Day Eight

I said goodbye to George.  He rode back to his RV and wife.  Alone, I head northeast towards another adventure.

Heading to Cooke City you ride through Lamar valley.  A spectacular valley.  Something from a Hollywood cowboy movie.  But it is not a movie.  It is real.  I am here in awe, sucking it all in.  The expanse of the horizon is stunningly  peaceful.  The buffalo are grazing, a river runs through it and there are some old barns from long ago.

I leave Yellowstone.  A little sad, I am not sure when I shall return.  I do intend to do so.  But I have the Beartooth Highway ahead of me.

The Beartooth Highway is another masterpiece of engineering.  Apparently some folks in Montana started building it without Federal funding.  There is probably no good reason to build this road unless you are in Red Lodge Montana.  It is in pretty damned remote part of the world. They eventually got the Feds to complete it.  I am glad they did.

Butt puckering moments were rare on this trip.  I pulled onto an overlook to take some pictures.  Pulling back onto the highway I was a bit too generous with the throttle.  The rear slid out on some gravel.  I saved it.  Probably would not have hurt…too much. 

So I ride the switchbacks up and up.  I get in a rhythm.  This road definitely does not take the shortest route between two points. 

The pass crests at  10,947 feet.  This is a road that is very unforgiving of mistakes.  I make none.  Another rider is not so lucky.  Near the top of the pass a rider is down.  He has several people attending him.  He is in the middle of the west bound lane and they are moving traffic around him. 

I feel bad for him or her. It is probably a two hour drive for any ambulance.  Then two hours to a hospital.  I wonder if they have such things as life flight that services the tops of mountains? 

The switchbacks seem a little tighter going down the east side of the mountain.  Close to half of the vehicle on the road are motorcycles.  It is too treacherous for RVs.  My kind of road.   

I ride into Red Lodge Montana and get some dinner.  It seems like most of the town is sold out.

It is 60 miles to Billings Montana.  Another hour in the saddle.  I can do that.  I roll in as the sun is setting.  Twelve hours in the saddle.  I feel like a cowboy, a tired cowboy.