Gremlin's Tall Stories

Alarm at 6.30am and all the guys in the bunk room are rattling around getting ready. I’m having none of that, so lie in bed instead, copping flack for doing so. I fully intend on having the complimentary breakfast, which will only be available shortly before 7am. In due course, I chuck on some shorts and a t-shirt and head downstairs with my bag for the van. The others are geared up, ready to go, some grab a bit of breakfast.

I do my best to consume the entire breakfast, but no luck, plenty to go round. Several bagels, a piece of fruit and several cups of cranberry juice later, I feel ready to start the day. I take my time, notice the final couple, Roger and Robin leaving around 9am (he said later he had problems with his GPS not giving him the day’s route), when I was mostly done.

I’d done around 200km, so didn’t need to fill yet, rolling out the Inn at 9.30am. A woman had delayed me briefly recounting a story of how they came to know some kiwis, from her grandfather picking up a kiwi hitch-hiking, and they’d since visited NZ. It seems to be a common theme that the Canadians and Americans have visited NZ and loved it. To be honest, they’ve got beautiful countries themselves and I’m starting to wonder if they have seen them. Karen decided to screw up my directions, giving me a 0.5 mile route, that would take 14 hours, and finish at the Hotel on Victoria Island in Canada.

Don’t know how that happened, but I had a rough idea what I needed to do (good lesson not to simply obey a GPS), and trying to modify the route on the fly failed miserably, deleting it instead. Instead, I called up the night stop, and let it route me there, knowing I would ignore some of the instructions.

The scenery was a little different to the normal forests and rolling roads, being more flat and barren. I’m now extremely happy with the state of Montana. Head into the country, away from the town, and you get a 70mph speed limit, which isn’t knocked back when you hit tighter winding sections of road.

The first nice section of road for the day was heading around Flathead Lake, but becoming so blasé about scenery, it looked a bit ordinary compared to all the other stuff we are seeing. I was also about 2 hours behind the main bunch, and wanted to see how much I could catch up. Roger and Robin were passed in the section past Flathead Lake, so I was well up on time.

Hitting Missoula, Ken had mentioned possible alternatives that were longer and more scenic than the main route, but I was a bit behind in the blogs and hadn’t felt brilliant in the morning, so figured getting the day over with and reaching the night stop was probably a better idea.

Onto I90 East, and another surprise. Interstates in Montana have a 75mph limit… around 125kph. Excellent. Wound poor Jessica up (she’s not really that economical for that speed, and not designed for it) and was humming along quite easily. Exit 99 for the Harley shop came and went, and I passed another couple of bikes I saw down at a traffic light. I tell you what, the Harleys in the group seem to have an auto-pilot that activates every time they get close to a shop, and in they go, to find more things to buy. I think it’s just a cover for the extensive servicing that has to be done, to keep these tractors on the road.

I exited at 109, as I was a little unsure which exit I needed for Highway 1, what with Karen being a right bitch. Exit 153, I was a long way away yet. Back on the Interstate it was quite fun to be doing 125-130 indicated, covering good distances in excellent time. The excitement wore off however, and I started getting bored, which I know is a very bad thing indeed. Murray mentioned chewing kept him alert, so I pulled into a weigh station to get a Starburst from my stash.

Back on the highway, enjoying the Starburst, much better. Exit 153, tagged with Highway 1, back to 70mph and more flat land. It did get much better approaching Georgetown, with a nice climb, waterfall, and elevation comfortable in excess of 1000m and probably closer to 2000m. Reaching the top, I’m greated by the beautiful Georgetown Lake, a couple of pics, then just down the road, Silver Lake, so another picture there. The temperature was staying reasonably mild, within the twenties all the time.

I’ve done the math, and now I’m checking my numbers. Gas is getting low, I’ve hit reserve, and I’m still not near a town. I thought I would have 60-70km to spare, but now it looks like 30-40km instead. 70mph cruising speeds probably aren’t helping, but I’m not desperate yet, so kept the pace on as Anaconda, my next stop was down the road.

Rolled into the town with 30km to spare and stopped at the first gas station. I’ve rolled into Picton with 8km to spare, but I knew Picton, and the USA has large open spaces I know nothing about. 8.6 Gallons taken, about 32.5L, not bad for a tank rated 33L. Nice cold 7up went down a treat and hopped over to the other side of town, to see the Anaconda Smelter Stack, the tallest masonry structure in the world. Quite an impressive sight sitting on the hillside, couldn’t get right to it, but there was a monument/info thingy near the base, illustrating how big the base and top were, along with lots of info. See pictures…

Butte wasn’t far away now, less than an hour, so didn’t bother stopping for lunch and went straight there. Hotel Finlen wasn’t too hard to find, Butte proving to be large than expected. A couple (turned out to be Mark and Gerry – who’d missed Highway 1 and done the Interstate instead) had already arrived, but they didn’t have the room layout they thought Ken had, so couldn’t check in. They were off sightseeing.

I was about to head off and do the same thing, until Dave and Donella and Gary and Wendy arrived, saying Ken and Jan were close behind. Ken wasn’t far behind, sorted accommodation so we could all check in. I was room sharing with Murray, in the new motel, and checked out Ken’s very flash suite he’d been given, in the re-vamped Hotel, complete with extra room with couch.

Dropped my gear, Mark and Gerry arrived, and I put them in my car park, thereby blocking it out for cars, as I was heading out sightseeing. I wanted to see a big hole, and a big hole I saw (1800 feet deep), except it was mostly full of water.

Berkeley Pit was an open copper mine, they simply dug into the earth to find it, and while mining was still going on to one side, the hole had been allowed to fill once mining operations ceased. It was expected the hole would reach critical water level in 2023. While the shots were fabulous, I desired a more overlooking shot, which meant I needed to find some trails along the ridges. Hard life, and asking at the pit entrance, found there were a few trails, and there should be no problem riding them. Sweet.

It took some patience and a few dead ends before finally having some success. Happened across a memorial to miners that had been killed in an explosion, more than 100 I think. Carrying on, I found trails, and some neat riding (mostly flat, but not a road), even going down a short descent that would have been close to 45 degrees.

Going into the back of Walkerville, the housing is a whole lot less … desirable, but still photogenic from a historical viewpoint. I finally head down Moulton Reservoir Rd, which was what I was after, all except the storm I had been mostly evading.

The road took me smack bang into it… and it felt like that literally. I’d seen the black clouds, but put off getting the rain jacket out (which I thankfully had). As it started, I figured it best to pull it out, leaving the summer gloves on. I had it on half way, when it started raining... Sorry, did I say rain? It actually ended up being hail, lightning and thunder. I wanted to take a shot of all the hail on my lap, but thought the camera was safer in my pocket. The lightning surrounded me, with a kilometre or two. It was when I noticed that the temperature had plummeted from 23-25 degrees to 8 degrees, I knew it wasn’t your average rain shower.

I started thinking… I’ve done some smart things in my life, like buying a BMW, but being out in thunder and lightning, on something full of metal and electronics, with only a few trees taller than me… probably not one of those aforementioned smart moments Still, no shelter to be had, I’ve heard of people being zapped under trees, because the tree gets hit, so I carried on.

I mean this generally speaking. The water and hail bouncing off the sandy (fast becoming mud) road meant the road was a blur several inches thick, the visor fogged up and I think a geriatric on a motorised scooter could have gone faster. I also realised that descending the hills I was climbing probably wasn’t going to be easy on my road tyres

I was eventually foiled by a private property sign… how disappointing, so a shot to prove all the wet conditions, and puddle jumping became my new sport descending (cautiously) the slopes. A turn up a challenging track proved to be driveway with vehicles in sight… why they didn’t have a fricken number on the road like all the others I don’t know…

Another track, and I finally had some decent shots overlooking the mine and valley below, mission accomplished. It was rather sad to see all the broken bottles and cans lying around… you’d think they’d respect the environment a little better.

Finally reaching town, it was 5.30pm so I went straight to a bread place I’d read about in the guide while unpacking. A chicken salad sandwich and ham and swiss one, plus chips and apple, filled the void that existed from no lunch and an upcoming dinner. I had them to go, served by a very nice girl who took only 5 minutes to assemble the huge sandwiches, on bread they make. I should have taken pictures, but my mouth got to them first, with no remains suitable for pictures. Pop by for a sandwich, highly recommend it. Also found some very nice trail mix, chocolate chips, white chocolate chips, raisins, craisins (cranberry raisins), nuts and seeds etc.

Back at the motel, the rest of the group had arrived, delayed by the Harley shop, and having some beers. Mocks of “Where ya been? Finally!”, silenced by pointing up at the ridge line, and saying “There, exploring.”

Jessica proved a good backup… she was now filthy, covered in muck, a mixture of sand and mud. Searching for a hose turned up nothing, and the guys going on about the dodgy car wash didn’t make me want to go there, so I found a broom and got her looking a little better. I knew there was a reason I didn’t bloody clean her… The guys loved the action, wanting me to be a witch on a broom, and tried the new nickname Harry… I prefer Gremlin thanks…

The rest headed out to rustle up grub, I was well satisfied with my sandwiches and watched telly instead. The wireless was only available in the hotel section and I couldn’t be arsed going all the way over there. I did see an interesting show on a gold and silver pawnbrokers. They had 12,000 items in their inventory, and people came in wanting to sell stuff (one was a loaded civil war gun).

Short day tomorrow, but the nutters still want to leave around 8am.

https://photos.app.goo.gl/dXm7sU7Mhr2SKiPD9