A little updating is in order

Okay, so the day's ride is over, the Kawasaki and I have tucked the sun in for the night; time to come back home and do a little updating on the site.

I wanted to give the new blog roll feature a test drive by using four of my links to see how well it worked, and if it was something that I would like to use. Turns out, I like it a lot. Now I can see who has new posts and who doesn't.

With that decision made, next in line was to update my links list and add them to my blog roll.

This summer, the number of sites that I frequent on a regular basis has grown quite a bit and I've been meaning to do this for awhile now.

I gave the scooter links their own separate list because I can foresee this list growing rather quickly in the future. Scooterists (or is it Scootertista, Scootertisti? I'm still learning the lingo.) seem to have something to say, and I want to be there to read about it.

Ride Well

E.T.

Entry from my journal July 21, 2008

A week ago, I took a Monday off to go for a ride over Lolo pass. I hadn't been there in a while and thought that it would be a nice ride. I was wrong. The ride from Lewiston, Idaho to Kooskia was swarming with Motorhomes lumbering down the highway at about 35 miles per hour; they seemed to be strategically spaced at about 1/4 mile intervals as well. A couple of miles out of Kooskia, I had enough of the rolling monoliths and decided to make a right turn onto a forest service road in an attempt to get away from all of the people. It worked. Before I knew it, I was so deep in the forest that I continuously lost my G.P.S. signal because of the tree cover. Although I knew where I had come from, after about an hour of riding through the forest, I wasn't really sure where I was. I rested for a spell in the shade and re-hydrated myself with some water while I wrote a brief entry in my journal. I plan on doing a larger post about the trip when time permits.

Sometimes getting totally lost, as long as you keep your wits, is extremely therapeutic. Also I never strayed from the trail and I knew that this trail had to eventually lead somewhere. With 300 miles worth of fuel in my tank, I wasn't worried. God bless my KLR and her ship of the desert tank.

I’m not exactly where I thought I would be right now. Honestly, I’m not exactly sure where I am right now. Before I lost the signal on my G.P.S., I was 210 miles, as the crow flies, from home. I’m resting against a rock, under a thick canopy of pine trees, so thick that my G.P.S. signal keeps failing. I can hear running water somewhere in the canyon below, I think that’s where I’m headed; although, that’s all I know. I left the highway about 20 miles back and the forest service road became a narrow piece of single track about 5 miles ago. I can tell that it is used by A.T.V.’s by the tracks; I suppose it could be a snowmobile trail during the winter.

I don’t know where I am, only that I’m somewhere in the mountains of Central Idaho. I do know where I came from so if I get really lost, I can always turn around; I’d rather keep moving forward to see where this ends. I’m riding alone, I’m okay with that; nobody knows that I’m here, I’m okay with that too. It’s supposed to get hot today and already, mid-morning, there is strong evidence that it will do just that. I need to be careful with my tires, no repair kit; this is a reminder to get one. I really shouldn't be in here without one; it’s a long walk out.

I’ve seen a number of Elk, a few deer (a couple of small Buck’s), and a Coyote, not much else so far. I don’t expect much to be out moving around in the afternoon.

I topped off the KLR back in Kooskia, so I’m not worried about fuel, or water, I packed plenty of that too. I’m thinking of climbing to a higher elevation to cool off later, but not until I get my bearings and I know exactly where I am.

It’s time to go find that running water, all water leads somewhere.
I am lost in the woods, and I could care less, this is why I got this bike, to take me to these places; it’s doing a wonderful job!

I wonder where I am.

The running water that I eventually found, turned out to be the Central fork of the Clearwater river. That's where I stopped along the trail to take the picture in this post, about thirty minutes after I had written this journal entry.

Passing thoughts

A simple white church out in the country, 30 or 40 miles from the nearest populated area; the first thing that I observe as I approach from the north, rising from the fields is the unassuming steeple; gradually the body of the structure comes into view.

Nestled in among a farmers meadow, the nearest homes, at least ten miles from one another; Grazing horses, a hawk circling in the distance over a canola field, a few trees here and there, but not a single person, except for me of course as I pass through on my bike.

I’ve been down this road a number of times, a quiet two lane highway, unknown by a good majority of motorists, that’s why I take it.
I know this building, a familiar waypoint on my travels between two distant cities.

Whitewashed cedar lap, gothic windows, a few corbels and a cross on the steeple; humble but well cared for. Passing by, I begin to wonder, who tends to this place? Who trims the shrubbery and keeps it so well maintained? The parishioners? But where do they come from? They certainly have to travel from distant places to care so much for this small church; to worship beneath its roof.

A modest little parish, standing proud over the years, descending back into the fields as it slowly wanes in my mirrors; another turn and it’s gone from my view, until the next time I pass through here.

This meek structure,
treasured by those who care for it,
those from far away places.
A simple white church;
tangible evidence that faith still exists.

Ride Well

E.T.