Day 11 - Sourdough Lodge (near Lowman, ID). [under construction]

Although the TKC80's had help up remarkably well, and we still had perhaps 1,000 miles left in the rears, Boise was probably our last shot at getting rubber unless we diverted really far out of the way - to Las Vegas, Salt Lake City, or Bend. DockingPilot had a good experience with the KTM folks in Boise, and that was relatively close by - and really not out of our way by more than a hundred miles or so. BigDog and I decided that Boise it was, but we'd try to avoid some asphalt along the way. After breakfast, served by a hard working Hungarian, we took off. About three miles up the road, I couldn't take it anymore, and turn off on Archie Creek Road. We soon climbed high above Rt 21, dodging badgers and ground squirrels. The badgers make quick work of the ground squirrels and chipmunks. The road was just a two track, obviously for logging, and we were about 1,250 feet above the highway below. We dropped back to the highway near Whoop Um Up Creek (a real name!) and headed southwest on Rt 21 past Lucky Creek Lake into the outer edges of Boise. We stopped in a small park on the edge of town, and whipped out the cell phone. Time for the modern devil gadgets to earn their keep. A call to Motorsports revealed that all they had in stock at the moment was a single Karoo and a pair of Scorps. Hmmm.....that won't work for us, but that's the price you pay when you don't want to get tied down to a specific location anywhere on your trip. We knew we'd need a tire somewhere along the line, but didn't want to get 'stuck' having to go somewhere to get it. But we weren't stuck, we'd find a way. A Desert, Baja, 908RR, KarooT, TKC80 - any of them would do fine. The local parks dept sprinker technicians were on the job, and one of them happened to know of a local warehouse that serves the bike shops in the area. He snagged us the phone number. BigDog gave them a call, and figured out they had a pair of Michelin Deserts in stock. They'd do just fine for where we were headed, so a call back to MotoSports got the order in motion - but we'd have a day to kill. At that point, I still hadn't put 2+2 together to figure out *WHO* the guys are that we were talking to at MotoSports. So we had a day to kill. Rather than lounge around Boise, we picked a lonely looking spot on the map, and set sail for it. Atlanta, ID, here we come. Hope you have some beer on ice. We gassed up, and took off back into the hills - hopefully it was a bit cooler up there.

We rode around the north side of Arrowrock Reservoir and east on NF268. NF268 winds around the clear running waters of the Boise River. A hot spring, right on the edge of the Boise River. You can see where some enterprising souls built a couple hot tubs.... I rode for about 25 miles, then decided to stop and wait for BigDog to make sure all was well. I took off my skullcap, and sat down, leaning against a pine tree in the shade, the sound of the river burbling by lulling me into a short catnap. After a little while, BigDog's motor stirred me back to reality....

That said, as BigDog and I regrouped, we headed the last 20 miles or so into Atlanta, Idaho. There was evidence of fire and flooding, due to the abundance of dead pines and thick, new gravel bars in the river. I wondered what the devil had gone on up here..... As we approached town, I did a loop around, and it was obvious only the Beaver Lodge was still in business. Everything else had been closed up for a while. The Beaver Lodge can cook you a meal, serve you a brew, or rent you a room. Only tonight, they had no rooms. There was a campground up the valley a few miles, but why pay to camp? After a burger and a beer, I was figuring we'd need to roll over the pass to Featherville to find a place to stay. BigDog had, in the meantime, negotiated a place for us to stay for the lofty sum of one Hamm's beer Hmmm....no doubt tough times have befallen Atlanta recently. The place more or less burned in '00 and again in '03. Seems like the economy hasn't yet recovered. We decided to wander up the valley a bit and find one of the hot springs to wash the stink off us, and where I figured I'd do my nightly ritual of washing the essential socks & shorts for the next day. The water was about 100 degrees, and felt great, with only a slight sulphur odor to it. I washed all my clothes here Little Dog got himself in a jam at the springs, but that problem flushed itself out on it's own Refreshed from the soak in the springs, we wallowed back to the Beaver to see about those accomodations. The sun was getting low in the sky. Having a coke outside the Beaver Lodge, all closed up. Why? Because their hydroelectric turbine crapped out a couple weeks ago, and they only have a diesel generator to power the town. It runs for a few hours in the morning, and a few hours at night only, When the power goes out, so do the lights and the Beaver closes down. BigDog, having a Coke and swatting away hummingbirds - they were thick as mosquitos. I don't know who Gayle was, as Lois was evidently affiliated with Russ, who was on duty tonight at the bar The view from our 'loft' ..... End of the day, and we were never killed , although the thought had crossed my mind that it was a distinct possibility...... Ya ever get that feeling, the one where you can tell you're not exactly welcome? .....and that diabolical thoughts are propagating about? In all my years of traveling, this was the only place I ever felt out of place, in a big way. Weird, and I hope mistaken, but I didn't dig it here. The scenery awesome, the rest not as much.

The tale of the tape....mileage? Who cares :D ?

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