Sooner, the resident dog, greeted us as we greeted the day. After chatting with the local residents, as Frank, the woodcutter, split logs, we headed out on route 2. Hit Idaho, just for the photo op, then turned around to the Yaak River Rd.
The Yaak River carves a winding path through the mountains, and the road follows it perfectly. Sometimes rising to heights above, we leaned over to see the Yaak far below. Falls punctuate the rhythm of the water as it rushes downward. Here last year, just after the Spring thaw, the river was at flood stage, but even now in the throes of a drought, ripples and rills churn as the stream rushes onward.
A lonely road, we passed few cars and houses with the several required bars. Stopping at a camp ground for lunch, we ate with the Yaak and no one else. This road is the only entrance to the back country here, where numerous wilderness access roads branch of for logging commerce or hiking pleasure.
Following the curve of the river north, we slalomed around switchbacks and swerved into curves for some of the best riding on the trip so far. Passing only 2 or 3 cars made the day even better as we owned the road. A few deer tried to share it with us, but huddled back into the woods when they heard us. Guardrails were non-existent.
Following the Yaak to it's source, We met with Lake Koocanusa, a pristine 90 mile reservoir that lies in British Columbia and Montana. Koo for the Kootenai Indians, Can for Canada and USA for us, the aqua lake stretches into the horizon, surrounded by miles of mountains and topped with Montana's big blue sky.
In the past we have only run the eastern side of the lake, a more popular way. Today our route took us on the road less travelled and it was a magnificent ride. Following the edge of the lake, as the pavement rose, we looked down on a few tiny boats inscribing white wakes on the green glass. Each turn exhibited a new picture in the grand slide show that Nature gave us. Unpopulated and sparsely travelled, this course will be remembered as offering us one of our best days of riding.
Past the impressive Libby Dam, the reason for the lake, the town of Libby appeared. Time for a break, we bedded down for the night and recapped our memorable day.
Just 17 miles from Troy, our resting place last night, we have inscribed a circle on the map of our trip. The term "running in circles" implies a frenzied attempt at catching one's tail. Today it meant following a dream of a road and creating a lasting memory.
Lonely Road
Lonely Magic
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