Going to the Sun

Disabled Vietnam Vet Jim who paid my camp fees!

Robert, Eagle Creek Camp Site Host

Although the Eagle Creek camp site was almost empty when I booked in it filled up considerably later in the day, to the point where I had somebody camped on a patch of grass just across from me even though it wasn’t an “official” pitch. Not that it bothered me at all as there was  loads of space on the site between the pitches.  Robert, the host, introduced me to Jim a disabled Vietnam veteran who suffers with Parkinson’s Disease as a result of exposure to Agent Orange during the war. It was good to hear that the US government recognises the disability as being caused by Agent Orange in spite of Monsanto’s continued stance that it was completely harmless! As I witnessed first hand last year there are still huge tracts of land in Vietnam where nothing other than scrub will grow even over forty years later and far above average numbers of birth defects are still being reported in the country… Is it any wonder that I’m not keen on eating the GM wheat for which they offer the same self satisfied assurances? Jim was very touched by my bike with it’s tribute to Sam, so much so in fact that he insisted on paying the fees for my two nights camping at the site and nothing I could do or say would dissuade him. I felt somewhat guilty accepting his generosity but short of causing offence I really could see no way out. Robert was in fact also a Vietnam vet, as of course were most of the men of a similar age to myself or older, and he kept me amply supplied with firewood for the duration of my stay for which he would accept no payment other than a photograph!

 About 10.30 I rode back up to Jardine on my bike to meet up with Becca for my horse riding. A family of 4 turned up shortly after I arrived although they were only on a one hour trek, so as they headed off on way with Jake the owner, Becca and I took the high route out of the compound for my two hours, with me riding a beautiful 15 2 hand, silver gelding called appropriately, Silver!  The route was steep, along a very narrow path worn into the hillside and I must confess to more than a few nerves. After all I hadn’t so much as sat on a horse for over 4 years and even that was just a very tame little trek through the woods in the South of France. That ride was not only flat, but in company with about a dozen other riders and

on horses that just sort of followed the leader with no input from the rider required. Silver, on the other hand, responded to my every movement of the reins, whether intentional or not! At one point Becca’s horse did a sudden about turn with Silver promptly following suit… all on a path about 18 inches wide with a drop of several hundred metres on one side and an equally steep climb on the other. That made me sweat a bit I can tell you! However, amazing even myself I managed to recover the situation and turn Silver back to face the right way all without disappearing over the precipice! Fortunately my horse was rather better behaved than Becca’s which kept doing a hop and a skip around anything that it didn’t fancy crossing. The two hours passed all too quickly and without further problems, and other than slightly sore knees I could easily have enjoyed a couple of hours more. The scenery was fantastic and it was so nice to be away from the noise of the motorbike and other road traffic. Becca was also a delightful guide, very knowledgeable about her surroundings and the area in general. All of which made for a few dollars well spent and my thanks go out to Weston, Becca’s boyfriend, for the tip!

From Jardine my plan was to head further north then slightly east to ride the Going to the Sun road over Glacier National Park which by now would have been open for the best part of a week and so should be free of the dreaded road works… well that was the plan anyway! The first thing I found as I entered the Park on the Going to the Sun road was a Harley in a ditch. I rounded a corner just in time to see the rider remounting the bike whilst it was still in the said ditch whilst a group of people stood around and watched. It was obvious that it wasn't going to work but nobody seemed too keen on offering any ideas or assistance and as the newcomer to the scene although I stopped and dismounted, I kept schtum!  Unfortunately I was right and a few seconds later both bike and rider were once more laying in the ditch. At this point I did my usual and piled in, getting a couple of other guys to assist me, we got the bike upright once more and as the rider remounted and fired up the old tractor we heaved and shoved to help him stay upright until he regained the road… I watch in amazement as he shot off up the road without so much as a thank you or even a wave of acknowledgement.  Later in the day as I stopped to take some photos a lady came up to me and said that it was her husband that I had helped and thanked me. She asked me for some contact details saying that she was sure he would want to get in touch… Hmm, I'm not so sure, I think he was just too embarrassed at having dropped his precious Harley to even consider such a move. Not that I was particularly bothered, I was just happy to help a fellow biker, just a wave would have been good!

From there it was onwards and upwards, initially running a long the valley carved by a fast flowing river, with waterfalls and rapids every so often, then climbing fairly gently to a little over 6500 ft. Whilst very picturesque, In my view it didn't come close in “wow” factor to the Bear Tooth Pass or indeed many of the roads I have ridden in various countries in Europe. Partly I think this is due to the road itself, which is quite wide (by European standards) and therefore somewhat tame to ride. Although I’m not sure that the average US or Canadian driver would agree with me as I watched with some amusement the way they just couldn't manage to pass on some of the curves even though there was enough room to drive two London buses through the gap! I cleared the Pass without incident then on the way down the other side started to pick up road works signs until the traffic came to a complete halt. Yes, they had indeed opened the road, but the road works were far from finished. We sat for over half an hour in the stifling heat waiting for the little man with the stop – go board to let us move on. Even then it was painfully slow for some considerable distance. Oh well, at least I had ridden the much fabled road. From the end of the road at East Glacier I had the option of turning north to follow the same route along which I had entered the US a week or so back or swinging south-west, back around to West Glacier from where I had entered the park earlier in the day… I chose the latter which ultimately took me back into Canada at Porthill just 10Km south of Creston and Taz & Joel’s house ready for the final preparations for our run north which included me getting a second set of tyres!