Passes & Canyons Blog

A stop up on Lolo Pass on this year’s OFMC trip.

We had a lot of long stretches on this recent OFMC trip and these are the times when cruise control or a throttle lock come in really handy. Some people just carry it a bit too far, though.

Bill is one of these people. Bill almost always has his cruise control engaged. Sometimes that is not a good thing.

I led most of the trip and I can’t count the times I looked back and Bill was way, way behind. And it’s not like I was going super fast. He just sets his cruise control and lets it go. He really hates to have to touch it. If Dennis was behind him I could tell immediately where they were because of Dennis’s super bright lights. If Dennis was in front of Bill I sometimes had to just assume Dennis was keeping tabs on him because I sure couldn’t see him back there.

What was worse, though, was when we were on multi-lane highways, when the speed Bill had set brought him up behind someone going moderately slower and he would then just creep past them. Never mind that other traffic was piling up behind him also wanting to go around this slower person, Bill wouldn’t touch his cruise control, they would just have to wait for him to finally get past and move over. This happened a lot.

Meanwhile, none of my bikes have cruise control. I have throttle locks on all of them but this is a less than perfect solution. Of course you slow down going up hills and speed up going down hills so I just nudge the throttle to compensate. Not a big deal as long as the thing holds you at speed.

Which they generally don’t. Usually they slip and you gradually go slower so you have to frequently tweak it to get back up to speed. But for some reason, on this trip, the throttle lock didn’t slip very much. There were times when I could go half an hour without touching my throttle lock, just cruising along. How nice. Wish it was like that all the time. That’s how it’s supposed to be, isn’t it?

So it was with all this in mind that, following having the Kawi overheat coming up to the tunnel on the last day of the OFMC trip, that I started thinking that maybe I could consider trading the Kawi for something newer, lighter, and with more modern equipment–such as cruise control. That is an ongoing issue. I really don’t know what I’ll end up doing. But one thing I know for sure is that you’ll hear about here whenever any decisions get made.

Biker Quote for Today

Dreams and handlebars are two things worth holding onto.

Bill (on his bike) and John on one of our earlier trips when it was still just us three.

The OFMC took its first trip in 1989, and has done a trip every year since. The original three were me, John, and Bill. Other members have come and gone over the years but we three were regulars until just a few years ago when John could no longer ride due to health issues. Now Bill is talking about bowing out.

Dennis and I had a pretty good idea this was coming while we were out on our recent trip. We had decided to do Lolo Pass and that meant we needed to do some longer days and also an extra day. Several of these longer days were also blazing hot. Bill was not enjoying a lot of this and he was making comments such as “Remind me again why we do this.”

So it was no surprise the next to last night out when he said flatly that he doesn’t want to do it anymore. OK, let’s get into particulars. What exactly don’t you want to do anymore.

Well, he doesn’t want to do these long days. He also doesn’t want to be out for as long. And he really doesn’t like doing long days in 100+ degree weather.

Fair enough. What would you say to shorter days and fewer days? As for the heat, I’ve pushed for years to move the week of the trip later than the last full week of July. But you insist on doing it that week.

Dennis had the idea that we could do an all-Colorado trip where rather than ride past all the tourist attractions we actually stop and visit them. Take it easy.

Well, OK, something like that Bill said he could probably get into and enjoy. Fine, said I, the official trip organizer. Let me give this some thought.

The next day I had some ideas. A lot of ideas, actually, but the best–I thought–was to do this all-Colorado ride where we spend our last night some place like Estes Park–close to home–and all the wives carpool up and we stay at some fancy bed ‘n’ breakfast and have dinner at some really nice restaurant. Dennis liked the idea. Bill’s response was pure Bill.

“My wife will still be in Brazil.”

Bill’s wife is from Brazil and every summer she goes there to help her sisters care for their aged mother. She is a teacher so she comes back just before school starts, which is not the last full week of July.

But Bill, we don’t have to do the ride that same week in July every year, and if you don’t want the heat all the more reason to move it to something like the last week of August or first week of September. Or the second week of September, after the kids are back in school and the tourist crowds thin out.

No, no, that won’t do.

Now, Dennis and I are of a different mind. Earlier in the trip we had discussed what we saw coming and Dennis had said that if he didn’t have his wife at home he’d be saying let’s take a month. We’re retired, for Pete’s sake. I totally agreed.

So the thought arises, if Bill dropped out would Dennis and I continue and maybe finally do some of the longer rides I’ve been wanting to do for a long, long time? Apparently not. Dennis didn’t elaborate on his thinking but he did say at one point that if it got down to only two he would not be inclined to go on. So that would mean the end of the OFMC. Wow.

I don’t think that’s going to happen next year. I do think Bill will be interested in a shorter trip. But things continue until they don’t. And then they end.

Biker Quote for Today

100 reasons not to date a biker: 32. You’ll have a burn mark or two from the exhaust.

Ten minutes earlier this road was jam-packed with stop and go traffic. Now you can see the first car that filtered past the burning truck down the hill.

We got an early start out of Spanish Fork on the next to last day of this year’s OFMC trip and I figured we’d be climbing into the hills east of the extended Salt Lake City metropolitan area but in fact we plunged down a canyon. We were on US 89, which led in a short while to US 6.

Another surprise was that at the mouth of this canyon there were about 10 wind turbines. You normally think about those things being out in the open where they catch a lot of free-flowing wind. I figure it must be that the wind blows in across the salt flats and then hits these hills and gets channeled into this canyon.

So we went down and down and finally started climbing. Very pretty along this part. Then we started down again, a long way, and finally came out on the desert floor at Price. Now it’s going to get hot and boring. It did. We got lunch and gas at Green River and then just blasted the rest of the way to Grand Junction, our stop for the night. Not an eventful day.

Leaving Junction early in the morning we were figuring on getting down the hill on I-70 before the inevitable crush of traffic that happens every Sunday afternoon. Wrong. We started getting into heavy traffic at about Vail. But before I get into that, something else happened just west of Vail.

As I said, traffic was getting thick and we got behind someone going too slow in the right lane, so Bill and Dennis moved over to the left and when I had the chance I did, too. I looked back and was about 50 feet ahead of the guy coming up in that lane so, as I always do, I threw my left arm straight out to clearly signal my intent and simultaneously moved into the left lane. Totally normal move.

About five seconds later I heard the familiar sound of a car coming around me on the left . . . but I was in the left lane. I turned to look and there was the guy I had pulled in front of, now about even with my rear fender, going past me half way on the shoulder. I moved right to give him more room and threw up my hand in a “what the heck” sort of motion. He threw up his left hand in a sort of “oops, sorry” kind of motion. And we rolled on.

The way I figure it, he must have been looking at his phone and looked up only just in time to realize he was about to murder a motorcyclist.

Back to the story. I told the rest of this story here but there was a lot that I left out in that account. For one thing, I was not alone sitting there by the highway broken down. I could see, in the space of about a quarter mile, five other vehicles all pulled over with problems. I walked back and spoke with the two women in the car behind me, and they had also overheated. But for them it was normal. They had a bottle of coolant and once they could safely remove the radiator cap they poured some in and took off. The couple in front of me had overheated and had called for a tow. I didn’t walk up to the three vehicles ahead of them.

All this time the interstate was a parking lot. Three lanes full of traffic stopping and starting. Then about 500 feet down the hill there was a bang and a lot of smoke or steam or something and within a few minutes there was not a single vehicle on the road in front of me. I learned later from the tow truck driver who picked me up that there was a truck on fire back there.

Obviously, when this truck erupted in flames everyone behind him stopped. Then, after maybe five minutes cars started filtering past and one by one they would go speeding past me. And gradually there were more and more as they all got bolder.

What impressed me was how quickly the emergency folks handled the situation. It took a while for them to get to the scene but once they did they had the truck moved and whole road open again within 15 minutes. And then it was the same old parking lot again.

I did eventually get home that day, at 10 p.m., and that was finally the end of this year’s OFMC trip for me–though not yet the end of my hassles getting the bike home. But it could have been a lot worse. What if I had overheated out in the middle of the salt flats, in blazing heat with no shade? What if it had happened at any of the other times we were stuck in 100-degree-plus weather with no shade? At least when I broke down up on the mountain my actual concern was the oncoming rain storm. And I had rain gear.

Meanwhile, the Kawi is now in the shop for service and to find out if the overheating was due to a bad thermostat or heat sensor. Stay tuned.

Biker Quote for Today

If I were to die from riding a dirt bike my crash better look awesome.

The Harley-Davidson Pan America is the first Harley I might consider owning.

Anyone who rides motorcycles knows how easy it is to strike up conversations with other bikers just about anywhere you encounter them. That’s especially true out on the road. You’re in a gas station or at a motel and there’s someone else with a bike and you talk. Just that simple.

No surprise then that on this latest OFMC trip we encountered our share of interesting folks.

We were in Arco, Idaho, and there were two bikers in the room next to Bill and Dennis. This was a father-son duo who were headed back to Salt Lake City after a few days out. The dad was on an Indian much like the one Dennis used to have and his son was riding the Harley he handed down to him. Nice kind of dad to have. Actually, Bill had done the same with his son Jason some years earlier.

After dropping the son off, the dad still had some riding to do. He was going to keep on going and would meet up with a friend a day or two later somewhere else. The details are hazy now but this guy was definitely enjoying himself. They had come down the day before through Challis, which was the way we were headed the next day and it was good to be able to ask a few questions.

For one, Google maps wanted to route us east a bit to go up between a different row of hills. Who knows, maybe that’s a nice route. No, said the dad, that’s nowhere near as nice as through Challis, but do be aware that we might encounter smoke from several forest fires burning up the way we were going. Also, if we are planning to head south from Cascade, Idaho, later, be aware that that road has closures due to blasting as they widen that highway. We never had any smoke but days later we did have a stop at the blasting site. It’s good to have a heads-up about these things.

Also at that motel in Arco there were three young guys on Harleys. They were doing some hard riding and told us they were hoping to make it all the way to the Oregon coast the next day. All the way to the coast? Holy crap. Plus, while two of them said their bikes were very comfortable for these long rides, the third said his was not. He was definitely regretting his choice of bikes. Not fun.

In Kemmerer, Wyoming, we came back to our motel after dinner to see a dirty, well-ridden bike we could not recognize loaded down with gear, parked right in front of the motel main door. Not long afterward, this guy came walking over from the same restaurant we had been at and yes, it was his bike. And the bike was a Harley Pan America. None of us had ever seen one before.

As for well-ridden, he was on his way home to Amarillo, Texas, after having ridden to the Arctic Ocean in Canada and then doing a loop around Alaska. And, by the way, this was not the bike he started out on.

Turns out he left home on a different Pan America but he said that one had always been a lemon, giving him lots of problems. So he rode up to the Arctic Ocean, into Alaska, and barely limped into Fairbanks, to a Harley dealer. There the guys checked out his bike and it definitely had problems but there on the showroom floor they had another just like it, brand new. Would he like to trade? Yes, he would.

So this beat-up, dirty bike we were looking at had 4,000 miles on it and was only 10 days off the showroom floor. But unlike the other one, it was not a lemon and he had had no problems at all with it. And he was figuring going all the way from Kemmerer to Lamar, Colorado, the next day, and on to Amarillo the next. He denied being hard-core, and when the discussion turned to gear he said he always wears all the gear because he falls down so much. Different people have different perspectives. And you meet all kinds of different people on the road.

Biker Quote for Today

You know you’re a biker when picking bugs out of your beard becomes part of your daily grooming ritual.

Rest areas with shade are very, very welcome when the heat is this bad. This one was in Buhl, Idaho.

After that ride through Boise and then down to Jackpot all of us were happy to stay put for two nights and get off the bikes. It’s an OFMC standard to spend an extra day somewhere and play golf, and also to do some gambling. Jackpot, Nevada, offers both.

That day in Jackpot would have been a good day to ride. There was cloud cover all day, right up to the time we were walking back from the golf course at about 5. But it also made for a nice day out playing golf.

The next morning we headed out early, with similar cloud cover. Nice. But it didn’t last. By the time we reached Wells the sun was out and it was getting hot. We got on I-80 and cranked along till we got to Wendover and stopped there for lunch. If you’ve never come into Wendover from the west you’re missing an impressive sight. You come over a hill and there ahead of you is the vast flatness and bleakness of the salt flats. It really is an “Oh god!” moment.

Then we blasted across the flats. Hot, hot, and more hot. There are two eastbound rest areas and we stopped at the second and fortunately it had a building with air conditioning. Bad news for other people, it had a sign that as of the following day it would be closing, presumably for renovation considering that the grounds looked like they had just been thoroughly redone.

We didn’t want to go through Salt Lake so we turned off I-80 at Grantsville, down to Tooele and around the south end of Utah Lake and the ridge that separates the valleys. En route we passed right by what used to be called Miller Motorsports Park, now the Utah Motorsports Campus, and it was swarming. There were people and campers everywhere, with all these folks just out there in this blazing heat with no shade except of their own making. Not for me, thanks.

We came around the hills and angled back north, headed to Spanish Fork. Dennis, with his GPS, was leading and we got to Spanish Fork and the exit off I-15 and traffic was crazy. It turned out that to get to our motel we needed to cross two packed lanes of traffic to get into the left turn lane immediately. Dennis managed to shove his way into the left lane but there was no way to merge into the turn lane. So he went ahead and made the next left turn, to turn around and head back. He had gotten separated from Bill and me and as we sat in the left turn lane I saw Dennis do a U-turn and then a right heading back the other way. I looked at the traffic situation and at a moment I deemed safe I just did a U-turn right there, with Bill hurrying to follow me. Not exactly legal but it worked.

We pulled up behind Dennis as he sat waiting to take a right turn off this busy highway and we followed him, much to his surprise. He had no idea we were there and had planned to pull over where we could see him and know to turn there. But there we were right behind him. So we got to our motel and what a relief to get out of that heat. Later, at about 10 p.m., I took a walk and the temperature was still around 85. But hey, at 7:45 it had been 99. Way too much heat.

At least we managed not to have to ride through Salt Lake. That would have been worse than Boise.

Biker Quote for Today

You might be a Yuppie biker if you worry about what bikers are supposed to look like.

Construction delays are just an opportunity to stretch your legs and adjust your layers.

We got up early in Cascade, Idaho, that morning of this year’s OFMC trip. We had a long way to go and wanted to take advantage of the morning coolness. As we were getting ready we saw a group of 31 Harleys rumble in and stop for gas across the road, and about 20 minutes later another group of comparable size followed them. Heading to Sturgis?

They were heading north but we were heading south. One of the first things of interest we saw was a guy skinning a deer right beside the road. Road kill we assume and no reason to let it go to waste. Certainly not here in Idaho.

We continued to follow ID 55 across this huge alpine park when all of a sudden the road veered to the west and soon we were plunging down a steep, narrow gorge. And it just kept going. We had to be giving up a lot of altitude. Along the way we encountered a delay at a place we had been warned of by another biker we spoke to several days earlier in Arco, where they were widening this narrow road, and doing so by blasting. Not a very long delay, though.

We knew if we continued on this road it would take us straight into the heart of Boise, which was something we did not want. Checking the map we could see that if we took a left at Banks, over to Lowman, and then south again we could catch I-84 just on the east end of Boise. That was our plan. But we came to Banks and at the intersection was a sign saying the road was closed between Lowman and More’s Creek. We had no service way out here and no map showed More’s Creek so we didn’t know what to do. There were cars coming from the direction of Lowman, though, so as one came to the stop sign I waved to him. Yes, the road to Lowman is open but the road south–which is where More’s Creek is–was closed. We had no choice but to go through Boise. Dang.

Meanwhile, all of this was still just gorgeous riding so it was not as if we weren’t having a good time. We stopped for gas on the north side of Boise and as I was checking my phone for routes a woman at the next pump asked if I was lost. No, not lost, just trying to figure out how best to get around Boise. Is there a bypass? No, there’s no bypass, she told me, but here’s the best route through.

So we took off from there but where she had said to go right Dennis’s GPS said go left, so we went left. That took us pretty deep into town and we decided it was time for lunch. After lunch we needed to turn left out of the parking lot but traffic was horrible. Deciding to go right and then make a left and double back, Dennis took off. But Bill and I were blocked by traffic and by the time we could do anything we had totally lost Dennis. We flailed a bit and finally figured we would just ride on to the spot we had discussed getting gas next. (Dennis had not filled up when Bill and I did.)

We got headed back the other direction and soon saw a sign for I-84. OK, if we can get on the interstate right here this won’t be too bad. We got on and rode just a couple miles and this road–what I now see was I-184–just dumped us onto the city streets in downtown Boise. Not at all what we wanted. So we made it through that mess and then finally picked up the main road south of town and started blasting.

By now we were in phase two of this bifurcated day. All the green and cool were gone and now we were deep into the brown and hot. And if you weren’t going at least 80 mph you were practically going to get blown off the road by everyone else who was going that fast and more.

We got down to Glenns Ferry, where Dennis was to get gas, pulled off the highway into town, turned down the mail street, and found Dennis pumping gas. At least that worked out fine. Something about this town just cried out to me that it must have an ice cream parlor so I asked at the station and they said yes, and here’s how you get there. That was one very welcome break in this long, hot day.

From Glenns Ferry it was only 18 miles till we got off I-84 again, at Bliss, where we picked up US 30, which runs through the Snake River Valley for quite a ways. This got us off the interstate, through some pretty country, and enabled us to not have to go all the way to Twin Falls and then double back to the west to reach US 93 south to Jackpot, Nevada, our destination for the day.

We found a nice rest area in Buhl, Idaho, and took a break there and then hit 93 and turned south. Another 45 miles and we came over the hill and down into Jackpot. This crew was ready for a day off the bikes.

Biker Quote for Today

“On my tombstone they will carve, ‘It never got fast enough for me.’” — Hunter S. Thompson

I get the feeling a lot of people have stopped to take pictures with this sign.

Despite the blazing heat when we got to Missoula the day before on this OFMC 2023 trip, morning came in cool. Nice. I put on one extra layer.

We had to backtrack a little, to the town of Lolo, and then turn up US 12 over Lolo Pass. There was almost no traffic on the road so we had a nice cruise. And the higher we got the cooler it got. It was darn chilly!

Passing by Lolo Hot Springs of course brought memories of the first time I was there, back in about 1978, with a lady friend who was going to school in Missoula. Back then it was just a hot springs in the woods, no development at all, and we were the only ones there. We just got naked and got in the water. Then we camped there overnight. Now it’s totally developed, you have to pay to get in, and I suspect swimsuits are required. Big sigh.

We got to the top of the pass and of course we had to stop for photos at that famous sign. That one in the picture above. Is there any sign anywhere more attractive to a motorcyclist?

And it was cold! We put on more layers. And then, it was a dirty job but we were up for it. We tackled those 99 winding miles. It’s primarily sweepers that you just cruise along through, swaying left and right and left and right, in a nice easy gait. Sweet ride.

At Kooskia we stopped for lunch and then turned south on ID 13 (we were in Idaho now) and then picked up US 95 at Grangeville. The next town south after Grangeville is White Bird and our plan was to ride the White Bird Grade, which has been described as the Stelvio Pass of Idaho. But I blew it.

I had looked this road up before we went and I had it in my mind that you came down to White Bird, got off US 95, and continued south on the grade. That was wrong. I first started wondering when we reached White Bird Summit. This was marked as an historical site and I should have just pulled off to see what the situation was, but I didn’t. We headed on down the newer road and off to our left I could see a two-lane road with lots of sweeping curves over there and I figured it out pretty quickly. Dang! We got down to White Bird and there clearly was no big incline anywhere close ahead. I blew it. Next time. At least the newer road is in fact a pretty darn nice one, too.

We did some up and down and then started climbing. We were running alongside a river and the river kept getting smaller till there was almost nothing left of it. At Meadows we left US 95 and were on ID 55, climbing over a line of hills and down to McCall. Here we came into a huge alpine park, kind of like North Park or South Park in Colorado. Mountains on all sides. Beautiful area. And really big lakes.

Who knew McCall was such a huge tourist destination? Dennis said later his GPS was showing him a bypass around this massive congestion but I was leading and we don’t have communicators. I just followed the highway right through town. That took a while. From McCall we made it on down to Cascade, our destination for the night, and our nicest accommodations of the trip, at the Alpine Lodge. I highly recommend this place.

Altogether a beautiful day’s ride.

Biker Quote for Today

The three most dangerous words to a biker are “HEY… WATCH THIS!”

A sign we saw in a restroom at Alpine Junction.

It was cool in the morning as we left Kemmerer and a very pleasant ride past Fossil Butte National Monument, north through Cokeville on US 30, on north into the Star Valley, and a stop for gas at Alpine Junction.

That’s a really nice road leading up to the Star Valley and it was freshly paved with almost no traffic. Sweet! Getting into the Star Valley it was startling to see how development has discovered this once undiscovered place. It’s down the road a bit from Jackson so I guess it was inevitable; maybe the question is why it took so long.

We split off from US 89 at Alpine Junction, riding past the enormous Palisades Reservoir and down to the little town of Irwin to stop for lunch. I was leading and as we came up on this place I couldn’t tell if it was a motel or restaurant, or both, or whether it was open. By the time I saw there was a restaurant and it was open I was past the turn for the parking lot so I motioned for Bill and Dennis to pull in and made a turn just ahead to come back. What happened next is hearsay for me because I was totally unaware of any of it.

They tell me that as I was preparing to come back–and I know I looked both ways–that I pulled right out in front of a guy coming the other direction. And then nearly stopped right in front of him as he braked and blew his horn. For me what happened was that I looked both ways and maybe I saw this guy but he seemed to be far enough away and/or not moving so fast that it was not an issue. Then, I had failed to downshift when I pulled off to turn around so as I started moving the bike faltered till I quickly downshifted. And then I pulled in at the restaurant.

Bill and Dennis were beside themselves and I was totally oblivious. Oops.

After lunch we rode on to Idaho Falls, me leading, and all I knew for sure was that we wanted US 20 west and that meant going through town. I just followed the signs but our route was the epicenter of a major road construction project. And it was blazing hot. We crept through town until I was no longer seeing signs for US 20. Apparently I missed a turn in among all this chaos. I pulled into a gas station/convenience store and we went inside. After all that heat it took me 10 minutes in the cool to begin to feel like a human being again.

Dennis has GPS so we decided he would lead us out of town and to US 20. We took some country lanes and wandered a bit, all in the right direction, and then finally regained US 20. Then it was a scorching hot ride to Arco, our destination for the day.

The next day we were headed for Missoula, Montana. We took US 93 up to Challis and then north through Salmon. We gained some altitude so it was a little cooler but not as much as I had expected. But a nice road. One spectacular canyon coming down into Salmon. We had lunch and moved on.

The next town of any size was Darby and that was where we had the same experience as coming up the Star Valley. The entire 50 miles or so from Darby to Missoula is like the Colorado Front Range was 40 years ago: open spaces quickly turning into one unbroken city. The highway was four lanes and packed. In 10 years they’ll probably be expanding to six lanes and it won’t be enough.

Missoula itself astonished me. That town must be four times the size it was the last time I was there, less than 10 years ago, and it must be more than 10 times as large as it was the first time I was there, about 50 years ago. It was just mind-boggling. At least we didn’t have to go far into town to get to our motel but once there, to get across the road to the McDonald’s or other fast-food places meant either walk a tenth of a mile to the nearest traffic signal or risk your life crossing directly. Crazy.

Oh, and it was 104 degrees coming into Missoula.

Biker Quote for Today

Sometimes I look back on my life and I’m seriously impressed I am still alive.