While back at my mother’s house, my childhood home, we were going through some old photos my mom had been given by her mother and her aunt. In this age where everything is digital, like images, we sometimes forget where certain terms in our language came from, for example “thumbing through old photos.” There we were, putting our thumbs on the corners of these little pieces of history, many of which I had never laid my eyes on before. One photo stood out, of my grandfather on an old vintage motorcycle. I wish I knew more about him, his motorcycling habits. You see, my mother never knew him. He died in Europe in World War II before my mother was born. Pretty common back then. He was in a bomber, shot down behind enemy lines, and was later buried in a military cemetery in Belgium. My mother only knew of him what my aunt (his sister) told her: he was a free spirit who liked to ski and ride motorcycles, and I think that’s why my mother’s aunt always had a soft spot for me.

So as I look at the photo below, I have no idea what year or make and model my grandfather’s bike was. From casual online research, people tell me it’s likely a late 1930s Harley Davidson. I also heard a story that at one time he had an Indian, but it must have been a different bike. All I know as I look at this photo and try to make out the details, my grandfather was ready for adventure. The boxes on the back sort of give it away.

Photo circa 1939 of my Grandfather on a vintage motorcycle.

Another perspective is to stay positive and be thankful for the riding that was done, trips taken, accidents avoided, friends made, places seen. One of my goals for this post was to comb through all the photos of the season and try to narrow it down to the top-ten, and I may still do just that, but right now, I couldn’t even narrow it down to the top 100. So I leave you with this:

It's been real, boys. Hey, are you going to finish that?

The one limiting factor this season has been the record-setting snowpack, and how long it has stuck around. Keep in mind we’re hitting mid-July, and some of the passes we rode on this last trip were not possible just a weekend or two before. For example, Elizabeth Ridge, the 10,235 feet high summit of the North Slope road still had considerable snow on top, and they (not sure who they are, but it’s got to be someone) are just now grading the road from the decay that results from a brutal winter. Another thing to note: some of the stream crossings in the High Uintas that you might normally blast through are pretty deep and swift. It seems like the water is just starting to come down off the mountains. We crossed one stream that required a two-man push to get the bikes across. Water was up to mid-thigh, and while walking across without a bike to hold onto, you could really feel the force wanting to carry you with the current.

After getting one bike across said stream crossing, a rider on a new KLR appeared coming from the opposite direction. He watched us wade back across to get the 2nd bike and do our routine. We told him we’d gladly help him get his bike across since we were already wet, or video him, if he was game to try to ride it. But he thought better and turned around to follow us in the direction we were heading, to the North Slope Road. At that point, our new friend Steve said he better head back to SLC, and he had quite a ride ahead of him to get back before dark. We still didn’t know if we would make it all the way through to Mountain View, Wyoming, as the road was still posted as closed, and there were some rumors of a bridge being out. On the way down the North Slope Road, we stopped a Jeep coming up the other way. He told us it was pretty rough for the next 10 miles, but it ended up being more like 2, so we had no problems getting down to Mountain View for gas and a Red Bull stop.

While resting for a moment at the Maverick in Mountain View, we made a call to Mark Wilson, the owner of Red Canyon Lodge in Flaming Gorge, to see how late the lodge’s restaurant would be open. We had to decide whether to get something to eat in Mountain View, or if we had enough to take a scenic dirt route to Flaming Gorge. Mark said definitely take the scenic route, and if we happened to arrive after 9:30 pm, when the kitchen shuts down, he’d set aside a couple hot plates for us. Turns out that was the right choice, and we still made it before 9:00 pm, giving us plenty of time to get a table and sit down to an excellent and civilized dinner with Mark at his place.

It may not look that deep, but it was.

The problem with waterproof boots: they keep water in, too.

Snow at the top of Elizabeth Ridge in the Uinta mountains.

Golden light at Beaver Meadow Reservoir.

Darth Nater at Beaver Meadow Reservoir. Extra points for lens flare!