Escape from Reality: The Remote Magruder Corridor

[MotoNews]

Published in: Rides

Life is a game or choices. As we age many opportunities are brought before us. We either back down from the benefits of overcoming such challenges or we seize the moment to grow and become happier, better people. There’s a time and place for all these decisions in life. For me and three good friends, the time was late August of 2021 on the isolated Magruder Corridor, bridging the Idaho/Montana state Line. For the four of us, we chose to seize the moment.

Three years ago, I convinced one of my best friends, Dave, to get a Suzuki DR650. Dave had motorcycled his whole life but was confined to street or dirt. The winning argument for this purchase was the opportunity to do it all with one bike and travel self-sufficiently; similar to backpacking but with the added benefit of the adrenaline inducing horsepower offered by the single piston motor.

For years we planned a trip, only to have it fall through time and time again. It’s often challenging to prioritize these adventures given the complications of adult life. The persuasion paid off and he scratched the itch, eventually passing on the contagious stoke to his brother Paul and friend Cody, who bought into the dream as well. Paul, a KLR650 and Cody, a DR650. Paul and Dave set a hard date in April, determined to make it happen after the life-changing, covid pandemic and the barrage of obligation life throws at a one who strives to live a full life. Three years later the plan was made for a big loop including the Magruder Corridor from Dave’s house in Missoula, MT. A week prior, I signed up for the trip with a last-minute window of availability and a refusal to miss out on a multi-day moto adventure in new country.

We rendezvoused at Dave’s on a Friday at 1:00 p.m., unloaded the motos and began rigging our bikes with three days and two nights worth of spare parts, sleeping kits and gear. I love pre-packing for a motorcycle adventure; envisioning the scenarios and landscape that lie in the not-too-distant future. Once all packed, it’s hard not to focus on anything but the forthcoming trip. At Dave’s we tightened our last straps and stacked on “one more” bag. We all knew the harmonizing whistle of knobby tires and exhaust pipes was on the horizon. The ride through Missoula did not feel like the liberating escape into adventure that is the goal of such an outing. Nevertheless, we harnessed each other’s rhythm heading west on Highway 12 out of Lolo, MT, the wrinkly cheeks and smiles could be seen peeking through everyone’s visor.

Highway 12 is a gateway into the mountains, an escape from the chaos of modern life and urban obligations. It winds along Lolo Creek and eventually the Lochsa, as cabins and timbered knobs pass by, the road begins a climb to the Montana/Idaho border, a mile high in elevation. The Bitterroot Mountain Range was not easily tamed and the road’s windy climb in a car is fun only once, thereafter becoming a slow journey typically ending in car sickness. On a motorcycle, the travel makes you feel like a kid on a roller coaster; uncontrollable smiles and the desire for it never to end. We stopped at Jerry Johnson hot springs to stretch, examine the bikes and exchange high fives. The moto adventure had finally come to fruition and a celebration was in order. If we were to make our first night destination of Mountain Meadows camp on the Magruder, we best be gripping and ripping. The ride along the Lochsa is amazing, as Highway 12 drops lower into the bottom of the canyon eventually leading to Highway 13 and the last civilization in Elk City, ID. Somewhere amongst the turns, life melts away with every beautiful corner and we find the flow. We could feel rubber wearing higher on the sidewall with every banking corner of pristine asphalt, whipping through the shadows of the cedar trees, purifying our noses far better than the air freshener the vehicle drivers were smelling behind closed windows.

Kooskia, ID, was the first fuel up of the trip. Following the brief stop, we sped off trying to avoid night highway riding. Highway 12 had been a goosebump inducing ride, but Highway 13 almost inspired tears of joy, winding through cliffs along the South Fork of the Clearwater. We had definitely hit our rhythm. Elk city, another 65 miles from Kooskia, was the last fuel stop before the Magruder. We arrived after 7:00 p.m. and luckily caught the manager of the only fuel pumps in town. She had closed up but offered to reopen for fuel if we had cash. Motorcycle touring exposes the hospitality and genuine kindness you find in small towns, especially yielding big smiles and the air of adventure. It’s as if all those that meet you are gripping the throttle vicariously. A firefighter inquired on our plans while fueling and congratulated us on good life choices. He informed us that the Stage 2 fire restrictions had been lifted allowing for a campfire. It seemed the stars were aligning. Fueled up, we headed into the unknown towards Red River Ranger Station, which lies at the edge of the corridor. We were running out of daylight and ready for the true wilderness ride that lay ahead.

The historic 101-mile Magruder corridor, with 13,152 feet of elevation gain, travels between two wildernesses: the 1.2-million acre Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness and 2.3-million acre Frank Church-River of No Return Wilderness. Together they represent the largest roadless block of land in the lower 48 states. In 1863 Lloyd Magruder and companions were murdered on a return trip from Virginia City in Montana. As a result, the road got its infamous name. The trip winds through expansive mountain views and pristine beauty. Drifting the corners at such carefree speeds, we could only see the dust in front of us and the forest blur. As darkness started to fall, we found our stop at Mountain Meadows Camp at 9:00 p.m., some 240 miles later. A good push for a few guys new to an enduro motorcycle tour. Camp was abandoned with ample firewood and soon we were sitting under clear skies re-living the past seven hours with the crackling fire as our soundtrack.

We woke shivering and reignited the fire for morning coffee with the coals alive from the previous night of laughter. At this point the beauty of motorcycle touring usually hits, the morning after an amazing ride, realizing you’re not heading home to the hustle and bustle, but have more excitement and freedom ahead. A casual breakfast and drying of gear and we were off to the wild. In full daylight the country was appreciated at slower speeds with frequent stops. The Magruder is one of those roads that exceeds one’s expectations. You search online, look at pictures, read ride reports, and still it impresses. Fireweed bordered the crushed granite gravel road, the old fire scars left behind had a lighthearted feeling, providing great views and making the sunlight dance as we made miles.

Over 20 miles of slow intentional dirt riding brought us to our lunch spot along beautiful Poet Creek Campground, and poetic it was. Fresh water to refill for drinking and cooking a hot lunch, shade to relax in, and a curious mule deer that came close enough to touch. The next stop on the itinerary was Burnt Knob Lookout. Until this point the road had been tame, but now it began to get a little more western. We welcomed the level-up in rowdy and looked forward to the lookout road.

The turn to Burnt Knob Lookout had a sign identifying we would be encountering “Rough Steep Road” and we welcomed the challenge. The climb, significantly steeper and bombarded by boulders, danced between high-centering and bucking you off. The spur was a test of our gear rigging and riding abilities. Eventually we ran into some rock crawlers from Missouri and stopped to give them space. Perched at the last switchback prior to lookout was a view worth stopping for. From our vantage it seemed we were looking back to a time when people got things done. The lookout, built precariously on a huge vertical granite cliff, seemed to be from a picture in the Swedish Alps. High mountain lakes were at the base of the boulders, and we could see what seemed to be the entirety of the expansive, intimidating Bitterroot Selway Mountain Range. We continued up to the lookout. At the top, the rock crawlers were as mystified as us. In celebration, they gave us a local Southern Missouri IPA and we took in the views with ice cold swilling. It was hard to leave, but we needed to find camp at the Selway River earlier than the prior day.

The road conditions opened back up, as we rallied across the ridgelines touching on 8,000 feet in elevation. Roughly 80 miles after leaving camp at Mountain Meadows, we crossed the bridge over the Selway River. We found a great camp along the river that also had firewood, settling in for another evening of laughing and sharing stories from our experiences.

Morning broke on our last day and a thought crossed my mind. In history, humans of the past had survival to keep them occupied. Food, shelter and exploration, their priorities. When all was explored, they had war that consumed their need for purpose and distraction. Lacking these necessities in modern times and survival relatively easy, everything is explored and mapped, i.e. you can tour Glacier National Park from your computer in New York. The wars are fought behind computer screens, no physical struggle needed in day-to-day life, there is no more searching for gold, no more proving one’s worth. Because living is easy, we are lost. However, we can create situations that test our abilities, we can create challenges, we can know purpose.

That is why we plan and execute these adventures. It is why we go into the unknown, in need of a challenge, living in the moment. Knowing that at any point it will come to what lives in oneself and how we will adjust to the struggle. Focusing on the success rather than the struggle. Hope lies in our ability to adapt, and to enjoy the entire process. Dropping into the Bitterroot valley, 60 miles later, the days ride filled with more wild beauty, the risk and threat acknowledged, the enjoyment and success realized, we found that we were worthy of existence and went for it. We had a feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction, purpose beyond the hustle and bustle, existing outside the day-to-day reality, and that is what a motorcycle adventure is about.

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Garret Smith, aka Dirt Myth, has explored much of the West under the guidance of his tried-and-true DR650. Only once did he leave his motorcycle behind and adventure on a locally sourced bike in Cambodia for a week-long trip exploring the Mekong River and Cambodian’s eastern border. Between motorcycle trips, he works as a freelance cinematographer for National Geographic and MeatEater and a hired gun photographer for outdoor brands and adventure content. Jobs that mainly pay for gas and replacement parts.

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