Morning arrived to the smell of coffee and the hum of my Aunt's computer. She woke up early to log on. I sent some e-mail, downed some Java and breakfast, then installed a few programs on her system which I had carried across the desert . A quick bike inspection was uneventful. I added a bit of Mobil 1 (@ 1/10 Quart), received instructions on taking the scenic route out of town, did the goodbye thing and headed out. It's nice seeing relatives, but hard to say goodbye when you only see them every 10 or 20 years. You never know if you will see someone again. If you ever get the chance, take the time to visit. It's worth it.

Tuesday morning traffic leaving Salt Lake City was light by Bay Area standards. The road construction slowed things up a bit, but only for a couple of miles. Salt Lake City is undergoing a major infrastructure facelift in preparation for the 2002 Winter Olympics, so road construction was a fairly common occurence. I-15 through Northern Utah and into Idaho is a pretty drive for an Interstate. I toyed with the idea of getting off on smaller roads, but decided to stay on the Interstate as long as possible, knowing I'd be getting lots of twisties a little later in the day. Besides, this was meant to be more of a "Tourist" trip than a "Sport Touring" trip.

Damn pretty country all through Northern Utah and Southeast Idaho. Some of those valleys are right out of a book. Farms, rivers snaking through, everything a lush green, quite a sight to see. If it weren't for the winters, I would move in an instant. There was one particular valley between Ogden & Willard around the 357 mile marker that was incredible. The surrounding mountains were capped with snow, and it looked more like a painting than reality.

I gassed up in Garland and stretched my legs. My gas mileage was up a bit to 34 for the last leg. Nearing the Utah-Idaho border, I passed a flatbed truck carrying cement grave liners. Normally I'm not a superstitious person, but I can't recall ever seeing one of those on the road before. I upped my vigilance level a notch. A few hours later, in Pocatello, damned if a truck didn't pull out right in front of me, and the bastard was pulling out of a parking lot in front of a store selling head stones & monuments. Geez!! If I had been the least bit superstitious, I would have turned around and headed home!

Undeterred by the bad omens, I proceeded north through the Fort Hall Indian reservation. This was rather uneventful. I wouldn't have been the least bit surprised to be attacked by Indian war parties, considering the earlier omens, but there was only nice scenery and miles of road to grind out. While gassing up in Blackfoot (32.8 MPG) I witnessed a humorous scene. A group riding Harleys had pulled in shortly before me, and most of them were working on their bikes, tightening stuff, wiping oil off, checking to see if their kidneys were still in place, the usual Harley routine. One of the guys was pushing his bike over to the phone booth. He had a sheepish look on his face, and put up his hands and said, "Piece of Shit Harley, what are you gonna do?" I'm not sure which model it was. Maybe a "Fatass", or a "Shovel-it-under" , or perhaps a FLXS#!*@. I'm not good at identifying them.

I pressed on, branching off of I-15 to 26E in Idaho Falls. This was the beginning of the "good stuff". Highway 26 follows the Snake River, and takes you into the Targhee National Forest. It branches at Swan Valley, where you can choose to stay on 26 through the Alpine pass or go farther north on 31 and take the Pine Creek pass. Originally I had planned to take 26 through Alpine and into Wyoming, but while in Utah my Aunt informed me that another Aunt was living in Wilson, Wyoming. I also learned that the Alpine pass was still closed. That made the choice of routes easy.

I won't even try to explain the beauty of the Targhee National Forest. Great roads, stunning scenery, what a ride. Most of the twisties are marked 25 mph or faster, and would probably bore all of you sport bikers, but for a Newbie on a Nighthawk 750, it was riding heaven!! I pulled into Swan Valley right behind an Idaho State Patrol Car and gassed up (30.9 MPG). Departing the gas station, my eyes took in Swan Valley. What a pretty little town and valley! The ride was absolute perfection until about a mile outside of Swan Valley, where I came upon the State Patrol car again. DAMN!! There I was, looking at about 30 miles of twisties, and I was stuck behind the Law!! My only option was to back off the throttle and enjoy the scenery. All the way to Alpine I was stuck behind 3 cars, two RV's, and Idaho's finest (that's right, ALPINE!-- dummy here was so caught up in the scenery he took the wrong turn out of the gas station). In retrospect, it worked out for the best. The sedate pace was perfect for viewing all that pretty scenery , then I got to turn around and backtrack like a bat out of hell. What a thrilling ride that turned out to be. It was worth the lost time!!

Eventually I made it back to Highway 31 and was surrounded by scenery even more stunning than the previous two hours. The scenery was such that it was difficult to remain focused on the riding, but I forced myself to stay alert, and it soon paid off! Coming around a 25 MPH curve I almost hit a tourist in a huge Winnebago who was straddling the centerline and READING A MAP LAID OUT ON HIS STEERING WHEEL!!! Give me a break!! I swerved to the right, cursing the whole way (thanks MSF, the training and practice paid off). I just hope that someday when he pulls that crap again he meets a logging truck instead of a bike. Maybe swerving his "Highway Hilton" off the road and down the side of a mountain will cure his stupidity!!

My heartbeat subsided to normal by the time I rode into Wilson, Wyoming. Since it was already 5:30 PM, I gassed up (41.3 MPG) and called my Aunt. Nobody answered, so I left a message. Armed with an address and a description of her Log Cabin, I figured I could find it in a flash. Wrong. After spending almost an hour cruising up and down that little town and asking people for help, I was ready to just give up. The cabin was no where to be found, and nobody was familiar with the house number either. Eventually I pulled into a little gravel road off-shoot of a Post Office parking lot which was near where the house should have been and saw a group of college age kids sitting on a porch. They weren't familiar with that particular address either, but since it was almost the same as their house number, they thought it might be the log cabin out behind their place. There it was! It had to be! There wasn't an address visible, but it was the only log cabin in sight. I rode up quietly and parked the bike. I walked up to the door, knocked a few times, and waited. No answer. They were probably out shopping, and that couldn't take too long in a small town, so I sat and waited a few minutes on the porch. After about 15 minutes my concern shifted to finding a place to stay. Motels seemed to be in short supply in Wilson, and I definitely didn't feel like riding on into Jackson. Pitching a tent in the trees surrounding the place was another option, but I really didn't know for sure if it was her house. None of my options seemed appealing. One thing I knew was that nature was calling, so I quietly went into the trees along the side of the house, unzipped, and heard a noise. My head whipped around, and I saw someone in the window who looked more surprised than me! While zipping up quickly I said "Hi, didn't think you were home", or something silly like that, then walked around to the front. She came out the front door and said, "Do I know you?". Well, after quickly explaining who I was, all was fine. She had been told that I might stop by on my way to Yellowstone, but the last time she had seen me I was a skinny little blond haired 10 year old. My appearance has changed a bit since then. She was watching television, and didn't hear the phone or the knocking on the door. In all honesty, I really hadn't wanted to spend my time seeing relatives. Maybe that sounds a little callous, but I was just all keyed up to see all of the wonderful sights, and couldn't wait to get to Yellowstone. Somehow though, the unplanned parts of a trip turn out to be the best parts. I hadn't originally planned to stay with my Aunt in Salt Lake City either, but at the last minute did, and it was great. My stay in Wilson was only one evening, but it felt much longer. This Aunt was the family "Brain". A bona fide doctorate in mathematics, author of textbooks, and she's probably read everything worth reading. She took me on a walking tour of Wilson (another beautiful town slowly being taken over by rich yuppies). The majority of her day had been spent sandbagging. It had been a record winter, and the massive snow melt had their little creek running like a river. There were numerous spots where the water table was seeping through the ground. Even the Log Cabin had 3 inches of water in the crawl space. Being a city boy, I had no idea that you could get flooded at elevations that high.

She took me down to the creek and showed me where my cousin lived. This cousin was my age, and I remembered her as one of my "over achieving" cousins from my boyhood trip to Utah. I'm sure the intimidation I had felt as a boy was unwarranted. It's hard enough growing up, and when you're not very athletic or overly gifted in any other way, and you meet relatives who seem to be experts in everything they do, it's a bit overwhelming. Despite my boyhood trepidation, I do have vague memories of running all over their neighborhood having fun, so I'm sure my earlier uneasy feelings were some sort of sibling rivalry or juvenile jealousy.

After the stroll through the town, we went back to the cabin ,

had some dinner, then watched "Fargo". OK by today's standards, but I didn't really see any Academy Award performances. Must have been a weak field this year.

The cabin interior was fascinating. Having had a normal suburban upbringing, my concept of a log cabin was somewhere between "Lincoln Logs" and the Hollywood renditions of Daniel Boone's house. This one was quite luxurious, with two levels, and a library to die for!! Some day I hope to own one as well stocked. Eventually, I ran out of steam, and hit the sack. Instead of a tent in the trees, I got the guest room. What a deal!

Tomorrow: On to Yellowstone

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