There was a little DH,
Who had lots of curly Pavement,
Right from its foot to its head.
When it was good, it was very good, indeed
But when it was bad, it was horrid.
Granted, Henry David Longfellow wasnít writing about the Pavement on this DH
when he penned this famous poem about his daughter. But he could have been.
When it comes to asphalt, this remote link between the dusty Indian town of
Nespelem and a middle-of-nowhere junction with Hwy 21 is as temperamental as
Hankís baby girl. The twisty, partly treed ascent out of the Nespelem River
valley onto a dry, treeless plateau is coated in a recent layer of good
quality blacktop. Whereas the climb through the pine forest to the top of the
Sanpoil Riverís western ridge is a horrid trail of potholes. But youíll forget
the roadís little macadam tantrum when you come over the final crest. For
here, interstate-grade surfacing and Engineering grace the tight, rock-a-bye
descent down through the thick forest to the end. Motorcyclists love poetry.
As long as itís in motion.