Although we were awkwardly jammed together in a rental car with all our motorcycle gear, the relative comfort and lack of wind noise was a welcome respite from regular 10+ hour days of dust in the saddle. The sprawling vistas of sage and pine scrolled past, accompanied by the soundtrack of our various playlists in rotation on the stereo. We didn't talk much; just listened to tunes and took in the scenery.
Our route beelined for Jackson Hole via Yellowstone on Interstate highway and paved secondary roads, saving our intended dirt and backroads route for when/if we were able to repair Jeff's clutch and resume our journey on 2 wheels.
This is mountain stream country, with clear, sparkling water in every valley and many opportunities for camping.
Finding a campsite was sometimes a challenge, as the area is popular for fishing. Some locations were full, but a little persistence paid off. We found it's sometimes not obvious where a particularly beautiful campsite would be, so a little exploring was needed.
Most of these campsites are self-serve and on the honor system, meaning you stake out a site, then go self-register and deposit your cash in an envelope at the entrance. Fees ranged from around $7-21 per site depending on location and amenities. At the above site, just south of the small town of Ennis (the only stop for supplies in the area), it was the first time we actually met the rangers who did the rounds from site to site to collect camp fees. They informed us we are only allowed two tents per site, but after telling them our sob-story about a broken motorcycle, one person per tent, and the indignity of having to travel by rental car, the kindly rangers laughed, gave us a wink, and said no problem: we could all use the one site without issue. Thanks for the break!
It's worth pointing out the brilliance of the US Forest Service toilets at these campsites. Considering the extensive use they get, we were impressed by how clean, non-smelly, and functional they were--with very few exceptions. Parks Canada could learn a thing or two from the design, as it's vastly superior to the pit toilets I've used across Canada. The solid concrete design with steel door could also serve as an emergency refuge from aggressive bears.
En route to Yellowstone, we passed through Earthquake Lake, the site of a massive landslide in the middle of a summer night in 1950s, where half a mountain slid down and killed unsuspecting campers below, dammed a river, and rapidly formed a lake in the now blocked-off valley.
The visitor's centre and memorial, located on top of the rubble of the slide, is well worth a stop. You can still see the dead trunks of trees submerged by the rising waters of the lake below.
Soon after, we reached the western entrance to Yellowstone, where we discovered a Taqueria School Bus with delicious, low-cost Mexican food.
Finally, we could use our National Park passes that we'd bought at Glacier--bypassing the long line-up at the park entrance. However, after only about 30 seconds in Yellowstone proper, we hit the end of a massive traffic jam with no where to turn around; it was dense scrub on either side of the narrow two-lane road, and no turn-outs. Apparently, eager tourists a few kilometers ahead had spotted a bison, causing the entire line of vehicles to grind to a halt. After about 2 hours of slowly inching ahead, we had pretty much given up on our plans to visit the park and had started looking for a safe spot to U-turn. Coincidentally, at that moment the traffic finally started moving. It would've been agony sitting through this on a motorbike; by car is was barely tolerable.
Now the views opened up for us, revealing the splendor and marvels of Yellowstone's volcanic environment.
Continuing on the loop road through the park, we stopped at many of the fumaroles and other volcanic features along the way. Although some of these sites were moderately crowded, it was easy to stop, explore, and learn something interesting about this remarkable landscape.
Lots of wildlife casually chilling among the crowds: no problems spotting three of the larger mammals within the space of a few hours. Although these shots seem close, rest assured that I was in a safe location and using a telephoto lens!
The shore of Yellowstone Lake presented some stunning mineralized colors of its boiling acid pools. Not recommended for swimming.
No visit to Yellowstone is complete without a stop at Old Faithful, which erupts about every 45-60 minutes. The landscape of bleachers surrounding the main event suggested enormous crowds could be possible, but as we had arrived late in the day and seem to have just missed the last eruption, there was just a handful of people wandering around. After waiting patiently for the better part of an hour, we were finally rewarded by an eruption, which started all of a sudden with a soft hissing sound before rising up a hundred feet or so in gentle plume of "shhhhhhh" in the afternoon light. Worth the wait.
Onwards to Jackson Hole, as the sun set over the Grand Tetons to our right.
The town of Jackson was a complete tourist trap, aimed at wealthy skiers and wannabe ranchers with big, clean pickup trucks and pressed jeans. Not the kind of place where we fit in or wanted to be, except to pick up Jeff's clutch parts. Accommodations were scarce and unaffordable, but we lucked out by finding the retro Virginian Motel on the south side of town by the highway. It looked like a relic of the 50s and 60s, complete with overdone western decor. However, we lucked out and got a large room that served our purpose--and allowed each of us to enjoy a bed for a change.
The next day, while waiting for Jeff's shipment to arrive, we checked out the nearby elk preserve, a historic site where one of the first wildlife conservation efforts was undertaken in the US. A old homestead on the site offered free tours and insights about the conservation efforts.
With Jeff's new clutch parts finally in our hands, our mission to Jackson was complete and we headed straight back to Butte, MT for a third time, now via a different route through Idaho. Fortunately our bikes were still there at the Hampton Inn, and a few hours later, Jeff's clutch was back to new.
Comparing the old and new friction plates, it was now obvious that replacement was the only option, That silver ring on the left is supposed to have cork on it; it was completely ground down to bare aluminum.
With Jeff's bike now running like a champ again, the next day we loaded up, returned the rental car, and headed out to resume our two-wheeled journey, taking the interstate to make up some time and skirt our original route down Fuckery Hill which had gotten us into this mess in the first place. For the first time in a while, the sky was gray with rain. Looming storm clouds and gusty winds chased us off the Interstate towards a historic stagecoach trail where we picked up our original route.
Here the road became slippery with wet, slick mud and ruts from prior storms and vehicles passing through. But it felt great to ride again. Ahead of us lay even more remote regions as we continued to follow the Continental Divide south, dodging storm cells and snacking on jerky and corn nuts. Soon we would pass over the Grand Tetons from the west, crossing the route south through Yellowstone that we had taken just days before.
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