Day 14

The Canadian border is in sight and we have finished the gravel for the time being. Made it to Polebridge, with its little bakery, for lunch and a good lunch it was to. Polebridge is in the middle of no where and is something of a must stop place for adventure riders doing this route. None were there. In fact we have seen no other bikers on the whole route save for a group at Pie Town who had clearly made a lot of shortcuts. Went to the Canadian border but it had been closed for the last decade so we moved over to Eureka. At the moment we are in Rexford having a steak sandwich for dinner and drinking a beer from a glass screwtop jar.

Day 13

Yesterday a storm came through town toppling trees onto vehicles and generally creating havoc with tents etc. We saw nothing of this except for the cleanup operation. We got our turn at midnight, first with a magnificent lightening display, followed by horrific winds that flattened our tents and finally the rain. Flooded tent, wet sleeping bag and clothes – not a good night at all. We got a break in the rain about midday so shot through. Many trees down in the forests but the forest service had cleared then by the time we got to go through. At one point the road was closed but we noticed a track between the boulders so squeezed our bikes through and followed a bit of single track to a broken bridge. We clearly were not the only bikes to have got through. Tonight we are in a delightful lakeside camp at Bigfork. It's a Queenstown style town. The camp is completely full – something we have not encountered before. Most places are reporting slow demand this year.

Wild life seen today: turtle, rabbits, squirrel and a black bear.

My bikes needs some maintenance: loose head bearings and a rear wheel bearing that needs repacking with grease.

Day 12

Lincoln, Montana is only a short 210 miles from where we were this morning. The Helena Forest was our undoing. The map and GPS instructions were to vague and of little use once in the centre of the forest. Despite searching around for a route forward we gave up at around 2PM and took the pavement to Helena. More forest tracks in the PM to arrive at Lincoln. For a part of the day we followed an old disused railway track bed (rails long gone) next to the interstate and went through an old tunnel dated 1911.

We are in a public park campsite on the edge of town and now at 9.45 PM the deer have invaded the town. Some are wandering around the front lawns of houses and some are amongst the trees in our camp. There is one 10 metres away happily chewing the grass and occasionally looking up to see what I am doing. Prior to this it was watching a family as if wanting to be invited in and feed.

Day 11

Montana, Marlboro Man country. It's big blue sky country, snow capped mountains in the distance and vast grassy plains in between. Wow this is really spectacular country. The splendor of Colorado, while I never tire of it, is close in so much the mountains are “just over there”, kind of at arms reach but the mountains in Montana are way beyond arms reach.

We have two more days of Montana but for now are holed up in a little spot that is probably not on a map but for the moment they have cold beer and country music on the juke box. Tonight we washed away the smell from our gear.

Day 10

Short day again today (180 miles) mostly because I had to find a solution for the broken top box. We are heading north and after passing the Grand Titons enter Yellowstone National Park ($20 thanks) and yet another National Forest. Now the delay is a nail to my rear tyre – ah crap Frank has the tyre gear and he is ahead of me. Lucky me when a guy on a KTM 950 burbles into sight so I borrow his gear to fix the puncture. Actually I bought his spare tube so that fixed the problem. Frank and I mounted the tyre and wheel and we were off. Must say that the task was way easier than it is on my DR. Frank will like this but I will never tell him – I think the KLR is perfect for this ride and way better then my DR would have been.

Mack's Inn, Idaho tonight (it's a place not a pub) and another night in a forest park camp ground. After lying in the dirt and hot sun fixing my tyre I kind of would like to have had a shower. Our gear is getting a little smelly also. Frank is still suffering the stink from his sojourn into the bog hole – me, well I ride suitably far to the rear. I blame the dust. After taking our money ($12) the park ranger warns us about the bear in the woods. Ah crap, I will be awake all night now.

Day 9

It is 132 miles from Rawlins to Atlantic City – all on gravel and not a tree in sight. Vast plains of sage brush and hardy grass with the occasional beef cattle and antelope. Atlantic City is no city, just a collection of old buildings left over from the gold rush. We had lunch here but for me it was the sight of a white guy carrying a side arm trying to erect a tee pee. He is having no luck at all so occasionally refers to a set of instructions which seem not to help – possibly they are written in Apache. Never figured what the gun was for. By nightfall we had made it to Dubois for a total of 317 miles for the day. Top box gave up the ghost this afternoon – just to much pounding from the trails.

Day 8

To date we have ridden 2621 miles since we left Omaha and have made it to Rawlins, Wyoming where we are staying at a KOA camp ground. Very nice it is to. Rawlins looks to be a harsh town with a railroad that bisects the town with a good number of double wides (trailer homes) on the wrong side of the tracks. Lots of coal trains in town. Anyway it was goodbye to Colorado today. Colorado is such a visual delight despite their colour coded houses - seems you can chose from a standard set of plans and get to paint your place in either or both of two shades of brown but the roof must be green. Reminds me of Switzerland actually. Being on back roads you get to see the state like no one else does and I loved it. I never get tired of riding Colorado.

Entering Wyoming we rode into an avenue of Aspens (a scene that appears on every web site of this ride) and then onto a vast rolling plain of grassland. I have mentioned that this is actually a route planned by cyclists. Well I take my hat off to them and have a new respect. We clip through 200 km of dirt road in an afternoon and think nothing of the wonderful but never changing environment but for a cyclist the scene must be interminably long winded.