My Bicycle Journey: Days 29-32

June 19

Having decided to take the easy way, I only needed to ride 60 miles today, so I took my time and moved slowly and deliberately in the morning. I took especial care packing my bike. "Maybe I should clip those water bottles on the other side," I thought, "let's see, I've got to get these bungee cords knotted just right." "Are my panniers evenly weighted?" I took my time with little details like these, and when I was satisfied with the final result, headed out for Fort Benton.

I realized pretty quickly that it was a good thing I had decided to take three days instead of two to get to Great Falls. I don't know if it was due to my previous hard day of riding or what, but I didn't feel very good. I've had it happen in the past, often inexplicably, when my body just doesn't seem to want to do what I want it to. Nothing really hurts or feels sore, but I don't seem to be able to move as fast as I like.

A couple days ago I had seen a pronghorn, one sign of the west. Today I saw a mule deer, another western critter. It was a doe, standing next to the road. When I passed, she thought it prudent to run off, and did so with a gait that just about made me laugh out loud. I guess I knew that mule deer run differently than whitetails, but I'd never seen one before, so it struck me as very funny to see the deer bouncing away, all four stiff legs going in unison.

There are a lot of deserted buildings in Montana, and I'd been meaning to explore one of them. Apparently, there where booms in the state's history when optimists would build and try to settle, but from the ruins I saw it looked as if it often didn't work out. Finally, I passed one that was just too interesting to pass up. The wreck in question was not, in fact, a building. Instead, it was an old passenger rail car, with the "Northern Rail Company" still visible on its side. Taking a careful look up and down the road for traffic that might object to my exploration, I parked my bike in the ditch and walked to the car. I checked both doors, but both where boarded up. However, I noticed a window that was open, and hauled myself up for a closer look. When I had tried the doors, I had scared off a pidgin, so I wasn't surprised to several more birds staring me from where they perched. There wasn't a whole lot more to be seen, but I still found it very interesting.

Checking out the rail car made me realize that I appreciate an item's historical significance far more when I view it in its natural environment, than I do in a museum. In a museum, there are many and often rare artifacts, but the sterile environment seems to strip them of their significance for me. On the other hand, as I rode away from this relic of history that had been neglected for so long, I could almost imagine what it must have been like to ride in it. "to think," I thought, "what other persons have touched the very seat that I just did, what kind of people has the inside of the rail car seen?" It was any experience that I thoroughly enjoyed, and left wishing that I had investigated more places like it.

When I arrived in Fort Benton, the first thing I did was to head to the city pool for a shower. As I walked my bike up the sidewalk, I was met by a young shirtless lad, astride a bicycle and looking curiously at me. He looked to be about 8 or so. "You just get done swimming?" I asked him. "Yep", he replied, "I'm still all wet." After a pause, during which he eyed me and my bicycle, he asked "where are you from?" I told him, "Michigan." After another brief pause, "you take a plane?"

"Nope, rode my bike"

He looked mildly impressed, and rode on his way. As I walked into the pool building, I heard him a distance off proudly telling some friends, "did you see that guy over there? He rode his bike here all the way from Michigan."

When I checked the weather at the library, I saw that there was a severe thunderstorm watch for the night, and sure enough it got dark out, and then began to rain. And then began to hail. I hastily moved my stuff into the bathroom, which was fortunately large and clean, and spent the rest of the night indoors.

June 20

This day started out looking pretty bleak, had some excitement, and ended enjoyably.

The bleakness manifested itself in the form of headwinds. Like, nasty, gusty, cold, drizzly headwinds. I didn't have that far to go, but 50 miles at 5 miles an hour meant that I worried about making it there before dark. My solution to this problem, of course, was to hitch a ride. When most people hitch a ride, they do so in a car. I, being of the adventurous type, hitched a ride in a Rhino. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the Yamaha Rhino, it's a two seat utility vehicle similar to the John Deere Gator. It shares one thing in common, and one thing decidedly not in common with the Gator. Both of these vehicles where designed with vaguely the same purpose, which is to haul stuff and people off road. Note that by "stuff", I do not mean fully loaded touring bikes. To my knowledge, the gator moves at pretty reasonable but entirely adequate speeds, maybe 20mph. The Rhino, as I learned, tops out at 50.

So I stick out my thumb, this guy pulls over, I drag my bike partway into the bed and then climbing into the cab, reaching behind me to hold my bike in. The guy, who informed me that he had just bought the machine in which we where sitting 10 minutes ago from his neighbor, pedals the thing to car-like speeds, and I sit there reading the warning sticker that says not to drive on pavement. 5 or 10 miles later, he drops me off, and with a "good luck" roars away.

Thanks to the few miles of motorized bliss, I am able to make it into the city at a reasonable hour, and crash at a McDonalds where I eat $2 worth of calories and text the guy with which I'm planning to stay. I get a quick reply with his address and a promise of dinner. Hastened by the prospect of food, I ride the mile or so with my croc-clad feet barely perched on my LOOK pedals.

I found the house easily, and met Mike and Hank, Mike's roommate's dog. Mike was a 23 reporter for the Great Falls Tribune, and seemed to fit the mold I've created for couch surfers perfectly. Young, friendly, smart, and relaxed, Mike and I chatted while he grilled some kebabs that were making my mouth water.

After dinner, which was excellent, we took Hank for a walk to the grocery store and got a couple of cigars. Returning home, we climbed out onto the roof/porch and lighting our cigars, fell deep into a conversation about the meaning of life and religion. As each of us spoke for longer and longer intervals, I found myself totally absorbed in the moment, using all my faculties to understand the abstract concepts we discussed. As it got dark out, I realized I hadn't had a real intellectual conversation with a peer in quite a while. It was an experience that I enjoyed a lot, and I fell asleep worn out with the effort of mental exercise.

June 21

From Great Falls, it was only another 3 days with of riding to Missoula, which I had been hearing was a really cool city. I decided to take a day off there, and made couch surfing arraignments ahead of time.

My first day of riding out out of great falls took me slightly out of the way, but Mike had told me that the country would be worth the extra time. Apparently western Montana is a bit more populated than the east part of the state, and I enjoyed riding through areas with a few more people. Things were now getting decidedly hilly, and I rolled through sweeping valleys, through little stands of trees, and over clear little streams.

With a wind they almost cooperated, I made it to the town of Vaughn easily, inspite of a late start. When I arrived, however, I discovered that there was no obvious place to stay. The "park" was nothing more than a few picnic tables on maybe 2,000 square feet of grass, right in the middle of town. I dug out my phone, and confirming that this was indeed the only park, decided to check out a cemetery a bit outside of town. Arriving at said cemetery, I discovered that somebody had left the lawn mower shed open, and so I proceeded to unload my bags and set up camp. After unloading, I headed back to town to cook and eat dinner. I found a few picnic tables at a community pool that was still closed, and settled down to eat my food. Afterward, I gave the pool building a closer look, and found that somebody had neglected to lock those doors as well. Back to the cemetery I went, and returning with my bags unrolled my sleeping bag in a little side shed.

June 22

Today the big event was the continental divide. This would be the first major landmark of my journey, and I was looking forward to it. The scenery continued to grow more and more beautiful, with pine covered mountains now looming ahead. Also looming ahead, I noticed, where some pretty serious looking rain storms. As I approached the mountains, I was in the sun, with nothing behind me but blue sky and puffy cumulus clouds. Ahead, not only could I see the darker clouds, I could actually see the rain coming down. As I rode into it, the temperature dropped, and gusts of wind blew rain into my face. Wimping out, I parked my bike against a locked gate and huddled under a semi trailer in a DOT yard. I didn't think the rain would last very long, as I could actually see more blue sky on the far side of the clouds. Sure enough, things calmed down within a few minutes, and I was back on the road.

The slope up the the pass began so gradually that my first thought was "why is it getting so hard to pedal?" then I looked behind me, and the perspective shift let me see that I was climbing a 6% grade. It really wasn't all that bad, as I was climbing In the lee side of the pass, the wind died down. I was actually going faster up the pass than I had gone into some of the headwinds I'd encountered.

When I made it to the top, a bit of that adrenaline that boys are always hunting for hit, along with a sense of accomplishment at what I'd done so far on this trip. I thought, "if I can ride my bike from Michigan, over the continental divide, and beyond, what can't I do?" As I enjoyed these feelings, I took a break to admire the view from the top of the pass, and then started the long descent down the other side. As soon as I had the crested the top, the wind had, of course, resumed. I felt a bit cheated as I coasted downhill, I should have been going much faster than I actually was.

I was headed for the town of Lincoln, which was located about halfway between Great Falls and Missoula. Because of my map's detour, however, it would be a 60 mile ride. I was hoping to stay in a motel that had cyclist-only lodging, but after I found out that it was still $25 a night I decided to just head for the park.

The park's only picnic shelter was a bit to exposed for me, so I slept under the stars for the first time of the trip. Well, not totally under the stars, but the overhang of the old building I stayed under didn't provide a whole lot of of coverage