Hi everyone from Washington State where I am sleeping in Spokane Valley.

Another day of scintillating touring. I keep on wondering if I am going to tire of this riding everyday. Now just over 2350 miles from Michigan in 9 days and I cannot wait for the next day to start.

I am finding that I am a bit slow off the mark in the mornings as there are a bunch of things that I need to get tucked away before setting off. E-mails, Skype calls home and elsewhere. Packing up as everything comes out of the bag every evening. A bit of laundry to be folded. Wash, shave, breakfast, get the gear downstairs as nothing lives on the bike overnight. Strap it on. Program the GPS’s. Kit on. Go! So about 10h00 is a good start and sometimes, like this morning more like 10h30.

Weather was still a bit iffy, with heavy clouds north of Kalispell, the direction I was planning to ride in towards Eureka and then back down along the Kootenai River. This is the largest river in Montana. It feeds into the Columbia River and the Libby Dam is, according to everyone a must see item. I have attached some photos taken at the dam information office which tell the story better than I can.

So west again, on the US 2 directly to Libby. Much cooler this morning. In fact cold at about 56F. So I have layered up a bit more. No longer only a T Shirt and my riding top. Now a Helly Hansen vest and the Gore Tex inner for the jacket and a Buffy under my helmet.

My girl also responds to the cooler weather. She likes it. Frisky she is, ready to rock and roll. I decide that I can no longer refer to her as “my girl”. In fact each of my bikes needs a name. You cannot have a love affair with a no name object!

Now you may ask why I say bikes. I have had motorbikes all my adult life. I was introduced to them while a student at UCT. David Espen, at that time a medical student and good friend of mine had a 125 cc Suzuki. David was and is huge, over 6’6” tall. He used to ride this bike to the Ellis Williams flat in St. James for Sunday dinners. This was the place to be if you were a student and in particular if you were a male student. Almost unlimited food, roasts were the specialty and four gorgeous daughters. On one particular Sunday David gave me a lift on the bike. Imagine the two of us on a 125! Well I was hooked.

I came from the prevailing background at that time, which was that motorbikes were dangerous! I won a Zundapp 50 cc in a school walkathon competition in which I raised the most money. I was not allowed to take delivery of it by my parents and had to settle for R300 worth of Defence Bonus Bonds instead. Remember them. An investment in ensuring I was going to be shot at not much later in my life.

Anyhow I had soon invested in a Kawasaki 250 Triple. My parents knew nothing of this. My Grandmother was in on the secret and thought it was great. Two accidents in quick succession did nothing to cool my ardour for these sexy women. I soon worked out that the most dangerous thing about motorcycling was the other driver. Since then I treat every car driver as a potential assassin, anticipating the worst all the times.

The 250 was then traded in for a Kawasaki 500 Mach 3. This was the hottest bike on the block. It had so much torque that when you opened up the throttle it actually twisted the chassis. This made riding it in anger similar to having a bucking bronco in your bed.

Back to Johannesburg and the Airline. A bit more money in the pocket saw a Yamaha 1300 straight four arrive. In my parents garage, to their horror. This bike and the 175 Yamaha, which Greg and I took to Lesotho, served me well until shortly after Eveanne and I were married and the small people started arriving.

In fact, the first time I took Eveanne out, not as a friend but as potential playmate, was on the 1300. She was in Johannesburg on business and staying at the President. She came to my parents to have dinner with Susan. I had been out on the bike and arrived back.  I asked her out and we went to Raffles at the Rand International on it. Eveanne wearing her skirt. With a warm jacket and helmet borrowed from me. Dropped her off at the President late that night, delivered by bike. Not having any idea she would end up marrying a biker.

Once the ankle biters arrived I felt that maybe bikes should be put on the back burner and was content to ride scrambler on weekends at Morningside. So the 1300 went.

Then in 1993 I had my brain tumour and was grounded. No longer able to fly, I needed an outlet for my adventure libido. I had been reading about the new BMW 1100 GS and ordered one of the very first to arrive in SA. It was love at first sight and since then I have had 5 GS’s in SA, plus a 1200 HP, which is the hot off road version of the GS – it was too hot for me! In fact the next owner of the bike did himself in on it. So for this sort of riding I now have a 650 X Challenge on the farm. My current GS in South Africa is a 1200 GS Adventure.

Then in the US I also have 1200 GS Adventure. This is the bike I am on at the moment. In the UK I have 1200 RT, which is the touring version of the GS. A bit more refined, an on tar only long distance runner. Heated seats and a radio designed and made by PI Shurlok.

So I look at the GS’s as my go anywhere, get down and get dirty, try anything chicks and the RT, in the UK, as my city slicker chick, more at home on Silver Street in Cambridge or browsing along the Champ Eleysee.

So what to call these girls? Girls have to have a name. When I was a young pilot in SAA, the Chief Air Hostess was a battle-axe named Dinah Taute. She had been an air hostess since the Wright brothers first got airborne. Rumour has it that she was once good looking. Certainly by the time I first saw her, whatever looks she once may have had, had fled! She must have had a uniform specially made for her because uniforms did not come in her size. She was square, at about 5’6” by 5’6”. She hated pilots!

I can only assume that she had been on the losing end of a couple of one-night stands with some desperate or drunk pilots. Why I am telling the story is this. She always lectured the new air hostess early during their training. Amongst the words of advice she gave these new girls, all eager to experience whatever their dreams had in store for them, were the following words about pilots:

• Never trust a pilot
• Do not sleep with a pilot, especially married one’s, as they will only be using you.
• If you do not listen and do all of the above, then when you wake up with him in the morning and he calls you darling, do not think that he loves you. It is only because he cannot remember your name!

So I do not want darlings. They need names my girls do.

I wanted a US name for the bike I was manhandling! I have eventually settled on “Bonnie” with Bonnie and Clyde in mind.

Faye Dunaway.  My all time no 1 sexy actress with Warren Beatty in the epic movie. A close second would be Marthe Keller in “And now my love”, a Claude Lelouch epic, but I think Bonnie is more appropriate in the US. There is something wild and mysterious about it.

Maybe Marthe will be the name for my RT? But it should be a more English name even though my bike has German lineage. Queen Elizabeth also has German ancestors. So my choices narrow down. I like Jayne with a “y” after Jayne Mansfield. Although an American, it also so very English, Jayne with a ”y”. So my UK girl will be a Jayne.

And my South African Girl? Has to be something completely different. Not a Bokkie for sure. Had a boat called “In Control”. More about boats in a later blog but you know the saying – If it flys, floats or —–, rent it don’t own it. I keep on making the same mistake.

Can’t be anyone we know or a friend’s wife’s name. Or one of Charley’s friend’s names. So the field is narrowed. My South African girl knows how to get to me. She is a bit older than my US girl, one model year older and I still have more time on her than any of the other bikes. That will change after this trip. For know I still know her the best of all my bikes, so I think I am going to call her Spot, for G Spot. She hits it every time.

So now my girls all have names, Bonnie, Jayne, Spot and then there is my wild fire 650 X Challenge. She also needs a name. She cannot be Molly. She is friskier. She will be Lesley for reasons which I am not free to divulge in this blog, but be rest assured it goes back way before my Yamaha 1300 era.

So there you have it, Bonnie and I are headed to Libby and then to the Libby dam. Why the Libby dam, read below. I give Bonnie space to enjoy the road. We lean into the turns together. This is intimate stuff. You can tell we have been spending time together. The view through the helmet visor closes every out except the trees on either side of the road. It is like hurtling along in nature’s own tunnel.

I have had all sorts of problems setting my GoPro Camera up on the bike, as it is very difficult to find a place to mount it. Eventually I have mounted it on my helmet and the result of the first effort can be seen on this You Tube link.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E3XiZ4ArbzMI

There is a lot to be learnt and I will improve. Unfortunately I had missed the very best of the road by the time I decided to stop and get the camera sorted out once and for all. The best was the portion leading up to McGregor Lake and Thomson Chain of Lakes.

I stop at McGregor Lake for coffee. A huge white Toyota truck, a bakkie in SA terms pulls up. Out gets a lady. She walks over and we start talking. Terri is her name. She comes from Libby where she and her husband own and run a construction company.

We start talking about Lake front properties. I am very taken with Montana and think this will be an excellent place to buy a summer property. Bring the Grandchildren for a few months of fishing, swimming, walking and evening card games. Leave their parents at home to look after the wine farm etc..It has to be a good deal out here. So much water and so few people. I am shattered when she tells me the prices. They have just paid an horrific amount for a lake front property.

I am once again reminded of the strength of this economy. Here they are in a small town. Their company has 60 employees and they are in a position to spend real bucks on house that  they will only be able to use for a very few months of the year. Montanans do however make the most of summer.

She tells me I have to go to the Libby Dam. After my Ashland lady and Jakes, who am I to ignore her advice. This is why I go to Libby and it is worth every bit of the ride and diversion.

For the fishermen, the Kootenai is the US’s premier trout fishing river. The Montana record rainbow trout of 33 lbs was caught in 1997 below the wall of the dam. The dam also generates a major percentage of the North West’s electricity and there are a number of other very interesting facts in the photos.

Two hours later I left. Now ravenous I looked for somewhere with healthy food in Libby and found a great little place. All the vitamin and organic nutters I know would have been in 7^th heaven. However the only food they made was a great smoothie. So for you Blake, I had the Mocha Munchy, which was great and bought some nuts.

Then off to Spokane. When I realised that I still had 165 miles to go and it was already 15h30, I knew Bonnie had to be given a good shove in the rear. Perfect roads and a liberal speed limit in Montana made this easy and soon I was in Idaho. Here my first slow down began. I was caught up in a roadwork stop. And who should be directly in front of me, no other than the sheriff. No speeding for sure.

Bonners Ferry and then Sandpoint.  These are two towns situated on a magnificent piece of water called Pend Oreille. I have to come back here. It is breath taking beautiful.

I stop for coffee also to let Mr. Sheriff move ahead. A lady gets off a pedal bicycle. She is about my age but difficult to tell as she has all the gear on including helmet, rear view mirror on it and mirror shades. We start talking and swapping travel stories. She is on a 10 day tour around Montana and Idaho riding 120 miles per day. She is on the last day and looking exhausted. I prefer my woman to her’s. Maybe what she is riding is a man and hence why she is so tired.

I wanted to stop in Coeur D’ Arlene as it is meant to be the most beautiful city in Idaho, but time is running out and the smoothie is no longer filling the hole. I am tired. Hungry and tired is not a good way to be with Bonnie late in the day. She is at her most demanding in a crowded environment and the roads are very busy. I need to be strong and awake.

I push on to Spokane Valley. At Post Falls I cannot wait any longer. I have to eat. Off the freeway and into the nearest restaurant. A small place called Capone’s. I am more than surprised with a great salad and one of the best burgers I have had in the US. A Coke and I am back on the road. I arrive at my hotel at 19h30 and find out that I have lost another hour as I am now on Pacific time.

The west coast beckons. I am almost there. Already over all the mountains and tomorrow Oregon. On Friday I will be with the Norris’s and in one place for four nights. A pleasure for sure.

I will update this blog in the morning with Photos. Now I am exhausted after being with Bonnie for the day. Good Night all.