Dan's Travel Adventures

The morning of Lolo Pass, we wake up in Kamiah, ID, and are very soon on Lolo, enjoying some of the best riding imaginable. This is day 36 – more than a month on the road, and our bikes have become extensions of our bodies. Lolo verifies this – we’re running a spirited pace, but it’s all just flowing.

That night, we arrive Bozeman. It’s hot, and we change into our suits and set off to find the pool. Alas, like so many, it was closed during COVID, and never reopened. We settled for a nice meal in a well airconditioned restaurant, and I decided on a stogie as the night brought some cooler weather. Sitting on the bench, looking at a trike someone’s parked nearby, a woman asks if that’s my bike. “No, mine is one of those three – the dirty bikes”. She seems sad, and I ask what brings her to Bozeman. Her boyfriend is terminally ill, so they’ve bought a minivan and set out to see the west. 5 days in, the boyfriend’s health deteriorated and he has spent the last three weeks in an ICU in Bozeman. She was running out of money, she knew he was never leaving the hospital, and she felt trapped by the situation. So many people had shown me kindness this trip…it seemed letting this woman cry and unload was simply my turn to do the same. The next morning she came out, heading to the hospital as we were packing up. Wishing her peace in the coming days was all I had in my possession to offer.

When we arrived at the first gas stop that morning, I discovered in a panic, I had left my wallet in the hotel room. A lovely young woman at the front desk found it when I called, and I made arrangements to have it overnighted to a stop we knew we were making in about a week – Columbus Ohio, for one last tire. My riding companions were wonderfully patient with me – I’m not the easiest person to be around when I am angry, even if it’s with myself. Serendipity struck when Mitch mentioned that I could probably put my credit card number in ApplePay, and use my phone until I had my wallet. A high-tech workaround for a slow tech-adopter.

The next couple days were mostly interstates, as we wound through Montana, Wyoming and Colorado. Wyoming offered us something we’d not had in decades – a smoking-permitted restaurant!! It was a novelty, albeit not one we’d care to see return. We continued south, eventually coming into Grand Lake, CO, the western entrance to Rocky Mountain National Park (RMNP). Grand Lake is a lovely little town, and we stayed in a mountain lodge, with cabins and a nice restaurant. A welcoming pool afforded an opportunity to chat with folks from all over. It seems our adventure is very interesting to others, so the conversations are easy and free flowing. The views are incredible from the mountain lodge, but the hill back to our cabin reminds us we are way up, and the air is thin.

Day 39 opens, and we know it will be our last day in the twisties. After Denver, we have to high-tail it back, as Tony has received some hard news from a lifelong friend who has lost a family member. Our trip isn’t cut short by much, but we’re not taking the leisurely path through West Virginia. First, though, we are treated to the absolute stunning mountains of RMNP. We have traffic at the beginning, and it’s too tight to effectively pass our way to clear roads, so we’re as patient as we can be in the morning. Soon it clears, and we climb ever higher. As we pass through 7500 feet, I can notice a loss of power on the bike, as the less dense air carries less oxygen for combustion. As we pass 10,000 feet, my lungs begin to tell my body the same story – less oxygen. At 12,000 feet, we stop for pics, and I’m feeling mildly icky. I know it’s the elevation, and I am hoping it doesn’t get worse. It’s not bad, just an unknown. Still, the views are staggering, and we’re a bit giddy taking it all in. Near the peak there is a herd of elk warming themselves on a sunny hillside. It’s mostly green, but not a lot of vegetation. Colorado continues to surprise us with all its beauty.

Soon, we are heading down, and feeling much better. The road is quite good, and we revisit a stretch Mitch and I rode two years ago. As we come more fully out of the mountains and leave the park, we find some really great roads taking us to Boulder, where we stop for lunch. After lunch and cooling off, we’ll pass through Denver, and start the long slab home.

The remainder of the trip, while not great from a riding perspective, is still quite good. We get to visit with Mike S., an old friend who helps us get new tires, even though he’s on vacation from the shop. We have dinner and catch up, and it’s wonderful to learn he’ll be coming out our way in September, and will stay with me for an overnight.

Tony, Mitch and I are also in our routine. We’re all ready to be home, and ready to be off the bikes, but each of us wishes, if only in a little way, that it didn’t have to end. Every day, our miles to home count down, but we’re quite efficient at this now, so it doesn’t seem that difficult.

We reach home July 21, a Friday. We’ve traveled 13,200 miles in 43 days. We have consumed somewhere around 375 gallons of fuel each, an oil change, 6 or 7 tires each, 42 nights in a hotel, and too many stories to count. It was an adventure that would be hard to replicate – a once-in-a-lifetime trip.

The three of us set off without really knowing what to expect, except that it would be hard, and wonderful and a bit crazy, and it certainly delivered on all those. Somewhere along the way, I discovered I enjoy writing a bit, too.

As the weeks have gone by since returning home, the difficulties of the trip have faded and the incredibly special moments have become hardwired, ready to be recalled and cherished, again and again. I have rematriculated, but I am moving more deliberately. I think my subconscious is asserting the wisdom of a more ruthless prioritization of what’s important. It’s a wonderful integration of the distilled priorities of the trip and my age-driven desire to keep life simple and focused on what’s really important. After saying yes to the adventure of a lifetime, it feels easier to understand what to say yes or no to in the rest of life.

Planning will start soon on the next adventure. Stay tuned.