There it is.

The Northern States Crossing was a success.  I rode through a bunch of new states: Michigan, Wisconsin, Iowa, South Dakota, Wyoming, Idaho, and Montana.  Made it to my Ghost Town in Montana. Fished across the country in the different states.  Camped, lodged, and wung it on my exploration, whilst staying on back roads and cruising through the small towns that make up the fabric of The United States of America.  Went from hot humid east coast days, to windy frozen mountaintops.  I saw interesting places and met interesting characters, in places that nobody sees or visits anymore, because highways drag everyone on direct routes, more expediently.  But the best roads are the two lane roads, that you can stare down forever, or wind through mountain crags, or disappear into miles of winding corn fields in the middle of farmland America, then come out through miles of lava flow.  But the best times are always the memories that stick with me the most.  Like the mama Buffalo charging me, on that scenic loop through South Dakota.  Or the surprise discovery of a grand canyon of desert shelves and cliffs falling into massive lakes, through eastern Washington.  Getting wasted in a small town, and not remembering serenading everyone, whist rolling around with my guitar on a kitchen floor.  Hanging out on the banks of Lake Eerie fishing with my buddy Pat.  Hanging out in Cleveland, making a door sign, and having guitar jam sessions on a porch overlooking abandoned buildings.  Camping behind a sign on the edge of Devils Tombstone.  Having a hawk fly right next to me.  Paragliding from the mountain tops of a ski resort in Idaho.  And so many more memories to come, and be made with friends.  

I recently had relatives move to the pacific north west, and so I was excited to see their new plots of land and locations.  Cousin Kyle lives in the panhandle of Idaho, and cousin Rian lives just on the outskirts of Seattle.  I took a slow country road from Kyle's to Rian's on the Scenic 2, which goes from Sandpoint, Idaho, all the way out towards Seattle.  I did however jump down to a highway for about 50 miles, because the roads going either way were nowhere near my destination at the hour of night I was pushing. While hanging with my family, I hiked around and got a tour of Kyles large wild acreage of land, went mountain biking with cousin Rian, and I hiked Snoqualamie Falls with my Aunt Kathy.  Got to make puzzles with my cousins, and see the cool things that the young'ns are painting, or creating, or making videos of.  And Rian was such a sweetie and took me and grabbed me from the airport when I flew to SF for Sam and Seth's very fun filled wedding weekend. So yesterday I was back on the road on a new leg of my cross country trip, this time dropping down the west coast. I decided to use the day to explore and ride through Mount Rainier National Park. Another place that my park pass paid for itself. What a beautiful park, such nice people hiking around, I had lunch at Longmire Lodge, visited the Longmire Museum and picked up a fuzzy little road buddy. My new road pet, a fuzzy squirrel puppet. 

So now I'm on the backroads heading south, and covering my old territory the west coast.  Dropping down from Seattle, to Portland, to Arcata, and seeing lots of folks and places in between and along the way.  In the meantime, in the event of making more road memories, and looking forward to seeing new things, here's to hunting down small towns and staying on those backroads.

See you on the Road. 

Thanks for reading!

Dirt Roads over Mountain Passes, Don't mind if I do.

My buddy Mike texted me about the rain that was hitting Ketchum.  Thanks to my non-stop plodding on, I was already a few hours down the road, and that incoming storm was far behind me. Nonetheless, the weather today was steadily cold.  Cold in the valleys and really cold on the tops of those mountains.  The route that was cut out for me on the map, took me on 30 miles of rugged rocky road cut through this mountain pass between Sun Valley and the 93 scenic Idaho byway.  It was slow going and I got a few small spits of rain, but nothing actually really fell to consider it raining.  It was more like rain mist from a cloud that was trying to catch me.  I was staying just in front of that incoming storm.

The sky was a kaleidoscope of grey clouds, and there was the tiniest patch of blue sky trying to peek through the monotony, steadily about 50 miles in front of me, which I just kept riding towards, but never actually caught.  At one point on the ride through that pass, I had to do my business, and I remembered the locals talking about how the bears were out this time of year, gearing up for the winter, and I thought this might be my opportunity to spot a bear, lingering about one of those high mountain streams, or popping out from a bundle of bushes, preferably while I was not indisposed. Unfortunately, the only wildlife I saw on that crossing, was a cow that I played chicken with in the middle of the road.  And a bouquet of pheasants meandering a little further down.  You never saw pheasants scatter faster.

By the time I got to civilization, I hadn't had a thing to eat all morning, and I was jonsing for some breakfast.  So, I stopped at a small wooden cafe in the first town I came to called Challis.  I warmed up with a few cups of piping hot coffee, and my go-to on a day like this: a bowl of chili.  On the road, and over those passes, I kept warming up my hands on the cylinders.  That's pretty much protocol when the finger tips start aching and feeling like pins and needles in the wind chill.  Sometimes you don't have enough time for them to fully feel warm enough before grabbing the throttle again, so getting to just grip that hot cup of coffee for as long as I wanted felt soooo nice.   I chilled there for a nice while until my core and extremities were feeling normal again, and then it was back to the road.

So there I am riding on the 93 that winds up along the Salmon river.  Gorgeous doesn't even begin to describe it.  It's really something to behold.  It's part of the Lewis and Clark trail, and there are little homages to moments in the valleys history along the route.  Both deteriorating and remarkably well preserved cabins tell the tale of settlers who at one point sought refuge and homesteaded along the river.  It's remarkable.   I spied 3 big horned sheep, nestling in the corner grasses on a bank, where a herd of cattle were splattered about, grazing.

Finally, the day wears to a point when you know that the longer you ride, the darker and colder it gets, and that you're gonna pay the same amount for cheap accommodations here, or however many miles further down the road you try to push on.  So why not get in a little early, and enjoy the first cozy town that you can land a sweet warm settlement.  And in my case, sleeping in doors was my only option in this weather.  Well, as soon as I rolled into Darby, Montana, I knew that this was the town.  I have a few hundred miles to put in till tomorrow nights destination, so I wasn't really trying to add that to today.  Right now, I was gonna get my moneys worth out of some local lodging.  Turns out I was lucky with a cozy cabin, this time with heat, and a kitchen.  I offloaded the bike, and took a spin back into town, where I found a badass restaurant that specialized in Pizza; just what I had been craving.  I grabbed some water, and a soda on the way back to my cabin.  And I took a nice long soak under that hot shower.  Now, I'm chilling to Tom Petty on the YouTube, while some cheezy television is on in the background, and I'm jotting down my thoughts for the day while sipping a Jack and Coke.  I'm stoked.

See you on the Road.

Ketching-Up in Ketchum.

It wasn’t just any small mountain town with old money and $2500 season lift ticket prices.  It was the small mountain town where Ernest Hemingway wrote his famous “For Whom The Bell Tolls.”  In fact, I may just be sitting in the very motel where he first started writing it.  This motel due to its relative history to Hemingway has since been spared tearing down, in lieu of a larger and more income producing multiplex of apartments.  Thank gawd some folks still have sentimental appreciation for American and significant histories.  Hemingway evidently wrote a slew of stories here in this little town, which has spawned its modern day Hemingway Festival, which draws writers and literature enthusiasts from all around the globe to participate in its “writer things,”  (yes that’s the technical term.)  But yes Ketchum, Idaho, the home to Sun Valley: a very historic ski resort town.  Boasting top of the line lift boxes, a gorgeous historic lodge at the very top built between 1936-1939, and sky high lift prices, and year round entertainment, this place can draw the cream de la crem.  It’s also a great way to maintain the warm rich charm that its history, and its old money have grown to preserve.  

I’m here by the graces of the good road, visiting my long time best bud, Mike.  He is the head lift Mechanic at Sun Valley, here in Ketchum, Idaho.  Yesterday evening I rolled into town after spending the day exploring caves at “Crater on the Moon” National Park.  I pulled up to his motel complex and promptly off-roaded up and down all the banks until he popped out of one of the dwellings.  I unloaded my bike, and we went to a quaint little Irish pub.  I ordered a Guinness, he ordered a Sprite and the dinner was quite the delight.  Can I just say, I haven’t drinken Guinness since 2002.  After dinner Mike drove us up to the Ski lift and we got to ride the awesome enclosed chair-lift up the mountain, getting a gorgeous view of the night lights in the Valley towns, all the way out as far as little towns were illuminated.   I got to meet and visit with some of Mikes co-workers, who were operating the mountain for an evening gala.  I got a tour of the historic lodge and we were given free range of the deserts that were left over from the catered event.   It was so rad! I'd say my introduction to Ketchum is off to a great start.  Thanks Mike!   

Anyway, It’s neat getting to live and breath in an historic place.  It helps you appreciate, as well as enlighten you to things that you otherwise were unaware.  For myself, I never studied literature, so I didn’t get a good exposure to a lot of ancient poets or writers like Ernest Hemingway.  I’ve heard the title “For Whom The Bell Tolls” but never read it.  I guess you now know whats on my “to read” list. 

Ketchum, Idaho: This little valley is steeped in outdoor activities which I can’t wait to delve into over the course of the next few days here.  Hot springs, that are actually hot, unlike the luke warm ones in Hot Springs, South Dakota, where everyone kept saying “Hey these are kinda cold.”  Fly fishing is on the agenda, since I’ve been drooling all over the picturesque streams, riding all these northern states.  

I’m gonna also do some bike maintenance that I’ve been meaning to get to.  Primary adjustment/change, and oil and filter change.  My tires are showing their age on this trip.  I started with a bit more tread than I have now.  But I think I’ve got another 2000 miles left in em.  Low and Slow, that’s how I go. 

It’s just great to hang out with Mike.  And it was great just getting to be our old selves.  Here’s to reunions, and feeling at home in the company of old friends. 

If anyone wants to find me this afternoon, I'll be Paragliding from the top of the mountain.  Otherwise, I'll see you on the road.

~J.W Dirty and Free. 

Beartooth Highway, Yellowstone, Tetons

The freezing Glacial winds were whipping up the left side and the right side and across the top, threatening to knock me over its edges at any moment.  But I just kept counterbalancing against its attempts along those narrow and no guard-railed lanes, getting a little close to the edges many times. Swearing was an occasional friend of mine.  Beartooth Highway.  

I just can't believe that I ended up miraculously in a little town called Red Lodge, one evening by complete chance, just looking for a close place to camp.  And that the next morning I would find out it was the base and beginning of the Beartooth Highway.  This is a notorious highway evidently and I was a fortunate recipient and experiencee of its wild and wooly pathways.  And of course I underestimated the time it would take to complete it.  It started out fine and normal, climbing slowly up along a beautiful accompanying river and into a mountain valley, steadily getting higher with more picturesque views.  The next thing you know, the winds start picking up.  Then the switchbacks become more and frequent and tighter.   I'd ridden lots of tight roads, but complied with these winds, it became a whole new wonderful experience.  When I reached the top of the mountain, it was blowing hard across the top, and I found a patch of gravel to pull over, and access my leather jacket.  Folks had been taking pictures of the view and then getting comfortably in their cages and warmly and safely rolling away.  I did not have that luxury, nor to leave my bike kick-standed for too long, cause the winds would probably just take it right off of that.  I pulled my signature relief move, off the edge of my bike, in the presence of a few tourists, and I got back on the road.  Boy was that wind trying.  Overall  the switchbacks were great, watching for gravel and riding those carefully in the blown out corners.  There were a few gnarly spots.
 
 I finally get to this place called Top of the World.  A small log cabin with one old pump.  Inside it's full of fun stuff like mountain things, furs, sticks, weapons, patches and bumper stickers that say things like "I survived the Beartooth Highway." Yes, I bought that one.  I picked up a chocolate bar to give me back the carbs and calories I just burned.  And I entertained the staff with some songs that were running through my head at the time.  Although I wanted to take more time there, I knew I couldn't.  There were dark clouds building over these mountains and all I wanted was to get through and out from under them.  They looked like dumping clouds, and the last thing I wanted was that coupled with cold mountain air.

I was still 25 mountain miles from Yellowstone.  So I raced on.

I got gas in a cute town where bikers and other folks taking their time to enjoy things were shopping and eating in more log cabinesque dwellings.  But those dark clouds made me keep saying "just keep pushing on, you can always stop and set up shelter if it gets too bad."  Well as soon as I was on the road the drops came.  I always want to see how long they last.  Mostly just a little patch of cloud and you can roll through in seconds.  You dry quickly on the road anyhow.   I kept riding.

I flashed my Park Pass to the woman at the Yellowstone gate, and got my maps.  opened them up to the roads I'd be following and placed them on my "dash board,"  a little place under my handlebar bungee cords and back-up/old bubble shield.  It's a great design.

I was counting miles and constantly averaging arrival times with the pace of the tourism traffic.  The stop and go, let alone the slow looky-loo traffic.  It was fine, and I would have been them, had I not been trying to beat a brewing storm.  I made good use of those passing lanes as much as possible.  I was still able to take photos and video of the beautiful scenery, rivers, and wildlife from my motorcycle, as I was riding.  Photos don't do real life any justice anyway, and I try to take it in for myself as much as possible.  Yellowstone is really amazing.  I saw tons of folks fly-fishing gorgeous wide streams along the roadway.  I hear it's big for Cutthroat Trout.  I miss fly-fishing.

Somewhere in Yellowstone among the folks stopping to take photos at everything and cars clamoring for parking spots where there were none, I started to get sleet.  You know messy snow.  I jammed around any holdups.  I just kept saying "ain't nobody got time for this."  Thats my go to line, when I gotta just do my thing.  I finally got through those Yellowstone roads, and they opened up, and dropped down into a valley, and I was suddenly under sunny skies again.  I could relax.  I had no idea what the Tetons would be like, and I kept looking off into the distance going, are those the dark clouds I'm going under?  I'd just have to wait and see.  I stopped twice for gas, souvenirs, and talked with fun and engaging folks.

Then I was out of Yellowstone, and rolling through the Tetons.  Well not the way I thought it was gonna go, like riding through and over the mountains.  Instead the road takes you around the Tetons, from which you can see it's massive features, and smoldering hillsides.  It had been under fire recently and a lot of the forest was burned badly.  I got some footage as I rolled through its blackened aftermath.  Traffic was much smoother through Yellowstone.  Even though it did break suddenly for what appeared to be a young Moose at the roadside edge trying to jaywalk, the cute lil bugger.   I took the scenic forest backroad, following more folks looking to spot Moose along this route.  And I did get to see a cute little Moose butt, disappear into a thick of trees.  I just wanted to see more Moosies. I got to Katies cabin with plenty of light still in the sky, or at least the sun was trying to set behind the Tetons, but still definitely up.  She's a family friend from the home town and works at the Tetons.  We visited for a bit at the cabin and then made a run for some eyedrops and a beer at a nearby watering hole.  One and done, we headed back to the cabin and visited some more before sleep was calling us all.  I even took a shower.  The heat felt nice after a day of freezing through mountain passes.  And all the locals didn't think I'd make it to Jackson. Hahaha  Made it!

See you on the Road!

~J.W.

Devils Tower and Battle at Little Bighorn! 2016

Ok so today I was officially back to my solo DirtyFree2016 U.S. adventures.  After an awesome day of riding to Devils Tower and getting to camp at it's campground, I was off early to make it out to the infamous Battle at Little Bighorn, up in Montana.  I stopped at a rad roadside biker dive for a post breakfast beer, where I tried a lager that is made locally.  The bar was dark, dingy, and filled with ancient artifacts affixed to the ceiling.  The older woman running the place was tattooed like a leopard, and I was immediately in love.  Said she was from Huntington Beach originally.  I sat for a spell and chatted her and the cook.  Had the place to myself.  Then I was back on the road to the battlefield.  I'm a sucker for Indian Trading posts, so I pretty much stopped at anything with a Teepee and some furs in front of it.  Then before I knew it, after a quick pee down a dirt road in the forest, I was finally at Battle at Little Bighorn.  My nifty National Park Pass got me in.  I love this thing.  Spent a few hours there doing the 5 mile battle tour ride, exploring the museum, and hiking up the hill and around the monuments.  What an amazing piece of history.   I left with about 2 hours o daylight to ride, but that sun always goes down sooner than one expects, so it got darker, and the weather got colder, with much more crisp content to the air.  I rode till it was way to cold to not be wearing a leather jacket.  I was waving my arms around for blood flow.   But before any leather would go on, I would find myself at a campground in a mountain town in southern Montana, just outside Yellowstone, which would explain the sudden drop in temperature and loss of feeling in my finger tips.  I had nothing but help in this charming little town.  When I rolled up to get a tent camping spot, the hosts were like "you're kidding right?  In this cold weather?"  I said "you got anything better in mind?" The lady said "yeah, how bout a cabin?"  I said "how much?"  She said "30$"  and I said "sold."  Evidently anyone tenting in these parts freezes to death lately, so the fact that they offered me a cabin for 5$ more than what a tent camping site was gonna cost me, I feel like I just won the lottery. Haha   And  Maybe that's my mojo for saving the life of a 5 legged spider this morning.  It was a great day.



And keeping with the fun devils themed trip, the address of the campground just happened to be "6664" hahaha.

See you on the road!

I Love South Dakota!

Today was my favorite! Woke up in Keystone, after getting whiskey bent last night at the Red Garter Saloon. Mt. Rushmore was rad yesterday. Surreal seeing it after all these years of life. And the last couple days I've been just soaking up all the scenery and rides and experiences and haven't been posting updates, but here I am. Just finished rolling all over the Custer and Black Hills National and State parks scenic rides, like Spearfish Canyon, and Deadwood, getting to minigolf! Here in South Dakota. I got to do a fair amount of fishing, as I had set out to do. You know at least cast a line in a few gorgeous lakes using a really scary lure. But today right after riding through the gorgeous Needles highway, we jumped onto the Wildlife Scenic Loop through lower Custer state park, and that's where ALL the BUFFALO were. Right up close an personal. So personal that a mama buffalo decided to charge me. And I got to do some epic off-roading to avert her fury. I launched off the roadway into the adjoining field where all the buffalo were grazing. And I rode through an turned around on a gravel road and them headed back to the road. That mama buffalo was still there and there I was facing her. And I knew she'd charge again if I rode by her, so I gestured for a van to roll by and I'd roll around them so that mama buffalo wouldn't see me roll by. But she saw me scurry around and come out from behind it, and she made one last little lunge and I pretty much was just riding and weaving through all the stopped traffic and the thick of the herd surrounding the road. That was so much FUN!!!! Favorite experience so far. And the scenery, the bare rolling hills and sparsely laid forests, the babbling brooks rolling through open fields of grazing buffalo, and single lane bridges. Gorgeous. Just gorgeous.

Needles Hwy, Custer State Park, South Dakota.

I'm noticing this slumbering buffalo in the grass ahead of me,
while using natures restroom. 

All the BUFFALO.  All of em.