Continental Divide Ride 2013

Day 2

I am and have always been an early riser, and anyone who knows me, or has traveled with me, knows this. Thankfully Ian is similar in this respect and we always got an early start to the trails. Running early has the advantage of good light for photos and cool air, on what was an otherwise very hot trip. Temperatures in the high 80’s and mid 90’s was the norm, and neither I, nor my ride like it too hot. It can be a challenge finding food that early in the morning, but we had the Polebridge Bakery this morning. They had great coffee and sublime fresh baking, albeit a bit pricey.

Day 2 would end up being a too-long day considering the terrain, and I have learned a lot on this trip on how to tailor the ride based on what the track consists of. I also learned a lesson about Google maps and Satellite images and their reliability, or lack there of.



506 km for the day.



After a wonderful breakfast of a Huckleberry Bear-Claw (still hot) and rich dark roast coffee, we set off toward Whitefish Montana. We zig zagged south east along Big Dog’s track with a few modifications of my own thrown in. The heat of the day became intense but the scenery along this day’s track was so beautiful and varied, that the heat could be overlooked for awhile. Today’s ride stared with a beautiful run into the mountains and past a great camp site at Upper Whitefish lake. The section south of Whitefish was easy and as the day progressed we found the riding became more challenging including a section of freshly dug up track near Empire Mill. It had been slow going and the day was fast slipping into dusk. Once we reached Highway 12 we decided to head into Helena a grab a hotel rather than push any further. The next day, ironically, we discovered a nice campsite less than 5 miles further along the track.









 
Day 3

Day 3: started with a hotel breakfast and repack of the tents that were much dryer after a night of hanging over the furniture.There had been heavy dew, not rain the night before and they were packed away wet. We ran back to the point on highway 12 where the track crossed and carried on south, after a chain lubing session on the end of the pavement.



431 km for the day

The route ran into a nice dark, cool canyon as it headed south, with a few creatures running across, just to see if we were paying attention. I saw a wolf clear the trail further along in a single flying leap. It was an impressive animal. The track took us over a nice variety of road surface from fast gravel to rutted dirt and rock before reaching Basin, MT. As we rolled up in front of the post office a quad, sporting a bearded, weathered man, and a dog. The dog dismounted first and the man warned, “Watch it he’ll take off your leg”. He stood up and as if to make this point, swung his wooden left leg over the quad and stepped down. It's good to have a sense of humor regardless of how macabre. We chatted for a while and confirmed that the route out of town was opposite to what Google maps had told me, what a shock.

















The next section was a great mix of nearly quad track and good gravel into Butte, along which, I saw my first CDT sign. Coming down toward the I-90 there were a few corners that almost got both of us, for me at least, due to rubber-necking the scenery. After a refuel and visit to a bike shop we carried on to Bannack Ghost town via Wise River and Polaris. I had seen this on a large number of reports but HAD to see for myself. I think it is the history and the remoteness (in the day) that make it so fascinating. You could almost hear the horses and the clink of spurs along the boardwalks. I had an idea about that, but my mind works in an unusual manner, or maybe it was the heat. After a tour of the town, self guided and ill-informed (I speak for myself here).













The day after our tour a flash Flood took a good portion of the town and closed it to the public. Timing is everything!


We Carried on south on really fast gravel (wink, wink). Café Canvas showed from Big Dogs report near the junction of 324, which we would cross again heading into Idaho days later, you are a brave soul Big Dog, stopping there, with its curb appeal (Yikes!). South on Medicine Lodge road to Lima proved slow going in places, and the heat was oppressive. We went through a nice canyon section (and it clouded over briefly) as we got close to I-15 and Lima.




I had heard good things about the little motel across from Ralph’s Exxon and the only Café in town. Camping was cheap and everything you need is close, but being a city boy used to some level of luxury, that’s the best I can say. We did meet another group of ADV’ers doing the CDT (bicycle) trail. John, John, and Gary, KLR 650, GS 800, F 650 GS Dakar, and a chase vehicle (Van and trailer) with one of the John’s wives as driver. They were doing it the hard way from their accounts and they illustrated the complexities of a group dynamic very well (as it would turn out). I have always found that groups work best with at least 4 and up to 6 where similarities in machines, abilities, and expectations mesh fairly closely. Differences tend to be resolved by committee with these numbers, rather than smaller groups, by compromise (on one or the other to varying degree). They had had a tough day on an inappropriate trail for the equipment involved, despite all being experienced and accomplished enduro riders. They were not young guys and the day had taken a toll, although the enthusiasm was still very evident. We talked and exchanged information, riding the same direction the following day. If you stop in Lima, and camp, take ear plugs, as it sits next the Interstate and close to a main rail line with level (uncontrolled) crossings. This to, would become a recurrence along the voyage.

 
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Day 4

Day 4: After the morning Greasy Spoon experience (lube innerds, lube chain), remember, only game in town, or “best food in town” they say, Oh Baby…. On the bright side, the young waitress, with the sniffles (a bad case), from dinner the evening before, was not working the morning shift. Gary joined us for breakfast and was as bright and enthusiastic as the night before. He was frustrated that his Zumo (220 ?) would not except tracks, wirelessly from our “Montanas”, but wanted to swap email address before hitting the trail.



280 km for the day. (for me)













It was cloudy, but would not rain for a couple of hours and not for long. Today’s track was very easy but still quite scenic. We hit a snag when there was a locked gate on one section. The go around was easy, and we decided to back-tract from the other end to see how close to the closure we could get. We met up with the group of 3 again several times on this last section, the Johns together, and Gary on his own, running ahead. We then carried on after another re-route and another closed section south of Henry’s Lake down Fish Creek road. The south end (Robinson Creek road) turned out to be paved, but was very abandoned looking with grass growing through the pavement and somewhat overgrown ditches. It could have passed for a Hollywood apocalypse movie set. We hit Ashton, Flagg Ranch road and went back into Ashton for food before running up to the Warm River Campground. A note concerning “Warm” River, 50 degrees F. does not warm, make. It was a nice camp spot, missing only showers, having to use the “refreshing” river as a substitute, which would also happen numerous times on the trip. Ian talked to the John that was leading the other group, in Ashton. It turns out, Gary had had a difference of opinion (Melt down) and had quit the trip (since we had seen them a couple of hours before), showing how fragile group relations can be, in trying or long trips. Ian had some mechanical (chain) issues and once we settled in at camp, he ran back into Ashton to deal with them. Dinner was a cook-at-camp-site affair that night.

Montana C D T part II - YouTube

Montana C D T part II - YouTube


Montana C D T part III - YouTube

Montana C D T part III - YouTube
 
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Day 5



287 Km. for the day (not including 20 more to run back and forth into Big Sky for Dinner).

Day 5: We rode into Ashton yet again for breakfast and fuel. The name of the restaurant escapes me (only one open early), but it was a big barn red place just west of the rail line. One little old lady watched us pull in and “gear-off” before going inside. She met us at the door and demonstrated her flair for exaggeration; “I watched you guys for 10 minutes, getting off your bikes, I have never seen anyone take so long”. Then after making sure we were not Liberals, allowed us passage to the taxidermists heaven that was our morning respite. The coffee was in the usual style of “shave your tongue after drinking” that so much of the mid western US enjoys… yech! The food was OK, and didn't make either of us sick, so that was a bonus. Heading back east along Ashton/ Flagg Ranch road to Grassy Lake road across the southern most edge of Yellowstone was beautiful. I use “beautiful” a lot in describing the scenery along the route, and it truly was, (I could go drag the Thesaurus out if you like), but take my word for it, you will feel the same over used sentiment if you follow this track. Grassy lake “road” would not be a nice place to drag the camper with the mini van, or your Electra-Glide, but it was a nice road to travel with dual sports. Like so many of the paths taken, it would be much less fun if it was raining, due to the make up of many sections of the track.









After that inspiring ride, Yellowstone traffic and crowds was a drag. I really only wanted to see the West side of the park due to my (unfortunate) having to rush past/ through Yellowstone last year. I wanted to see Old faithful and whatever I could near by. The heat was vicious by the time we passed the south gate and set a fast pace as a result. We go to the sea of humanity around the Geyser and took a few touristy shots for posterity. We took the short walk in all our gear around Old Faithful to see (to me) the more interesting, and colourful, hot pools. We had a short shuffle through the gift shop, and cafeteria, and big lodge (nice) before we rode into the crushing heat of the day again. Despite the heat we stopped for a few nice pictures before hitting the town of West Yellowstone to fuel and cool for a short while.



Amazing how many people will willingly sit by the blow holes of one of the largest, most overdue, active volcanoes on the planet. Lets all jump up and down together now......













I walked into the Exxon, GPS in hand to ask for intel on camp spots north of town along 191. I approached an older employee to hear him say rather sarcastically, “Oh good, I always enjoy seeing someone walk in with their GPS in hand; I know I’m in for a story”. “No story” I replied,” I just would like to know where any decent campgrounds within an hour heading north on 191 are”. He was helpful and directed me to Red Cliff campground not far south of Big Sky. The drive along the way was quick and a treat for the eyes, despite ominous thunderheads building in our chosen direction. It was completely overcast by the time we arrived at the camp and set up under very large trees. We ran into Big Sky for dinner at a place called "Choppers" (Billy would have liked the decor), having left my west facing tent fly open to cool things down. As we sat in the pub having dinner those ominous clouds became a serious storm and unleashed fury on the town. People outside were running for cover as the winds whipped the rain in torrents, and all I could think was, I hope that the tents weren't being drenched. After about an hour it was over and we returned to the camp to find very little rain had made it into our tents, thankfully! Due to the voracious nature of the local flying pests, we both hit the tents early just to be out of the bloodsuckers reach.
 
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Day 6



491 km (not planned that way)

Day 6: The tents (or Flys at least) were wet from the night, and a little more rain in the night. It would be the last time we would deal with rain this trip. The river was a muddy torrent this day, so I was glad I had washed up the night before with “cowboy bathing” in clear water the afternoon prior. After early morning packing up, stopping for fuel and getting (or understanding) directions badly we ran back into Big Sky, then back out to the highway to find the restaurant in question, called the Bugaboo, described as “the best breakfast in town”. Thankfully this time it was actually really good, if somewhat too noisy for Ian’s tastes. Maybe it is due to failing hearing (been married for a long time, so it might be learned skill) but I didn't mind the sound level.



After breakfast and some contrary intel regarding today’s chosen route over Jack Creek road, we headed up to Moonlight resort, up above the clouds (in more ways than one). We talked to the lovely Michelle Everett of Guest services who said, “Oh I doubt it, you have to be a member or a guest of a member to travel that private road, but I’ll call Jen and check for you”. According to Jen Clayton the road can be traveled by BMWs, Mercedes, and other fine automobiles such as Range Rovers, which have no serious impact on the local wildlife or adjacent properties. Motorcycles however are forbidden in order to protect the delicate species along the way. Rather than argue with a 1% er over such a logical and well thought out policy (private is private), we took a pavement alternative that was 3 to 4 times the distance north around to Ennis. If you make the “mistake” of crossing that road just say you are a guest of Ms. Jen Clayton, I can provide her direct phone number if required :retard:





Once back on track in Ennis, we headed to Virginia City, a total throw back (but operating) of a town. I loved the main street, and took a few pictures, then had a snack before carrying onward.





About 2 miles west along 287 we turned onto an entertaining road called Williams Creek rd. It would get a little soft from being graded (while we were going across) but once down the other side firmed up nicely.





I had planned a track to Dillon with the help of Google maps (first mistake) and when the track turned between a ranchers shop and house site I didn’t give it much though (or stop to check with said rancher) (second mistake). It was a cool track that looks like something straight out of a Western. A few miles in we stopped to take pictures.



Ian stayed behind to shoot a few of me climbing a hill. I rounded the top of the hill and gassed it, glancing back after a minute or two to see if Ian was following. Instead of Ian, was the Rancher on a quad, really giving it his all to catch me, so I stopped to see what his hurry was? After a second of talking to him and explaining why I drove past his place to get here, his mood improved, realizing we meant no harm. Apparently Google is about 40 years out of date on that road, and we would run into locked gates before we reached Dillon. I made nice with the rancher (who appeared unarmed) and said I would be right behind him on the way out, and was. That man can ride, and we made good time back to the actual road that led to Dillon


Photo courtesy of Ian.















After that little misadventure we had an easy ride to Dillon and a bit of Highway to the Clark Reservoir, then across our original path south to Lemhi Pass and into Idaho. That is part of the Lewis and Clark Byway and a spectacular (see I didn't use beautiful this time) trail over to highway 28 at Tendoy. Somewhere in the last stretch to Salmon Idaho we stopped to help a damsel in distress change one of her worn out tires on her SUV. I had spotted her in my mirror sitting beside the front passenger tire in the shade looking beat. It didn't take long to get her fixed up and rolling before finishing the run to salmon.



We ate at the “Junkyard Café” (recommended!) on the main strip before meeting one of the colourful locals at the campground in town. It was another long day, but would have been MUCH shorter had we been driving environmentally sensitive high end cars (tee hee)

 
Amazing pictures and story as always. Thank you so much for taking the time to share your adventure with us. We miss you and your contribution to the forum. Stay safe and I'll keep a close eye on your progress! :Rockon:
 
BDazzler said:
Amazing pictures and story as always. Thank you so much for taking the time to share your adventure with us. We miss you and your contribution to the forum. Stay safe and I'll keep a close eye on your progress! :Rockon:
Click to expand...

Thanks Troy! Hey you are the expert on posting You Tube Vids, What the H#!! am I doing wrong?!? I guess it's been too long....:retard:
 
A new Look for the 990



Some of you might have noticed a slightly different look to the windshield of the Adventure. I am not one to leave well enough alone and I wanted something of my own design to go with my "handle" of "Lycan 1" on ADV Rider. I came up with the design inspired by something I found on the net, spending hours drawing it in Photoshop, then had a friend cut the decals on 3M reflective material in a suitable (favorite) color. It scares the "demons" out of the way.... and you know they can't keep up with a bike. Ride baby ride!

Yellowstone 2013 - YouTube
 
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Day 7

Day Seven ( Hump Day):




374 km for the day

Why is it most early morning diners serve lousy food? The only place open early looked OK but was disappointing at best. After parking behind a faithful NRA man (car all stickered up, with the likes of ”the second amendment, America’s Original Homeland Defense!” No offense to any of our southern neighbors, I have nothing against guns, just some of the people allowed to handle them. I truly hope the woman living in a tent at the camp ground wasn’t one of them. She had explained how next year or in a year and a half the US would be under Martial law and “people like her would be in cages” (I didn’t ask for clarification about what kind of “people” she was). Apparently the communists (her words) running America now were going to shut down everything and put people into block housing and cages. I was really bummed since I was going to head south again next year. She wanted to move to Australia, good luck with that!

Just so you don't get the wrong idea, or think I'm a died-in-the-wool Squirrel Hugger, I have used guns, see that they have a purpose and at the first opportunity will fire a 50 cal sniper rifle ( more on that later). Nothing political planned :nono: I, just met a guy (who is an instructor) in the Marines on that particular weapon, and I've always wanted to see if I was still a good shot.

Now back to the regular scheduled program...



































We took the nicely designed highway (I was going to say beautiful, but stopped myself, whew!) to NorthFork, stopping to get topped right up and check with professionals about the route (Forestry services). Liking what we were told, we carried on, turning north at Spring Creek road. We gained serious altitude before crossing briefly back into Montana to go up and around Painted Rocks Lake on unexpected pavement. Next we ran up and over Magruder corridor road back into Idaho with another stretch of (in the middle of nowhere) pavement. We lunched at the viewpoint up top before finishing the run to Elk City. The “questionable” local intel would have consequences this time (for Ian) when we ate at the “best place in town” Bar with no beer (not that I would have had one anyway) and camping is 6 or 7 miles out of town, and “has a toilet and everything”. This spot turned out to be a tiny outhouse amongst the trees that only I managed to spot. Ian stopped to talk to a guy with a chainsaw in the woods (brave man, since I am sure I could hear distant banjo music) and received somewhat better info. Another 10 miles and one big ass descent later and we found a bit better camping. The river (warmer than Warm River, barely) still had to serve as “caveman”/ cowboy bath. I pictured looking up after washing my hair,while balancing on a rock, to see a grizzly standing in the shallow water in front of me, or worse a cast member of Deliverance! No such horror was to occur. Sadly for Ian another type of horror was brewing and by morning it was kicking his ass.
 
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Oldschool said:
Excellent, thank you. They say the mind is the first thing to go.... Of all the things I've lost, it is my mind I miss the most.:dontknow:
Click to expand...

YouTube used to give you the full link and then they gave you a check box to ask for the full link. Now they are not there. YouTube has changed more than your mind.

:noworries:
 
Day 8

Ian's journal excerpt:

Day 8 Prequel
A good friend once said "Don't ever order fish in the desert." Elk City isn't in the desert but it was hot and dry. When we arrived in Elk City after a long, hot ride we went into the convenience store and the conversation went like this:
Me: Any good places to eat in town?
Local: "Best place to eat" in town is next door in the bar.
Me: How many places to eat in total?
Local: Two.
Me: Uh, oh.

I had fish sticks for dinner which worked well until about 2:30 AM on Day 8. I didn't want to fumble with my headlamp to find my way to the little house down the trail so waited until morning. After a few trips to the little house and announcing to Lee that I felt like I was about to hurl, I was pretty much empty. So off we rode. I had only one more bout of nausea but by then Lee was gun shy. I'm not a good communicator when I feel crappy so Lee was just guessing.

We got to a small town south of Orofino and I lay down in a small park to rest. Chatted with a small group of bicyclists for a while, then when I felt I had accumulated some strength we continued on to Orofino. It was a hot day, peaking at 100F.

It was definitely the low point of the trip for me. I was back at full strength the next day.

There were many cool parts of Day 7 - the drop in elevation from where the Elk City local said there was a good campground down to Selway Falls was a continuous 15% grade that dropped 1,000 m. The switchbacks were never-ending and many looked the same. I started yelling out "Groundhog Day" after a while because some switchbacks looked to be identical to what I'd seen 30 seconds earlier.

Ian



120 km for the day



Ian was in rough shape to start the day and a man of few words, they were; I think I’m going to hurl. I felt bad, but there was nothing I could do, and our present location offered nothing to help his situation, not even a nice washroom. It was a hike through tall grass and a steep trail just to get to the river to wash up. I had enough water left to brush my teeth and make a cup of Coffee (not necessarily in that order) and give Ian as much time as he needed. One thing worse that feeling that lousy was feeling that lousy with a helmet on. It’s always a shame when a restaurant poisons you that you aren’t still there to make a mess in their washroom, as that alone might make you feel better. After a short while Ian suited up and we were off.









The run along the east side of the river past the falls was cool and shaded, lined with campers just getting going for the day. At the highway we decided to go half a mile east to Lowell and the little motel / restaurant (Lowell Wilderness Inn) and have breakfast. Service was slow, but the food was OK and at least I could eat. Ian ordered, but the food didn't appeal yet. The little gas station had (in the mean time) opened up and the Harley crew outside had gathered around our machines. They had all sorts of questions when we got outside, their chaps, vests and leathery skin shiny in the sun. They were all very enthusiastic and for a week day (like us) seemed to have nothing but time. The red headed woman of the group, red hankerchief holding her hair up in an unusual way blurted out; “Hey look at that, it’s just like a Harley sticker”, pointing at my Austrian Dirt Hog (Live to roost, Roost to live) decal. Simple things seemed to make her happy, and I was glad to help. They followed us over to the pumps, seemingly enthralled by our bikes. After paying the woman inside for gas, we were able to pump it into our tanks. To quote the lovely gal, with most of her teeth missing; “I’m an Ol’ school, pay first kinda’ station”. Then topped up with good Ol’ corn juice (I prefer corn on-the-cob to in-the-tank) gas we motored onward, west on highway 12 to Syringa, were my track took us into the wild.



Once again the Google satellite images proved how old some of them can be (shocking) and I had to find a few alternatives along the way to try to keep close to on track. Some sections of my original route looked to be years overgrown. We climbed quite high up and it was a great, clear morning. Ian soldiered on but was taking his time and without any food in him no doubt not enjoying this ride. We were not making a lot of actual distance with all the tight switchbacks and track swapping but finally we descended to a paved road. The route took us right, but the paved road also took us left to Kamiah (fairly directly) and somewhere for Ian to rest and hopefully recover. That is what we did and we passed a park just over the highway bridge into town that Ian took a few hours to rest in. I ran over to the gas station and picked up a cold drink since the heat was back to scorching level, and took the time to scope out Kamiah. I discovered that there isn’t much to the town as far as services, hotels or campgrounds specifically. Thankfully the park had shade, since it no longer had washrooms (the plastic porta potties don’t count) or potable water (the tap said so).



Some time later when Ian was able, we motored up to Orofino, thinking that they had hotels and an air conditioned rooms, that would be just the ticket right now. As luck would have it, the perfect storm of Baseball, Show and Shine and weekend Rafters had hit the town, filling every room in town. The nice lady at the Best western had directed us to the RV park as an option. RV parks can be rather like parking lots with not a lot to offer the non-RV-er. This one exemplified that, being a strip of pavement between the rail tracks and the river and baking in the sun. I stopped by the office to ask about other option. The woman, who backed away as soon as I said Ian was sick (I don’t think I said “had the plague”) was very adamant that we should go to the hospital. I had remembered that someone had mentioned a campground just a little further north called The Pink Room. It had not really sounded good at the time, but we were out of options. Down the highway a little further in the scorching heat, but this time it worked out. It turns out The Pink Room Campground is a State Park and fairly good. Washrooms were really clean, albeit no showers (again) and the spot had big trees for shade. The river had access, but you had to be careful or you would get caught in the powerful current. There was one spot left for tents and it was ours! The water was good and the tap was close. We could relax and Ian could get cooled down and hopefully recover. I spent some time washing clothes and hair in the river which was fairly cold. Dinner was boil in the bag for me which the huge local population of wasps was happy to share.
 
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Day 9



194 km for the day (Ian's)



55 km extra for me for a total of 249 km.


The night was a comfortable temperature and no dew on the tent again for morning making packing up easier. Ian was feeling better, but in need of food now for sure, so we headed back to Orofino to get sustenance and pick up our track headed north. We searched in a grid pattern after the suggested restaurant showed no signs of life. I saw the only evidence of this supposed Show & Shine parked by the local theater.



After getting to know the town better we went over to the Best Western, and as it turns out they serve walk-ins on there morning buffet. It was typical lobby buffet fair, but not bad and the setting was nice. The coffee was good to for a change, and breakfast a reasonable price. Having sated our hungers we carried on and were treated several times; first to a twisty bit of pavement that had me grinning all the way up to the top. I almost ran over a family of wild turkeys coming around one of the corners, it would have been an early thanksgiving.



Keeping in the holiday theme we headed north to Santa (the town of) and received another present, in the form of Bigelow Mill road, (that cuts off the corner of highway 3 and 6), dumping you back onto northbound #6. With the tall grass after a small creek crossing I almost lost the trail, opting to go on the more travelled path, but then 20 feet further spotted the plotted route. I’m glad I did as it was short but sweet, and I thank Santa for that little gift!







The rest was nice pavement up to Saint Maries and lunch break. I enlisted the locals help, this time with more success (eventually) and was directed to Heyburn State Park (reportedly with showers and everything). The run along highway 5 to the park was excellent and I was probably having too much fun through the tight twisties, channeling my inner squid.



I was determined to have a short day so that Ian could get back to his regular self and enjoy the trip more. Days this short (in the saddle) went against what I normally like to do on a bike trip but I wanted to make the trip work for both of us. It turned out that Heyburn Park was a really pretty park, with good services (although you had to drive a bit to get to them), and amazing scenery. It was one of the only parks in decades that I have not seen bear proof anything. The old school tin garbage cans to unlocked (doors open) outhouses was just plain strange. I joked that Idaho had killed all the wildlife so there was nothing to worry about. The pile of deer (?) fur on the trail down to the old rail bridge suggested otherwise. The Ospreys that were nesting on an old rail bridge (converted to a bike path, and raised to allow boats under) provided an opportunity for me to play with the big lenses and relax.














My favorite.

Later I took a run up to the docks to check out the little store, then into Plummer to a grocery store when I had no luck at the dock. On the way a wasp managed to find its way into my pants just as I pulled up to a stop sign. The little terror unleashed its fury on my right inner thigh (It could have been worse) stinging me repeatedly before I crushed him. In my fight with the little biological terrorist, I lost my balance and (slowly) fell over from a dead stop. Still in the haze from the terrorist venom, I failed to see the obvious humor in the situation until later. I completed my mission, having smited my aggressor, and returned to camp with groceries for both of us (including a rather large cold beer for me and my thigh). The rest of the day was spent just relaxing in the trees high above the lake.
 
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Another Ian Journal Entry

Wasps and Statistics
It's always fun when the other guy gets stung by a wasp!

We each fell only once during the trip. The falls were when stationary, onto asphalt, and not witnessed by the other person.

The more fun statistic was wasp stings. We were each stung twice. I wear a neck brace which acts as a scoop gathering up any insects in the vicinity. Big bugs hurt at speed, and if they feel fuzzy a sting is likely to happen quite soon. The second time I got whacked Lee was right there and offered to help get the wasp out of my neck brace until he realized his gloves had holes in them so left me to suffer while he giggled. Good riding partners are hard to come by.

Ian

My retort:

Now in all fairness as I was switching to my other hand (glove without holes) it crawled up your neck and flew away. :dontknow:
And I did untangle you from the orange tape fence without first taking a picture.:evillaugh:
 
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