Last year when I first started riding off road on my motorcycles my friend Shane’s dad Ron told me that I would need to get good enough to ride up Shefoot Mountain before I would be ready to join them on their BDR adventures. He told me this after I had just ridden what I had thought was some really hard terrain. It was clear I still had a lot to learn.
This past weekend Shane and I went on a motorcycle camping trip to celebrate his 50th birthday. Ron wasn’t able to join us due to shoulder surgery. I thought it was going to be a pretty mellow 5 day trip exploring some forest service roads and fly fishing spots. The trip turned into a bit more of an adventure on the first day as we had to navigate a long detour due to forest fires.
We didn’t make it to camp until almost dark and decided we would spend a second night and go for a hike. We walked two miles up a steep trail and I thought my heart was going to explode. Even though I’ve been getting on a treadmill I am still not fully recovered from a hard six months of blood clots, physical degradation and weight gain.
I realized after I was too far from my bike to go back that I had left my wallet with a lot of cash in my riding jacket. I had also left my cell phone in my tent. I decided to push fear of theft out of my mind and just enjoy the scenery.
As I returned across a footbridge to the trailhead I saw another rider had pulled into to check out my motorcycle. He didn’t see me and started to ride off. I waved and he caught sight of me and circled back for a chat. Bikers like to talk about routes and bikes.
David was a nice guy and we liked him instantly. He had owned a KLR 650 like ours before upgrading to the Yamaha T7. While Shane and David continued to talk I went over to look for my wallet. It was missing! My jacket pocket was unzipped and my heart sank.
I yelled it’s gone! David got nervous and said he was worried that I thought he had taken it. As I pulled my riding pants back on I felt the wallet in my front pocket. I had unzipped the jacket and had pulled it out to take with me but had been to distracted to put it into my camera bag. I think David was more relieved than me. He was heading out on a solo trip north from here and so we said our goodbyes and headed back to town of Pierce to get gas and dinner.
That night as we sat by a small fire and listened to a gurgling brook, Shane suggested we take the Idaho BDR section 6 route from Pierce to Wallace and stop in Avery for the night where we could go fishing on the St. Joe. I was excited to do a section of BDR trail and agreed to the plan. I downloaded GPS coordinates to my Garmin mounted to my bike and we set off early the next morning. I would learn later that this is the hardest section of the entire 1400 mile route!
The trail started on thick gravel which feels very slippery. As the miles went on I got more comfortable. The only way to learn to ride off road is to just do it and get enough seat time to where it feels second nature.
It was as difficult as any riding I had done. I was nervous at first. My doctor would like me to quit doing this kind of riding altogether but understands my need to live life to the fullest as long as I can manage my risks. I slowed down to assess the route and picked my way through the boulders. The way I manage my risk is by choosing to ride at a speed I feel confident that if I fell I would be able to just step away from the bike rather than have a hard crash. I ride at the speed I am willing to fall. I can’t risk any form of internal bleeding, especially in a remote location where I would have to be rescued by helicopter!
This rocky route seemed to go on for at least three miles. My wrists were hurting and I realized that I need to adjust my handlebars to fit my body better. I was excited by this as this meant I had enough experience to appreciate the subtle differences in riding geometry. I realized why people put bar risers on their bikes. My bike feels good when I am sitting but if I need to stand for a long time my wrists really start hurting. I will need to at least change the angle of my grips and levers.
The thick gravel gave way to miles of hard pack beautiful forest service roads that ran next to streams and creeks and climbed up to vista views and ridge tops. We went through forests and clear cuts. I got the sense of the relationship between man and nature and the importance of the jobs and lumber the logging creates while also appreciating how much of it was still thick and beautiful. We eventually came to a really rocky section that led up to a historic blue cabin.
The other thing I was excited about, was my discovery of how comfortable I was getting at staying in the seated position while moving over tough terrain. Last year I had struggled with swelling legs because I felt like I had to stand the whole time to maintain my balance. As my body grows tired it stops fighting the bike and starts flowing with it instead. I could now do this seated or standing. I mainly alternate based upon what makes my legs feel better.
Shane had ridden ahead and was out of sight by the time I made it to the cabin. I couldn’t see the cabin from the trail. All I saw was a steep fork in the road. I turned the bike to the left where I thought Shane had gone and paused just long enough to realize the bike was tipping at too steep an angle. I dropped the bike while standing still. It wasn’t a crash technically so I still felt good about my riding skills at this point. Shane ran down the hill to help me lift the bike and he started it up and walked it up the steep angle to the flat spot in front of the cabin. I really appreciate his willingness to help me as I regain my strength.
We took a good long break at the cabin. We sat on the back porch and I watched the natural spring water flow out of a small pipe. The sign on the front of the cabin reads My Blue Heaven. I could see why. The cabin is offered as an emergency bivouac for riders but is not intended as an overnight accommodation. I filled up my water bottle from the kitchen sink and we set back off. The trail was still rocky for a ways beyond the cabin but eventually the rocks thinned out and we were traveling on scenic and peaceful roads for miles and miles.
We stopped by an incredible wild camping spot along a Fishook creek that had lines of rocks placed in it to create deeper pools for swimming and perhaps for the fish. It had a wide flat grassy bank with a large shade tree. I stopped and photographed while Shane headed on.
We eventually came to Avery where we stopped at TFP’s for a cold beer. It was like we pulled into a city of dirt bikes. At least 20 motorcycles were parked outside. As we got to the counter to order a beer we ran into David from the day before. He bought us each a beer and we sat together and talked about our day’s riding. Shane and I ordered a couple of pizza’s for a late lunch early dinner. An elderly woman in a wide brimmed hat makes the pizza’s in a wood fire oven and she is an artist in my opinion.
David asked where we were going to camp for the night and if he could join us. It was clear to me that he was an excellent rider as he passed me to catch up to Shane. Due to the wildfires I suggested we stay in a forest service campground with an official fire ring so we could still have a small fire to sit around for the night. Since it was a Sunday afternoon we had no problem finding a spot as most campers had headed home to go back to work on Monday.
I set up my tent as Shane and David discussed routes from camp that were good for riding. There was plenty of daylight and they wanted to ride. I was exhausted and wanted to nap so I told them to go on without me. They woke me up two hours later with the rev of their motors.
It was clear they were both really compatible riding partners. Shane didn’t have to wait for David like he does me. I was really happy for them. We had a great night at camp. David had one last day left on his trip and wanted to know what our plans were. The next day was Shane’s actual birthday and so I suggested he pick the route. He immediately brought up Shefoot mountain. The word Shefoot made me nervous. I didn’t want to crash and I didn’t want to hold David and Shane up waiting for me. I told them they should go on without me and I would just meet them in Wallace since their route would start on Moon pass which is on the way.
Shane insisted that I should try it. I told him I would sleep on it and let him know in the morning. I went to bed early and left David and Shane to enjoy the night.
I woke up early the next morning. It was 5am and I laid in my tent restless with thoughts about whether I should attempt to ride up Shefoot mountain or not. At 6am I finally got restless enough to get out of my tent. Shane and David were up and excited about the prospects of riding Shefoot together.
I think Shane must of read the expression on my face because he came up to me while David was packing his bike and said, “if you don’t want to do Shefoot, I won’t either.” When I protested that he should go ahead and do it without me he insisted that we were a team and that we had to stick together. I was really touched by that. I wrestled with decision as I packed. I had felt really good on the BDR route the day before and finally decided that this was as good a time to try as I would ever have. I owed it to our team to give it a try.
David complimented Shane and I at how efficient we were at packing up camp and how we were ready to go so early in the morning. He said he often rode alone because he couldn’t stand waiting. Shane and I feel the same way. The three of us were a good fit I think.
A fire had broken out above where we were camped the day before. We watched a parade of trucks racing up the road to fight the blaze. It was a shift change as there were trucks returning as well.
There really is only one road in and out of this area and it created a heightened sense of awareness. We were negotiating with nature to find safe passage through this wild landscape. I led us down the road to the Avery store where we could get gas, coffee, and a breakfast sandwich cooked to order by the store clerk. Shane flipped through a large display rack of hunting photos looking for one of his father. Page after page of hunters with deer, elk, bear and cougars. The cougars stood out to me the most because the hunters all seem to hold up the cat in a hug. The irony of hunting is that hunters really do love the animals they hunt. It may be a cruel love, but I think it is one that is about retaining our very human connection to nature and the skills necessary for survival.
I think that being in the wild makes you aware of the fact that the environment is attempting to kill you from the moment we are born. Cities are fortresses that try to eliminate risks and agriculture is also a means of reducing threat, but they also develop other risks such as car accidents and the medical ailments that develop from living with too much stress.
My time in nature and my observance of predatory species and even my time spent in rural agricultural landscapes with farmers and ranchers has made me aware of the fact that a life well lived will only have one bad day. Insects go about there business until a bird snaps them up. Fish go about their business until an osprey dives down and collects it. Cows feed in beautiful pastures until the day they are butchered. Humans seem to be the only species that attempts to hang on and live in warehouses such as nursing homes and hospitals slowly fading. Instead of one bad day we have a prolonged and tortured path. I think that is why I ride motorcycles. While I make every effort to manage the risks, my motto in life is that I want to have a good day every day until the final one. Just one bad day is my life’s motto.
We had internet service at the store so we all checked in with our families in one way or another before setting out to Moon Pass. Instead of taking the usual high road Shane guided us down a hill to a low road that I had never ridden on. We were immediately off the smooth gravel road and on to a more adventuresome route. The road narrower than the main one and wonderfully firm. It was an easy ride and the stream we rode beside was absolutely beautiful. I was in complete amazement as we rode in silence.
We staggered our distances to avoid eating too much dust from the leader. I always volunteer to go last because I like to really look around the landscape. I am always scouting for good fishing holes and camp sites as well as photography opportunities that I rarely give myself time to make.
I eventually came back up the hill to the main road at a fork. Shane and David were parked near a wooden sign that said Shefoot Mountain was 18 miles away up a narrow road. It was time to commit. I had enjoyed the morning ride so much I felt enthusiastic about giving it a go!
The first 12 miles of the road to Shefoot Mountain was extremely enjoyable. It was no more difficult than most of the BDR route I had done the day before and the scenery was breathtaking. We stopped for a break just below the start of the harder rocky section. As we got going again, Shane insisted on being the sweeper in case I fell. It would be much harder to turn around and come down to help me.
The start of the rocky section reminded me of last summers first rides in the Canfield Mountain trails. There is a rhythm of moving side to side on rocky trails to pick the least bumpy lines and to avoid ruts. The trail gradually got steeper and steeper and I learned a new lesson about the need for maintaining speed and momentum. I had to commit to the line I was on and gun it. Steering is done by weighting the foot pegs rather than turning the handlebars. I could hear my friend Greg’s voice in my head and picture his demo of the side to side shimmy of changing weight back and forth on the pegs while the hands simple move up and down as the handlebars changle angle. It kind of looks like some sort of country line dance.
I felt gratitude to reconnecting with my college friend Greg for his riding tips and for Ron and Shane for spending time with me last summer letting me gain confidence at riding rocky trails. I felt my speed and momentum build as I rocked on the foot pegs and I found the riding exhilarating.
We found one last spot to break before the last mile and a half to the summit. My adrenaline was pumping. I drank a lot of water to stay hydrated and to avoid muscle cramps.
The year before I was using a Rekluse auto clutch on my bike which meant I didn’t have to manually feather the clutch and I didn’t have any risk of ever killing the motor. It was great for beginner rider but I came to realize it had safety risks because I couldn’t use the transmission gears for breaking on steep hill sections. If I needed to stop on a hill I had to hold the hand brake lever tight as compared to simply letting out the clutch and letting the engine lock in first gear. The manual transmission gives me a parking break and has the advantage of allowing me to use engine braking on steep downhill sections.
Clutch control on steep rocky terrain is critical. If I stalled out the motor I would likely drop the bike. Shane and I had spent several weeks trying to replace my clutch and kept running into problems with drips and leaks. We kept having to order more seals and gaskets and track down faulty parts in the water pump. We had taken the side cover off at least three times to figure out where my old bike was failing. Each time we ordered parts we had to wait a week for their arrival. The last set of parts didn’t come until 3 days before departure and I had to be at work in the days leading up to the start of the trip. Shane took a day off to fix my bike so we could leave on time. This all meant I had zero practice with using the manual clutch before arriving to this steep rocky section of trail.
The last mile was just plain gnarly. I had to draw upon every lesson I had learned in the miles leading up to this. I had to gun the engine and keep the speed up. The rocks were now large boulders and my rear end would kick up like I was riding a bronco in a rodeo. At one point I started to stall out the motor and I gunned the throttle to avoid killing the engine which almost resulted in me throwing myself off the bike. Shane could see this from below and yelled at me in the helmet intercom, “You all right? What’s going on?“
I had visions of when I had whiskey throttled the bike on a snowy road back in April. The bike landed upside down. I didn’t want that to happen here so I regained my composure and feathered the clutch and kept going. I got back into a rhythm and finally made it to the flat top. I screamed out in victory!
David had already parked on gotten off his bike. He raced over to congratulate me. Shane came up from behind and pulled out near the cliff’s edge. He is so good he can do stunts like that. Meanwhile I had stopped in a pile of loose shell and my back tire didn’t want to move me any further. David pulled out an offending rock that was acting like a wheel chock and I inched the bike further towards the viewpoint.
When I had my helmet off David said, “I’m not sure why Shane was so worried about you making it, you rocked that trail!” I knew why. I had always been a timid off road rider. This was next level expert stuff. David kept saying that this trail was the hardest he had ever taken his T7 bike on. Shane said it was as hard as the trails in Colorado, with the main difference being that the ones in the Rocky Mountains start and end this way all day long.
I enjoyed the camaraderie and pulled out my camera. Went spent a good long time up there compared to most stops. We were all surprised when Shanes phone rang. We didn’t think we would have cell coverage. Ron had called to wish Shane a happy birthday not knowing that we were on Shefoot mountain. It is a special place for Ron and Shane as they had camped and hunted in this area many times before. I knew Shane was missing his father so the phone call was a perfect summit experience. I felt pride as I heard Shane tell Ron that I had made it up the mountain. He put him on speaker phone so I could hear Ron’s congratulations.
As we sat on the cliff Shane’s phone rang again. It was his sister calling to say happy birthday too! Shane and Kristen were able to have a video call so he could show her the unimaginable beauty of the scene.
It is hard to believe that less than two years ago I had walked into the Pritchard Tavern on my way home from a motorcycle trip to Montana and met Shane, Ron, and Kristen. I saw their riding gear and three bikes parked outside and went up to them to say hello. We chatted and Shane and I exchanged numbers. I was heading home and they were just starting their trip. Neither one of us called for several months. As winter gave way to Spring I decided to call Shane up and see if he wanted to get together for a ride. He didn’t answer and I left a message. I didn’t hear back for another three months.
It’s hard to make new friends. Fortunately we eventually got together and started riding together. The bond of friendship has grown as my skills in riding have. I am so grateful for this friendship.
It was time to head back. The thrill of victory suddenly turned into nerves of fear at the thought of having to go back down that steep mountainside. Going down always feels more dangerous to me. The path to just getting the bike turned around was steep so I asked Shane to help me rotate the bike and get it pointed down directly on the path withouth me having to try to ride an off camber loop in the loose shell. We pivoted the bike on the side stand and I mounted and headed down.
Thankfully, controlling the bike down hill was actually quite pleasant and easier than expected. The manual clutch really worked well. I was quite slow however and Shane decided to take a break and wait for me to get far ahead so he could right at a more comfortable speed. I don’t let these things bother me. I can’t afford to crash. It could end my life with internal bleeding. Traveling down a steep rocky trail is like being on the knife edge between life and death. It makes me feel completely alive and in the moment. A part of me would die if I gave into fear. I control the speed and control the risk as I navigate down the hill.
We took another break when we made it back to the main road. By then tourists on bikes were descending the Hiawatha trail and popping out of one of the tunnels. A doe walked by us and paused for a long time looking like it wanted to come over to us for food. It eventually moved on and we said goodbye to David who needed to return south to Moscow.
Shane and I continued over Moon pass and I realized I had changed so much from the year before. Just a couple of years ago Moon pass was the most adventurous riding I had ever done and now I found myself bored with it. It seemed more like a highway to me now and just a means to an end.
We made it to Wallace and had a celebratory beer and burger at the 1313 Club. With internet service available I looked at the wildfires on a map and we decided to head north towards Pritchard and camp along the Coeur d’ Alene River.
I looked at route options on the Garmin on my bike. The Zumo XT2 lets you adjust course based upon the amount of adventure you want on a scale of 1-4. I noticed a route that only took 50 minutes and 25 miles as compared to another route on pavement that would take almost two hours and a hundred miles. I took the shorter distance route.
The Garmin guided us through town towards I90 freeway onramps. I thought we were going to be stuck on pavement which is why the ride was much less time. I followed the route and we skipped pass the freeway and continued up what looked more like an alleyway than a road. The neighborhood became rough and we found ourself passing old smelters along Burke. It was a fascinating route that was obviously just a service road that gets maintenance trucks up to the power lines that deliver electricity to the Silver Valley.
A gentle climb turned into a steep ascent over a mountain pass. I gunned it and loved it. I could hear Shane in my helmet saying, “what has gotten in to you!” For the first time I actually had to stop and wait for Shane at the top of a hill climb.
The descent was slow and treacherous as the road had thick gravel that made it like walking across a floor full of marbles. We came across a few vehicles and I could see families picking huckleberries. This was one of those locals only spots. We just past through until we came to highway 471.
The adventure was over once we hit the highway. The next two days working our way home would be on pavement. 471 is a stunning road. I always enjoy it. We made it down the mountain to the Pritchard Tavern without incident.
I had survived the toughest expert level rocky trails but I would not survive the parking lot. As I was backing my bike up next to Shane and standing there ready to get off, he reached across is bike to pick up something he dropped and lost balance and knocked his bike over which acted like a domino on mine. His handlebar smacked my left thigh sharply and I shouted out in pain as I fell sideways onto the pavement. I was worried about a fracture. Shane felt terrible and quickly picked up our bikes while I struggled to get off the ground.
He felt bad and I laughed at the irony. I have never seen Shane fall while riding. The only time he drops his bike is in parking lots. Realizing nothing was broken we hobbled into the tavern for a cocktail. We watched the Olympics as we enjoyed refreshing Moscow Mules in copper cups. We were still full from lunch in Wallace so we just enjoyed our drinks and headed down the road to find a camp site.
The weather forecast had called for rain and I thought about just continuing down the road and jumping on the freeway to home. We could be there in just over an hour. Shane and I discussed the option and decided to stick to our plan for a five day trip. We were tired and extremely dusty.
One last night camped along a stream with a small fire was nice. The rain held off until we were safely in our tents. The pounding of drops on the tent woke me up in the middle of the night. It was a downpour!
The next morning we didn’t waste too much time packing up. I just shoved everything in my saddle bags knowing that I would have to pull them out and hang everything up outside to dry and kill off any mildew or road stink.
It was still drizzling as we headed out and stopped for gas. We could have been home in an hour but decided to make it another day of riding. We took back roads down to St. Maries where we had a late morning breakfast at the Timber Lodge Cafe.
I felt like I had stepped back in time. The decor of the place was all old hunting and fishing guns and rods with advertisements and posters from decades long past. The place was packed with locals who had exactly the kind of conversations you would expect to find in a small town. They were mostly retired loggers I suspected as we all took note of the trucks that passed by. From my seat I could look out the front window and see an American flag attached to a lamp post and way across the valley on the hillside was a large white cross. It was if I could hear the expression, “God, Country, and Hunting”
At one table I could hear an old-timer complaining about California politicians. I smiled to myself. I wondered if he knew there were rural places in California that were having the same conversation. It’s not a state issue, it’s a rural vs. urban issue. I get it.
I thought about how I had read Steinbeck’s Travels with Charley about a road trip he and his dog had taken in a truck with a camper. They traveled across the country and stopped and camped along the way and visited with people of every walk of life. The political debates of his trip were the same ones I was hearing today. Nothing has really changed.
I get it though. As I ride through the rural and wilderness areas of this country I do feel a surge of patriotism and I feel a strong need for cultivating a culture of self reliance. Like the non-duality of yin and yang, I see the wholeness of conservative and liberal viewpoints. We are all one community and I take solace in that and try to avoid the anger of debate. I just appreciated my sweet pancakes, sausage links, eggs over easy, and nice crispy hashbrowns with a warm cup of black coffee.
We followed some heavily laden semi trucks slowly out of town along the southern boundary of Lake Coeur d’ Alene and Chacolet. The winding road was pleasant. All too quickly the road led to the turnoff to my house. A final wave and goodbye to Shane and I was returned back home from Oz.
Sarah was gone to work and the dog was at my mothers. A nice warm shower and nap would cap off the perfect adventure.
