Ural had been struggling more than usual to keep its engine temps down, however - especially when climbing. From my first stretch of open road the day before, I'd noticed it was running about 10 degrees hotter than on previous cross-country trips. The only thing I could think of that had changed was the valve adjustment I had performed recently. All but one had been out of spec, and I'd remedied that. But the engine light had not come on, so I presumed all was still well. Maybe it was just that, on average, I'd been gaining elevation from the Great Plains to this point. Maybe now the trend would reverse.
Sticking to secondary roads, I made my way towards Kalispell, while aiming to largely bypass the heavily populated Flathead Valley. To accomplish that, I meandered through the mountains to the east. I'd passed a no-name gas station in Elliston, thinking there'd be a name-brand one at the junction in Avon. There was not. The next likely spot was the junction of 141 and 200. It was on the route to Missoula, so my chances would be better there.
Strike Two. By the time I got to Ovando, I was a little concerned. I'd assumed I wouldn't have trouble getting fuel until Canada, so both 2.5 and 1.5-gallon jerrycans were still empty. Talk about a rooky mistake. I certainly should have known better!
I pulled up in front of this restaurant that appeared to be the only business in "town". It didn't look like they had gas, but they'd probably know where the nearest station was. It was closed.
But there was some activity out in the parking lot. A couple was circling their RV, preparing to leave, it seemed. I walked over and called out to the older gentleman. While not locals, they were somewhat familiar with the area. Between the two of them, they decided there was most certainly gas at the next junction to the west - about a dozen miles away. That would work. I probably had enough for twice that.
Ovando had been Strike Three, but I was not quite out. I had something I didn't have before - hope!
The kindly couple was correct. I filled up at the south end of Highway 83. And this time, I also filled the steel jerrycan strapped to the sidecar!
But only a few miles later I was stopped again - road construction. An overhead light was controlling one-way traffic on a temporarily unpaved section of the normally paved road.
Soon, a group of three bikers pulled up behind me. They'd come from one of the Carolinas (I don't remember which one) and were headed to Glacier National Park. They must have been tiring of their journey, because they asked if the famous Going-to-the-Sun Road would be worth the trip. Having been there multiple times, I assured them it was!
I didn't really need a break, but it was a pleasant spot to be delayed. When it became clear that it might be a while, I got off the bike and stood in the shade. I think that's Salmon Lake, but it might be Seeley. They're not far apart. When a long line of southbound traffic finally began rolling by, all four of us remounted in anticipation of the green light.
The rest of the road was engagingly winding and tree-lined. Traffic got bad as I neared the park entrance, but once I turned west again and passed through Whitefish, tranquility returned.
This is Eureka, MT. I'd never been there before but had heard it was a nice little town. Six miles from the border, I'd planned on pausing here to call my wife - before my phone quit working in Canada. After that, I'd be relying on a satellite texting device and motel/campground phones to keep in touch.
The city park would be the perfect place. It was late afternoon, and while temps were significantly higher than I like, cooling shade was now abundant and expansive. Besides checking in with Kim, I also wanted to give the sun more time to descend, in case there was a long line with no tree cover at the border.
I needn't have worried. There was only one vehicle ahead of me at the window when I arrived at the 49th Parallel. After a relay of documents and a brief chat with the official, I was through - and free to travel about the country! It was probably the quickest crossing of any international border I've ever experienced.
Immediately, the road got nicer and the speed limit dropped - two welcome changes for Ural and me. At Elko, British Columbia, I turned northwest onto Highway 3/93. Less than an hour later, I pulled into the Fort Steele Resort. There really was no town, just an historic tourist attraction of some sort (which was closed) and this RV park. I guess the gas station and store (out front) and the swimming pool (behind) earned the place its "resort" status. I had thought there would be a hotel - was counting on it, actually. I asked about cabins and there was one. But it was taken. The woman behind the counter thought there might be a hotel in Wasa, twenty minutes farther. But she wasn't sure. There wasn't even a restaurant. Guess I hadn't read their website all that carefully before I left South Dakota. Or maybe the restaurant was in the closed area across the highway.
I decided to pay for a tent site in the trees anyway - and call it a day. I'd come 410 miles, much closer to my goal of no more than 400, and didn't want to ruin it. I certainly didn't want to go on to Wasa, only to have to come back. After gassing up, I motored back behind the store, found my site, and set up the tent. Walking back, I claimed this picnic table with my jacket, and went in to get whatever supper I could find.
That was when the evening turned around a bit. There was no hot food, but some amazing-looking locally prepared sandwiches filled one of the coolers! I chose turkey and cheese, with lots of fresh veggies sticking out from a large fluffy bun. It was such a responsible adult healthy choice. I was pretty proud of myself - and it was quite tasty to boot! I then realized one other big positive. The night before, in Montana, had featured large and rather numerous mosquitoes. But there were none here at all!
I sat there at the table for quite a while, finished my dinner, then poked out a few texts on my GPS device. I figured it might not send under all the tree cover at my camp. It's certainly not an efficient way of communicating, but it works from anywhere you can see a good chunk of sky. And it's got an SOS button, should I ever need to contact emergency services. How cool is that?
Back at my site, the guy I had talked to earlier, who was going to set up next to me, had evidently changed his mind. Too bad. I kind of liked him. In his place (to the left of this photo) were a father and son. They were fine, but not nearly as interesting. In fact, I couldn't get them to say much at all.
Just before dark, they began rapidly packing up. The guy said his boy was feeling sick, and they were heading home. Was it something I said? About that time, several families in a group site to the right turned on their music. And their music was not pleasant. By 11:00, all was quiet again, however - and I ended up sleeping fairly well.
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