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Magruder at Last

The Magruder Corridor. Every serious adventure motorcyclist in Idaho knows the name. A must-do ride, it starts about seventeen miles out of Elk City, which has the last gas for more than 130 miles to Darby, Montana.

Extending through the Frank Church–River of No Return Wilderness and the Gospel Hump Wilderness, the road is literally a corridor, open for a short window of time when the snows have melted around mid-July until they return in October. Based on the old Nez Perce Southern Trail, the corridor became frequented by miners and travelers during the Gold Rush days of the early 1860s. It is named after Lloyd Magruder, who in 1863 was ambushed and murdered on the trail by robbers posing as friendly travelers.

I’ve had a passion for motorcycle riding and exploring since my boyhood in Pocatello. I was eight in 1975, when I learned to ride my Aunt Sandra’s Indian 80. I rode that bike as much as possible over the next nine years, exploring the roads and trails from Pocatello Creek to Inkom. For three years, a couple of buddies and I had planned to ride the Magruder. In 2012, we were on the doorstep in Elk City before a mechanical failure caused us to abort the mission. In 2013, our August trip was torched by forest fires. This year, we enlisted a couple more guys and moved up the schedule to late July, hoping to avoid fires and snow. Our plan was to ride the Magruder to Montana, and then to loop back to Idaho on the Lolo Motorway. I began researching the motorway, and liked what I learned. It’s a historic route following roughly the same Nez Perce trail that Lewis and Clark traveled on their voyage to the Pacific Ocean in 1805. Research materials described it as a “narrow, rocky and steep” dirt road over more than a hundred miles through the forest. That’s an ideal description for adventure motorcycle terrain.

Adventure motorcycles—or dual sports as they are often called—are street-legal motorcycles built for off-road riding. They vary in engine size, weight, and off-road capability. I chose a 250cc motorcycle for this trip while three of my riding companions were on 650ccs and one on an 800cc. I would have to push my bike harder to keep up with the big bikes on the paved highways, but it would more than compensate when the road turned to dirt. Continue reading

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Herring under the Coat

My heart pounded as the line of newly arrived passengers filed around the corner. I glanced back at my five children clutching their homemade welcome signs. Their attention was focused on the people coming in. I turned back. Where is he? I stood on my tiptoes for a better view.

At last, I saw his head come into view at the back of the line. I recognized him immediately. Artem Chukanov, our seventeen-year-old exchange student from Russia with whom we’d spent the last month emailing, messaging, and video conferencing. “There he is!” I called out, and we all waved. He saw us and a huge smile spread across his face. The moment he stepped free of the crowd, my daughter Sage ran and hugged him. He hugged her back and we all took turns greeting him with a hug. It was nice to finally hear him say, “Hi, Mom!” in person.

There are times when you know you have to do something. You don’t know why or how—you just know. For me, getting an exchange student was one of those times. The idea surfaced almost a year before Artem came to live with us. I didn’t think it would ever happen, so I didn’t tell anybody, but the idea wouldn’t go away. Months later, my oldest daughter Shaydell called me from school begging me to come talk to a student exchange representative. I agreed. That was June 9, 2013. On the 18th, Shaydell and I read Artem’s profile and application for the first time. I was impressed by his English and his fun and expressive essays. He wrote, “I want visit Halloween,” and drew a tiny jack-o-lantern between the lines. At the end of his letter to his future host family he wrote, “America, wait for me!!!!!!!” I laughed aloud at all the exclamation points.

I took Artem’s application home and showed my son, whose room Artem would have to share. He was open to the idea, so the last hurdle was my husband. I had no idea what he would say, and was amazed when he responded, “Actually, I’ve thought about that before.” By July 10, we finished our application process and saw our first picture of Artem. I remember thinking, He doesn’t look Russian. This was the first of many misconceptions I had about the Russian people.

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