law when he got out. Heck, I'm surviving the rest of my career, I don't think I have any aspirations there anymore. It was going to be a night of feeling old among the young and vibrant.
Moved to the bar and ordered a beer and a shot. Not sure why I needed the shot, but there you are. Tried to make small-talk with a lady next to me, in my age bracket even. Not sure what I said, or what she thought she heard, but she laughed at me and turned her back to me. A swing and a miss.
It was pretty crowded. Remember all that "kindness is a physical force" BS from a few paragraphs back? I scooted over to let some other lady get to the bar to order, and had friends for life. Her and her husband (again, my age bracket) and another couple. He raced jet skis. Just a stupid hobby that was a ton better than watching TV and had him hanging out with a bunch of cool guys he liked. I don't know what we talked about, but at some point I shoved off and they begged me to stay. Probably could have hung with them all night, but best to leave them wanting more.
Over to a bar with a martini sign on the window. I'm a sucker for that. Had a martini and a Macallan 12. It was a quiet place, not the sort of traffic that's going to keep them going long. Although, they might cater to the after-work crowd. Bartender said she worked Sturgis and made crazy good money there in a couple weeks. A bunch of kids came in to get a free birthday drink. Bartender said the best part of Sturgis is that no one turns 18 there.
Then over to the Missoula Club for a burger and a beer. They gave me a Bud Light. Do I look like a light beer guy? No. I'm not a Bud guy either, but there is a time and a place for everything. The Missoula Club is a Bud place. The burger gets all it's flavor from the thousands of previous burgers cooked on that grill over the past god knows how many years. A freaking excellent burger, eaten among just a ton of drunk college kids.
Then over to the Top Hat until closing, listening to a real cool quirky couple guys. One on a Cello (right?) playing kinda folky rock. Not sure what I had to drink there. Lord, hopefully nothing.
Left there. I remember giving some kid puking in the urinal a paternal pat on the back and said it'd be alright. Had a nice long conversation with some kids on the street asking for change, homeless or near it. Not a good sign when I start engaging such people in conversation. But they were cool enough, struggling with some mental health issues I think. Missoula was probably a good town for them.
Some girl was having a hard time focusing on her cell phone. I asked if she needed help and she said no. I went over to a food truck and mingled with that crowd, got some carnita tacos. Watch that girl wander off with the next guy who offered her help. Hope that all worked out.
And wandered back to my motel. Drunker than I should have been, but no damage was done. Damn fine night.