6/30/14 Break Time

Sometimes you just have to roll back the throttle and cruise.

After days of planning routes, packing the bike and checking in and out of motels, we laid back for a day and enjoyed our beautiful accommodations at the C'mon Inn, Missoula and the surrounding rides. Waiting for 45 degrees to become 50, our riding threshold, we ate a leisurely breakfast in the atrium, relaxing by the waterfall under the watchful eyes of a mountain goat.

Bundled up in layers of clothes, we ventured out to ride highway 12 over the Lolo Pass. Part of the Northwest Passage, this was the route taken by Lewis and Clark in their explorations that opened the West. It was not difficult to imagine their canoes loaded with supplies, navigating the rapids of the

Lochsa River through the Bitteroot Mountains.

At the summit of the Lolo Pass, we entered Idaho. Riding downhill for miles, Rascal swerved into the sweeps as we leaned with her. An improved road, the riding wasn't a challenge, but it was a pure joy. Unencumbered by luggage, wind and rain, we ran freely under sunny skies along the impetuous, raging flow of the rain and snow fed river.  

As the Lochsa wound through the mountains, so did we. Small feeder streams picked up the pace of the torrent as we picked up ours. Lunch in a secluded, mountain enclosed, picnic area saw us unlayer our jackets and enjoy the increasing warmth of the day. 

After our picnic we had the choice of an early return to Missoula or more river running. We chose the latter, as the Crystal River took over the Lochsa and the rapids raged. Finding gas on this road is a challenge, but Kooskia filled us up for our return trip.

With the sun at our backs, we headed for Montana. After 75 miles of hard running, we stopped for a break in a clearing along the river. Jules made a fire and by ourselves we exalted in our glorious day.

A glitch in perfection came with a broken shifter on the bike, as we swept back over the Lolo Pass. A farmer to the core, Jules rigged it with zip ties. We rolled into our motel flawlessly. Tomorrow will see Rascal making a visit to the Harley doctor.

Still swaying from the rolling curves of our adventure today, we nestled under our duvet, bathed in cool mountain air from the open window. Flashbacks of pristine water, sluicing down mountain ravines to meet a roaring river and 300 miles of winding road, once again prove the motorcyclist's mantra: It's not the destination - it's the ride!

Lunchtime visitor

Firestarter!

Secluded rest!

C'mon Inn