2023 — Lolo Pass, Finally

OFMC 2023 route

Just three of us again this year, Bill, Ken, and Dennis. Bruce had hoped to come but Suz needed him at home so he couldn't make it. We missed you Bruce.

At Dennis's suggestion we headed once again to Lolo Pass, southwest of Missoula, where we had been headed when Dennis had his ill-fated encounter with red diesel.

Our first day's stop was just Meeker and we headed up Clear Creek Canyon to meet I-70 just east of Idaho Springs, then the slab all the way to Rifle. Turning north on CO 13 we soon came up on some major construction but got there just as the long line in front of us was moving and we didn't have to wait at all. Nice.

Reaching Meeker, Bill called some friends, Bill and Dagney, and Dagney said they were "doin's" in the town park and we should come meet them there and have free Indian tacos and more. So we did. The next morning they came by on their bikes and we all rode to Rangeley for breakfast.

The restaurant in Rangeley was busy but they had only one person up front doing everything and probably one cook in back. We sat for 45 minutes before we even got water. Nobody can hire enough help these days.

Continuing west and north, we reached Dinosaur and then got on US 40 headed for Vernal. By now it was blazing hot, which was to be a regular feature of most of this trip. But it cooled off a bit as we climbed going north out of Vernal on US 191, up past the Flaming Gorge and on to Manila, on into Wyoming, and then to Kemmerer. It turned out there was a bluegrass festival going on in the park in downtown Kemmerer but none of us felt like riding into town for it. Instead, we ended up talking with a guy on a Harley Pan America who was on his way home to Texas from Alaska. Some people are more hard core than us.

From Kemmerer we headed up the Star Valley to Alpine Junction, where we got gas and spotted the "how to use toilets in America" sign. Then past Palisades Reservoir and stopped for lunch at a little town a few miles further up the road. Ken was leading and by the time he could confirm the place was a restaurant and was open he was past the turn so he made the next turn and came back. But oblivious to him, but horrifying to Dennis and Bill, he pulled right out in front of an oncoming car who braked hard to prevent some nasty consequences. Kind of like Dennis in the Black Hills some years ago.

After lunch we went on to Idaho Falls where we got into nasty construction, lost our highway due to all the detours, and roasted till we stopped at a convenience store just past the motel where we stayed when we detoured here on the red diesel trip. Then we did some wandering to find the road and finally made it to Arco, our stop this night. At this motel, due to some confusion and other circumstances, we ended up with two nice rooms all for the grand price of $80. Best deal of the trip.

We talked with a couple riders staying at the same motel who were father and son heading back to the Salt Lake area at the end of a long ride together. Then the dad was just going to keep going and meet up with some friends for a continuation of his trip. We also talked with three young guys on Harleys who were planning to make it from Arco to the Oregon coast that day. Yikes! Some people are more hard core than us.

We headed north out of Arco toward Salmon and then on to Missoula. The stretch from about 50 miles south of Missoula on up is like the Colorado Front Range with huge development turning what had been a sleepy highway into an extended metro area. And the growth in Missoula was even more astonishing.

In the morning we backtracked to the little town of Lolo and made the turn to go up Lolo Pass. As busy as the highway was getting to Lolo, the road up the pass was almost all ours. And in sharp contrast to most places we had been, it was getting cold. We got up to the top of the pass, to the renowned sign stating "Winding Road Next 99 Miles," and stopped for photos and to put on more layers. Now let's go ride 99 miles of curves!

At Kooskia we had lunch and turned south. And it got hot again. The intention was to ride the White Bird Grade, a stretch often called the Stelvio Pass of Idaho. But due to a misunderstanding on the part of our navigator, who we will not name and publicly shame here, we missed that turn and rode the new highway instead. Which in fact is a pretty darn nice road of its own. We got down to where US 95, the road we were on, went right and we went left, over a small pass and down into a huge mountain park like South Park, to McCall. Who knew McCall was the biggest tourist center in Idaho? Dennis's GPS was pointing him to a route around all this congestion but Ken was leading and we have no communicators. We went right through the middle of it. Then another quick stretch south to Cascade, our destination. The motel in Cascade was by far the nicest place we stayed on this trip, and probably one of the nicest ones we've ever stayed at.

On the way to Cascade Bill had his own close call. He was riding in the middle and while Dennis has lights on his BMW that can probably be seen from space, Bill's, in comparison, are very weak. Some guy going the other direction certainly saw Dennis but judged that he had plenty of room to turn left, and apparently didn't notice Bill. Enjoying that adrenaline Bill?

The next morning as we were packing up, a group of about 24 Harleys came thundering into town from the south, followed about 15 minutes later by another group of similar size. Headed to Sturgis?

We headed south, still crossing this vast mountain park, passing a guy alongside the road skinning a deer that was probably road kill. This is Idaho, after all. The road went south a ways but then took a sharp right turn and very quickly went plunging down a steep canyon. Clearly we were coming down off this high uplifted area back to the prairie. And we just went down and down and down.

At the town of Banks we intended to turn east to go to Lowman and then south to reach I-90 at the east end of Boise. No dice, though. There was a sign saying the road between Lowman and More's Creek was closed. We had no idea where More's Creek was so Ken stood at the intersection and yelled to a guy coming from Lowman who stopped at the stop sign, asking if the road was impassable. He said you can get to Lowman, but More's Creek is south of Lowman and yes that road is definitely closed. So we couldn't go that route. We had to go into Boise.

We stopped for gas at a station on the north side of Boise and were told there was no bypass through or around Boise. Nothing to do but go right through. We headed on but stopped for lunch. Leaving the restaurant we needed to turn left but the traffic was endless so Dennis went right, figuring to go to the corner and turn left and then head the other way. But he pulled out and traffic prevented Ken and Bill from coming along right after him so by the time they made the turn Dennis was nowhere in sight. They went a few blocks before finding a place to turn left and then head back the other way but where was Dennis? But he had said he planned to get gas at Glenns Ferry, east along I-90, so they decided they would just meet him there. Meanwhile, following signs leading to the interstate they ended up on I-184, which just dumps you smack in the middle of downtown Boise on city streets. Dang!

Everyone did finally get to Glenns Ferry and met up at the first gas station in town. Ken had a feeling this was the kind of town that would have an ice cream parlor and he asked. Yep, go down here and turn right. So we had a really nice ice cream break. Did I mention it was blazing hot? Then we got back on I-90 just to Bliss where we got off onto US 30 through Hagerman and on down to hit US 93, having totally avoided Twin Falls. Now it was just a short jaunt south to Jackpot, Nevada. A day off the bikes, gambling, and golf.

A day off the bikes was welcome, and golf was good as usual, but the gambling not so much. All three of us, but Ken and Dennis in particular, got sucked into a machine that skunked us. It was one of those that show a pot filling and then -- theoretically -- when it pays it's a nice pay-off. And we kept pouring more and more money in and finally -- Finally! -- it paid off, to the tune of about $7. Oh, that casino sure scammed us good!

The day we weren't traveling the weather was very nice--cloudy and cool. The next day, as we headed out, it was the same but that burned off by the time we reached Wells and I-80. Now it was hot again. We headed east to Wendover and stopped for lunch then it was that trek across the salt flats--with temperatures around 100 or more. This trip was really characterized by stretches like this, blazing hot and long stretches across barren landscapes. Not the sort of place you would want the bike to break down (which, for those of you who don't read between the lines well, is known as "fore-shadowing.")

Before getting into Salt Lake itself we turned south off the interstate onto UT 36, which goes through Tooele and on south to where it meets US 6. Heading east on US 6 we reached I-15 and took it north to Spanish Fork, our destination for the day. But getting to our hotel was not easy. We really wanted to get off the highway and immediately get to the left and make the first left turn. Fat chance with all the traffic. So, with Dennis leading, we headed down to the next intersection and he turned left and made a U-turn and came back out. Meanwhile Bill and Ken were still sitting at the light waiting to make the left turn. As Dennis headed back the other way Ken eyed the situation and, with no warning to Bill, did a U-turn right there to follow Dennis. Bill scrambled to follow, hoping Ken wasn't going to get him killed. Dennis then pulled off to wait for the others only to find, to his surprise, that they were right behind him. And then we finally got to our hotel. Meanwhile the heat did not let up, and at 7:45 it was still 99 degrees outside.

In the morning our route was straight out of town on US 6, mostly descending through hilly country, similar to after we left Cascade. And also similar to leaving Cascade, the road eventually came out onto a vast, open, flat area. Oh, and should I mention it was really hot? We got to I-70 and blasted east to Green River, where we stopped for lunch. Then another 100 miles to Grand Junction, where the thermometer was showing 100 degrees when we arrived.

All that remained on the following day was to get home on I-70. Because we had gone further than we generally do we had taken one extra day. That meant we were coming back into town on Sunday, rather than the usual Saturday. We really should have left on Thursday rather than Friday so we could have come home on Saturday. We started hitting heavy traffic at Vail, although the traffic was still moving at a good pace. It only got worse from there.

We stopped for gas and lunch at Frisco, then got back on the highway and traffic was no longer clipping along. Down to Silverthorne and starting up toward the Eisenhower Tunnel it was traffic like you expect to see on a Sunday at maybe 3 p.m., and it was only 11:30. Laboriously, clutch-hand-killingly, we inched our way toward the tunnel. This was also where we got separated, the usual thing on this last leg home.

Dennis was gone up ahead and Bill was just a little ahead of Ken when Ken pulled off the road. Ken's bike was dumping yellow fluid on the road and he could smell coolant. Dang! Bill and Dennis got on home uneventfully but Ken had no such luck. The luck he did have was that way up the mountain, about half a mile from the tunnel, it was no longer furnace hot. In fact, it was a little cool, and after calling for a tow truck he put on one layer and then another to keep warm. Far, far better for this to happen here than so many other places we had been.

No tow truck ever came. There were four other vehicles also pulled off within a quarter mile of Ken, each waiting for a truck. When one driver asked if he needed a ride he said yes, called AMA Roadside Assistance back, and they said yes, take the ride, we'll reimburse you. The driver then drove the shoulder and took the emergency lane and showed just how wild things can get if you just get off the traffic lanes along the interstate. He also said that to take Ken home to Denver would cost more than $1,000 but for $350 he could take him to Georgetown. Then maybe he could get another tow truck to go the rest of the way. That's what was agreed upon.

At Georgetown Ken again called for a tow and once again no truck ever came. Back in touch repeatedly with the towing service, Ken was finally told there was no truck that would be coming for him today, could he get to a place to spend the night? And then they would have someone there to pick the bike up at 8 the next morning. Yes, he said, I can call my wife in Denver to come pick me up. He finally got home that night at 10 o'clock. But the bike was still in Georgetown. And the roadside assistance people never could get a tow truck to haul it to Denver so Ken finally got the bike home by calling his mechanic, who had a truck and trailer, and paying him $250 to bring the bike home. And that was finally the end of this year's trip.

Meanwhile, Bill had been tossing off comments along the way that had Dennis and Ken suspecting an announcement. Remarks like, after a long, hot day of riding, "Remind me again why we do this." That announcement came at dinner in Spanish Fork, with Bill saying that he is ready to hang it up on these trips. Dennis suggested maybe planning some shorter, lower mileage, tourist-stop trips, where rather than just passing by all these tourist attractions we actually stop and visit the places. Bill indicated he might be good with something like that. But this may have been the last OFMC trip.

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