Three Wheels North

 

Yes, Ural and I have gone north before - to the Dakota that sits atop the one we now call home.  But the goal for this journey was to expand my three-wheeler's range significantly farther in that direction!

To that end, you'll notice not just the standard spare wheel on the sidecar's trunk, but an additional tire strapped to it.  Indeed, there is brand new rubber installed all around as well, but the one on the rear of the bike is for longer wear with street use.  When the pavement ends up in the Yukon, I'd switch to the off-road tire mounted spare.  The same tires, when in the front and sidecar positions, last three times as long, so they aren't an issue.  The extra extra (the fifth in total) is for emergencies.  All clear?  It was the best way I could think of to deal with tires that only last around 3,000 miles - on a 6,200-mile trip!

Also of note is the package wrapped in a blue tarp, mounted under the spare tires.  It's a box containing my battery-powered pump for transferring fuel from the jerrycans to the main tank - for the 260-mile stretch with no gas stations between Dawson City and Eagle Plains.

If it sounds like I've been there before, it's because I have - sort of.  I made my first attempt at riding to the Canadian Arctic village of Tuktoyaktuk (on a different motorcycle) way back in 2018 - five years ago!  I reached the southern border of the Yukon - then turned around and went home.  Long story.

The following year (2019), after making a few critical equipment changes, I returned and made it through 240 miles of gravel to Eagle Plains.  A handful of miles later, I turned around again.  Even longer story.  

2020 was COVID.  2021 was learning to ride the Ural off-road in Idaho.  2022 (last year) was the move from Oregon to South Dakota.  "Tuk", as it's affectionately called, is 320 more gravel road miles past Eagle Plains.  2023 will be my third attempt!

Belle Fourche is only about an hour from home.  It's the last town in South Dakota heading northwest along 212.  Next you cross a small corner of Wyoming, then enter the great state of Montana.  East to west, Montana is enormous.  When your 1940's technology engine limits you to around 60 miles per hour (on the flats), you start to think it might go on forever.

But it didn't - at least not the part I was traversing that day.  After passing through Billings, I turned north on Highway 3, then west again on 12.  White Sulphur Springs, population around a thousand, is about 2/3 of the way across the state.  This is not the campground I'd found on the Internet, but it was quieter-looking, and not right in town.  The old house that doubled as an office was intriguing as well.

The man you see walking away on the far left (in front of the car) was coming toward me when I first parked.  He was nice enough, but was sorry to inform me that this was an RV only establishment.  I hardly ever run into that sort of thing in Canada, but it's quite common here in the Lower 48, for some reason.

Back to Plan A - a hot springs resort that included a motel, RV sites, and tent spots.  Unfortunately, the woman who checked me in said the new parking lot behind the Ural had severely restricted the tenting options.  And a soak in the hot pools inside would cost me $10 more.  We'll see how things go.  

I set up my trusty blue ultra-light home under the shade of a beautiful spreading tree and decided to ride downtown to check out the supper options.  Being the weekend before the 4th, I figured other campers might show up, and I wanted to have first pick at a site. 

Stageline Pizza caught my eye on the first pass - and there was an available parking spot right out front!

They took my order right away, but it was so hot inside that I went back out to wait on a sidewalk bench.  It wasn't exactly cool outside either, but the awning's shade made it tolerable.  I chatted with a few locals as they came and went - and learned the place was really backed up that evening.  It might be a while.

But what else did I have to do?  I texted some family back home and answered questions about the Ural from passersby.  I was glad I'd already set up my tent.

About an hour later, I had my personal pan sausage and bell pepper pizza!  I found a more tranquil place to eat it, a few steps up the street, and dove in.  It was well worth the wait!

I wrapped up the last piece for breakfast and motored back to camp.  My spot was closer to the highway than I'd prefer, but I had good ear plugs for that sort of thing - and it was not a busy route.

I extracted my bed roll (sleeping bag, foam pad, and pillow) from the sidecar and got everything situated inside.  Then I took my toiletries bag into the bath house to prepare for a good night's sleep.

That done, I settled down on a closed food truck patio on the far side of the parking lot.  It appeared to be only a lunch place, so maybe I'd have a chance to try it on my way back through.  As the sun set, I reviewed the day and previewed the next.  I'd planned on this being a longer than average day.  I figured I'd be fresh, and I could handle it.  Beginning tomorrow, I'd stick closer to 400 milers, but Day One had been 470.  Still, it hadn't been that bad.  I could do without the afternoon heat, but I'd made it in less than 12 hours.

The plan for Day Two was to continue across Montana, then turn north and enter British Columbia.  My pre-trip research had turned up another motel/camping resort about an hour north of the border.  There, I'd try to get a room and start an every-other-night camping routine.

Time to hit the sack!