My excitement for the day actually started before it was even light out.
Earlier in the trip, a mouse or some similar rodent had gotten into our trail mix and made a minor mess. It was really more annoying than anything, and I didn't think twice about it. So when my mom later pestered me about potential incidents, saying, "you know that's going to be a problem," I paid no attention.
So I was awaken at 2:00am by the rustling sound of some despicable creature going through my unsecured food pannier. I started awake, fumbled for my flashlight and found myself staring at the beady eyes and bushy tail of a skunk, not 6 feet away. My feelings of annoyance where immediately replaced with feelings of panic and trepidation. Of all the animals short of a bear that could have invaded my campsite, a skunk was probably the worst. All he had to do was lift his tail, and he would very likley cause $100's of damage. My sleeping bag alone, which I was still ensnarled in, would be a catastrophic loss. I frantically dug in my memory for anything I'd previously heard or read that could assist me with the safe removal of the skunk. Coming up blank, all I could manage was to train my flashlight on the beast and stared in transfixed horror. Fortunately, the skunk was in a non-confrontational mood, and with a couple of pauses to return my stare, waddled out into the night. With disaster narrowly avoided, I reformed my ways and have been hoisting my food off the ground ever since.
Little did I know that this incident was certainly not the end of the day's entertainment. However, absolutely no entertainment occurred while I was on the road. With every passing day I'd started to loathe the grasslands on which I was riding more and more, and the day's terrain did nothing to redeem the aforementioned grassland. There was nothing, I repeat, nothing, between my starting town and destination town but cows. The sole outpost of humanity was a tiny rest stop on he county border. Other than that, the number of houses on the 70 mile stretch of riding probably didn't even make it into double digits. To make matters even worse, there was still a headwind. It was truly awful. The town of Jordan where I ended up wasn't much better. I'm not really a huge fan of most small towns in the first place, but Jordan was pretty bad. If it serves as any kind of indicator, the town streets were not paved. There was also some kind of shindig going on, which appeared to be pretty hardcore cowboy. Everybody in attendance was wearing jeans, a plaid shirt, and a cowboy hat, and most seemed to have arrived in massive diesel dualies. There was even some dude who had a license plate as a belt buckle.
My excitement for the evening also came in the form of people, but of the one sort who are probably more entertaining than drunk cowboys. Drunk bikers. Not cyclists, bikers, as in the Harley-Davinson sort.
When I'd trundled through town searching for a likley spot so set up shop, I'd noticed three motorbikes and two tents set up in what appeared to be the main park. Deciding that if said park was good enough for them it was good enough for me, I flooded a picnic table with junk and set up my tarp (not even a picnic shelter!).
As I was eating my dinner, the owners of the three bikes, two men and a woman who all looked to be in their 50's, came walking back from the shindig, where it appeared they had been participating in the festivities. Noticing me, they proceeded to comfortably flop themselves on my picnic table and commence chatting. Just buzzed enough to be in a good mood, but not so much as to be incoherent, they proved good company. One of the motorcyclists, who sported a tasteful beer gut, related one of the cowboy's reactions upon learning that the potatoes where out.
"The guy said 'they're out of potaters' with a straight face and walked out." quoted the motorcyclist. "I mean, they've still got ribeye steak, and all this guy says is 'they're out of potaters' and walks out."
Of course, it was a lot funnier with his belly laugh.
As they wished me luck on my trip and headed back to their tents, I noticed the woman fidgeting with some of my stuff down on the end of the table. I glanced over and pretended not to notice, but saw as she folded up some bills and stuck them under my wallet.
June 17
But wait, there's more! I had completed all my errands and chores in the morning, and was just about to mount my bike and ride off when another cyclist rolled into the park. He introduced himself as Steve, and pretty quickly established himself as one of the most high energy 60-somethings I've ever met. He talked non stop for a solid 2 hours, on subjects ranging from the oil boom to stealth camping. He was tall, almost gangly, with a white beard and eyes that almost seemed to big out with intensity. Overall, his nonstop chatter and the expression with which he delivered it reminded me of someone with ADD. I actually rather enjoyed listening, meeting new people is one of the reasons I decided to do this trip in the first place.
In the end, it was precisely 1:18pm when I left the town of Jordan. this posed a minor problem, as the only occupants of the 75 miles between Jordan and the closest town were cows and maybe the occasional prairie dog. I really didn't want to stay out in the middle of nowhere, and decided to go for it. Steve had let me know that there was a nice city park in the town of Winnett, and I needed to make it there before dark. My mind made up, I rode hard enough that when I arrived I not only had time to make and eat dinner before it got dark, but also got to take a shower at the adjacent community pool (no hot water again).
I now had some decisions to make. My next major destination was the city of Great Falls, and I really wanted to find someone to stay with there. I had sent out a bunch of couchrequests, but hadn't had any responses. I was therefore very pleased to find not one, but two responses in my inbox when I checked in the morning. I picked one of them, but then was confronted with the dilemma of picking a day for my arrival. My maps took a loop up to Fort Benton, mainly for the purpose of avoiding a busy highway without shoulders to ride on. If I ignored the maps and just took the highway, I was pretty sure I could make the trip in two days. If I followed the maps, on the other hand, it would mean three days, unless I rode two consecutive 105 mile days and spent the night on the side of the road. I wasn't really in any rush to go anywhere, so I decided to do it in three days, with stops in Denton and Fort Benton. After messaging my intentions to my host, I set out for Denton.
Overall, this turned out to be one of my most intense riding days yet. Within an hour of setting out, I finally saw some mountains in the distance. They didn't look too big, but some did have snow on the peaks. 40 miles later I was laboring my way to the top of a fairly wimpy 4700 foot pass. My tail wind had returned, but not as strongly as it had previously been. It was still strong enough to offer diminished resistance, and the descent into Lewiston took place at hair rising speeds.
I made a quick food stop in Lewiston and got back on the road to finish my 95 mile day. 10 miles or so later, I met another cyclist and we stopped to chat. He warned me that there was a chance of a hailstorm, so I made good use of my wind and rode as fast as I
could.
Here's some quick stats on the ride
Departure: 8:45am
Arrival: 5:20pm
Temperature: hot
Water & gatoraide consumed: 200oz
Lowest elevation: 3000 feet
Highest elevation: 4700 feet
Avg speed: 13.6 mph
Max speed: 40.2 mph
Yes, I dislike plains, but they can still be pretty.
No pun intended, but this is a good sign.
Me at the top of the "pass".
While small, that is still a legit mountain.
A fairly spectacular cloud.
One of the many reasons why mountains are awesome.
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