Idaho Centennial Trail 08 Final Installment

Group Picture at the Nevada Border of the Idaho Centennial Trail

Chris carried a cutout for his nephew that we unfolded and took pictures of through out the day.

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Our group picture, a combination of motorcycling experience that was staggering! One of those moments that burns into your memory forever, this gathering of skill was awesome. This was a skill level that was acquired only for personal and private gratification. No one was looking for anything except the chance to ride their pace, feel confidence in their heart and that we did this well.

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Once underway we found our comfort levels. Our bikes were performing like they were intended. Suspensions were working properly; we rode as well as we knew how and effortlessly. Before long we hit that magic space, a quite place, where you always go faster.

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Without even a word the three of us realized leapfrogging each other for pictures was paying off. We took turns bringing up the rear giving us a chance to snap hero shot as we blasted through this wonderful dual sport trail.

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We were all in sync, having one of those days you remember forever. Rock gardens started to blip past and washouts didn't even faze us. With the right attitudes we pushed these big bikes toward the limit, a place where they start to show you what they are truly made of.

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Several years back I spent a year living as much of my spare time as possible as a track rat.

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I realized what magic a finely tuned machine like my Aprillia was capable of. When I moved to Idaho I thought I might like to ride my track bike on the street, it took me about 10 minutes of riding to bring her back to the house. My pride and joy was going to get a new home, I couldn't do that to a bike like this. Out of the element she was designed for was just too much for me. She was sold a few weeks later to buy my second 640 Adventure, a bike I hold to a similar standard. My poor old KLR was sold soon after. I had found the perfect home for such a unique machine like the KTM 640 Adv. Back to the ride.

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The day seemed to drift on, I stopped once for a picture and Dennis thought some one had crashed or was hurt because I knelt down to get a better angle. He was quite relieved when he found out that we were just trying to get a better shot! We knew he would be riding in great form as he passed. This seemed to settle him a bit; he commented how hard days have been when people ride over their heads, getting hurt, not today, not with this group. We were on our game and riding well was in our minds, attitude, equipment, thoughts and every movement we made. What can I say, it was a great ride!

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Picking our way to the end of the ICT ride we decided to call it a day at Winter Camp. This is an interesting area, according to local history experts Texas Longhorn Cattle were brought into the area during the 1850's, a bad winter in the 1880's killed most of the imports, except some cross breeds. Many of them raised the Winter Camp, Winter Camp still maintains a cattle population but the rest of the area is a thriving agriculture provider.

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Because of the over growth we decided to not build a campfire that night, it started getting cold as soon as the sun set and continued to drop until the morning low of around 10 degrees. I stayed in my warm sleeping bag a few minutes after every one arose.

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We drank coffee and ate our dried meals, it finally warmed a bit. Off we went to finish the route to the Bruneau overlook.

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This year we rode through some of the Bruneau Canyon area used by the cattle ranchers in the 1800's. You could see rock landmarks; I thought they must have been used to navigate to the area, from the flat plains on top of the canyon land.

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Soon we were blasting down some great two track roads with occasional silt beds and wash outs, just enough to keep us on our game, the speeds were increasing as well as the comfort level, we hit that magic zone again. All was going extremely well.

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We stopped at the Bruneau overlook for a quick peek.

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This one of many canyon areas in the Owyhees'

Before long we were at the end of this section and the two of the 950's had their fuel warning lights lit at around 100 miles. A good indication of how much fun was being had as well as running the bikes like they were designed for. Normally these bikes get 160 to 180 before the reserve light comes on. After a quick trip to the gas station we settled in for a Lope Burger at the 1 Stop in Bruneau. I had told the group about a documentary I saw called King Corn on PBS, it really made me think about what I have been eating. In short, it was about how almost every thing we eat contains corn byproducts as well as the corn fed beef we just finished eating. Andrew cleverly bribed one of the cooks to present me with my own can of cream corn; that was pretty funny to me. I think the rest of the restaurant couldn't wait for us to leave, what ever!

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After the great lunch of corn fed beef burger with potatoes fried in corn oil we mounted our steeds for one last ICT blast to Hammett and say farewell to Dennis. Our ride home, we took the long route around through Bruneau and back to Mountain Home.

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Everyone rode superbly, not once did a handlebar hit the ground, I never even saw some one bobble or biffed (what ever that means).

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Another great ride into the Owyhees completed, a magical area of the country referred to as the big quiet. The last and largest undeveloped section of desert in the Continental US referred to as CONUS. It's a magical place you can look around and not see any sign of inhabitance for miles, or hundreds of miles. This includes aircraft, one of the biggest holes in official flight paths in the CONUS.

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An area being sized up by environmental nut cases, developers, business interests for change.

An area that has survived for centuries without human intervention, an area that tested our forefathers, early adventure riders and wagoneers who fought their way through the Snake River valley on the Oregon Trail in the 1850's.

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The road is littered with the bodies and possessions of settlers. Estimates say up to 20 percent of those who started the trek never survived, I am sure that many of them perished in the Owyhees during the heat of summer and cloud of dust/silt that suffocated their weakened livestock as well as themselves. I pray often that this area is left as is for those of us who realize that this challenge must be preserved. We were very careful to stay on existing roads keeping our footprint as small as possible, what a treasure this is.

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