Day 14. Alaska Ride 2017: Morgan Creek Campground in Central Idaho
I wake to find the temperature at 35 degrees. After a hand-freezing pack-up, I successfully navigate back down the gravel road to the main highway and head South.
The Salmon river continues to meander flowing North.
I am traveling South, but something feels wrong and I get the impression that I am traveling downhill, but the river is flowing North: must be an optical illusion. The river takes us to a small canyon that is densely packed with trees, and it feels even colder. I would have used the heated jacket, but I packed it away a few days ago. I finally pop-out into a prairie area that I cross for about an hour, and then the road goes over a mountain. Along the way, are offers for scenic viewpoints, which I decline since the smoke prohibits seeing too far. There have been many viewpoints I would have loved to stop at over the last few days, if it were not for the smoke. I enter Ketchum and am amazed at how upscale the town is. I was expecting a sleepy little town, but instead find a touristy ski resort town. I want to get some breakfast so I start into town looking at Yelp for guidance. The restaurants I see are very much upscale “che-fee-fee” restaurants, which are not what I was looking for. I stop the bike in a clearly defined “no parking” stripped zone, to check Yelp for another breakfast option. While I am pondering the iphone screen, I hear a voice say “Do you need directions?”. I look up and there in the middle of the street is a really nice looking police SUV, and an officer looking at me. Realizing that I am looking bad, in both my garb and my parking spot, I say “Yes, I am heading South”. Which is kind of a stupid thing to say since the highway comes in fro the North and exits the city to the South.
If I came in from the North, then all I would need to do is continue on. “Do you need to know how to get to Twin?” asks the officer. I respond with “Yes, that is it”, and he says “you get back on the 93 and head South, you cannot miss it”. I thank him profusely for the information, start my engine and take off South. I get to Twin Falls and find that just as you get there a huge ravine appears, much like what you encounter coming Southbound into Tao, New Mexico. You are just traversing the prairie and suddenly the earth gives way to a huge gap. I get about an hour South of Twin Falls and stop at a rest stop to get a snack, and check on the oil level on the bike. In order to accurately check the oil level I must put the bike on the maintenance stand, and in order to get the bike on the maintenance stand I must take off the pannier, because they are too heavy to get the bike up on.
As I am sitting down, Roger an older guy dressed in black pants, black tee shirt, pony tail and tats walks up and says “You okay, you having bike problems?” I tell Roger that I am just checking the oil, and there is no problem. He then tells me he is a bike guy, but is driving the motor-home in front of us. Roger then says “I was not too far from here about 20 years ago riding with my friend, and I pulled over to wait for him. I waited and waited, and then a lady pulled up in a car and asked if I was waiting for another guy, and If I was, then he was back about a mile in the middle of the road. I went back, and there he was with an electrical problem and he had a rock on the panel, and was sitting on the rock.” Before I could get better clarity on the road, and the electrical panel story, Roger’s wife Gloria walks up with their dog, as she was having a hard time trying to get the dog to “go”. “Are you telling a Pete story?” Gloria cheerfully chimes. In a downward beat, Gloria then continues with “Oh….Pete died yesterday” as she looks at me. I tell them that I am sorry, and they tell me they have been on the road telling each other Pete stories, and reliving the good old days when they would ride these same roads with Pete. Gloria hands Roger the dog, and then heads off to do her own thing. While Gloria is gone, Roger tells me that he once went way up North in Alaska on his Harley. “I only saw about 5 Harleys way up North, mostly it was BMWs” says Roger. “I ran into another Harley guy at a campsite, that was waiting on a new chain to be delivered, and he was on his third chain, and boy it would be expensive to have a chain delivered to a remote campsite. I was hoping that was not going to be me next” says Roger. The last thing Roger told me was that I needed to check out Shoshone Falls, as it was as great as Niagara Falls. I told him that I had never heard of Shoshone falls, but I would be sure to check it out next time through. As I continued on, the temperature got to 95 degrees and the smoke slowly dissipated. By the time I got to central Nevada the smoke was all but gone, thanks to a wind coming out of the South. At one point, I was riding and saw what looked to be a gliding bird in the air above and in front of me. As I got closer, it looked more like a glider. Suddenly, I realized it was a tumbleweed, suspended in the air by an invisible dust devil. But, by the time I realized it was a dust devil, it was too late, and I was in it being jerked around the highway. The landscape was classic Nevada sagebrush, with mountains in the background and nothing in between. My plan for the night was to camp near Austin, Nevada, but due to several heavy-duty road construction projects, my progress was greatly diminished. As I was approaching Ely, a great and dark storm was coming out of the South. The winds were the strongest of the trip, as great, or greater than the winds I encountered in the Yukon. At his point, I could only achieve a speed of 65 mph, due to the intensity of the head-winds. There was heavy blowing sand, so I decided to forgo the camping and find a hotel in Ely. I was lucky to get a room at the same hotel that I had used two years ago on my highway 50 ride. Overall, there were tremendous landscape and temperature changes on this 455 mile ride through Idaho and Nevada: a good day.
I am traveling South, but something feels wrong and I get the impression that I am traveling downhill, but the river is flowing North: must be an optical illusion. The river takes us to a small canyon that is densely packed with trees, and it feels even colder. I would have used the heated jacket, but I packed it away a few days ago. I finally pop-out into a prairie area that I cross for about an hour, and then the road goes over a mountain. Along the way, are offers for scenic viewpoints, which I decline since the smoke prohibits seeing too far. There have been many viewpoints I would have loved to stop at over the last few days, if it were not for the smoke. I enter Ketchum and am amazed at how upscale the town is. I was expecting a sleepy little town, but instead find a touristy ski resort town. I want to get some breakfast so I start into town looking at Yelp for guidance. The restaurants I see are very much upscale “che-fee-fee” restaurants, which are not what I was looking for. I stop the bike in a clearly defined “no parking” stripped zone, to check Yelp for another breakfast option. While I am pondering the iphone screen, I hear a voice say “Do you need directions?”. I look up and there in the middle of the street is a really nice looking police SUV, and an officer looking at me. Realizing that I am looking bad, in both my garb and my parking spot, I say “Yes, I am heading South”. Which is kind of a stupid thing to say since the highway comes in fro the North and exits the city to the South.
If I came in from the North, then all I would need to do is continue on. “Do you need to know how to get to Twin?” asks the officer. I respond with “Yes, that is it”, and he says “you get back on the 93 and head South, you cannot miss it”. I thank him profusely for the information, start my engine and take off South. I get to Twin Falls and find that just as you get there a huge ravine appears, much like what you encounter coming Southbound into Tao, New Mexico. You are just traversing the prairie and suddenly the earth gives way to a huge gap. I get about an hour South of Twin Falls and stop at a rest stop to get a snack, and check on the oil level on the bike. In order to accurately check the oil level I must put the bike on the maintenance stand, and in order to get the bike on the maintenance stand I must take off the pannier, because they are too heavy to get the bike up on.
As I am sitting down, Roger an older guy dressed in black pants, black tee shirt, pony tail and tats walks up and says “You okay, you having bike problems?” I tell Roger that I am just checking the oil, and there is no problem. He then tells me he is a bike guy, but is driving the motor-home in front of us. Roger then says “I was not too far from here about 20 years ago riding with my friend, and I pulled over to wait for him. I waited and waited, and then a lady pulled up in a car and asked if I was waiting for another guy, and If I was, then he was back about a mile in the middle of the road. I went back, and there he was with an electrical problem and he had a rock on the panel, and was sitting on the rock.” Before I could get better clarity on the road, and the electrical panel story, Roger’s wife Gloria walks up with their dog, as she was having a hard time trying to get the dog to “go”. “Are you telling a Pete story?” Gloria cheerfully chimes. In a downward beat, Gloria then continues with “Oh….Pete died yesterday” as she looks at me. I tell them that I am sorry, and they tell me they have been on the road telling each other Pete stories, and reliving the good old days when they would ride these same roads with Pete. Gloria hands Roger the dog, and then heads off to do her own thing. While Gloria is gone, Roger tells me that he once went way up North in Alaska on his Harley. “I only saw about 5 Harleys way up North, mostly it was BMWs” says Roger. “I ran into another Harley guy at a campsite, that was waiting on a new chain to be delivered, and he was on his third chain, and boy it would be expensive to have a chain delivered to a remote campsite. I was hoping that was not going to be me next” says Roger. The last thing Roger told me was that I needed to check out Shoshone Falls, as it was as great as Niagara Falls. I told him that I had never heard of Shoshone falls, but I would be sure to check it out next time through. As I continued on, the temperature got to 95 degrees and the smoke slowly dissipated. By the time I got to central Nevada the smoke was all but gone, thanks to a wind coming out of the South. At one point, I was riding and saw what looked to be a gliding bird in the air above and in front of me. As I got closer, it looked more like a glider. Suddenly, I realized it was a tumbleweed, suspended in the air by an invisible dust devil. But, by the time I realized it was a dust devil, it was too late, and I was in it being jerked around the highway. The landscape was classic Nevada sagebrush, with mountains in the background and nothing in between. My plan for the night was to camp near Austin, Nevada, but due to several heavy-duty road construction projects, my progress was greatly diminished. As I was approaching Ely, a great and dark storm was coming out of the South. The winds were the strongest of the trip, as great, or greater than the winds I encountered in the Yukon. At his point, I could only achieve a speed of 65 mph, due to the intensity of the head-winds. There was heavy blowing sand, so I decided to forgo the camping and find a hotel in Ely. I was lucky to get a room at the same hotel that I had used two years ago on my highway 50 ride. Overall, there were tremendous landscape and temperature changes on this 455 mile ride through Idaho and Nevada: a good day.
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