Gremlin's Tall Stories

6am. God… too early and 5.5 hours sleep. Murray isn’t even up, and I finally beat him for once, rising straight away. Pass him his cereal, breakfast in bed. Heh. Packed and geared up, bike loaded. 7am, blimey the hour went quickly. All the bikes are assembled and we head away just after 7am.

380 odd miles to cover, just over 600km. The roads are much more open, we’re heading over the prairie which is markedly different to the previous forests. A brief stop in Longview to regroup, as some had gone on ahead. We’d had one close call when bikes wanted to stop for a bear on the roadside, too many looking at the scenery… a few mentioning that their front and rear ABS worked rather well. I watched the whole thing unfold from the rear, but everyone figured out a place to be that had no-one else. Still made me wince though (except I wasn’t puckering like they were).

The temperature had varied wildly, the deep shade chilly at 9 degrees, the sunny spots feeling hot at 19 degrees.

We had to pass through the USA border together, in case the bags in the van needed to be checked (bit dodgy for one fella in a van to have 20+ bags of ladies underwear etc. ) so I couldn’t stop for many pictures. The first 300km of the day had an average speed of 104kph… *cough* someone else was occupying the mufti we came across when approaching Pincher Creek.

Pincher Creek was a brunch/early lunch stop, as some didn’t eat at Longview. I had the Cranberry oat cookie I’d bought from the café the previous day. Large and delicious. Filled for the final time in Canada, trying to use my Canadian dollars, but still had $45 odd remaining.

The border was a relatively short hop away and we arrived as a group with the van in the midst. The border guards were somewhat amused by the large group, but it helped ease the transition, as we all had the same route etc. They commented I had the wrong passport, but I said nope, live in NZ, born in SA, British passport Asked if I was part of the group, I confirmed and added I was the black sheep of the group. At least that got a smile.

Nope, not carrying more than $10k, spent 5 odd days in Canada, brief description of our route, and nope, not bringing anything in from Canada (realised later I’d told a white lie… I had fudge – I’ll burn in hell). Customs Guy says, “So, the other guys said you had it?”, a brief second passes, and I reply “No, he does!”, pointing at the next sap in line. Waited for the rest of the group to pass through, Ernie in the van not having as many issues as we thought there might be, and one rider had to be special. He didn’t have his license plate, so he had to prove he owned the bike.

Through the Glacier National Park, the road is finally back to corners. Some ahead of me stop in St Mary, but I carried on, wanting to get the day over with. Back into the Glacier National Park proper, also called the Going to the Sun Highway, a pass required. It would cost $12 to pass through the park, but Ken advised us to purchase the annual pass, due to the number of parks we’ll pass through (plus it’s a nice memento). That purchased for $80, I was on my way, straight away into stunning scenery.

A blue blue lake on the left side required several stops and climbing into the mountains, we’re above the snow line, well, ice/slush. It’s right down to the road, you can touch it, and also below the road… more stopping. Look at the pictures, imagine 10 times better, wrap around view, the depth, just amazing.

The road topped out at the Logan Pass visitor centre, elevation 6646 feet, a little over 2000m. A lot of roadworks on the road, but we think it will never be properly sealed, as the snow in winter would mean the ploughs would rip the road up. The view… I snuck a couple of stops here and there, squeezing into spaces a car wouldn’t. A goat on the road that refused to move, even while cars had to drive around, along with a very narrow winding road, mostly rated at 25mph.

The US Park Ranger is effectively the cop in the park, with radar equipped cars and authorised to hand out tickets. I fell slightly foul of one near the summit, as I stopped to get a picture. The ranger was passing by, not happy with where I was “parked” but when he realised I was simply taking a picture and moving on, he grudgingly gave me the OK.

From there it was all downhill, in a good and literal way, winding down the pass, and even when bottoming out, it was still 1000m above sea level. Passed through the small town of West Glacier quickly and onto Whitefish Montana (you must say the drawl in Motaaaana to get the real effect). I was the first to check-in, and I was just unpacking when the rest started appearing. The wind felt like a hair drier, the temperature having now topped out at 33.5 degrees. Thankfully, the rooms had air con going at full chat, the rooms nice and chilly.

The room this time was a bunk room, Murray and I sharing with two others. The bunk room was huge, with 2 doubles, 8 singles and 1 roll away. Two others joined us, as otherwise they would have been on roll aways.

After talking about the day to others, some had already headed into town, so Mark, Gerry and I headed off to find them, doing a bar crawl without the drinking to locate them. At one it went something like “Has a group of kiwis come in, wearing these shirts in the last half hour?”, “Nope”, “Thanks”.

Eventually located them, and not a single one was even wearing the shirts Ken organised for us… dismal I tells ya. A drink or two rolled into dinner, fine by me as I skipped lunch. I forgot my camera, so look to Mark’s blog for pictures, but I tucked into a huge plate of nachos (finishing the whole thing). The bill for the entire table came as one, dammit, so some fun trying to add up. We all learnt we must ask for separate bills in the future, as it makes it sooo much easier. 18% gratuity (pretty much standard for tables over 6) adding to the sting.

Couldn’t be bothered with dessert, but the waitresses are still very cute. The dodgy old guys apparently have a competition going, to see how many pretty girls they can get to sit on their knee for a fiver. You can imagine how impressed their wives are

The bulldog bar apparently had interesting toilets, the men’s featuring many pictures of boobs, the women’s full of penises in one stall. Didn’t bother looking, as they were only generic pictures anyway…

Back to the Inn, some blogging and then shower and bed.

https://photos.app.goo.gl/QhPZgqLt8YwUQLaq9