Ever luck into one of those days that captures the essence of cruising? It doesn't happen that often, but every once in a great while you find yourself immersed in that happy confluence of time, place and mindset. It happened to me on Highway 89 in central Montana last summer.
The day was cool and bright, the road was empty, and the roar of endless river crossings provided the perfect punctuation to the Electra Glide's Twin Cam 88 soundtrack. I'd filled my belly with a sizable order of flapjacks at the Log Cabin Cafe in Choteau an hour earlier, and I didn't need to be anywhere all day. I felt like I was in a commercial for Montana's Chamber of Commerce.
All too good to be true, of course. Out of the corner of my eye, I suddenly caught a shadowy movement in the bushes off the road. My reverie faded as the danger-assessment meter kicked in: Too big to be a deer. Way too vertical for a stray cow. In the back of my head I thought, "S**t. Grizzly."
Half-curious but more than two-thirds spooked, I upshifted and goosed the Harley. Funny how curiosity about the local fauna seems to vanish when the object of your interest has really big teeth.
Wide Open
I was touring Big Sky Country's lesser-trafficked parts, thanks to a couple of tips I'd received from Travel Montana, the state's tourism bureau. They had called me several times offering story idase and route suggestions, always emphasizing that the state was perfect for biking because of its empty roads and boundless scenery. I could confirm the last part as I rode Highway 89 through this wide-open country in the shadow of the Rockies. From the Electra Glide's saddle I could see the majestic limestone of the Rocky Mountain Front jabbing skyward where it met the windswept borders of the Great Plains. There's no gradual rise to the topography here-the flatlands come right up to sheer faces that head straight to the sky. This was the eastern edge of the ultrawild Bob Marshall Wilderness. Affectionately called "The Bob" by locals, it's one of the most rugged areas in the U.S.-and one of the last places in the country that grizzly bears still roam freely.
It's not like I hadn't been warned about the local bruin population. Earlier in the day I'd visited the Theodore Roosevelt Memorial Ranch outside Dupuyer. As I headed back to the bike, the clerk bid me an ominous adieu. "Y'all have a fun ride. Oh, and be sure to watch out for the grizzlies," he said without a tinge of sarcasm.
Seems there had been several bear attacks in the area recently, and as I packed the bike the implications of the newly purchased jerky (real Montana beef!) stashed in the saddlebags suddenly hit me. Did I really want to become rolling bear bait? All those other things I'd confirmed about Montana-Big Sky, Big Cattle and Big Spaces-suddenly didn't seem important.
Watching The Fort
I had arrived three days earlier in Great Falls, Montana, and sat down for a chat with Gayle Fisher, the big cheese in charge of the Montana Department of Tourism, Russell Country section. She gave me the scoop on why they'd been so eager to help me. "Everyone thinks Montana is too far away, so no one aims for it as a prime destination; it's always a stop on the way to somewhere else. We want to show riders how much there really is here-especially in this part of the state." She had a point. The only time I'd visited the state was en route to Sturgis, and I wasn't at all familiar with Russell Country. That may be because other nearby attractions drew more curious eyes. On the scenery scale, Glacier and Yellowstone National Parks are tough acts to follow, so the Bob Marshall Wilderness is generally unknown outside the state. "Overlooked and underappreciated," I believe was the phrase Fisher used.