Going to the Sun Road

One of the legendary motorcycle roads of North America is the Going to the Sun Road through Glacier National Park. And they say BMW is the "legendary motorcycle of Germany." See the connection?   We just had to go...so we did.

 

Glacier is the U.S. portion of a much larger piece of protected wilderness, the Waterton-Glacier National Peace Park, a World Heritage Site. The park represents a vision international cooperation and hope. After all, Canada and the U.S. have been at peace since they whooped us in the Canadian version of the War of 1812.

Glacier is wild.There are a lot of bears, wolves, lynx,  trumpeter swans and other animals eradicated from many other parts of North America. Okay. So, there are bears and wolves in Michigan, but how about the long-toed salamander?

Going-to-the-Sun Road was completed in 1932, and it is the only road that crosses the park, going over the Continental Divide at Logan Pass. A fleet of 1930s red tour buses called "jammers", rebuilt in 2001 to run on propane or gas, offer tours on the road. The road, a National Historic and Historic Civil Engineering Landmark, spans 53 miles (85 km) across the width of the the park.

The road is one of the most difficult roads to keep plowed of snow in North America in the spring. Up to 80 feet (24 m) of snow can lie on top of Logan Pass, and more just east of the pass where the deepest snowfield has long been referred to as "Big Drift." The road takes about ten weeks to plow, even with equipment that can move 4000 tons of snow in an hour. The snowplow crew can clear as little as 500 feet (150 m) of the road per day. On the east side of the continental divide, there are few guardrails due to heavy snows and the resultant late winter avalanches that have repeatedly 

Jim waiting our turn, Going to the Sun Road closure

destroyed every protective barrier ever constructed. The road was scheduled to close on Monday, September 17th at 6 AM. We crossed it on Sunday the 16th and descended the western slope of the Rockies to Kalispell, MT where we visited with Jim's niece and her family and took a well-deserved respite in a luxurious hotel.

Glacier National Park
 


The Flathead River valley was a warm and sunny relief from the frost we had encountered in the mountains. A brief visit with


Western slope of the Rockies

friends Mike and Susan Blair gave us a chance to absorb some of the grandeur of alpine mountains on two horizons-- for the sunrise as well as the sunset, a wandering river at times visited by elk and grizzlies, and a 40-mile long lake just to the south.

Flathead River from Mike & Susan Blair's deck, outside Big Fork, MT



View from Mike Blair's Bug-Eye Sprite
parked in his home workshop



Susan Blair's greenhouse of rare succulents



Downtown Spokane, WA





Washington camping, Banks Lake, formed by the Grand Coulee Dam

Stayin' on Rte 2

Route 2 west took us through the tidy city of Spokane and then many miles of wheat, high desert range land, and lush irrigated fruit orchards. Our lunch stop was a factory tour of the small 
enterprise that has been making "Applets" and "Cotlets", sweet fruit confections that are my mother-in-law's favorite. Of course, a box was shipped home. Off to the Cascade Mountains, the termination of Route 2 at the Puget Sound docks of Everett, WA, and Seattle for seafood and a splurge meal.


Sleep? Who Needs Sleep?

Okay. So it's not 6 in the morning, but it's bloody early. On the right, "Uncle Jimmy," in crisp black and fluorescent green, riding a BMW R100RT, waxed, polished, and spotlessly clean. On the left:  your humble scribe, dressed in a very faded Aerostitch  jacket and K-Mart construction boots, astride a K75RT with PIAA fog lights, satellite radio, remote iPod controller, and some sort of electric whistle that is supposed to scare away deer. We are off to Michigan's Upper Penninsula where US Route 2 originates on its desolate meander to Seattle and the Pacific. Our only plan: make it to Glacier National Park before the road closes...and try our best to avoid snow.

Mackinac Bridge from the lighthouse

Rolling Out the Red Carpet

Since next summer's road trip was turning into ths fall's adventure, I realized I needed something more like a "touring motorcycle" than my very elemental 1972 BMW 750/5 or my very used up Kawasaki KLR 650 with the distinct Mexican accent. Serendipitously, a neighbor and frequent touring companion had decided to sell his '91 BMW K75RT and wondered why I did not buy it from him. I didn't want to disappoint him and bought it on the spot. I knew I'd have to break the news to Carol and I hoped her brother's involvement in the imminent excursion, and my roll as mentor and guide, would soften the impact of the news that yet another hydrocarbon-burning toy was moving into our barn and sharing space with our five indifferent cats.

A "K-series" BMW motorcycle is an odd bird to someone accustomed to the opposed aircooled cylinders that had been the tradition of BMW since the 1930's. These bikes have 3- or 4-cylinder liquid-cooled motors with overhead cams, fuel injection, and electronic engine management, much like the motor in an automobie. But the motor lies flat on its side with the spark plugs adjacent to one's left foot and the crankshaft, transmission and driveshaft along the right side of the bike. With the help of the internet, I dug in and began to service and prepare this beast in anticipation of Jim's arrival...now scheduled for September 6th. 

As one might expect, the infamous Mr. Murphy and his surprises began to emerge. A seized cooling fan taught me that Bavarian Motor Werks believes a small piece of plastic with an electric motor and a propeller is worth $349. An eBay motorcycle dismantler sold me one for $75. When it finally arrived, it didn't work and he woud not take it back. Off to eBay's "dispute resolution center" and hopefully an eventual refund. In the meantime, a South Carolina purveyor, with the compelling tradename "Beemer Boneyard," had the bare fan motor, new, in a Bosch box, for $79. With the help of another neighbor, I refurbished the old fan with a new motor. Remembering how all the plastic bodywork of the full-fairing RT model screwed back together was another probem all together.

In the middle of all this, September 6th arrived, and at 7:00 PM Jim pulled into my garage. He had ridden 13 hours from Virginia via 2-lane roads and had to be lifted from the bike and served Advil for supper. Around midnight on September 10th, I finally had everything on my end ready to go. Again, Advil was a helpful adjunct. 

Tuesday, September 11th was seconds away. We were to set out at 6:00 AM, due north for St. Ignace, Michigan and the great Mackinak Bridge, where we would turn left, into the sun, and head west as far as US Route 2 would take us. Our only plan was to get across the "Going-to-the-Sun Road" and the high Rocky Moutain continental divide at Glacier National Park near the Canadian border before it closed on September 17th.

I knew Jim would expect the red carpet treatment

No one told me all used K-bikes have seized cooling fans

The inimitable "Uncle" Jimmy:
Packed and nowhere to go