Day 2: Going to Montana... (642 km)

After a good sleep at the Northern Inn, we woke at 7 a.m., and went looking for a place for breakfast. Not far from the esteemed establishment of the night before we found The Sportsman's Outlook. A typical small town diner, the food was good (but not exceptional) and the service almost non-existent.

We were packed up and on the road again by 9ish. As we rode out of town, I saw a sign proclaiming the temperature to be 49 degrees. I have no idea what that translates to in real temperatures, but 'brisk' would be an apt description. Thankfully the liner for my jacket, which I found the day before we left, was equal to the task of keeping me comfortable.

We wound our way along Hwy 20, through alpine forests descending into valley farmland, then back again. In spite of the signs warning of fresh oil and loose gravel on the road, which had been recently paved and was still awaiting a final layer of asphalt, was phenomenal. It is a motorcyclists dream, which must be why the WSDOT felt moved to warn us who ride motorcycles to use 'extreme caution' on enormous orange signs every couple of miles.

In fact, the road was so tremendous that I was more than a little upset when Colin's GPS re-routed us down Hwy 395 toward Spokanne. My map, carefully highlighted, had us continuing on Hwy 20 through Tiger to Newport. We pulled over and had a roadside convo, after which we continued on down Hwy 395, much to my consternation. I cursed the manufacturer of the malfeasant microchips as we entered the small town of Chewelah, population who-really-cares (I grumbled in my helmet).

Then the funniest thing happened, we made an unexpected turn down a nondescript side street. Then another. And soon we were on a fantastic mountain road, with brilliant twists and curves that had us leaned over further than I've been in a very long time. It was exhilarating!

Eventually we merged back onto Hwy 20, and entered Newport about 20 minutes sooner than expected. We carried on, and Hwy 20 became US Hwy 2 in Idaho - quite possibly the dullest state in the West. We stopped for a break at the Albeni Falls Dam, and I asked in the information centre if they had any bumper stickers or decals. I've decided to pick them up here and there along the road, and put them on my side cases. Kind of like the old luggage labels that used to show where travelers' trunks had been. Alas! They didn't have any, and my bags are still un-decaled.

We continued on Hwy 2 to Bonners Ferry. The much-maligned-but-undeservedly-so GPS said we'd get there at 4:30 p.m., which seemed a long time, and it would have been. We arrived at a little after one, and gassed up and at a dreadful hamburger at a local place called Zip's. Then we were back on the road, and emerged from Idaho into Montana just a couple of hours after entering.

Colin with the bikes at a roadside stop in Montana

I'm not sure if it's because of the Frank Zappa song (going to Montana sooooon, gonna be a dental floss tycooon!) or if it's because of Richard Ford's Wildlife, but I've always loved going through Montana. This time, for a change, it is near the beginning of the journey, rather than towards the end. Nevertheless, the roads and scenery have not disappointed. So much more interesting than Idaho! So utterly different from the scenery in Washington, too!

We arrived at the entrance to Glacier National Park at 6 p.m. Too late to start in on the Going-to-the-Sun-Road, we decided, with only an hour or two of sunlight left. We'll start tomorrow with that. For now, we are settled in at another nondescript cheap motel on the highway and had our first of likely many meals of Mexican food for dinner. Now it's time to sit back with a beer and rest, and wait for what tomorrow brings.