We awoke early and some of the group re-"poached" themselves in the hot springs. Coffee seemed to be the drink of choice, and we were generally massed around the coffee machine like head lice in a burning wig. The night before, Steve and I talked about a slight diversion from the CD trail - an interesting loop - for this morning so we could see something unusual, and still not miss any CD trail miles. We'd been making good time, so it shouldn't be a problem. So, the elected to ditch breakfast and hit the road.

After just a few miles, we reached the portal.

The 6,145 foot long Boulder tunnel! On this end was a river flowing out of the portal from all the water leaking into the tunnel from the surrounding rock.

[img]http://www.whiskythrottle.net/cd06/small/055.jpg[/img]

You could just barely see the pinpoint of light at the other end of the tunnel.

We motored on in, and I stopped at 6/10th of a mile (about halfway). Dark, wet and creepy!

And out the other portal we came to the ghost camp of Wickes, the bikes noticeably cleaner than they'd been for the last couple of days.

From the portal of the traverse of the Boulder Tunnel, we headed up to Comet, a long forgotten ghost town.

The town of Comet has seen several boom and bust cycles. As many as 300 people inhabited the town in 1885, but by 1913 the town was deserted. The 1920s and 1930s brought prosperity to the mines and 300 were employed at the mill or mines. The Comet school at one time boasted 20 pupils and the town boasted twenty-two saloons. Since the 1940s, the town like the mill, has been abandoned and has deteriorated from age, weather and vandalism.

Draw! Jonz gettin' into the Wild West thing

This ghost town is in remarkably good shape, presumably because it's hard to get to and not many know where it is. It'd be a shame for that to change and have it ruined like so many others. I really enjoy stepping back into history and observing these relics of the past. The harsh weather both destroys and preserves the structures. The heavy snow falls and avalanches wreck 'em, but the low humidity and long freezing season ward off rot. A ying/yang thing, I suppose.

The Mill. They used to have an overhead gondola system here to haul the ore out 300lbs at a time. I imagine these hills are honeycombed with tunnels and shafts.

Please - if you visit this place, treat it like it was yours, or like so many others, it'll be posted and we'll never see it again.

Time to rock 'n roll back down to Basin and catch up on the CDT again. In just a few miles, we're on an abandoned railroad bed and headed towards Butte.

Tunnels are fun. But these ones seem oh, so ho-hum after the Boulder Tunnel.

We resort to other measures to keep our level of entertainment high :bluduh Jonz catching a bit of air on a berm.

Then along comes Steve and, well, I think he also has a Airman's Certificate. That LC4 can fly. Thinking nothing of it, we all race to not be THAT GUY!!!, and head off down the railroad bed.

In Search of....Breakfast!

What the hell is this hard stuff??? Riding down into Butte, the only thing I can think of is the beggining of the 70's Evel Knievel film with George Hamilton where that car drops into a mine shaft after blowing the horn at Evel.

Steve knew of a good cafe, and we did a little research for a Kawasaki shop that might have a take off shock to help alleviate Mike's Circus Bike. For some reason, Jonz was in a gregarious mood, and left his camelback on his bike with free money for any who wished it. I missed the window of opportunity.

The Kawisaki shop was really a HD joint. If you needed assless chaps, a do-rag, or some chrome, you were styling. If you needed a Kawasaki part, best to keep moving on down the road. Which we did.

Climbing from Butte, we traversed another dead forest, just waiting to burn. No harvesting of the timber allowed nor possible, just tinder waiting for a spark.

Before long, a sign for another ghost town caught our collective eye, and we were all over it like a chicken on a june bug. Welcome to Coolidge, MT!

The forest was busy reclaiming the timbers of a glory day long past, but it was obvious this was a decent sized establishment at one time before it declined to oblivion in the 1930's.

The town of Coolidge was named after Calvin Coolidge, a friend of the town's founder, just in case you didn't already know.

An odd thing I noticed was the proliferation of gang latrines. Mike demonstrated.

Seems a fella would have to pretty desperate or pretty friendly with his co-workers to be comfortable in this seat.

Getting to be mid-day, we needed to get moving and get some miles going under our wheels - there's so much to see, so much to do, and so much to ride that there's just no way to get it done if we had months to just ride in Montana.

A little more fast and smooth pavement ended in a construction fiasco.

"Hey, doncha know we have a beer with our name on it at Elkhorn Hot Springs?"

"It'll be 20 minutes before the pilot vehicle gets here..."

Mr. Garmin had an alternate plan for us on a forest service road, and we slinked off down a single lane road. In minutes we, were at Elkhorn Hot Springs, which was CLOSED!!!??!!

Steve schmoozed 'em into opening up for us as one of the maintenance workers, who was also the bartender, came down to the main building for some tools. Or a hacksaw. Or something.

It was then I realized the road we took *was* for the pilot vehicle. Oops.

I liked this place. The bear and I hit it off well, so this place is a keeper.

Dual brews for Doug and I....

Sad time it is, as Doug has to turn back and head home. Professional obligations and all that have to be fulfilled. Doug, it was a pleasure to ride, soak and swill beers with you. Anyplace, anytime friend, and I'll see you again another time.

And in a mere instant of time, The Fab Five just became the Fiesta Four. Without a clue as to where we'd end up that night, we seperated ways, Doug headed North, and we headed South.