The Grizzly, the Hawk, and the Wolf
Posted on 15. Sep, 2011 by admin in Guest Articles
By Tony Santoloci
Coming through the cascades into Idaho, I saw the infamous Grizzly bear. Its brown furry huge frame scattered across the road as I passed him on my bike. I was glad to have witnessed him from the safety of a very fast machine, and not from my camp.
Idaho like its state’s plate suggests, is truly scenic. The first night near
Sandpoint, ID, I found a secluded spot far from the road near an abandoned house. It was a very tense sleep. I was awoken several times to the sounds of gunshots from the farm next to me. I sat inside my tent and wondered, were those shots headed my direction, did he see me on the property, are they warning shots? I listened for the passing of bullets around my head, while remembering the sounds of howling different from what I’ve heard before. I tried to quiet my mind, but it was stirred again by the constant rustling of the bush and shrubs around my tent. Multiple gunshots again, and the sounds around me were too apparent to ignore. Because I wasn’t going down lying in my tent and before the animals gained any more courage, I stepped out with my flashlight and a knife. I searched the woods around me, and I realized I would need something a little more adequate soon. Finally, I heard the sounds run away. I will never know if I was being circled by wolves or coyotes, I still can’t believe these skittish animals who are very hesitant of humans were this close. It was the middle of the night, and I wasn’t leaving camp. I slept uneasy, but finally must have dozed off as I woke to the morning sun.
Idaho to Montana was a short drive. I stopped at a car wash near the border of the two states, and had a conversation with a man who drove a 66 F-100. His scared face spoke of hardship and war. I told him I drove a 70 ‘s F-100, and we bullshitted about intricacies of the truck. He stared at me intently and said, “Listen, when you go across the border, in 4 miles take a left than drive 6 miles north, there is a waterfall there and nobody knows about it, that’s where I live.” He was reluctant to share the secret and later I would know why.
When I made it to the waterfall I knew this was where I was stopping for the 
night. The water was clear and clean, and I swam free and naked in the deep waters the river carved out near a rock canyon. Later I hiked the river and met a group of local kids. They were genuinely happy kids. There were 7 of them, the oldest being 13 or 14 and the youngest around 7 or 8. One of the kids Austin, said, “have you jumped off the cliff yet?” I told him wittingly, “I will after you do.” I realized this was a mistake as I watched him climb the rocks and leap off into the water without hesitation. But, because I have to do what I say and say what I mean I climbed the cliff and took the leap from about 30 or 40 feet into uncharted water. The moments with them made me feel like a kid again.
The next morning I drove on the most remote wonderful road I’ve ridden yet. It was the 508-Forest service road through the Kootenai National Forest. I counted only 4 cars as I headed up the peaceful mountain road. On my way down I turned off the engine, threw the bike into neutral and cruised down while listening to the sounds of nature. Halfway down a beautiful hawk appeared from the forest headed straight at me. I slowed to a stop, and just as the bird revealed its majestic underbelly nearly at arms length from me, he took a sharp right turn and plowed into the side of the mountain hill. Dust and guts flashed into the air, and I stood still watching the hawk hold its lifeless prey underneath it’s talons as the red dust settled around him. We watched each other for a few minutes and he flew away.
I made it to Glacier National Park, in Montana that night. The next morning I
decided to cross the mountain pass, before the cold front and bad weather made the road inaccessible. I spoke to a park ranger about the current conditions before crossing. He was in his 80’s and still full of vigor, and he told me, “visibility is 15 feet, the mountain is blowing snow across the tops onto the road, and it is gusty.” He looked at me again, and with a smirk poked his finger into my chest and said “But you look like a man that’s survived a few risks, but if you think its too much you turn right back around.”
The decision to cross was one of the sketchier things I’ve attempted on a motorcycle. At first I tried riding with no gloves, and by the time I realized I was freezing, my hands were numb and it was difficult to get the gloves on. I was blanketed by cold drenching clouds, the fog was so thick you couldn’t see in front of you, and the snow and strong winds blew and swirled across the unpaved muddy steep road. Looking to my right, I noticed some sections of the road had no guardrails and all I could see was ominous white directly below. I wondered if there was a bottom to this sheer cliff. Keeping it positive I thought, my death will not be laagered, it will be swift like the one the hawk dealt to his prey. At some point I remember saying that the visibility had to get better, but it took about 20 minutes to make 1 mile down. Finally crossing the mountain, I felt great relief and a sense of triumph. I slept well that night.
Tony Santoloci is touring the US on his BMW motorcycle. I want to thank Tony for sharing his adventure with us, and especially his excellent photography! Follow Tony’s journey at http://www.intotheblueagain.com/.