There and Back Again II
Tale of the KLR
There and Back Again II
Tale of the KLR
Ok so its not really a tale of the KLR but since I'm writing the story my bike is the rock star. Actually, the story is about 4 guys in search of 4 rooms while riding motorcycles across 2 countries. Izzy, John, and Chris hail from sunny San Diego, California while I myself traveled from Sin City, Nevada. Our goal was to hit Banff National Park in Canada with pitstops in Glacier, Yellowstone, and Grand Tetons on the way back. Time and patience permitted we were planning on hitting Bryce Canyon and Zion as well.
The Bikes:
Steve - KLR650
Izzy - Vstrom 1000
John - Vstrom 1000
Chris - Shadow 750
Whatever you do in your life, avoid Winnemucca, Nevada at all costs. The only thing that separates this dump of a town from the rest of the barren desert wasteland that surrounds it is a few iridescence lights.
Imagine, a livestock auction and a car show in the same town on the same weekend. Winnemucca boasts over 1000 hotel rooms and every one of them is full this evening. After riding almost 600 miles personally, and the nearly 700 miles put in by my partners we were far from enjoying the tedious task of hopping from hotel to hotel getting the same disapproving nod when we ask if there are rooms available. Due to both riveting events occuring on the same weekend we were told over and over again all the rooms in town were full. That is except the fine accommodations offered by the Scott Shady Court smack dab next to interstate 80. Back in the days of old when the Scott Shady Court was constructed the term shady most likely had a different connotation. More than likely shady insinuated not sunny, however this day shady has a much different meaning.
This is the type of motel you don’t willingly stay at unless every other hotel room in town is booked. So of course we happily requested four rooms and slept soundly. That is after I moved the nightstand in front of the door.
Winners Casino for dinner. If a smoke filled run down stink-joint of a casino in the middle of Crapville is your idea of a good time then this place is for you. The detached, disinterested, gum-chewing, pregnant lady pretending to serve us dinner made our night in Winnemucca even more extra special.
The rooms were welcoming and we especially loved the gas station inspired toilets...
Winnemucca again... Nah I don't think so.
The next day we rode 428 miles and finally arrived in Grangeville, Idaho. When we went to find rooms amazingly enough we were told no rooms were available in the entire town. Due to the wildfires burning across Idaho the fire crews had booked up every room for contingency accommodations. “Do you have four rooms?” we asked. We were of course told there isn’t a room in town and we should drive 70 miles north for possible motels.
Cow Karma prevailed as even though we couldn’t find four rooms, we were lucky enough to stumble across one. Nothing says motorcycle road trip like four stank dudes having the great pleasure of sharing one room after riding 428 miles in 100 degree heat. After getting our boots off we realized we would probably die of asphyxiation if we didn’t quickly open some windows, doors, and possibly ventilate the celing in some form of desperation. A quick shower and we went out on the happening town of Grangeville in search of food and drink.
Dinner… Starving… The friendly small-town waitress was a welcome change to the seahag pair that served us the night before in Winnemucca. After seeing we were on the verge of dehydration she even dropped off a pitcher of ice cold water to irrigate the barren desert that was our mouths. The food now was a slightly different story. Granted we were not in search of award winning cuisine but the powdered clam chowder tasted like detergent and my mind fooled my mouth into eating the baked potato after out of instinct for survival alone.
No whisky in Grangeville. It is past 9pm and the sidewalks have been pulled in. Oh well the whisky was only to dull my sense of smell since the motel room with our socks and boots was patiently awaiting our return.
Izzy's Mule
Our nights are cursed. Livestock conventions, car shows, and now some made-up sounding Canadian holiday chases us out of yet another town where we just want to sleep. Apparently it is a 3-day weekend in Canada with British Columbia having no rooms in the entire state. All is not lost however as the kind front desk clerk loans us her phone and 100 miles later we roll into the prestigious Heritage Estates in Cranbrook, Alberta.
The Heritage Estates is no 5-star, but to us in our battered condition it seemed like paradise. Call it fatigue, call it exhaustion, call it not wanting to cram four rotting carcasses of men into 1 room. Call it what you want but a (somewhat) soft bed and a little privacy is just what we needed.
Who would have thought one of the most bitchen Irish pubs we have ever visited would be tucked away in the same Canadian town of Cranbrook. The three awesome ladies behind the bar served up some of the best pints of Guinness we have ever had the pleasure of drinking. One even took the time to carve minature shamrocks into the frothy foam of the tasty beer. After half a dozen more beers with and a shot of Jameson, I was beginning to like Canada a lot.
We were eager to see Banff so we hit the hay at the Heritage and got an early albeit slightly hung over start the next morning.
Since we had a relatively light day as far as miles were concerned we decided to take it easy and stop frequently. The scenery in Canada around the Columbia River is simply stunning and even the rest stops on the side of the road offer visual adventures unlike anything I have seen.
The Columbia Wetlands were eye candy as well. We stopped for some more pictures and found it hard to leave. Not sure if we were amazed by what we saw or just saddle sore but personally, I could have stayed here for days.
The beauty of the area made us feel revitalized and spiritually connected. Apparently Chris felt rather puffy as well…
Back on the road Banff was only a few hours away. Arriving at the gates of the Kootenai National Park Entrance we quickly learned one surprising fact. National Parks in Canada were just as crowded as the parks in the US. Granted the entrance was no Yellowstone parking lot but it was a zoo none the less. Banff started out cold and rainy but the beauty was beginning to become breathtaking. We stopped at a turnout while the wind and rain picked up and noticed swarms of mosquitoes apparently plotting to takeover the world one bite at a time.
The KLR was performing awesome so far. Burning a sick amount of oil on the interstate but arriving in Kootenai NP I wouldn’t want to be on any other bike.
We arrived at the Lake Louise tent-only campground and were treated to the telltale sign explaining they were of course, all full. The understanding ranger explained to us that about 10 miles away on scenic highway 1A another campground had available spots for camping. Driving highway 1A seemed much longer than 10 miles due to the constant barrage of RVs and picture snapping tourists but eventually we found the campground and two decent plots for us to make a temporary home away from home.
Back to Lake Louise Village for supplies I finally scored some whisky. Canadian whisky is surprisingly better in Canada, go figure but a few swigs later at camp I drunkenly explained "I slike dis Canadian whisky muk beddar den de 5-dollar pints of the Yellowstone vintage from de last year". By the way Pelican cases make great beer coolers and we all thanked Izzy for being the only adventurer with hard luggage.
The campground was cozy but a bit dark. With all the stunning panoramic scenery in the park it was all blocked out by the thick pine tree forest surrounding our campground. A storm began to move in so we quickly started our weatherproofing efforts for the night. On the way back from Lake Louise Village we were treated to the privilege of witnessing one of the most awe inspiring rainbows that revealed herself to us for a few precious moments.
Back at camp with a few beers down and some whisky shooters Izzy and I decided to give proper ADVrider salutes.