I awoke to the smell of coffee in a room that remained nearly pitch black despite dawn's break. I could hear Steve rustling a couple rooms away, so I got up and went upstairs to get a cup of that coffee and start the day.

Mornin' Mikey!

Eggs, leftover porkchops, and bisquits made the meal, but Doug's kitchen, the awesome hardwood floors, log framing, and the early morning view provided the ambiance. We all rounded up last night's laundry left drying in precarious places, but looks like one jersey was going to stay behind.

Once again, we were off at the crack of nine, but it didn't matter at all. The ride, the scenery, the company...it is nearly overwhelming.

Sharing my seat with that damned tire was driving me nuts, but the MT21 on the bike was just too good to toss. I'll live with it another day. Maybe two. The problem was I can't really ride the bike, I'm just sitting on it, all but immobile.

Generally about the second day on one of these long dirt trips is where I settle into "the pace". It's not fast, but it's easy on the equipment and easy on the rider. When I used to ride alone often, it became a habit. I can do long, long days in the saddle at "the pace", generally never need to stop, never get off the bike. Just ride. I figure I probably have about 5,000 more miles to go before I'm home. Steady as she goes.....we've a long way to go and much to see.

We ride up a great little atv trail to an overlook of Flathead Lake. The loaded bikes make it a bit tricky in spots, but it's a hoot, and the view at the top was one heck of a reward.

As mentioned prior, Steve and Doug know this area as well as anyone could. I hadn't looked at the GPS, nor had anyone looked at any maps. We just rode.

On the way out on the singletrack, I had a less than spectacular and far less than graceful near zero mph tipover. That adequately knocked the new off the 640's paint, and was forever immortalized as the first spastic move of the ride. Off we went again. Gotta get that tire off the back.....

What the hell is this? Asphalt? We had to traverse a few miles of this stuff to get to the next turnoff. And some lunch.

Wasn't the unibomber from around here somewhere?

The Southbound Suarez.........

• "...With a little bit of concentration
• And a little bit of helpin' hands, yeah
• And a little bit of raving madness
• You know it makes me feel, baby
• Both my feet are back on the ground..."
  • - Led Zeppelin

As we rolled into Seeley Lake, we quickly dismounted and ordered up some food from the local roadside ice cream/chili dog supplier.

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The collosal taco/burrito mutant thing was more than anticipated by some, yet Doug manhandled the beast without the facilitations of malted barley beverages. We moved on. Into the Scapegoat Wilderness. Now I'm sure that Unibomber guy was from near here.....or was he?

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More beautiful lakes and streams greeted us as the horizon rolled and presented itself.

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Wait a second. Do I smell beer?

Trixie's was just around the next bend. It was dusty, hot, and generally, we needed to wash down the road dust. Yeah, that's it.

A couple other bikers were there, wondering why we looked like stormtroopers from an Heinlein novel.

These woodland warriors were unimpressed with our presence.

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We needed to get some miles in and had to get over Stemple Pass and into the next valley system. There was some talk of a hotel with hot springs for a layover tonight....

So we climbed and into the next range we went.

Another look out across the valley back to Trixie's.....who's gonna be THAT GUY!!!..........

Towards Ovando, we traverse a secret little section of two track and splash the dust away.

Over Stemple Pass and into Lincoln for gas, we head back into the wilderness.

We've climbed for a while, and we're getting up there in altidtude. This is the first place we actually cross the Continental Divide.

The sun is getting lower on the horizon. We've a ways to go, there's not much stopping aside from the accordion effect at major intersections to keep the momentum going.

Before long we've crested the range and begin a long decent into yet another valley. I've not even looked at the GPS, perfectly happy to take advantage of Steve's first hand knowledge of the tracks in the area.

We crossed some rough roads, and maybe a closed one, and rode down a river valley towards Basin. I can taste a beer already.........

We rode into Basin, and get a couple pizzas at the Leaning Tower of Pizza. Both were excellent, although our beer pitcher apparently had a hole in it as it was constantly empty. We ripped on out of Basin and headed down an abandoned railroad bed towards Boulder. Our digs await us there - we've been in the lap of luxury.

The Boulder Hot Springs! The location has been developed, more or less, since 1863. It fell into disrepair in the latter 20th century, and is now being refurbished in stages. The sun set, and into the water we went.

A 104 degree hot tub, a 90 degree pool, a crystal clear sky - with an obligatory passby of the International Space Station made a great way to rehab the day's kinks of riding. Being the cheap, errr....economical bastages that we are, Jeff, Mike and & shared a room. Mike got the floor.

Our boots were so foul, we left them in a hidden alcove since space was a bit cozy.......the snoring began and the next day began its approach.