It's late summer '08. Fuel prices have just risen to an all-time high; the economy looks uncertain for many of us. But like a lot of other motorcyclists, I still have to ride. And sometimes I feel the need for more than a one-day'er.
That adventure-ride bug just bit me again. I explain this to my wife, Jody, and she gives me the usual all-you-want-to-do-is-ride look. She's right, but I get the green light anyway and start thinking of how inexpensive a ride I can put together. The cost of fuel is a given. I haven't done much camping on street rides, but strapping on a tent and sleeping bag will save money on motels. Restaurant tabs add up, so I'll load up with cost-effective groceries: a lot of bread and the big jars of peanut butter and jelly. I'm just going to ride, camp and eat. Camping sounds like fun, and I like PB&Js.
All that's left of the ramp...
All that's left of the ramp built to launch Evel Knievel and his Sky-Cycle over Snake River Canyon in 1974.
I brought my Suzuki SV650 with soft bags to a job up in Portland, Oregon. When I was done, I planned to ride east to the Rockies, then Glacier Park in Montana, Yellowstone and Grand Teton, Wyoming. These three very special National Parks would be my main destinations. Jim and Mary Egging from Washington had become good friends since I met them on a ride to Alaska. They were on a Honda Gold Wing, and Jim and I had a lot to talk about. He couldn't say enough about his Suzuki V-Strom 650 and practically made me borrow it for my trip. Seeing as how it was outfitted with Givi hard bags, heated handgrips and a tall windscreen, I gladly accepted the offer. And I had to laugh at myself: My budget ride just started on a borrowed bike! My mantra became, "That didn't cost me nuthin'!" So, with my camping gear securely bungeed in place and the saddlebags stuffed with groceries, I headed east on I-84 out of Portland. It was a beautiful day and the scenery following the Colombian River through the gorge was spectacular. It sure is nice to start an adventure ride with good weather, though the long-term forecast maps showed some wet green blobs ahead. Well, what are you going to do?
 |  Just enough time to grab a...  Just enough time to grab a quick shot of Lake McDonald, a.k.a. the largest lake in Montana's Glacier National Park. Large? It's about 10 miles long and 472 feet to the bottom at the deepest point. |  Going to the Sun Road is a...  Going to the Sun Road is a spectacular 52-mile ride across Glacier Park that crosses the Continental Divide at Logan Pass. Pretty exciting stuff for your first time on the back of a Gold Wing. |
Highway 12 from Walla Walla, Washington through Idaho to Missoula, Montana is a nice two-lane next to the Lochsa River that keeps me off the Interstate. It's part of the Lewis & Clark Trail, but they were in a canoe floating downstream to the Pacific Ocean. My goal is Big Fork, Montana to stay with my friends Jack and Karel Marino for the night. But after a late start, I found myself setting up my tent for the first time in the dark. I didn't do that good a job, and in the morning it was half-collapsed in pouring rain. Breaking camp wet, soggy and cold, I'm wondering how good an idea it was to not stay in motels. After a few hours riding in the rain, it felt great to dry out and reminisce with my childhood friend Karel. She's also a good cook, so I had a full belly entering Glacier Park that afternoon.
My instant friend Alex from...
My instant friend Alex from Holland on one very cold McDonald Pass.
Going to the Sun Highway was now dry, so I planned to ride over Logan Pass to the east side of the Rockies. It's the end of August and I'm sure of warmer, dryer weather on the other side. At the top of the pass, I learned once again that you can't predict mountain weather. I took pictures of two retired couples from Yakima on their Gold Wings with numb fingers. This was the wives' first motorcycle tour, and as the snow fell, they assured me they were still having a great time. We all rode back down the mountain for coffee at the Lake McDonald Lodge, which is almost 100 years old and worth a visit.
Leaving the Marino house with another full belly, I prayed for better weather: There were no free couches down the road in Yellowstone. I struck up a conversation with Alex from Holland at a gas stop that afternoon. He had his bike shipped to Anchorage and had been riding and camping for three months, aiming for Tierra del Fuego nine months from now. We were headed in the same direction, so just like that we were two new friends with different adventures riding down the road together. When we got to Bozeman just before dark, Alex said this was the coldest he had been all the way through Canada and Alaska, but I was the guy who suggested sharing a cheap room for the night. Then we went across the street for a barbeque dinner. Beer too, but it was built into the budget. Man cannot live on peanut butter and jelly alone.