Custer SD – Kennewick WA
Thurs June 20, 2019
(~1297 miles)

The alarm woke me in the middle of the night and I packed quickly, fueled by hotel room coffee and feeling much better after six good hours of sleep. The plan for this morning was to get myself across the state of Wyoming and into Yellowstone National Park as early as possible, while doing everything in my power to watch for, and avoid colliding with, any large quadrupeds. I checked the weather – which looked good for this morning’s run – and the geysertimes.org website. Old Faithful was still erupting every 80 minutes or so, though it recorded that there had been one eight hour stretch overnight without an eruption(!). Woe to any rally rider who had gotten caught in that interval of uncertainty!

I fueled up across the street, documented and stashed my receipt. Then I heard someone shouting and the clerk had come out to ask me to come in to run my credit card again because it hadn’t authorized properly the first time. Impatient to get going, the second time was the charm, and I was on the road right around 03:00. I had about 1300 miles to do by 20:00 PDT, so about 18 hours with the time change. Oof!

I saw about 10 deer by the sides of the road before I even got outside Custer city limits, so I was on high alert and using every lumen I could bring to bear. US-16 proved to be a good fast road once I left the curves of the Black Hills forest behind me, I made good time back up to I-90 and thence across half the state. Based on my estimated arrival and the geyser website, I figured I’d arrive roughly halfway between eruptions and have to wait about 30 minutes or so to get my bonus photo. That took a little bit of the pressure off, as I knew I couldn’t make up that much time in the intervening miles.

When I turned off the interstate onto US-14, dawn was glimmering in the eastern sky. I was chatting with Charlotte when I spotted some really curvy roads coming up ahead on the GPS screen. Being well rested, I felt a tingle of excitement looking at the silhouette of the mountains before me, and I told her I needed to hang up and focus on riding for a while. I was in the mood to lean and those magenta curves looked tasty! I didn’t know much about Bighorn National Forest nor even that I would be going through it that morning – I was dutifully following the the GPS route to my next bonus. But what an epic treat I was in for – this turned out to be one of my best days on the bike ever.

I hit the first 15 mph curves carefully, and then started moving my butt on the seat, leaning through the curves switching back up and up, over the pass in the breaking dawn light, smiling ear to ear. I gaped in amazement looking out east over the landscape below me. Now in the high country, I kept saying “wow” out load and laughing as the sky grew lighter. I was able to take in more and more of the beauty around me and the miles ticked away on great pavement and banked curves. I saw a few huge deer, then spotted an elk distantly in a field. Then more deer, then a female moose. Another herd of deer, partially in the road, for which I slowed to a crawl and tooted the Stebel horn to keep them moving away from the road to allow me to pass.

Despite my time table, I simply could not continue through this piece of land without capturing a few photos to mark the occasion. The sun was rising behind me as I zoomed along, trying to take it all in, dramatic shadows highlighting the ridges and peaks in all directions around me.

I passed perhaps two oncoming cars in my entire journey through Bighorn, and couldn’t help but feel extremely privileged and lucky to be on this ride right now, enjoying this road. US-14 descended down out of the forest through a tight canyon with plenty more twisties and a hairpin or two. At one point, something large and grey started moving along the shoulder of the road right as I went by. I only caught the movement with my peripheral vision, but like to think it may have been a bighorn sheep(?).

The frontier town of Greybull was still mostly asleeep as I cruised through the streets, but I stopped for fuel at the gas station there, even though I had just filled up in Sheridan before leaving the interstate. I had learned a valuable lesson during the HW3 rally about not assuming fuel stops would be available out west, and I wanted to be sure I would make it all the way through Yellowstone Park.

The scenery continued to humble me as I sped west and eventually re-entered National Forest lands via Shoshone NF, which eventually gave way to Yellowstone National Park. There was no wait at the East Entrance and my new annual pass got me in lickety-split. Right as I round the first corner, the land drops off to the left of the road to the Shoshone River and climbs steeply to the right. What do I see ambling up the hill in front me, but a bison! I felt some sort of circle had been completed now, after my last unfortunate encounter with one of these beasties.

After snapping a photo, I carefully rode up beside this fellow in the opposite lane, looked him in the eye, and proceeded on up the hill. What do I see around the next curve?

Exhilarated, I pulled around these dudes even more carefully, though they seemed intent on just plowing on up the slope. I got a bit ahead and stopped for a frontal photo, which didn’t really come out too well.

I was thrilled about all the critters I had seen this morning, but saw no more on the road after this encounter. I enjoyed riding in on the East Entrance road with hardly any traffic for miles. It skirted the shore of Yellowstone Lake for several miles, me again shaking my head in awe at the beauty.

There was some construction going on for a few miles in one section, with a pretty squirrely dirt and gravel surface. I had my eye on the geyser schedule and was still on track to arrive about halfway between the current average eruption cycle, so I wasn’t stressing out about it. Once through the construction zone, traffic continued to be light all the way to Old Faithful, where I arrived about 08:47 MDT. I found a parking spot fairly close to the front and headed over to the viewing area with my rally accouterments. It was chilly at elevation, so I actually kept my helmet on while I waited, to stay warm.

I chatted with a few other tourists as we waited. There were several false starts, with some bubbling and fizzing that I caught on camera. But I needed to be certain the photo would be accepted, and was glad when the geyser finally erupted around 09:25 or so.

With the FAITH bonus captured, I began walking quickly back to the bike while the geyser was still going off. A guy going toward the geyser stopped me, noting my helmet and gear, and asked which motorcycle was mine?

Not quite understanding, I mumbled “It’s a Honda, black…?”

“Well there’s a raven a’setting on one over there tearing stuff apart!” he exclaimed.

“Oh. Shit.”.

I had forgotten completely about the Yellowstone ravens. My last visit, some bikers had warned me when I rode up to take anything that wasn’t nailed down with me, due to the smart and troublesome birds that populate the place and know how to open zippers and were causing mayhem on several bikes that day! Sure enough as I got closer to my bike, I saw the big bird sitting on the handlebar, tearing into the tank bag via a small gap in the zipper it had opened. In hindsight, of course I wish I’d gotten a picture of that sight, but all I could think of was the rally pack and other critical gear I have in that bag.

“Hey! You! Get outta there, bastard!” I yelled as I came close.

The raven flapped away, spilling some stuff onto the ground, a ziploc poking out through the zipper. My heart beating rapidly, I assessed the damage and it was minimal. The bird had managed to open the zipper a bit and grabbed a small plastic baggie containing extra AAA batteries and napkins. Nothing else appeared damaged or missing, so I gathered up the spillage and dumped it into the tank bag to be organized later. I had some water and a snack of my own to calm down a bit, and then hit the road about 09:40. All told, my Old Faithful visit had set me back 50 minutes – not bad, considering.

I proceeded to head toward the west entrance of the park, still enjoying the riding and shuddering at all the heavy traffic coming the opposite direction in the late morning hours. I was definitely pleased with my timing when I saw the long lines of cars at the West Entrance gate. In West Yellowstone, I swung right on US-191 to US-287 north. This led me to more gorgeous riding out in the middle of nowhere, and I latched onto a pickup truck with local plates and in a hurry, who became my “rabbit” to follow. He was actually going quite a bit faster than my comfort level to keep up with him, but knowing he was up ahead eased my mind about my own speed, and I would occasionally catch him up in the curvy sections when he needed to wait for a passing zone, which were plentiful. I just don’t understand why there aren’t more passing zones on the two lane roads back east – seems like there were more when I was a kid growing up, but now they are fairly rare. So much road rage could be avoided by letting folks go the speeds that suit them best!

The rabbit and I eventually caught up to another rally rider and I identified the bike as John Kerr, whom I hadn’t seen since sometime yesterday along I-90 when he had stopped to do his call-in bonus (I’d pulled over to ensure he was OK). John fell in behind us and the rabbit carried us all the way to Norris MT, after which I brought the speed down a bit. We turned left on MT-350 after Harrison, up to I-90 once again, where we both pulled over to waterproof our tank bags and gloves a bit in the face of heavy clouds ahead to the west. After going through a long one-lane construction zone, I pulled off the highway in Butte for fuel while John continued west. After coming back outside after a restroom break, I was startled to see some light sleet/hail coming down.

Back on the interstate, the weather continued to change as quickly as the cloud you happened to be under. Some parts of the sky were bright blue, but there were also heavy black clouds looming over some of the higher elevations. It was very striking to observe. I left the interstate in Wye MT to follow US-93 north through the Flathead Indian Reservation. I caught the edge of a very dark cloud and some small hail as I turned left onto MT-200.

I was pleased to discover that my epic riding day wasn’t over, as I now found myself riding through the Lolo National Forest, by some of the most beautiful landscape I’d only ever seen in movies. Riding up a huge river valley with stunning mountain backdrops on either side. The color of the river water was an almost tropical greenish blue. Of course, this was on the outskirts of a town called Paradise MT!

Unfortunately, I had more time to appreciate the scenery than I might have chosen, when I came upon a flagged one-lane construction area. There was no way around it, this was the only road, and I ended up sitting there, engine off, for about 20 minutes, waiting for the pilot car. As construction zones go, you couldn’t beat the view, but tick-tock, tick-tock…

I had been fighting to keep my eta to within a half hour after penalty points would start accruing at the checkpoint. The 3499 bonus points that I would earn in Yaak MT were totally worth a few hundred penalty points for being a bit late. This construction delay now had me worried and drove me up over an hour into the penalty box. Finally, we started moving again. It turned out that despite the long wait and a few miles of blocked road, there was just one small section with a few workers that appeared to be working on power lines or something – no pavement work, nothing. I gritted my teeth at the needless logistics and carried on.

I quickly passed all the cars in front of me as soon as we cleared the zone. Aside from the towns along the way, the speed limits remained very generous, allowing me to make good time north. There was one more construction zone, but the wait was only a few minutes and this time it looked valid, as the entire road was being rebuilt after a landslide, perhaps.

The rally book instructions for the bonus in Yaak directed the rider to begin in the town of Libby MT, taking over 20 miles of extremely twisty pavement through the isolated Kootenai National Forest. My adjustments of all the waypoints to actual bonus location coordinates at the start now paid off big time. During my rest stop, I had researched this bonus stop and determined that Garmin’s out-and-back approach on Yaak River Road from US-2 would be the wisest and quickest way to the SHAME bonus. I later heard from other riders getting this bonus that this was indeed the most efficient route and saved me time, of which I was in very short supply!

Heavy rain was falling off-and-on along Yaak River Road, keeping my speed down though the water sheeting across the pavement in places. It was a nice riding road, almost 30 miles into the wilderness with good curves but not too crazy. At last, I pulled up to the Dirty Shame Saloon for my bonus photo, which had to include my motorcycle.

SHAME bonus

I felt a huge relief snagging this last high-point bonus – my planned route was almost done. “All” I had to do now was ride to the checkpoint. But it was not to be a relaxing ride by any stretch. It was almost exactly 300 miles to go to the checkpoint, and only a few short hours until the penalty window, including time zone adjustment. I would need to make one fuel stop. My job now was to make up as much time as possible and minimize the penalty point damage. More importantly, to give myself as much time as possible after scoring to get some rest before the rider meeting at 04:00 the next morning. My specific goal became getting in to the checkpoint within the first penalty hour.

I chatted with several people by phone as I rode this last stretch, stressed out about possibly missing my very first IBR checkpoint! The words of encouragement and faith in me meeting my goal that each and every one of them expressed to me in those stressful hours was helpful, amazing, and so so appreciated.

US-95 was slow through some towns at first, but then changed to a divided highway after Careywood, allowing me to make some good time back down to I-90. I passed through Coeur D’Alene and Spokane without much fuss, and exited onto US-395 in Ritzville for the final sprint south to Kennewick. Even being in full-on rally mode, I was still taking in all the newness of riding in the northwest states and appreciating the distances you could take in at a glance. I saw heavy rains falling on the horizon that would appear to be in my path, only to have the highway gradually curve away well before reaching them. It was still breathtaking.

I finally managed to pull my ETA under the one hour mark and pulled in to the Hilton Garden Hotel parking lot in Kennewick to stop my clock at 20:53. People were waiting and welcoming, and appeared genuinely glad to see me there, which felt good. I was absolutely thrilled to be at the checkpoint and to have made it in within the first penalty hour. Thus one of my best, most feel-good riding days to-date came to an end.

I was having trouble fishing out my all-important ID tag from under four layers of upper clothing. Dale Wilson, stern chief of technical inspection and striker of fear in all IBR riders at the start, asked me gently (and with only a slight sarcastic lilt in his voice) if I needed some help. Gratefully, I nodded and he managed to find the ID tag. I think he’s done this before, and hey Dale, my late apologies for the smell. 🙂

Having already started filling out my claim sheet back at my rest stop in Custer, it took me just 40 minutes to get organized, download my photos to my laptop, and complete the claim sheet along with rest receipts. I was just gathering my stuff, when Lisa Landry came walking by and barked, “And who are you?”

Quickly remembering my name, I told her and she said I was supposed to be in scoring. My heart sinking and brain confused, I protested that I’d been given an hour and was under that still, though I was headed over there now. She confirmed my arrival time with a staff member walking with her and told me to get moving anyway. Yes ma’am!

I presented myself at the scoring entry table, and was walked through everything I needed to deposit in the manilla envelope. I waited for a short time while getting a chance to chat with Mr. Kneebone about his last few days riding up from Vegas. I explained about the wonderful day I’d had riding across Wyoming, and he nodded knowingly when I told him it had been my first time riding that route. I was ready to go and there were plenty of available scorers by this time, so in short order I was shown in to the scoring room, where Ira Agins checked me in before I was led over to sit with my scorer Jim Fousek. Jim is a super nice fellow and he invited me to his side of the table to observe as he went through the scoring process for my photos and receipts.

I received full points on everything claimed, always my first concern during a rally. With the 530 penalty points for coming in 53 minutes late, I signed off on the total of 30,589 points, above the estimated minimum for Gold medal status. So ended the first leg of my rally. I was still on a natural high from the epic riding I’d experienced over the last 18 hours – happy but exhausted and feeling like I had earned every single one of those points.

I checked in to the hotel and retrieved the box of extra food I’d shipped here prior to the rally: Ensure shakes, jerkey, Clif Bars, Five-Hour Energy. Everything a rally rider needs. I went out to cover the bike and ran into famed IBR finisher Ken Meese out in the parking lot, who was a pleasure to talk to. He’d had to pull out of this year’s rally for personal reasons, but came to the checkpoint to support the riders and hang out. He’d been watching the group Spotwalla and my own spot page with some others in the parking lot that day, and congratulated me on a good ride into the checkpoint. He offered a few pearls of checkpoint wisdom, and then I took my leave to get some much needed rest up in my room. I showered, set up my room in preparation for the Leg 2 routing session in the morning, and got to sleep just as quickly as my head hit the pillow.