“Here we go again. Four brothers set out east from Seattle, in search of whatever it was we left on the road back in August 2014. Many classic tales tell the story of how the west was won. This one is about how the north was found. Enjoy the ride.”

-Silver October 26, 2015

“No cushy stay at the Chateau du Bartelt this time around–Frost ain’t with us this year. Last night we slept in a ranger station parking lot under picnic tables and flares of lightning. Or sought shelter in the public restroom. Feels like home to me.”

-Slyder July 11, 2015

This was probably the first time we’ve rolled through Marblemount without catching a glimpse of the benevolent lady Chom, proprietor of the humble establishment CHOM’S, purveying all manner of mountain possibles. Marblemount–along with Newhalem to the west–is a lovely town beside the North Cascade Highway. Both towns capture a spirit I can’t quite describe. One of beginnings. We were a tad worried about what lady Chom’s absence might mean, in terms of the ol’ fortune department, but we had 350 miles to go, and couldn’t stick around to find out.

“Tried to camp last night near Wolf Lodge Inn, the famous I-90 steakhouse. Ended up on a midnight run in search of an empty site to the south along the shores of Lake Coeur d’Alene. Ultimately found an empty spot next to a friendly deaf guy, and in the morning we were thankful KC knew enough ASL to convey our gratitude. At least that’s what he thinks he said.”

-Silver July 12, 2015

“The Snake Pit. ‘Biscuits and gravy please,’ I say to the kind waitress at the former mill–now a restaurant and bar in the tiny town of Kingston, Idaho. Weren’t quite sure we’d have any sort of good weather this morning, seeing as our track record thus far would forecast anything but. As we shoveled down a good ol’ country breakfast and studied the map, we prayed (like good Christian bikers ought to do) for a good day’s ride.”

“I don’t recall its name, or if it even is designated by one. What we now call ‘The River Road’ was before us and as luck would have it, it could have been the most beautiful day a motorcycle straddlin’ brother could ask for. Uncle Silver and I were no strangers to ‘The River Road,’ but the likes of Cobb and Clam were in for one hell of a treat. Water on my left, green forest on my right, the sun dancing in the sky and my brothers tightly formed behind me. Time doesn’t seem to be any sort of factor. The morning plays out like a dream. The sights, the smells, the vibration of the bike. The weight shifting as you navigate a corner. Here we are, just us and the road. I gotta say I couldn’t think of anything better.”

-Slyder July 12, 2015

“Crossed into Montana around noon via Thompson Pass. Fingers on the brake, looking out for deer. It’s wilderness from here on out. Headed for Bozeman tomorrow to link up with Max for the next leg of the journey–gonna be good to add another brother to the mix.”

-Silver July 12, 2015

This year we decided to avoid riding on the interstate altogether. I-90 gets pretty packed around Missoula, and from there it’s still a 200 mile blitz to Bozeman.

“What else is there to say? You look out on Highway 200, 12, 89, 86. Hundreds of miles of two-lane blacktop, Americana every inch of the way. ”

“Helena, MT ain’t the busiest place on a Sunday night, but we did run into a fellow Washingtonian–Ol’ Toothless Cliff. He had plenty of advice for a set of good Christian bikers like us, being from nearby ‘Swim,’ WA. Toby and I did most of the talking, but we learned a great deal: always be on the lookout for the Three Ways, and if we found ourselves up in BC to ask for a lady named Ruth, tell her we’re a group of Christian bikers and she’ll put us up for a week. Turned out he went to North Kitsap High School with Toby’s brother, too, despite the 30 year gap in age. I think he knew we had him figured out by the end.”

-Silver July 12, 2015

Wendy’s drivethru was just about the only option at this point. The streets of Helena are laid out in kind of a nest of concentric one-way triangles. Like Cube 2: Hypercube, but harder to navigate.

Immaculate. If there is some sort of motorcycle heaven, I’ve already found it. I feel downright sorry for any of you clams out there that have not stood on this corner off Highway 12 in Montana. We could talk about Big Sky Country, but that doesn’t even begin to describe the overwhelming beauty of this prairie landscape. Accompanied by a semi-warm beer, I was not too keen on leaving that lookout. But so as the road calls, a Toby listens. And the road was calling his name.

“Day 3 and things are really starting to come together. The bikes are running strong and spirits are high. Stopped and had lunch outside an old country church on Highway 12 or 89, north of Bozeman. Haven’t seen a car in half an hour. Meeting up with Max at 406 Brewing once we roll into town. Tonight’s gonna be festivities, as they say.”

-Silver July 13, 2015 (Tobes’s nameday)

More to come…