Two summers ago I had the opportunity to ride my Suzuki SV650 motorcycle, Mazzy for short, from Missoula, Montana down through West Yellowstone and back up and over the Beartooth Highway, which splits between Montana and Wyoming. What a fabulous ride. I thought of it this morning, when I was listening to The Black Keys on my way to yoga.
I had just picked up The Black Keys' Brothers album the day before our Beartooth trip. It became apparent the grooves and blues melded quite well with the road and my tires. And once in West Yellowstone, where the speed limit dropped to a crawl, at least for a girl on a sport bike, the music's rhythm eased the drag of such a leisurely pace. Don't get me wrong, slow is good for some-
things, but 55 mph on a sport bike is torture; I could walk faster.
Once we sidled into Cook City, filled up our gas tanks, edged out of town, and chose the directive sign toward Beartooth Pass, the rock of blues and warm asphalt jived with unbelievable synchronization, and the real journey began. At first, the scenery was as anything else I had seen and smelled, living in Western Montana most of my life, fresh mountain air, Pine trees, wild flowers, the basic loss of all civilization, but it took on a state of something grander, majestic. The convenience of city life is enjoyable but to step outside of that and be set in the middle of a wild, mountain range is awe inspiring, and my intuitive self that connects with the spiritual came to life, and I forever have been altered by the experience.
Elevation increased at an alarming rate, higher and higher, and everything changed, the air, the trees, the foliage, and then there was snow, and the fresh mountain air was crisp like a winter kiss on the brow. The Beartooth Highway soars to 10,947 feet, and the views from such a height are mind-blowing and heart stopping, views so out-of-this-world that words fall short of ever describing them in their entirety. They must be experienced, seen, felt, smelled, touched, and if I hadn't had to get to camp before dark, kneeling down and tasting the earth would have been worth it too.
The challenge of motorcycle riding and such magnificent country is keeping my eyes on the road. I constantly had to adjust my eyesight to not target fixate and fly off the mountain with the birds. My husband, the year before this, with a friend, stopped on top and camped under a tarp tied to his bike in a make-shift lean-to and slept under the stars. They were frosty and chilled by early morning, but he said the morning was vibrant and stunning, not something to be missed. Next time I will do this too, camp on top in a wildflower meadow and enjoy such closeness with the vastness of what is and what can be. Motorcycle riding and the adventure of being on the road and getting to places I've never been before, especially curvy mountain roads, is like sitting with God and having a cup of joe.
The Beartooth Highway is riddled with tight, smooth corners, a sport biker's dream, though one wrong input or a corner taken too fast would put even the best rider off the road and into the air. Whether slow speeds or not, the highway is spellbinding and invigorating to a motorcyclist's soul.
I haven't had the chance to get back there since, life has a way of happening and diverting my intentions, but it is in the back of my mind, a special place in need of visiting, experiencing again, and I know I will get there, ride up that twisty, windy road, feel that crisp winter, summer air caress my cheek, and sleep under multitudinous stars, so many I couldn't fathom there not being something beyond me and my small world.
If you're interested in learning more about the Beartooth Highway, check out http://beartoothhighway.com/.
I had just picked up The Black Keys' Brothers album the day before our Beartooth trip. It became apparent the grooves and blues melded quite well with the road and my tires. And once in West Yellowstone, where the speed limit dropped to a crawl, at least for a girl on a sport bike, the music's rhythm eased the drag of such a leisurely pace. Don't get me wrong, slow is good for some-
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| Climbing up the Beartooth Highway |
Once we sidled into Cook City, filled up our gas tanks, edged out of town, and chose the directive sign toward Beartooth Pass, the rock of blues and warm asphalt jived with unbelievable synchronization, and the real journey began. At first, the scenery was as anything else I had seen and smelled, living in Western Montana most of my life, fresh mountain air, Pine trees, wild flowers, the basic loss of all civilization, but it took on a state of something grander, majestic. The convenience of city life is enjoyable but to step outside of that and be set in the middle of a wild, mountain range is awe inspiring, and my intuitive self that connects with the spiritual came to life, and I forever have been altered by the experience.
 |
| The Beartooth Highway, toward the top |
The challenge of motorcycle riding and such magnificent country is keeping my eyes on the road. I constantly had to adjust my eyesight to not target fixate and fly off the mountain with the birds. My husband, the year before this, with a friend, stopped on top and camped under a tarp tied to his bike in a make-shift lean-to and slept under the stars. They were frosty and chilled by early morning, but he said the morning was vibrant and stunning, not something to be missed. Next time I will do this too, camp on top in a wildflower meadow and enjoy such closeness with the vastness of what is and what can be. Motorcycle riding and the adventure of being on the road and getting to places I've never been before, especially curvy mountain roads, is like sitting with God and having a cup of joe.
The Beartooth Highway is riddled with tight, smooth corners, a sport biker's dream, though one wrong input or a corner taken too fast would put even the best rider off the road and into the air. Whether slow speeds or not, the highway is spellbinding and invigorating to a motorcyclist's soul.
I haven't had the chance to get back there since, life has a way of happening and diverting my intentions, but it is in the back of my mind, a special place in need of visiting, experiencing again, and I know I will get there, ride up that twisty, windy road, feel that crisp winter, summer air caress my cheek, and sleep under multitudinous stars, so many I couldn't fathom there not being something beyond me and my small world.
If you're interested in learning more about the Beartooth Highway, check out http://beartoothhighway.com/.
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