A Montana rally, a perfectly predicted hailstorm, and a wrong turn toward Garnet Ghost Town made this a trip we would remember long after the dust settled.
From the archives: a personal account of our July 2020 trip to the GWRRA Montana District Rally.
Featured location photo: Old Montana Prison, Deer Lodge, photographed in 2008 by Tanankyo / Wikimedia Commons. Public domain. Not a photograph from the 2020 rally.
2020 GWRRA Montana District Rally · Deer Lodge, Montana
By Chuck & Lesley Grimm
Our Montana rally adventure began on the morning of July 23, when Lesley and I met our good friends Gary and Kim Schmidt from Chapter N in Spokane.
We arrived wearing chaps and riding jackets. They arrived wearing Frogg Toggs.
When I asked why, Gary said rain was expected around the time we would reach Deer Lodge. Looking at the clear, sunny sky, I wasn’t convinced. After fueling up, we headed east toward the Montana GWRRA District Rally.
Time would tell whose weather forecast was better.
Gary Called It
Our first stop was the 50,000 Silver Dollar Bar in Haugan, Montana, for breakfast—or lunch, depending on how you looked at it. After eating, we did a little shopping, made a few purchases, filled the tanks, and continued toward Deer Lodge.
As we rode farther east, the sky to our south grew darker. Much darker. Rain squalls were visible in the distance, and I began hoping Gary’s prediction would somehow miss us.
Gary called over the CB to ask whether I had enough fuel to make Deer Lodge. With half a tank remaining, fuel wasn’t a concern.
Then the lightning started.
Before long, we were in the middle of a good old Montana gully washer. Gary and Kim had their rain gear on. We had our leathers.
Because it had been warm, my jacket was partly unzipped and my tinted face shield was raised. When the hail arrived, I discovered just how hard those little pieces of ice could hit. Visibility was poor, my glasses offered little protection, and passing vehicles added their share of spray.
We don’t mind riding in rain—it comes with motorcycling—but that hail hurt, and we got thoroughly soaked.
At the Travelodge in Deer Lodge, we finally changed into dry clothes. Billie and Dave arrived shortly afterward, having been caught in the same storm.
I also had to admit something to Gary: I had been wrong to question his forecasting abilities.
A Warm Welcome in Deer Lodge
Once we were settled, we headed to the convention center to register, collect our rally packets, and pick up tickets for dinner.
We browsed the brown bag auction and the used items for sale. There were some good deals, including a jacket Lesley picked up for a steal.
Mostly, it was a chance to greet friends and catch up with everyone arriving for the rally. After dinner and more visiting, we returned to the motel for some much-needed rest—and a little more drying out.
Opening Day: Back to the Pen
Friday began with breakfast and the opening ceremonies for “Back to the Pen.”
The district team set the mood with a skit featuring escaping criminals and a pursuing sheriff. Naturally, the escapees were eventually captured and returned to their cells.
After reviewing the rally schedule, Lesley and I joined Gary and Kim, along with Pat and Debbie Holmes, for a visit to the old prison museum complex.
There was plenty to explore: historic prison buildings, vintage automobiles, and a gift shop that deserved a look of its own.
Gary bought a raffle ticket for a yellow Corvette from the 1970s, while Lesley searched for onesies for her recently born nephew. Shopping completed, we headed into the car museum.
Cars, Memories, and Prison Walls
The vintage car museum was a highlight. Its collection stretched from steam-era vehicles through cars from the late 1960s and early 1970s.
Several brought back a flood of memories. Looking at a few of them, I could imagine getting myself into a whole passel of trouble. Of course, a fast car might outrun another vehicle, but it won’t outrun a radio—and eventually, it needs gas.
A fellow can still dream.
From the car museum, our route led into the old prison itself.
Walking through the buildings gave us a sobering look at the conditions prisoners once endured. Some of the original cells seemed barely large enough to turn around in. Even the newer cells were surprisingly small.
Then there were the isolation cells—the “holes”—some without a toilet or sink.
One building that particularly caught my attention was called the theater. Inside were gallows and carts used to transport the deceased to the morgue. It wasn’t what I expected to find in a building with that name.
Debbie helped explain much of what we were seeing, and I appreciated her knowledge. The visit left a strong impression. If you enjoy history, the prison and car museum complex is well worth exploring.
Garnet Ghost Town: The Adventure We Hadn’t Planned
Lesley wanted to visit Garnet Ghost Town, and it sounded like a fine idea.
We filled the tank and set out on a beautiful day for a ride.
For some reason, I thought Garnet was south of Drummond. That turned out to be wrong. We stopped in Hall to ask for directions and were told to return to Drummond, follow the frontage road, and watch for the turn toward Garnet.
The scenery was lovely. We followed the Clark Fork River and passed interesting rock formations before finding the turnoff—after missing the small sign and doubling back.
A little farther up the road, another sign warned that the route was unsuitable for RVs and similar vehicles. It also recommended approaching the ghost town from Highway 200.
We had ridden gravel roads before without trouble, and this one didn’t look too bad at first. There were homes along the way, and we even pulled over to let a minivan pass.
I figured we would be all right.
Folks, I was horribly wrong.
Ten Miles That Felt Much Longer
About six miles into the climb, the road became narrow enough that turning around was no longer a practical option.
We pulled aside to let four ATVs pass. One rider asked whether I had three-wheel drive. In hindsight, I should have given that question more thought.
The potholes grew larger. Rocks protruded from the road. Water crossed our path, and loose shale added another challenge.
Lesley and I were both getting anxious.
I worked to avoid the worst holes and rocks while trying not to drag the underside of the bike. A few colorful words may have escaped along the way.
Poor Ms. Ruby. What I put her through that day.
When we finally reached the ghost town, I spotted motorhomes and other RVs parked nearby.
How in the world had they gotten there?
The answer appeared around the next bend: a broad gravel road that looked like a freeway compared with the trail we had just traveled.
That was the approach from Highway 200—the one the warning sign had recommended.
By then, all I wanted was pavement. We followed the better road downhill until it became paved, then reached Highway 200 north of Missoula.
What a welcome sight.
In Missoula, I fueled the bike and checked for damage. At first glance, things looked better than I expected. The trailer-light bracket appeared bent, and the hitch had been scraped, but I didn’t find anything else obvious.
I promised Ms. Ruby a bath, a thorough cleaning, and no repeat of that particular adventure.
As I would discover later, she had taken more punishment than I realized.
Sunday Morning Surprises
On Sunday, we packed the trailer and prepared to head home.
Someone pointed out that my right low-beam headlight was out. That surprised me because I had recently installed LED Pathfinder lights and expected them to last.
Then I checked the trailer lights.
Nothing.
No running lights. No brake lights. Not a light to be found.
I disconnected and reconnected the plugs, checked the second connector, and tried again. Still nothing.
With limited repair options that Sunday morning, we arranged for Gary and Kim to ride behind us and used hand signals during the trip. The lighting problem would need a proper diagnosis at home.
Before leaving, we met other riders for breakfast at the Four B’s, where another motorcycle decided to add a little excitement.
Gary’s brother Steve couldn’t get his Gold Wing to start. The lights worked, but pressing the starter button produced nothing. He checked neutral, the clutch, and the switch positions.
I suggested pressing and releasing the reverse button once more.
He did, tried the starter, and the bike came to life.
Apparently, the reverse mechanism hadn’t fully disengaged, even though the neutral light was on. With that mystery resolved, we said our goodbyes and wished everyone a safe trip home.
Taking the Scenic Way
Gary, Kim, Lesley, and I chose a different route for the first part of our return trip.
We headed toward Anaconda and the Pintler Veterans Memorial Scenic Highway, then continued toward Philipsburg.
It was beautiful country. We took our time, watched for deer, and enjoyed the views around Silver Lake and Georgetown Lake. Gentle slopes, open country, and mountain scenery made the detour worthwhile.
In Philipsburg, we stopped at the Sapphire Gallery and the Sweet Palace.
The gallery had beautiful jewelry and loose stones, but its interior caught my attention just as much. The oak cabinets, counters, and drawers looked as though they belonged to another era.
Kim admired a sapphire ring and asked about the price.
Fifteen thousand dollars.
We admired that one right where it was.
Then came the candy store. I’m not sure I had ever seen so much candy in one place. After browsing and making a few purchases, it was time to climb back on the bikes.
One Last Stop Before Home
From Philipsburg, we rode back to Drummond, fueled up, and continued west.
Eventually, we needed a break. With no rest area in sight, I found a safe place to pull off, stretch, drink some water, and use the available facilities.
Naturally, only a few miles after we got going again, a sign announced a rest area just ahead.
Couldn’t they have put that sign a little farther back?
We stopped once more at the 50,000 Silver Dollar Bar for lunch. It felt good to relax out of the saddle, and better still to know we were getting close to home.
After lunch and fuel, our next destination was Spokane.
We said goodbye to Gary and Kim and headed for our garage, bringing home plenty of memories—and a couple of electrical mysteries.
Epilogue: Ms. Ruby Gets Some Attention
A few days later, I started investigating the headlight and trailer-light problems.
The headlight was an easy fix. The original equipment plug had come loose from the LED adapter, apparently during our rough ride to Garnet. I reconnected it, secured it more effectively, and had a working headlight again.
The trailer wiring told a different story.
After checking the connections, I looked beneath the bike and found the problem: the cable leading to the main trailer socket had been shredded.
Our Garnet adventure had left its mark after all.
I replaced the damaged cable, checked the system, and restored all the trailer lights.
Then I kept my promise to Ms. Ruby. She received a thorough wash and cleaning, including the dirt and debris beneath the saddle.
With the repairs finished and the dust washed away, she was ready for the next ride.
And I had learned to give both Gary’s weather forecasts and roadside warning signs a little more respect.