Before taking my first overnight motorcycle trip I promised my wife two things. First, I would make sure I had an up to date last will and testament and second, I would keep in touch.
On the day I left I fulfilled my promise by calling my father-in-law and asking him to meet me at my credit union where I could have the will notarized. I needed a witness signature and as I was supposed to leave within the hour he was the only person I knew that was available and had a vested interest in making sure his daughter was legally safeguarded. I knew I was cutting it close and that I had procrastinated, but hey, I got it done.
SInce most of my motorcycle trips would entail being off grid and beyond cell phone service, I fulfilled my second promise by purchasing a bright orange Garmin InReach satellite communicator with an emergency rescue insurance policy.
The Garmin allows me to send unlimited automatic messages and each one comes with gps coordinates that show Sarah exactly where I am on a map.
I set up two automatic message options. The first one was a “checking in and everything is okay” message. The second one was a “motorcycle broken down – please send help”. If there was a real emergency I could simply push the S.O.S. button which would launch a full scale rescue mission. This is reserved for life threatening situations.
Thankfully I have only ever sent her the first message letting her know I was safe.
Recently I went on a two day trip into the St. Joe National forest with my friend Shane and his 72 year old father Ron.
Ron is amazing. I have gone on a couple of trips with him and he blazes ahead on the hardest roads and trails without even standing up to balance. I can’t come close to keeping up with him! He has over 40 years of experience exploring this territory and knows it like the back of his hand.
We met up at Ron’s house where he cooked us a pancake breakfast before heading out. We rode the interstate highway over to Wallace Idaho where we headed up Moon Pass passing along the same trail where Ed Pulaski and all but five of his men emerged barely alive from fighting the Great Burn of 1910. I rode past the sign pointing towards the mine tunnel where he and his men escaped the flames but had to struggle for air. The landscape still bears the scars of the event that shaped the Forest Service for the next 100 years.
I had been reluctant to go on this trip because of my health issues with my left leg. My doctor had told me I shouldn’t do any hard riding for four months to let my leg heal. Shane assured me that this would be an easy trip and that we would be tooling around forest service roads. I decided to go since I had ridden Moon pass multiple times before and knew I could handle it easily.
It turned out that the purpose of the trip was to scout locations for an upcoming fall Elk hunt. At what seemed like the first bend in the road, Ron wanted to head up an overgrown jeep trail. I told him I wasn’t sure I should attempt it and that I would wait while he scouted the trail and let us know if it was a good route or not. Shane had fallen behind and wasn’t there for the discussion. As Ron headed up the trail he said that he would either be back or if he wasn’t then I would know it was a good route to follow when Shane got there.
The trail looked rocky and narrow. On a different day in time it would have been fun. My gut instinct told me that it was beyond my capabilities at the moment. Shane came up beside me and asked what was going on and told me he would go look for his dad and be back in just a few minutes. He emphasized that he would be back no matter what to let me know if it was a passable trail.
After twenty minutes of sitting in hot sun I decided to move my bike to shade and get off. I wondered if the trail had really proven to be easy and whether I should just ride up it to catch up. My gut told me otherwise so I decided to walk up the trail to see for myself. I knew within the first 100 yards that this was not a route I should go on. I pulled up my GPS map and could also see that it was a dead end trail so they would have to come back eventually.
More time passed and I finally heard their motors. Shane was laughing and talking about how this was a gnarly trail that had really challenged them both. Hearing this not only confirmed that I had made the right choice but also told me that the trail was far worse than I had thought. Ron and Shane are expert riders who have done some incredibly technical routes and had just returned from two weeks in Colorado.
We resumed our ride over the pass to Avery where we stopped for lunch before heading up the river road to find a campsite to serve as basecamp.
Later that afternoon we rode around dirt forest service roads that led through deep forest and up to some ridges with expansive views. It was wonderful riding.
I did end up following them up a rough and rocky trail to an old fire lookout where me and my motorcycle overheated in the 95 degree sunlight.
They had stopped to rest and cool their bikes but I was concerned with losing my momentum on the rocks so I continued on hoping to find a wider flat spot to stop instead.
By the time I reached a good ground, my bike had overheated from running it for so long in 2nd gear. I could hear pressure building up in the gas tank and made the foolish decision to try to relieve it by opening the tank.
A volcanic eruption of gas that looked like a whale spouting water scared me as I worried about it catching fire on the hot engine. There was nothing to do but wait for the bike to cool and the spilled gas to evaporate. I was sitting on a rock resting by the time Shane and Ron arrived.
The fire lookout was only another 50 yards up a relatively easy road but as far as I was concerned I had come close enough to call it good. I was hot and tired and now worried about whether I had enough gas to make it back to the gas pump at Avery before it closed for the night.
The rest of the day was relatively uneventful. I rode ahead to get to the gas pump since I was the only one that definitely needed gas. A bald eagle flew above my left shoulder over the St. Joe River for a mile or so before landing near a nest. It felt like a good omen and that I was being guided to safety.
After a relatively quiet night at camp listening to music on a bluetooth speaker I got up and took my fly rod down to the river to fish for a couple of hours. Being an early riser gives me time for things like this and it was wonderful.
Back at camp over coffee we decided to only partially pack up and to leave our gear at camp so we could ride without the extra weight. We headed up the main road to the first bridge we saw and turned right. The dirt road headed through the forest and up to the mountains above the river. It was spectacular. Once again, Ron wanted to take side trails to scout for Elk. This time I followed and was soon beyond any trail and truly off road riding. We were traveling downhill which to me is much harder than uphill because you only have your brakes to control speed on the steepest inclines.
I had watched many youtube videos showing me that my KLR 650 was capable of doing this kind of riding but this was first attempt at it on my own bike since the dirt riding class where I had dropped the bike four times in a single day. I was nervous about dropping the bike in this remote location because I knew I would have trouble getting it upright with the health issues and injuries I had.
I didn’t fall or drop the bike thankfully.
There was a point where you could no longer see the rocky ground because it was all overgrown and I decided to stop at a spot where I knew I had just enough room to turn the bike around. I could see that the trail petered out and that this was definitely an out and back situation. I got my bike sideways on the trail so I could put the kickstand down and waited for them to return.
When it came time to head back to the road I tried to maneuver my bike the rest of the way around to get it pointed back up hill but my back injury from a couple of weeks earlier spiked up and I knew I would be in trouble if I pushed it any further.
Pain shot down my left hip into my quads of my already injured left leg and I knew I would risk not being able to walk if I kept muscling the bike. Thankfully Shane was there to help muscle the bike around for me. He is a big man with the nickname of Sasquatch although I freqently call him Motaur because he loves to ride standing up even on twisty highways and looks like a centaur that is half human and half motorcycle.
Riding up hill I realized that I was actually feeling enthusiastic about the off road riding. I had made it successfully without falling and with each yard travel I grew more confident.
We would take a couple of more trails like this until I reached a point of fatigue that I had to admit I needed to take a break while they continued to explore.
On another downhill spur where the trail seemed to end I chose to turn around and wait for them. They made it through and I could see them climbing up a steep ridge across the ravine from where I was. It looked fantastic and I did fill a twinge of envy but knew I had reached my physical limit for the day.
I enjoyed another successful climb back up over the rocky terrain to the fork in the road where there was a wide flat spot. I parked my bike and walked back down to a shady grassy spot and took off my jacket and spread it on the ground like a picnic blanket and laid down.
I had taken my water bottle and phone with me. As I was looking at a map of where we were, I realized I actually had cell service. Keeping my second promise I decided to call Sarah. We chatted a few minutes and I assured her that I wasn’t going to overdue it with my physical exertion.
After the phone call I closed my eyes and dosed off. It was more like a meditation than a full sleep as I was just completely relaxed and enjoying the smell of the late summer forest grasses and listening to the wind, humming of grasshoppers, and a chorus chipmunks. It was all soothing and relaxing.
Suddenly I was brought fully awake by the sound of pounding hooves coming from my right. I opened my eyes and lifted my torso as I turned my head to my right. To my shock two huge mule deer were running straight towards me.
It is interesting just how many thoughts you can have in an instant. I immediately thought of what it must be like to run with the bulls in Spain. I thought I would be trampled in just a moment.
I recognized the deer in front as a doe with a large buck close behind. As I tried to get up to jump out of their path they saw me and in less time than it takes to flinch, they cut to their right across the trail I had just ridden up and disappeared into the forest.
I stood up with anxiety and wondered what must be chasing them and what danger I might be in. Was it a bear? A pack of wolves? I had left my motorcycle about 20 yards away so I could lay in shade. I was running hard as I pulled on my helmet and rushed to my bike.
I got back to the fork in the road and looked up and saw nothing as I breathed heavily. I stopped and caught my breath. After a long pause, I grinned and laughed out loud at myself as I figured out what I had really just seen.
Recalling the huge antlers on the buck I realized that I had just witnessed a mating ritual! It was a dance meant to insure that only the fittest and strongest pass on their genes to the next generation.
I returned to my resting place and enjoyed more peaceful alone time with unending internal smile.
Eventually I could hear and see Shane and Ron returning from across the ravine. I thought about what a beautiful ride they must of had. I also chuckled to myself as I thought about how unlikely it was that they had seen any game because of the noise of their engines.
While I had not experienced the vista they had, I experienced something perhaps more profound, and I found myself recalling the Robert Frost poem about the road not taken and how it had made all the difference.
I remembered listening to a lecture about Robert Frost and how The Road Not Taken is an often misunderstood poem in that many think that he is saying that one path was better than the other when in fact he is just acknowledging that we are each on our own life journey based upon the paths we choose to take.
I had chosen to remain behind and was gifted with a scene right out of a Remington Arms Wildlife art print. The choice I made yielded a gift I will have the rest of my life.
The Road Not Taken
BY ROBERT FROST
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.