There are quite a few like-minded guys out here. After setting up camp outside Missoula last Wednesday I rode back to town to do laundry, update the blog and photos, and have dinner. At a sushi bar I sat next to another solo biker - Dave is in his mid-forties and hails from Orange County CA where he founded a dotcom. He rides a lot more than me and makes big trips often. He wants to "do Sturgis" next year. He offered good tips about packing and riding. And he liked the iPhone videos and the Family Tracker app. It felt great to connect with a kindred spirit.
Thursday morning while breaking camp I was visited by Max, who lives in the rather spooky trailer in the next site. Remember that this campground is well shy of "resort" and exactly the place you might live at as a last resort. Max, his dog and a disabled woman live here. He likes the motorcyclists that come through often and he had a lot of questions about my bike and trip. Later he came back to offer me a glass of V8 juice. I have tears in my eyes as I think of the generosity of that offering: he has so little and I am so blessed. Max put me to shame.
The heat gradually built as I rode from Missoula to Yellowstone Park. My outfit got progressively lighter as the day wore on.
At breakfast, I sat at the counter of a diner named the Bull's Back End. At one point a pony-tailed twenty-something girl dashed in to ask "Do you only have drip coffee?" It took a few seconds to understand that she NEEDED espresso or latte. The three older ladies behind the counter howled with laughter after she dashed away.
Late afternoon I made it to the town of West Yellowstone. At a Subway, I ate with another solo biker named Shane. He is younger, about 30, and everything about him is polished and cocky. His best advice was to get a road atlas at Wal-Mart and "follow the green dots" that signify scenic byways. He showed a photo of a grizzly bear in a river in Yellowstone - the bear was less than 100 feet away. I feel jealous, the top predators like wolves and grizzlies are hard to spot.
I entered the park and almost immediately came on a herd of elk grazing the riverbanks next to the road. Small traffic jams are pretty common wherever bison, pronghorns or elk are grazing. I found my way to Yellowstone Lake and set up camp at the Bridge Bay campground.
On Friday, I took a bit of Shane's advice and used the campground as a base for a big circuit ride. It was liberating as I rode 440 miles unencumbered by my sissy bar bag and duffel of camping gear. My course took me into the Lamar Valley to the northeast entrance and on to Cooke City and Soda Butte (where a camper was recently pulled from his tent and eaten by a grizzly). among the greatest motorcycle rides, the Beartooth Highway and Chief Joseph Highway are at the top of the list. I rode both that day. On reaching Cody WY I wolfed down a Quarter Pounder and drank a quart of Coke. Temperature was in the 90s and i was parched. But the main reason for choosing McDonalds: WiFi.
From Cody WY I turned west 75 miles back to Yellowstone via the east entrance. From there to Yellowstone Lake is another 25 miles of feisty scenic majesty.
Riding 440 miles in a day is grueling, so you can imagine my state of mind as the road curved along the northern shore of Yellowstone Lake: ten miles to go! I could practically see "home base" at Bridge Bay across the water.
But as I rounded a bend I saw traffic stopped on both directions by a herd what seemed at the time like 50 bison (but I count fewer than 20 in the photos). Half were grazing off the right shoulder and half were in the left lane walking toward me. I left a 30 yard gap to the car in front of me so the bison on the left could rejoin those on the right. Park rangers in a patrol car were wrangling the group on the road into that gap.
Once the bison were off pavement (but inches from me), traffic flow resumed. Four miles onward I came to another herd just as it was making it to the road. Only this time my motorcycle was the lead vehicle face-to-face with the herd. At this close range a bison's black eye is huge and it is impossible not to gaze into the depths of it. Two larger bulls suddenly turned and started chasing three younger bulls. (August is mating season.) This left only cows and calves in the road. I revved my Harley a bit and tooted my horn, emboldened by the wrangling of the park ranger. The herd quickly cleared the road and I motored on to the campground. Just another day on the road.
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