Before the Singularity

2015. 09. 27. 1552

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Mon, 28 Sep 2015 21:25:00 +0000

Yes, I know that many of you have stopped reading these updates since, well, there's very little chance of a bear attack to be documented. To mix metaphors, without a train wreck, why read on?

Well, what if I were to tell you that this update involves being in the same car with a convicted meth supplier and murderer who has been shot 5 times? What if I told you I almost killed both him and me while driving home yesterday? Would that give you any incentive to read on?

I suppose not. No bears, no reading ...

For the record, I think this will be the second to last update in the Road to Canada series. The final update will be a summary after I've had a few more days to think about the whole adventure.

Friday, as promised, Barbara picked me up from the pricey HoJo and we drove to Butte. The hillsides were simply aglow with aspens in their bright, fiery oranges and blindly brilliant yellows. Barbara dropped me off at the Butte Library and continued on to meet with her mother, vowing to return to the library to pick me up around 3 PM.

I had 5 hours to do whatever I wanted to do in the historic uptown Butte district. Too many, paralyzing choices! Should I visit the world renowned Dumas Brothel (spoiler alert: I did visit the Dumas Brothel, only to learn, it's just a museum/gift shop now. Damn!)? How about the Montana Chemical Dependency Center (which is actually sponsored by the tobacco industry to get people hooked on various chemicals)?

How about neither? On the way down to Butte, the topic of Lars and the Real Girl came up. Barbara has never seen this gem, so my first goal was to find a copy. Did you know that the Butte Public library system has only one Ryan Gosling movie and it's not Lars and the Real Girl. I was so dumbfounded with the result of this spartan search, I asked for help from a librarian. He was a little chagrined to admit that, yes, it appeared that the Butte Public library system has only one Ryan Gosling movie and it's not Lars and the Real Girl. He suggested a pawn shop within walking distance and my fate in the historic uptown Butte district was now set ...

... on to a pawn shop!

Damn it, John, what about the murderer????

I walked down to Bruce and Bob's Pawn shop (note that this street view image shows a motorcycle illegally parked on the side walk, one of my favorite subjects!). They didn't have the movie (and the motorcycle wasn't on the sidewalk, either), but all DVDs were now half priced at only a buck apiece!

I had struck out (technically, that was only 2 strikes, but it was getting hot in Butte so I decided to forfeit the rest of my searching for Lars and the Real Girl at bat). As I was meandering around the historic uptown Butte district, I stumbled across the Butte Rescue Mission Bargain Center! My chance for a real third strike!!! Of course, they didn't have Lars and the Real Girl,. I had done it! I had legitimately achieved the "three strikes and you're out" plateau! In spite of not having the movie, they had a real nice belt for a buck which I bought to hold up my brand new Costco pants that were a bit too big (I lost 10 pounds on the ride ...).

So, I now had a belt but no movie.

Murderers, John, murderers ...

I remembered that a couple of southbounders said that I had to visit the Berkeley Pit, home of a massive, rising pool (now more than 4000' deep!) of lethal water, so I headed that way. I stopped in at the The Broadway Cafe for some gourmet pizza and talked at length with Cheryl, the owner, about the history of the place and the plans for the future (pave paradise, put up a parking lot). The daughter-in-law compared me favorablely to Grandpa Joe who, disappointingly, really did look a lot like me: he looked like an old guy in a pony tail ...

The Berkeley Pit was impressive for its size and the absolutely mirror like finish of the rising water. No one attempted to swan dive from the observation deck into the absolutely still waters of the pit, but there was a guy who was threatening to do a cannonball. I did not stick around for that because, really, how many times have we heard people say they are going to do that and they never do?

I returned to the library to await Barbara when it dawned on me I had the world's collection of movies in my pocket via a little thing we call "the cloud". I stole 431M of data from the city of Butte and downloaded Lars and the Single Girl to my phone ... for free (I had $6 worth of credits somehow). Damn, I could've just stayed in the library all day, catching up on back issues of Historic Uptown Butte Today! and you would've got to the murderer sooner ...

We returned to Helena where we ultimately joined Connie, fellow book club member, who was guarding the storage units she owns (long story ... yes, we know, John, murderer???). We went for a walk to see if there were any vagrants hanging out in the land behind the storage units (not sure what we were supposed to do if we found any) and then we were treated to a spectacular sunset with the clouds aglow, vying to outdo the aspen, "Jesus Rays" shooting through the clouds. Wow ...

On my suggestion, we made a Panda run and ate our pseudo-Chinese food sitting on the back of Connie's pickup truck, Montana style. Then, believe it or not, we watched Lars and the Real Girl in Barbara's car while parked on the street outside the storage units. It must have looked very odd to the few cars that cruised by ...

That's it, I give up. No murderer, no reading ...

I'm almost there and now you're leaving???

The next day I rode my bike to the Helena Regional Airport and picked up a Hyundai Elantra for the long trip home. I pulled out of the pricey HoJo around 9:30 AM with a full tank of gas, 60 ounces of Mountain Dew, a bag of pretzels from the Dollar Tree and the determination to get home in 11 hours or less.

Just a few miles east of Billings, I picked up a hitchhiking convicted murderer. When I picked him up, he was not wearing a sign declaring all of his past convictions and dropped charges. My fault for not asking him about his criminal record before I let him in the car, but I thought I was "paying it forward" for everyone who had helped me out on the trip.

Hunter was also shot 5 times during the course of his life. His own brother shot him 3 times, he was shot in the chest at point blank range by a rival biker gang and had his left hand blown up when someone threw a gun on a bed, it discharged and the bullet went through his left hand.

I was too timid to question the validity of any of these statements.

Almost immediately, Hunter fell asleep. This was not part of my plan, either: A) I wasn't planning on picking up a convicted murderer and B) I was hoping that anyone who I picked up would talk to me to help me stay awake. Instead, Hunter's snoring helped put me to sleep.

I'm falling asleep just reading this over ...

... I had 4 bouts of microsleep. Nasty stuff, that. Each time I'd snap to, I'd put a notch in the steering wheel to keep track of the number of times Hunter and I had cheated death. I was only going 85 MPH.

Hunter wanted to get down to Woodland Park, Colorado, and I thought about driving him all the way, but I'm sure we would have been killed if I tried that as I microslept us off the highway and down an embankment (always down the embankment. What's with that?). I wasn't going to put him up at my place, so I dropped him off at the Lowe's at 136th and I-25, gave him all my remaining Slim Jim Original Smoked Snack Sticks, 0.28 oz, a protein bar, thanked him for not murdering me and I drove home. He was very grateful for the ride as he told me it would normally have taken him 4 days to get that far.

So, I did pay it forward, right?, and I lived to tell the tale which you didn't read because you gave up on this update 20 paragraphs ago.

Total mileage was 761.4 miles and I did it in almost exactly 11 hours, including two fuel stops (which also included a Burger King stop (Hunter's favorite restaurant ... any place you want to go, Hunter, is fine with me ) and a Wendy's stop (Hunter's second favorite restaurant ... that's good, right, Hunter? We got to both 1 and 2? Great, huh?)).

Oh, I also did a discharge a convicted murderer stop.

Isn't it great to be back home????

No and I'll be sorting that out in the coming days. Look for my last, convicted murderer-less update in the coming days.

2015. 09. 24. 1510 Reintegration...

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Fri, 25 Sep 2015 03:24:00 +0000

Day +1 ... Reintegration into Civil Society

People seem more ... on edge? It took me a while today to realize that even in Helena, laid back as it must be with respect to major population centers like Billings, people here are more keyed up than those of Lincoln County where a "free rider" is celebrated during the Ovando Gran Fondo rather than run off the course as would surely happen in Billings.

A few weeks prior to putting in a surprising number of miles on the ol' mountain bike, I was working on the concept of a campaign to do something nice for a stranger once a day. The act didn't have to be earth shattering, just something nice that the recipient would appreciate. One example might be letting someone get in line in front of you at the store. That person's life would be a bit better and hopefully they would pay it forward, kindness rippling outward around the world until it reaches North Korea where kindness is not permitted.

And that particular act of kindness, letting someone go in front of you in line, brought me back to earth today. I was in line behind, oh, let's call him "a guy". A woman with a child was in the other line and that line had suddenly come to a screeching halt because the customer at the register couldn't write legibly.

Don't ask ... I didn't.

At any rate, I asked "a guy" if he wouldn't mind letting the woman with a child go in front of us.

"No, I'm too busy!"
Hold on. Let me get this straight. Your life is so finely tuned that you couldn't afford to give another human being one precious minute of your time by allowing them to go in front of you?

Welcome to Helena ...

But the day is not lost for today I discovered ... (drumroll and trumpet fanfare, please): anti-monkey butt. I had been complaining to someone on the road (why is my brain locked up so I can't remember who I was talking to ... I'm pretty sure, though, it wasn't THE Marshal) about my "road rash" and they suggested that there was a product available at sporting goods stores to address this "problem". Well, I walked into Sportsmans Warehouse today and asked the crew there to promise not to laugh at my question.

They did NOT promise not to laugh ... they would promise in Lincoln County, I bet.

I asked if there was an anti-chaffing product. Well, not only was there such a product, they carried it AND it was available right at the check out stand! That's how popular anti-monkey butt is. It's an impulse buy!!!!

Who knew? I suspect that Clarion Brands, LLC, of Solon, OH, who is "dedicated to maximizing the performance and comfort of sports enthusiasts and people who work hard all day long." knew. They're making a living selling anti-monkey butt. Helping their stock, I bought a small container.

It's essentially high priced baby powder which I sprinkled liberally into my riding shorts before taking the car and my bike back to the airport. I'm sorry to report that it doesn't seem to help, but maybe you have to use it for an extended period of time?

Helena Regional Airport, located just down the block from the capitol dome of the Great State of Montana, has a whopping 6 commercial flights in and out each day: 6 landings, 6 departures. The entire flight schedule is displayed on an old 27" CRT monitor ...

Look out, Billings!

One of those pairs is the United flight to/from Denver: gets in the night before, 12 hours later (I guess the jets have to cool; thus, the phrase "cool your jets" ... hooboy, I have already lost it) they fly back to Denver in a seemingly infinite loop, back and forth between the Queen City (Denver) and The Queen City of the Rockies (Helena).

Which naturally brings the topic back to me, John F Denver (F stands for "from"): what are my plans for getting back to Thornton which doesn't have an unofficial nickname (I intend on starting a nickname contest. Winner gets a 1 week pass at the rec center!)? Well, the exciting news is tomorrow I'm going to rendezvous with Barbara Nye, proprietor of THE cabin and cornerstone member of the Lincoln County Book Club which I attended a few scant days ago (seems like forever ...)! We are Going Back to Butte (I really have to start writing country music tunes) where Barbara will visit with her mother and help her run errands. I'm hoping to visit with Darryl (remember? He's the Montana employee who was monitoring pollution at the Berkley Pit? We ate at the L&D all you can eat Chinese buffet a while back?) at the Berkley Pit, perhaps get a taste of that contaminated water and have a blood test. I'm also hoping to nostalgically visit one of my worst campsites along the roaring I-15 at the KOA "Journey" campground.

Ah, sweet memories of that orange security light blasting into my tent all night!

So, visiting with Barbara precludes my taking the one and only Friday 7:48 AM United flight to Denver. The Saturday numbers are bad last I checked: -1. Sunday +11, but here's the thing: If I stay another day to get the Sunday flight ($65 at the highfalutin HoJo) I'll also have to pay $60 to a bike shop to pack my bike into a sturdy box so I can check it (it will not fit in the overhead compartment, even with BOTH wheels removed). For that kind of dough, I could drive back to Denver in a superior Avis rental car (last night I had a practically brand new Forester ... it will be funny if I get the same car to drive to Denver) AND, assuming no collisions with reckless deer who simply refuse to look both ways before they cross the highway, I'd be home Saturday night ... exhausted but happy to be in the bearless confines of the cul-de-sac. And we United pass riders know that a +11 flight, two days before departure means nothing. I could show up Sunday morning with my luggage and box of bicycle and not get on the plane ... I'd have to spend another night in Helena, burning through my monetary reserves like there's no tomorrow.

So, I'm planning on driving back to Denver Saturday morning. I'll ride my bike to the airport to be there when Avis opens at 9 AM (route goes right by Panda Express and Costco, neither of which will be open at that ungodly hour), drive the car back to the highfalutin HoJo to get my gear then 287 to I-90 to I-25 to 136th to York to Signal Creek Blvd to E 131st Place to East 131st Avenue to Home in Thorton. Got that?

Completing this rather mundane update (well, come on, the anti-monkey butt thing was ... different), I'm currently at the Helena Library, having ridden my bike over here after riding back to the HoJo from the Helena Regional Airport. I think I've put in a whopping 6 miles today and will probably top out around 10 miles for the day. My bike seems so light without all the gear mounted to the rack ...

I'm hoping for another bearless night ...

2015. 09. 23. 2226 Three Improbable Events

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Fri, 25 Sep 2015 03:21:00 +0000

Look. I know that any account prior to the actual arrival at The Border is anticlimactic, but, if you'll bear with me, you'll learn about how I almost didn't make it back into the United States even though I hadn't officially left ...

... and three improbable events, AKA miracles.

I left Whitefish a bit after 7 AM Monday morning and started the long slog to North Fork road. The wind was calm all day, a great gift from the weather gods who had been "head winding" me for most of this trip. In the calm, still morning a thick fog shrouded the northern end of Whitefish Lake, but the rest of the lake surface was free of that low lying cloud. Very peaceful and somehow mysterious at the same time ...

Around 9 AM the sun finally rose above the nearby mountains and the gloom of "valley riding" was replaced with the golden warmth of the sun. The road itself, like so many of the roads I had encountered in the Swan Valley, was carved through the forest so I only got occasional views of the mountains on either side of the dense forest that hemmed in the road when I reached a clearing. When I got those views, I was reminded of Bob Ross's landscapes: stark, knife edged, sedimentary mountains, evergreens spreading below tree line, valleys and parks tinged autumn orange below.

BTW, it only took me a month to realize that I much prefer biking in sunshine rather than in the shadows ...

Improbable Event I

Remember Marshall, "THE Marshal", who had cut me a break on the cost of my camp site a few days ago at Wayfarer's State Park? Well, I uncharacteristically stopped at an intersection to check on how far it was to the pass when I heard a car coming up the road. I decided to wait for it to pass, but it turned out to be a half dozen ATVs.

You'll never guess who was in that brat pack of geezers on all terrain wheels? THE Marshal!!!!

Turns out that they always ride on Tuesdays and on this Tuesday, they opted to head up this road to look at some fire damage. If that's not unlikely enough, if I had ridden past that intersection, I would never have encountered THE Marshal: they turned left, I went straight. So unlikely that I would have met him again ... but I, unbeknownst to me, I was waiting for him.

The final push to pass before Red Meadow Lake wasn't too technically difficult, just long. Man, I'm tired of climbing hills! But, as is always the case, the downhill was a blast.

Improbable Event II

As a reward for the climbing, I decided to stop and eat lunch at Red Meadows Lake. A beautiful, alpine blue-green, achingly pure, clear water mountain lake, flanked by a mountain slope exploding with orange and red shrubs. Well worth the climb.

Red Meadows Lake http://www.struck.us/BikePics/BikeStories48-2.html

Well, you'll never guess who was there? Tina Seeley, from Pensacola, (I didn't know her, either) who was trying to make a big decision about her life: should she move back to Montana? We talked quite a bit about The Line (see previous post on this topic) and I felt that she knew what she should do (The Line ... move back to Montana) but was afraid to do it (not riding the line). I will never know what she decided, but I think our conversation might have nudged her to return to Montana.

What are the odds that I would bike to Red Meadows Lake to encounter someone who was ready and anxious to hear about making choices in her life?

The rest of the downhill to North Fork Road was a blast with the proviso that I was constantly afraid that I would have a high speed encounter with a bear. To prevent this from happening, I sang "Rocky Mountain High, Colorado" at the top of my voice, complementing my recently discovered John Denver persona. Don't know if the bears didn't like the screeching or they just weren't in the vicinity, but I didn't see any bears on that swift decent.

Why can't the downhills last longer than the uphills?

When I hit North Fork Road, I had to decide to either go 5 miles off route to Polebridge (which meant 5 extra miles in the morning to get back on route) or continue on to Tuchuck Campground (just like "Two Buck Chuck" but without the two ...). It was sunny, I only had 5 hours of seat time and Tuchuck was "on route". So I turned north (remember that Canada is north of the US), rather than south, and headed to Tuchuck.

Man, talk about a bad Line ... this road may have been one of the worst on the trip (save the worst for last?). It seemed as if the builders of the road took sharp stones and impregnated them into the road, sharp points pointing skyward. Very difficult to ride as each time my tires hit one of the sharp edges, I slowed down. Now imagine doing a 1000' climb on that surface ...

... when I finally reached Tuchuck around 5 PM, I was very tired and very relieved. I had picked Tuchuck as my destination since it was an official Forest Service campground and there would be others camping there to share in fighting off any bears. When I arrived, no one was there, but it was relatively early. I set up the tent, ate dinner (1/2 a delicious Safeway deli meat sandwich with extra horseradish sauce and a Snickers bar), brushed my teeth, did my journal and ...

NO ONE ELSE SHOWED UP! I WAS ALL ALONE IN GRIZZLY BEAR COUNTRY!!!!

In an impolite word: F!

The campsite had bear boxes and I dutifully put my panniers and dry bag into the boxes. I thought, ironically, that this protected my bags but didn't protect me. But I was really, really tired from the 8 hours of "seat time" on the bike, so I laid down in the tent and I was out like a light!

When I awoke a few hours later, it was dead silent and the first quarter moon was shooting slivers of ghostly white light through the campsite. Looking through the towering pines around my site I could see my last spectacular canopy of stars and the Milky Way. Very magical ...

But as soon as I got back in the tent, the Keller worry gene kicked in and I started fretting about bears. Damn! I should have started a fire! Should I go to the campsite across the campground, get the firewood I had seen there and try to start a fire in the dark or would it be better just to remain in the tent if there are bears about? Maybe I should sleep in the bathroom? Should I pick out a tree to climb?

Ultimately, my rational self (bear attacks are soooo rare!) settled the Keller worry gene side and I finally got to sleep. I was surprised when the alarm went off at 6:30 AM on my last day of riding and I was actually still asleep!

Cold, cold, cold. There was frost on my bike seat and the tops of the water bottles were frozen! Time for the heavy gloves ...

I still had another 1000' of climbing on sh*tty road before reaching the Whitefish Divide. I prefer to ride up rather than down in the morning as riding up warms me up, riding down makes me even colder. The sh*tty road followed up one valley and, when I reached the end of that valley, I thought I was done climbing, but, no, the route called out a turn on another sh*tty road, still heading up.

Have I mentioned that I'm tired of climbing?

Finally, I reached my very last pass, Whitefish Divide, and started a fast decent on that terrible road surface. I sang all about it in the hope that bears would hear my vocal complaints about the road and stay off it.

Then, some 8 miles from the highway, a gift from the road building gods: a 1 lane, paved road, going downhill! WOW!!!! After riding on that terrible road, I was effortlessly flying downhill. Bears be damned, I am turning it loose!

Brakes? We don't need no stinkin' brakes.

When I reached the highway, I turned towards the border on highway 93 and continued to enjoy the asphalt, the sunshine on the plains, the lack of wind. I enjoyed it so much, in fact, that I failed to notice that I had ridden 1/2 mile beyond the next turn. Damn! I had to go back which burned precious seat time!

Still, turning back allowed me to talk to a tech (on the road I was supposed to take) who was helping to bring fiber optic Internet to rural Montana. I don't have fiber optic in urban Thornton! A massive backhoe was compacting the soil after the installation. The cab was in the left lane, the arm of the backhoe arched across the right lane. The operator stopped, waved me on, but didn't move the massive arm: I was riding under the arch of dangerously powerful, hydraulic equipment.

Maybe I should have stayed on the highway?

I finally reached Eureka (I don't make these things up) and stopped in at the library which was located on Dewey Street (I don't make these things up). I was going to eat lunch at a restaurant in town, then bike boldly to the border, but I was anxious to reach my final goal so I headed north on an empty stomach.

About 10 miles, asphalt, no wind, but ... one ... last ... hill ...

... then downhill to the border crossing. The interesting thing was the road I was on skirted the border and, if I wanted to forego the drama of potentially dealing with US Customs, I could have stopped, walked 10', crossed a normal farm fence and made it to Canada.

But that's not where the official ACA route went so I followed the route to the US/Canada Border.

As I stood under the border sign, without a selfie stick, I tried to get people passing north to stop and take THE picture, proving that I had made it (no proof, though, that I had actually biked there ...).

No one stopped ... thanks!

But the cars were backing up at Canadian customs so I walked over to the last car, explained my plight and they gladly walked back with me to take the photo I sent out earlier.

That's when the border altercation began ...

As the friendly photographers were milling around, a Canadian customs agent came out of the building and yelled at everyone to get back in their cars. I can only interpret this to mean that by international conventions no one is allowed to walk in the DMZ between the official border and a customs inspection station.

Me? Since I hadn't been cleared by Canadian customs (but had been on Canadian soil since I had to walk north to convince those people to take my picture), I just turned south and headed back on the two lane road I had arrived on. As I'm biking, I see a US Customs agent pop out of the US customs building, bring a pair of binoculars to his eyes and look me over as if I were an enemy combatant.

Clearly a terrorist threat, he yelled at me to stop proceeding and ordered me to come over to the customs building! Now!

Whatever, dude ...

He demanded my passport (fair enough), but then wanted proof that I hadn't been in Canada. Kinda hard to prove a negative, but I had shown him the picture of me at the border which inspired him to ask to see the last 10 pictures I had taken. Unbelievably, I had taken a picture of "the last hill", simply a steep hill on asphalt Airport Road. When I explained what that was, he said, unbelievably again,

"I recognize that road ... you can go."

WHA?????

As I was packing up, he told me that the reason he had called me over was he thought I was trying to duck paying duty on goods I might have brought in from Canada.

Later, I talked to two other people who suggested that the US Custom Agents at the Roosville crossing were (paraphrasing here) d*cks.

Improbable Event III

I was going to ride back to Eureka (10 miles) then hitch a ride further south, but I thought I'd eat my other 1/2 of the delicious Safeway deli meat sandwich with extra horseradish sauce and hitch hike while doing so. I allowed 1/2 hour and, if someone didn't pick me up, I would ride to Eureka.

Only needed 10 minutes ...

... Maureen reluctantly stopped and ultimately took me to Glacier International Airport where I had reserved a car to drive down to Helena. But first we talked about a wide range of topics, including, of course, The Line, and she took me to her home in Whitefish where we had a beer and had a good discussion of politics with her husband, Terry. Maureen and Terry are Canadians who can work remotely and, coincidentally (too many coincidences on this trip????), they are mountain bikers!

I invited myself to join them on a ride in the future and they gladly agreed. Reminded me of Mark and Susan from Tennessee at the Mobley Entertainment Center.

I also met their dog, The Dude. He enjoyed being petted and I was calmed by doing the petting.

After beers Maureen drove me to the airport, following part of the route I had ridden just two days earlier. She dropped me at the gate and I strolled into the Avis office to get my one way car to Helena.

Thanks, Maureen, for starting me off on my way home.

The drive back to Helena was surreal in that I traveled south, traversing a lot of the ground I had just biked north. Particularly stunning was driving The Swan Valley. While it took me 1 1/2 days to bike it, it seemed to take FOREVER to drive it. It was almost shocking to realize that I had covered all that ground and that was just a small portion of the total trip.

Swan Valley

The icing on the cake was when I drove into Helena on US 12, the road I took after the rains cleared in Helena, the same road that Ron and Jean live on who stored my bags at the Holland Lake campground. When I rode that highway out of town I never thought that I'd be driving on it in the opposite direction.

I opted to try the Howard Johnson's across the street from the Super 8. Costs $10 extra per night, but it's nicer, quieter, they have a bacteria laced hot tub and don't forget the Longhorn Casino with drinks and hot slots.

I am not sure what my next move will be and I'm not going to worry about it tonight. Update to follow tomorrow on my plans to get back to Thornton.

OK. The elephant in the room:

How did I feel when I reached the border, having ridden my bike approximately 1200 miles over the course of 31 days?

Frankly, I was too busy trying to get THE picture then dealing with Customs then hitching. About a couple miles BEFORE arriving I felt very emotional, but I promised myself I wouldn't cry while biking and I didn't. Over the coming days I'm sure the immensity of what I've done will hit me.

I'm very grateful to verify that I did not see a single bear on my trip. If only I had known that during all those camping nights that I worried about it ...

I hope all is going well for you and your loved ones.

2015. 09. 23. 1244 Canada!

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Fri, 25 Sep 2015 03:14:00 +0000

2015. 09. 22 Tuchuck Campground T-1!!!

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Wed, 23 Sep 2015 04:54:00 +0000

Vance here. John did make it to Tuchuck Campground (48.92227 , -114.60008) as he had hoped, a 60 mile ride with almost 4K vertical feet of climb.

Mount Thompson-Seton is close to where John is camping.

John is only 38 miles away from his planned entry-point into Canada--at the Roosville border crossing, British Columbia, and it has a lot of downhill. Unless he has significant problems he should achieve his goal tomorrow.

2015. 09. 22. 0631 Off to Tuchuck

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Wed, 23 Sep 2015 04:44:00 +0000

Depending on how I'm feeling, I may bag Polebridge and continue on to the Tuchuck Campground. It's about 60 miles from Whitefish, but requires a climb of 2500' (have to do that even if I go to Polebridge) then a climb of 1200'. It will all depend on the weather, road conditions, how I'm feeling, etc.

Follow me on Spot to see what I decide to do today.

T-2!

2015. 09. 21. 1347 No, I Didn't See Any Bears

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Tue, 22 Sep 2015 04:26:00 +0000

The Last Northbounder:

The Semi-Fictitious Account

Of a Geezer Riding a Bike From

Denver to Canada

Subtitle:

No, I Didn't See Any Bears

A story of Power Links, deer tripping the wire, deer not waiting for the light to cross ...

Last update was from The Pit Stop in lovely Lincoln, Montana, On Friday. In the past 4 days I've ridden about 241 miles, logging a 75 mile day yesterday. Lots to write about ...

The forest services roads that took me up and over Huckleberry Pass traveled along a couple "benches", long stretches of road along the side of the mountain above a valley. Fantastic views across the valley to pine forests, brilliantly illuminated by the long angle of the afternoon sun. I turned another switchback and, WOW!, my first view of the ragged peaks of the region, thrusting skyward, treeless, layered, blocky, massive. Prior to this point, the hills and mountains were more rounded, always below treeline. These peaks seem more like the mountains of Colorado. Some of them have recently been dusted with snow (winter is just around the corner up here), some inlayed with glaciers. Very beautiful change from the tree covered mountains that have preceded me on this trip.

On my screaming downhill run down to Harry Morgan (yes, named for Henry Morgan, famous actor [Editor's note: John really doesn't know this to be true]) Fishing Access Campground, I ran into Chris and Simon from New Zealand. I tossed each of them a few slices of pizza from the pizza I had ordered just hours ago at The Pit Stop and gave them the mini clipboard I had purchased in Helena. For the record, I have never completely eaten a pizza on this trip, having always shared the spoils with fellow travelers.

Those Kiwis gobbled up the pizza right then and there before I was even able to dig through my panniers to find the clipboard. I think they were hungry ...

As I was racing downhill, I got spat out into ... Montana grasslands. The transition was so dramatic: one second trees were flying by on either side of me, the next second open fields. Head spinning. Whitetail deer were there to greet me. I thought that, as one of the deer leaped over the barbed wire, that he/she had gotten tangled in the barbed wire since the barbed wire ZING'd when the deer hit it ...

... but ...

... the next day the same thing happened in a different location which makes me think that the deer like the sound that barbed wire makes when they pull it with their hoofs. I think it's their way of saying, "Your stinkin' barbed wire can't hem us in!".

That night I camped on the North Fork of the Blackfoot River (well, not on it, next to it). I put my bags it the bear box and slept peacefully, knowing that if bears did come into the camp, they would eat me, but NOT my protein bars.

The next day I inadvertently participated in the Ovando Gran Fondo (a race organizer told me, sotto voce, that it really wasn't a gran fondo since the event wasn't long enough, but Montanans don't speak Italian)! This is a mountain bike event, limited to 250 participants, to raise money for the Missoula symphony orchestra. Their route covered much of the route I was going to travel! I crossed the start line about a half hour before the official start and the riders reeled me in just a few minutes after they started. I urged them to join me on the trip to Canada, but no one took up my offer. The riders and race organizers were all very friendly and didn't object to having me on "their" course.

I got free water!!!!

Just before I reached Seeley Lake, I encountered the first and only road closure due to the summer fires. I don't think the area was still actively on fire (might be still be smoldering, though ...), but someone told me that the road was closed due to burned out trees blocking the road.

I did NOT learn this from the rangers when I stopped in to check on road closures at the ranger station: the ranger station is closed on the weekends. I guess no one uses the forests on the weekends ...

I was going to take a different road to get back on the official route, but my ^$%#$%^#$%$#$ chain broke again!!!! What's ironic is I tried to give the new chain I had been carrying since Pinedale to the Kiwis, but they declined the offer.

Thank the powers that be for that declination, if any ...

The replacement chain had a "power link" which allowed me to connect both sides of the chain by inserting the link and ... pulling. WAY easier than using a chain tool! Next time I'll carry a couple of these which will make "field repairs" on the side of the road much easier.

As it took me an hour to effect the repair, I decided NOT to ride up the side of the mountain; rather, I continued on paved, but busy, US 83. For the most part, people gave me a wide berth when they passed me, but one $%$##&##^ hole "buzzed" me, trying to get as close as possible. The other lane was wide open. Very stupid, dangerous and just not nice.

If I hadn't broken my chain I wouldn't have stopped at the overlook and met Erin and Nick from ... Boston. Erin is taking a photography course in Missoula, Nick was visiting her. We agreed to rendezvous at the Holland Lake campground. I lumbered off, they continued to sight see. That evening we all drove to the Hungry Bear for dinner, but about a mile short of the restaurant, an oncoming car struck and killed a deer which just grazed Erin's car. There was no damage to her car; Nick and I cleaned up the side panels. The other car's front fender was obliterated ... the next morning I rode by the scene of the accident and felt very bad for the deer.

That night, though, it rained a bit and was surprisingly mild. For the first time since Wyoming, I didn't zip up the mummy sleeping bag, using it more as a quilt than a blanket.

Yesterday I rode up the Swan valley to Bigfork. Now, you'd think this would afford fantastic views of the Mission Mountains to the west and the Swan Mountains to the east which flank the Swan River, but the roads were seemingly carved through the dense forest: there was no way to see through the dark, thick, close packed stands of trees! The numerous white tail deer, on seeing me coming and wondering what the hell I was, would simply bound into this wall of trees and disappear.

Mission Mountains

But this claustrophobic via made me worry that there could be bears lurking just off the road. After so many bear stories from everyone who wanted to tell me how dangerous it was to travel through this region of the Montana, I was appropriately on alert. I ended up singing, making up silly ditties about what was going on at the moment ("I'm racing downhill, Mr. Bear please don't kill ... me" No one said it would win a Grammy); as is par for the course, at the end of the day I just raced down the hill without alerting bears. If you can catch me at 30+ MPH, then I guess I deserve to be your trophy.

Part of the route departed from the official forest service roads and for the first time on this trip, I rode single track (just a path, not a road). Very fun!

I didn't want to camp solo so I pressed to Bigfork, turning in a 75 mile day, nearly 9 hours "in the saddle". I stayed at the Wayfarer's State Park. I didn't bother to check the fee schedule and set up the tent in a nice site, but Marshall, AKA "The Marshal", the campground host, informed me that I was in a $28 site: the $10 sites for tenters were next to the garage and dumpster. Eventually, The Marshal cut me a break and just charged me the $10.

I took The Marshal to dinner at Burger Town ...

It almost seemed hot last night; this morning, at 7:30 AM, it was 60 degrees. I made the swap from "cold weather" gear to "hot weather" gear before reaching the Bigfork city limits at 8 AM.

Today's ride of a mere 40 miles (hard to believe that this seems like a short ride ...) was very easy, as the route did NOT involve any serious climbing and was mostly on pavement.

YES!!!!

I saw a lot of turkeys this morning, my first turkey spotting on the trip. My favorite was the rafter of turkeys (don't believe me that's what a group of turkeys are called? The Internet never gets it wrong): they were all gathered around a sign that said "Deer Crossing". This either proves definitively that turkeys can't read OR it validates their outlaw persona.

It rained just as I arrived in Whitefish which further inspired me to be currently ripped off at the Best Western Rocky Mountain Lodge. Hey, laundry is only $1!!!! Room is very nice, they have this business computer and my bike is enjoying some private, downtime in the room even as I type.

Whitefish, Montana

The track on the GPS is working perfectly which means I don't have to deal with the map at all when I'm riding; I can now concentrate on alerting bears about my presence ...

... or not.

Believe it or not, if I don't run into trouble, I WILL REACH CANADA IN TWO DAYS!!!!! The plan is to stay in Polebridge tomorrow night then ride to the border Wednesday. Only a couple big climbs left, but both are less than a few hundred feet higher than my home back in Denver ... in other words, there should be plenty of oxygen available for the climbs, unlike the passes along the way that approached 10,000 feet.

After I send this, I will investigate options for getting back to Denver. I'm hoping some kind soul will give me a ride from the Canadian border to Kalispell where I will either rent a car and drive back to Denver or fly back.

Hard to believe the trip is almost over ...

... but, finally, this update is over!

2015. 09. 19 Lake Holland

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Sun, 20 Sep 2015 03:58:00 +0000

Vance here. John made 51 miles today. Starting to get close to the Canadian border.

He's camped on the shores of Lake Holland.

2015. 09. 18 Near the North Fork Blackfoot River

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Sat, 19 Sep 2015 03:57:00 +0000

Vance here. John left Lincoln, Montana around 1:30PM.

Lincoln, Montana

He then crossed yet another instance of the continental divide and as he indicated in his post today ended up about 35 miles away at a campground. He's camped in a campground on the shores of the North Fork Blackfoot River.

2015. 09. 18. 1218 Midday Update, Lincoln, Montana

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Sat, 19 Sep 2015 03:45:00 +0000

Last night I attended a book club meeting...

And this is a rare, "I'm eating pizza for lunch in Lincoln and they have WiFi and I'm still cold" midday update.

Yesterday I bid adieu to wet Helena, expecting fair skies, but it was cool and cloudy. I rode about 12 miles on the westbound highway which surprised me that it was so long on the highway then hit our favorite forest roads for three continental divide crossings. A phalanx of blue birds escorted me at the start, but they soon lost interest as I climbed higher.

Heavily forested land, following a creek to the pass. I just had to laugh when I finally reached Priest Pass and saw the standard forest service sign, marking the pass and elevation:

Pr s

The middle of the sign had been completely blown to smithereens by hunters shooting at the sign.

As I tell the southbounders, for every uphill, there is a downhill. So, a nice downhill run through aspens, pines and the occasional massive, abandoned mine.

But I had another continental divide crossing to do, so up we went. Some of my sweat flowed to the Atlantic, some to the Pacific...

I had mentioned that there was a cabin that a woman was letting riders stay in for free. I stopped to look; very comfortable, small, old cabin that had two beds in separate lofts, a wood stove, food and water.

I went to the house just to thank the woman for her generous support. She answered the door, but I had caught her in the middle of dyeing her hair. With dye dripping everywhere, she accepted my compliments then we said our goodbyes

Not for the last time...

I felt like I should have stayed, but it was early and I had only put in 40 miles. As I started to climb the last pass before Lincoln (another country western song?), the clouds descended with a vengeance, the wind picked up and it really started to rain with thunder rumbling in the distance.

OK, OK. I can take a hint. I'll go back to the cabin even though I'd have to make up this distance today.

When I got back to the house, Barbara was just about to leave and offered me the option of sitting by myself in the cabin OR attending her monthly book club meeting.

You already know what I decided...

Six Montanans attended the meeting, but only one person had finished reading the book. So we spent our time making dinner, cleaning up (no dishwasher) and talking about a wide variety of topics.

Quite a change from communing with the coyotes.

After the meeting, I retired to the cabin and slept on my pad with my sleeping bag as the beds were way too saggy. It was nice, though, to have a sense of being in the middle of nowhere but still having 4 walls to keep the bears at bay.

This morning I did the last continental divide crossing I wussed out on yesterday, pedaling through similar scenery as yesterday then bombed down to Lincoln. The top portion of the road was just two tracks with fallen trees hanging down above the road, trying to neck tie me...

And that brings us to The Pit Stop where I just stashed 1/2 a pizza to eat later. I'm hoping to reach a campground 35 miles away. Have to climb Huckleberry Pass (beware of Yogi and Boo Boo) then mostly downhill to the campground.

Hopefully it will warm up...

Next update maybe tomorrow from Seeley Lake.

20215. 09. 17 Foiled at the Pass?

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Fri, 18 Sep 2015 06:02:00 +0000

Vance here. Something made John turn around close to top of this particular crossing of the continental divide. I'm guessing weather because he quit relatively early (at 4:08 PM). Initially I thought John had made another wrong turn, but reviewing SPOT data and the official Adventure Cycling Association map, John was on the right road when he turned around.

ACA Map

The black "star" indicates how far John got before he turned around. The red "star" shows where he retraced back to (46.80605 , -112.37491). Google Earth shows a small cluster of buildings close to where he camped--perhaps they are friendly to north bound cyclists.

All told John made 36 miles of progress towards Canada, with another 5 traveled going up and back on the pass.

2015. 09. 17. 0655 Mission a Go!

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Fri, 18 Sep 2015 05:47:00 +0000

Scattered clouds, 40 degrees, no rain as predicted.

Mission is a go!

If I get to Lincoln, probably send an update; otherwise, follow me on Spot.

Back in the saddle again...

2015. 09. 16. 1922 Putting Everything On Red

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Thu, 17 Sep 2015 02:54:00 +0000

Planning on blowing this pop stand early tomorrow morning. weather.com suggests 0% chance of rain (that's very low ...), but 38 degrees. Good thing I bought some more cold weather layers.

Depending on the weather, I will either stop at the cool, FREE cabin that the southbounders have been raving about (if I can find it ...) (about 45 miles) or continue on to Lincoln (about 65 miles) and either camp or stay in a room somewhere. To get to Lincoln, I'll have to cross the continental divide 3 times, requiring two pass climbs. Will I be able to do those climbs after lazing around here for 2 days???

Very excited to use the GPS track I downloaded a couple days ago. If it works as promised I will no longer have to be digging out the map every few miles to either figure out the next turn or determine that I'm lost.

Best activity of today? The tour of the Montana State Capitol! I biked over in the cold rain (Muriel coined the term "drimsal") and joined 6 other geezers for the tour. A lot of historical paintings in the capitol, depicting (sometimes incorrectly) various historical events in Montana history. Montana is very stingy with its legislature: representatives are not paid, but they only meet for 3 months, every odd year. Let's hope there are no crisis in those even years ...

Second best activity of the day? Running into Darrell at the L&D Chinese buffet. Darrell works for the great state of Montana, monitoring the contamination at the Berkeley Pit. He was in town for his annual, mandatory health check up for his job; if you monitor contamination for the state, I guess they want to check to see if you are contaminated. We talked about mining, his family and, of course, me, me, me ...

Third best activity of the day? I got a tiny clipboard and some velcro straps to hold the clipboard to my handlebars. I can then attach any map notes to the clipboard and not have to dig them out of the panniers. Of course, I'd be more than happy to throw this all away if the GPS track works as expected.

Too bad if I do throw it away: it has a magnetic backing so I could stick it to the little refrigerators provided in some of the motel rooms I've been in ...

OK. I've got to head across the street to the Longhorn Casino and put everything on red.

I will try to blip off a departure message when I leave tomorrow; hopefully, the Super 8 won't hold me if the roulette table comes up black. If I forget to send the departure message (or I'm sneaking out), follow me on Spot!

2015. 09. 16. 1117 Costco and Other Treats

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Thu, 17 Sep 2015 02:52:00 +0000

Movin' to Montana soon

Gonna be a mennil-toss flykune

When I left the Super 8 on the bike this morning around 9, it was spitting rain and cold so I just signed up for another night in Happy Helena!

Two hours later (official check out time), it is completely socked in, but it's not raining ... at the moment. Security Bank reported that it was a steamy 48 degrees andweather.com corroborated this number.

But I may never leave Helena ...

THEY HAVE A COSTCO!!!!

It's only 3.3 miles (as the bike flies) from the Super 8! I went in (yep, my Thornton Costco card works in Helena) and bought a 56 ounce bag of peanut M&M's. Sure, it's a lot to haul up and over various hills/passes/mountains, but think of the potential energy packed in that resealable bag!

And, hang on to your hats, boys and girls ... THEY HAVE A PANDA EXPRESS!!! Just across the highway from the Costco ...

Costco pizza! Pseudo Chinese food! Come on. You might have to pry me out of Helena ...

And, saving perhaps the best for last, there's a mini-casino on nearly every street corner! While the Super 8 is a "slot machine free" zone, right across the street, the Howard Johnson's hosts The Longhorn Bar and Casino. The scrolling banner outside the building suggests "Drinks ... Hot Machines ...".

Right across the street! Why didn't I stay there? They have a hot tub! This place only has a laundry room and a surly front desk clerk ("G").

Do you get the sense that I'm slowly going crazy?

Here's hoping that tomorrow morning dawns rain free and I'll be putting in miles to Lincoln, MT, the next big town ...

2015. 09. 15 1900. Plans

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Wed, 16 Sep 2015 04:10:00 +0000

Oy ...

... skies cleared this afternoon (after the 11 AM check out time so I had to commit prior to the skies clearing ...) and at the moment, clouds are scattered, but ...

... prediction is for 80% probability of rain at 7 AM, diminishing to a mere 60% at 11 AM check out and finally dropping to a manageable 15% at 5 PM. I may play this right up to check out time: head out at check out time if the weather looks reasonable. If I do that, I'd try to hit a bike only camp about 40 miles out from Helena. Southbounders have said that there's actually a FREE cabin available for riders. If that is the case and it does rain I could hang out there.

If the weather sucks at check out time tomorrow, I'll sign up for another glorious night in Helena. Weather is supposed to be clear Thursday morning, showers Thursday night, decent weather after that.

This is really the first time on the trip that I've bothered looking at weather predictions. Maybe "Holing Up in Helena" makes me less adventurous?

I'll let you know tomorrow morning on my decision ...

2015. 09. 15. 1140 The Line, The Zone, and Other Topics

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Wed, 16 Sep 2015 03:52:00 +0000

At the Helena Library ...

"She's closing up the library!!!"

On the bike ride over from the Super 8 (2.3 miles), it was spitting rain AND the sun was casting shadows as the clouds thinned above me. All of this just reflecting my uncertainty about not riding today.

But, dammit, I'm not riding so get used to it, John!

I stopped at the Great Divide bike shop and bought some toe covers; hopefully, they will keep my toes a smidge warmer in the morning. The good news is they aren't very heavy ...

And that's it for today's journal entry!

In lieu of not having much to report in the way of activity, I thought I'd address some themes that have surfaced during the ride.

Southbounders

I have encountered many riders cruising south as I've struggled against the wind, going north. Uniformly (a couple exceptions noted below ...) they are happy to talk for a few minutes about their trip and share any information that I might ask about. I feel like I've encountered more foreigners than US citizens ...

Many, many people from the Netherlands. I asked the self-identified "Richard from the Netherlands" why that might be the case and he said that there had been an article about the route in some adventure magazine. When I brought this up to other Dutch riders, they pooh-poohed this hypothesis, generally saying that they had been thinking about doing the ride for years.

Richard from the Netherlands was very concerned about bear encounters. When I assured him that it would be unlikely he would actually encounter a bear, he practically yelled at me in a sort of Nazi-like command voice:

"I HAVE SEEN THREE OF THEM!!!!"

Oh, sorry ...

Other nationalities include France, Australia, New Zealand, England, Belgium. No Germans? No Asians? No Africans?

I've encountered only two women riding solo. As a matter of fact, Amber was the first southbounder I had met. She was from Philly and had started riding with another woman but that woman couldn't continue. The other solo woman was the only person who did not stop and talk to me. Recall from a previous update that I had a hellacious tailwind (really? Does that happen?), meaning that as a southbounder, she had a hellacious headwind. As she rode by, she yelled out (facetiously?), "Lucky you!" and did not stop. So I didn't get her life story ...

Many men riding solo. Tom from Alaska had been riding with two fellow Alaskans, but when I ran into him just west of the wildlife refuge in Idaho, he had ditched his buddies. Later that day I went to dinner with those very same buddies, but it wasn't exactly clear to me why Tom from Alaska had split. Ostensibly, I felt like the others were going too slow, but I think there was something else going on under the surface.

Yesterday I ran into Sanjay from SoCal. He had hiked the Continental Divide Trail (CDT) south to north then had turned around and started to ride the mountain bike route north to south back to New Mexico! Really???? He's a former downhill mountain bike racer and hopes to do 100 miles a day.

Speaking of which, when I encountered Chris from SoCal he had completed a 120 mile run the previous day and had slept in the Moran Junction post office because it was so cold the previous night.

My record daily distance on this trip has been 77 miles. I could not even imagine adding another 50% to that distance. Got to hand it to these kids for pushing so far.

I met Stephan from France yesterday and he was clearly shaken by the difficult, mountain bike trail he had just ... ridden(?) (unlikely, given his complaints). He was so discouraged by the experience that he was going to ride on I-15 to bypass the route I had taken the previous day, but I assured him that the roads weren't all that bad. Based on my assurances he decided to not do the bypass. I hope he's not mad at me ...

I have encountered a few married couples and, in spite of all of the hardship and worry associated with doing this trip, they seem to be getting along. Just one exception to that, Frank and Bridget(?)- from the Netherlands; seemed like there was something bubbling below the surface that just didn't feel right.

Many men riding as a duos. I particularly liked meeting James and Dave from Australia a couple days ago who were riding with ear buds and wearing Hawaii shirts. Dave said he was listening to Spanish language tapes because they intended on riding all the way to Mexico City.

I've only run into two sets of duo women: a pair from (you guessed it) the Netherlands and Belgium and a couple Americans, Sabrina and Kayla, who I just met yesterday afternoon. Their bikes were laying on the side of the road and Sabrina was stretched out on the road. I thought at first she had had an accident, but turns out she was just stretching ... out ... on the road. They said they've had a great time meeting lots of people and really weren't making much daily progress.

The Great Divide Mountain Bike Party Route!

Some trios. Sam, Andy and Claire from England stopped by when I was fixing my broken derailleur cable. They were in a very happy mood and Sam and Claire were going to ride through Central and South America. Andy had other obligations, I guess?

I think Shane and Rachel from Australia were "saddled" with Chris from Missoula who somehow glommed on to the couple. I felt a bit of "this wanker really isn't with us" when I visited with Shane and Rachel.

Yesterday I ran into Max, Reiner and Tina from Switzerland. The men were more than happy to talk about anything I wanted to know, but I got this sense that Tina didn't want to stop. Maybe she was hoping to get to a hotel somewhere later that day?

My favorite trio were Seth, Matt and Wes whom I camped with on Wildlife Night at the wildlife refuge. They ate A TON of food (including a pizza slice from me): ramen noodles, cookies, some surplus food they got from Seth's grandparents the night before, pizza slice. They were very easy going and we traded stories back and forth until it was clear that it was time to turn the camp over to the moose and deer and ????.

The largest group (which I didn't really meet) was a group that had signed up for a supported tour. The previous day my favorite trio had encountered this group and the company gave them each a beer! When I encountered the shag wagon (i.e. the support vehicle), out in front of the others the next day, I asked if it were true that they were handing out beers to unsupported riders. Yes, IF I wanted to turn around and join them for lunch a few miles back down the road on which I had just fought the wind to gain a little mileage.

Sorry, not worth the effort riding backwards. Plus, really, I don't drink all that much ...

As I passed on the order of 20 riders, I would raise my hand in the air and do a sort of "tomahawk chop" gesture, yelling out "To Canada!!!!" Only a few of the riders got the point and yelled back, "On to Mexico!".

The Line

[Editor's note: John senses that he's talked about "The Line" before, but he couldn't find the discussion when he went over previous updates. He wants to apologize in advance if this is ground he has already covered.]

I had mentioned in a previous update that the only thing I can control is "seat time", i.e. the amount of time I spend pedaling. I can't control the weather (clearly not the wind), I can't control the topology, I really can't even increase my power output for any appreciable length of time. Thus, if I want to go further, I have to pedal longer.

Well, I forgot one other important thing that I can control that affects how far I can go:

Riding The Line

At any given instant there is an optimal location to ride your bike on the road. String together a series of these locations and you have "The Line", i.e. the best route to bike to minimize the work you have to do to get from point A to point B. Mountain bikers are very familiar with this concept and choosing the wrong line could be the difference between safely riding down some gnarly trail or ... a broken collarbone.

So, when I'm on a dirt road, I spend a lot of time, looking for The Line. I know when I'm riding The Line because suddenly the pedaling will become easier, there will be less sound of gravel being ground under wheels, less bouncing of the wheels and frame.

But The Line is a very dynamic thing. It might be on the left side, then on the right, then in the center. If I didn't follow The Line wherever it went, I'd be working too hard. So, my job is to A) find the line and B) ride the line.

I've heard a few complaints from southbounders that the roads are in terrible condition, but, with rare exceptions, I did NOT find that to be true. We start with the fact that many roads are unimproved or unmaintained, yes, but inevitably there is A Line through all of it that makes the ride bearable. I suspect that those who were complaining have never ridden a mountain bike and were not seeking out The Line. Why are you on the Great Divide Mountain Bike trail???

As noted above, Stephan didn't like the mountain bike trail nor did a woman from Belgium. Me? I really enjoyed finally doing some mountain biking ...

... and finding The Line through all of the roots and ruts and sand and rocks. It's there, baby. Believe me!

BTW, I believe there is A Line as we go through life: at any given time, there is something that we should be doing to optimize our lives. Some people are living The Line, but others either can't find The Line, won't look for The Line or, seeing the line, refuse to take it. At Colter Bay I met some folks camping out and each of them talked about what they wanted to do (The Line), but then had a bazillion excuses for not doing them (Not riding The Line).

Concrete

Related to looking for the line on dirt roads is looking for concrete on dirt roads.

John, there is no concrete on dirt roads!!!

Yes, I realize that, but sometimes the road surface can be so compressed by the traffic that sections are nearly rock hard, forming a concrete like substance. In areas of high winds (er, almost everywhere on this trip), the sand is blown off these strips of concrete so when I ride, this concrete it is almost like riding on asphalt. The bonus for me on any dirt road is finding concrete.

Food

Shouldn't surprise anyone that I'm not eating healthy so here's what's going on with respect to food.

I decided NOT to bring a stove because of the added weight (stove, fuel, matches, fire extinguisher). Cooking ... out. So, I've hit on bringing deli sandwiches. Depending on the size of the sandwich I'll ask the sandwich creator at the deli to half or quarter the sandwich so that I'll have a portion for lunch then a portion for dinner.

Breakfast consists of a power bar.

During the course of the day, I'll have a "snack" of beef jerky: protein, salts, jerky. Walmart sells these "jerky-ettes" which are quarter ounce strips that are just enough to give me a little energy boost when I need.

Totally psychological, I'm sure ...

Lately I've been adding Mountain Dew to my diet, having Mountain Dew and power bar for breakfast, the remaining portion of the breakfast Mountain Dew and deli sandwich portion for lunch. I think this makes me feel better about pedaling and pedaling and pedaling ... especially when going up steep hills against the wind.

The Zone

Sometimes I'm just looking at the scenery and not even noticing that I'm riding a bike. I'm not thinking about the next turn, I'm not thinking about how long I've been pedaling, I'm not thinking about if I'm tired or hungry or anxious about whatever the next problem is about to occur.

I wish I could be in The Zone more often. I have about a week to sort it out.

I will send an update tomorrow with a proposed itinerary.

I hope all is going well for you and your loved ones.

JK

It's a wonderful life

Tomahawk Chop

2015. 09. 15. 0908 Helena --Rain Day

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Wed, 16 Sep 2015 03:48:00 +0000

Where the hell is the Spot Tracker data this morning?

Hangin' in Helena today.

It was raining this morning when I walked over to the Walmart Super Store (open 24 hours for your snacking needs), but at this exact moment, it is not raining, *just* densely socked in from Big Sky horizon to Big Sky horizon. *Might* be OK to ride, but since I'm in an actual town with an actual dry motel room, I'm going to laze out today and rue my choice if it's glorious later today.

Supposed to rain tomorrow and Thursday, too. Maybe that's why I took that wrong turn a couple days back so I'd be in Helena when the weather turned bad?

I'm going to mail my "obsolete" maps and journal pages to Vance, check in at the bike shop for some sort of handlebar map holder, maybe get some sort of bear deterrent (Walmart's lowest price on pepper spray was $30...what price pseudo safety?) then spin my wheels at the library (WARNING: rambling update expected later today).

I'd like to be on the road, but I don't want to be miserable. Hopefully this is the right choice, but, regardless,

It is what it is...

2015. 09. 04 Plans and Pics

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Tue, 15 Sep 2015 05:16:00 +0000

And, just after I praised the weather ... it's raining!
I was going to spend a little time tomorrow in Helena, improving my gear (I want a handlebar map holder like all of the other cool, southbound riders so I can follow the map without digging it out from my left pannier every few miles), leaving around noonish, but if the weather is bad, I may spend an additional delightful day in Helena, doing whatever makes sense to do.

I will let you know tomorrow morning ...

Meanwhile, there has been a request for pictures of me on the bike so I have attached some. I also attached a photo of last night's campsite so you can see what the bear, moose, coyotes, wolves, falcons, eagles, pronghorn, deer, field mice, chipmunks, squirrels, etc. see ...

JK

2015. 09. 14. 1711 Helena

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Tue, 15 Sep 2015 04:36:00 +0000

Never in my life would I have thought that I would ride my bike to Helena ...

... yet alone be using their computers at the library ...

... but, here I am. I don't know t the actual distance I've ridden (I'll try to sort that out in the coming months) but Google Maps says it would be 782 miles to drive. The shocking part of that web page is that The Goog suggests that it would only take 11 hours to get here from Thornton ...

... it has taken me 22 days on a 26" mountain bike with some driving assistance in Steamboat Springs, Pinedale and Moran Junction.

I need to pick up the pace!

So, what's been happening in the past couple days?

Well, it's the continuing story of slogging up hills then flying down the backside. It took me nearly 45 minutes just to climb out of Butte, Montana, the San Francisco of the Mountain West(TM). After the climb, though, it was a short downhill then an unbelievably pleasant ride up a picturesque valley, following a burbling creek the whole way. Aspens, pine trees, rolling hills, the works.

Except ...

... I was in the wrong watershed. I had missed a turn just out of Butte and, 10 miles later, I finally realized that the map and GPS were not happy. I confirmed this with a family that happened to be enjoying the creek nearby. I politely thanked them for verifying that I was in the wrong place, but you didn't want to hear the vitriol that was going on in my head while smiling at the family. See, the thing is, it's all about "seat time" and I had just blown 2 hours of seat time. OK, yes, it was a lovely valley, but it did NOT get me any closer to Canada. I want Canada. Now!

The only good thing about the return trip to fix my blunder was that it was downhill. Ironically, the wind was in my face ...

Back at "the" turn, I ate lunch and repeated my "It is what it is" mantra to try to calm down. There's a reason for everything, right?

Back up the correct watershed, the results were similar in that I was following a stream all the way to the Continental Divide. Aspens, pine trees, rolling hills, the works EXCEPT this route was MUCH steeper. As is my usual reaction, I just drop down to sub Granny 1 gear (i.e. I'm in the lowest gear, but pedaling slower ...), don't look up the hill, pray that the pain will be over soon. You can imagine my relief when I reached the Continental Divide and saw the CDT Blaze for the trail that crossed the road. I thought it was very cool that my path was crossing this path where so many others had hiked the CDT.

For every climb, there is a decent ...

Nice ride down through the aspens, pine trees, rolling hills, the works, following a different stream (this one heading to the Atlantic ...). I went by an old mine and, realistically, there was a mile of tailings spewed out along the road. A lot of mining was done in this area, but I sure didn't see many places where the men might have stayed.

I reached Morman Gulch Campground "early" in that it was only 4 PM and I could have ridden 2 more hours, but the next campground was beyond reach. The wind was howling as I rode up the steep, narrow valley where the campground was located.

It was like a ghost town. There was no sign for the campground at the road entrance and it looked like the campground hadn't been tended to in years with picnic tables half destroyed, weeds/grasses growing up everywhere. With the wind roaring through the narrow valley, various parts of the 3 outhouses creaked and moaned. The door on one actually banged in the winds, just like an old west movie.

I had stopped there, figuring that I would be joined by other campers who would be the bear bait while I slept peacefully, but, turns out, no one else wanted to stay in a ghost town campground: it was just me, the birds, the howling wind and the howling coyotes.

The tent had some moisture on it from the Butte dew and water that a body gives off so I just held each damp piece in the wind and they flapped like a flag, drying out in certainly less than a minute. If only there had been water at the site, I would have washed my clothes, but it was bone dry and there wasn't a pump.

I put my gear in the men's pit toilet (not in the toilet!), hoping that the suffocating odor of that thing that hadn't been tended to in decades would mask the delicious odors of the meat sandwich I bought at the Safeway in Butte earlier that day.

I hit the hay early after not sleeping well under the security lamp at the Butte KOA, hoping to get recharged for the next day (that would be today) on the challenging and confusing climb to Park Lake then on to Helena. The wind finally died down and it was dead silent, save for the gurgling of my stomach and the distant howling of the coyotes. Just keep your distance, boys, I've got a small knife ready for any eventuality.

I was surprised when I woke and the sky was glowing softly in the east: I had "slept in" until about 6:45, one of the latest mornings of the trip. I'm happy to announce that no one ate my Safeway sandwich. I was on the road at 7:30 under skies that were completely covered with high clouds, first time in a while to have that much cloud cover in the morning.

This was my potential nightmare day. Why? Because for all of the "rehearsal" I had done for this section, reviewing the route on Google Maps, following the guides from the Adventure Cycling Association, I still wasn't sure that I knew which way to go. Demonstrating this point, as I climbed out of Basin (thriving mining ghost town), I actually rode up someone's driveway.

This isn't going very well ... already.

But just as I started on the correct road, I ran into Stephan from France who advised me that there were blazes on the trees that marked the main route. Sure enough, here and there, tacked to trees was a yellow blaze with a red box in the middle. At least I wouldn't get off the main road.

The climb up Cataract Creek was difficult because the creek dropped dramatically over the course of its run. I changed from my "get up in the morning and it's cold" ensemble (down jacket, thick jersey, poly pro face mask, poly pro gloves, leg warmers) to my "damn, it's too hot to bicycle today" ensemble (light jersey, fingerless biking gloves) before it was even 9 o'clock because I got so hot on the climb.

That's the way, a huh, a huh, I like it ... I'd rather get too hot on a climb early in the morning than freeze to death on a fast downhill run before the sun has heated the chilled morning air.

I ran into a Swiss trio who gave me some more advice and, before I was ready, I had reached the route of confusion and realized why all my rehearsal was for naught: this route didn't really follow maintained roads. Rather, it seemed to follow a short cut over to the Lava Mountain Trail which was not a road either. I had been warned that the Lava Mountain Trail was impossible to ride, but, guess what?, it was only the second real mountain biking I had encountered on the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route. There were just a couple of steep uphill sections that I couldn't ride (one of them took me 5 minutes to go 50 feet up the trail and I was exhausted ... how did my bike get so heavy????) and I rode all of the downhill. I had a fun time zipping through the trees on a badly rutted and lined with roots trail. Some of the southbounders had complained about this trail, but it was fun in my direction!!!

The map descriptions and the GPS way points just didn't match up with the real trail, so I figured I would just follow the bike trails in the dust of the route, assuming they came from the southbound riders. Eventually I got spit out to a real road and, sure enough, I was back on track again.

I HADN'T GOT LOST!!!!!!!!

I rode by Park Lake, a beautiful high alpine lake in a bowl, where I had wanted to camp the previous night but couldn't reach yesterday. Damn that missed turn yesterday morning ...

It was still a climb out to a high point before the delicious downhill to Helena. I followed Travis Creek up and up and up and up. How long is this creek???? Look, I like riding next to creeks, especially when you can hear them babble and burble, but do you really have to be so long????

Reached the crest, followed another creek down to Helena. No pedaling required ...

I was surprised when Helena just suddenly appeared. I didn't think about it, but the narrow canyon I was riding down prevented me from seeing the capital city.

I went right by the library so I stopped in to use the computer. The woman at the desk gave me an hour and has been sneaking in extra half hour segments ... I'm on hour two with 2 minutes left ...

All in all, a very good two days!

Just some general comments and I will go before my last half hour is used up ...

The weather has been fantastic. I think the last time I got wet was in the sleet storm up on Union pass a long, long time ago. The past couple days in fact in might have been just a smidge too warm on the climbs. That being said, 40% chance of rain tomorrow. If it's bad, I may "Hole Up in Helena" (if it's not a country western song, it should be) for another day. Staying at the Super Duper 8 tonight ...

My gear has been doing a great job. Ever since the tire and tube change in Jackson, Wyoming, I haven't had a flat so that seems to be under control. I did break a derailleur cable (did I mention that?) and did a roadside repair. I had failed to lube the cable (bad bike technician) so that evening I flipped the bike over and poured oil into the end of the cable housing; this seems to have improved the rear derailleur shifting.

Tent is fantastic! Thanks, Matt! There is a lot of room in there for everything I take to bed with me (sweatpants if too cold, the "get up in the morning and it's cold" ensemble, maps packet, headlamp, bear fighting knife, Camelbak (a man's gotta drink, doesn't he?)). I can sit up to dress/undress which is orders of magnitude better than a bivy sack. Good decision to use the tent.

As of yesterday, I had 417 miles left to go. I should be under 400 when I "run the numbers" tonight. At 50 miles/day, my end date will be 9/21. The plan is to hitch a ride back to Kalispell, ship bike, fly body back to Thornton.

Another long update ... don't give me a keyboard and limited library time ... I may never stop typing ...

I'll send a plan update later from the luxurious Super Duper 8!

Now I'm gonna get me some of that popcorn chicken ...

2015.09.12. 2224 Butte, Montana

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Mon, 14 Sep 2015 00:53:00 +0000

Special camping next to the highway edition...

It's late so I'll keep this update relatively short...

After leaving Lima at 7AM I was pretty discouraged that it was cold, windy and the road was a gravel filled washboard.

Then, a miracle happened (Mountain Dew kicked in?) and biking up Big Sheep Creek was fantastic: following the rapidly flowing steam, huge scree covered hills rising from the river bed, the sun warming me, the wind stilled, the trees burst forth in pine green and aspen orange. One of the best mornings on the trip.

But the afternoon was back to sage and grasses very similar to the Great Basin on Wyoming. Enough sage already!

In spite of my recent bear scare, that night I camped solo with only one incident: I thought I heard a huge growl from the bushes!!! Turns out, it was just the guy in my tent snoring.

Next day dawned clear and sunny and cold. I rode through a wide valley with irrigated fields of hay growing bright green, abutted against the arid sage landscape. With enough distance behind me, that afternoon I finally returned to the high country forests which psychologically for me is much more enjoyable than the near desert isolation that is sage country.

But, man, what a climb into the hills. At one steep point I stopped and chatted with a 12 year old boy who very sagely advised me that I could go faster if I would switch to a higher gear. I explained to him that if I did that I would bog down and start crying.

For the first time on the trip, I could smell smoke from forest fires...

I finally cleared the crest after an hour of slogging and suddenly biking was fun again as I raced downhill, reaching my 50+ miles for the day campground in no time. I was joined by a nice local couple in an RV who tried to scare the **** out of me with bear stories. I asked them to refrain: the wife stopped, the husband just had to throw in a few more stories.

I put all of my bags in the pit toilet rest room to keep them from attracting bears to my camp. It worked, but I did notice that the bears used a lot of toilet paper last night.

I was up early today and froze everything as I continued to follow the drainage downhill: the windchill factor is pretty high going 30+ MPH on paved roads.

To my great relief I opted NOT to try Fleecer Ridge, one of the hardest sections of the route. The southbounders all suggested it would be suicide for a northbounder. So I took the official alternate route, still on pavement, following the river as it grew ever wider. Very picturesque and very easy, downhill riding.

Somehow I missed a turn and ended up riding *on* I-15 rather than the frontage road as suggested. Wasn't any worse than biking US-20 in Idaho. The highlight of that segment was getting psyched to use the restroom only to crest the hill and find it was completely torn up and being rebuilt. Being a biker, though, I slipped around the closed signs and found the inevitable construction porta-potties. OK, not as nice as a real rest stop, but at least I didn't have to flush.

The 2500' climb from the I-15 valley to the divide before Butte was one of the toughest yet. If I looked up the road I just freaked out at the long, long, and longer steep climb on very poor, rutted dirt roads. When I'd crest a section, thinking that, aha! I've finished the climb, there would be yet more steep hill just around the bend. Ultimately, I just lowered the brim of my hat so I could only see 10 feet ahead of me and tried to sneak in a miniscule pause on each power stroke of the pedal to allow my muscles to get some tiny amount of recharge. While I had to stop numerous times before I reached the top, I only walked 30' of the 5+ mile climb.

The climb took me from sage on I-15 back to alpine meadows in full fall regalia at over 7000 feet. Numerous high hills enclosed this park. Very rugged country.

When I reached the divide, I once again turned it loose on the downhill. You'll be surprised to learn that I don't hold the handlebars very tightly when downhilling on washboard, dirt roads; rather, I let the bike "float" over the ragged surface, steering away from the holes and letting the shocks and my legs absorb the chatter from the stones and washboarding. My head is amazingly still through the whole process.

When the road finally flattened out for the final approach to Butte, the SW wind I was counting on shifted to the NW and, riding north, I was, once again, fighting the wind. I can't seem to catch a (wind) break.

Oh, and I missed my turn to go directly to this KOA Campground (45.99356 , -112.53181) , doing a 5 mile tour of the greater Butte metroplex. And, very disappointingly, this KOA is next to the highway AND there's an orange security light 30' away from the tent. Quite the contrast to the previous night's isolation.

It will probably take more than a couple days to get to Helena before I can send another update. Tomorrow is Day 21, about 10 more days left in the tour.

One more thing: I figured out why my phone is reading 1% battery in the morning. It's frozen! If I let it warm up, the battery level is restored. I guess I'm going to have to put the phone in the sleeping bag with me...

Well, time to hit the hay with all of the 18 wheelers rolling by.

I hope all is going well for you and your loved ones.

JK

2016.09.11 Little Joe Campground

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Sat, 12 Sep 2015 04:26:00 +0000

Vance here. John covered 60 miles today with a lot of up and down, ending up at the Little Joe Campground (45.55427 , -113.09126)
.

I couldn't find any pictures of the campground, but I did find a blog of a couple that did the trail in 2007. Along the way he did pass the Clark Canyon Reservior (picture below).

2015.09.10 Schwartz Creek

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Fri, 11 Sep 2015 06:26:00 +0000

Vance here. Well it looks like John will end up risking the moose tonight. His campsite on Schwartz Creek (44.85748 , -113.00938) does not look very formal.

Left Click on Image to Enlarge

At least from the satellite view it doesn't appear like moose friendly territory.

John made it 57 miles today with very balanced up and down verticals, 2247 up, 2224 ft down. John passed Ellis mountain (below) on his ride today.

Ellis Mountain

2015.09.09..2254 Plans

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Fri, 11 Sep 2015 06:18:00 +0000

Hard to predict what will happen in the coming days. After moosing around last night I don't want to camp out by myself for a while. So, formal campgrounds tomorros are around 44 miles (short) and 82 miles (record breaking long). Of course, I have to climb a pass before reaching either of these distances...

If I go short might be in contact tomorrow because I'll stay at a commercial lodge. If I go long, I'll be at Bannock State Park, unlikely to have wifi; next opportunity for update would probably be in 2-3 days.

Follow me on Spot to see what I decide.

JK

2015.09.09 Lima, Montana

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Thu, 10 Sep 2015 03:35:00 +0000

I had one of the scariest nights of my life last night ...

My last update was from Colter Bay in the Tetons. I rode 64 miles to the Warm River campground. It was a beautiful day and, for the most part, the route wound through pine and aspen forests. Towards the end of the ride, the dirt road was one of the worst of the trip: great for cars in that it was uniformly covered with gravel, bad for bikes because there was no way to avoid the gravel. Every stone tends to slow the bike down ...

So it was nice when I finally cleared the forest and got on to asphalt for a few miles before the campground. Somewhere in the middle of that forest I finished dealing with Wyoming and crossed into Idaho. Evidently there's a sign, but I missed it ...

The impressive thing for me was looking back east and seeing the other side of the Tetons. I just don't think of that side, as crazy as that seems. Even some 50 miles away, they are impressive!

I got a very nice camping spot right on the Warm River with no one else around. It was Labor Day and I think everyone had to go home to work!

Next day was a partial disaster. I was trying to find the rail trail but couldn't decipher the route nor get the map to work on my GPS. It was only hours later that I realized that I hadn't downloaded the Idaho map into my GPS!!! I didn't think the route went through Idaho!

As a result of not finding the trail, I returned back to the campground, chewing up 45 minutes of "seat time". I went to Plan B and climbed out of the Warm River valley via the Mesa Falls Scenic Byway. Some grueling climbing. I stopped to suck in some air and recover at the Lower Falls Overlook and a group from Oklahoma said, "We are so impressed at your ability to bike up all of these hills!".

That helped, a bit ...

The lower falls was a surprise in that it had multiple levels and downstream had carved a deep canyon. I'm glad I stopped.

Eventually I hit US 20 and road north through Island Park, the home of the longest mainstreet (33 miles and I rode most of it). Not much fun to ride US 20 as there was a ton of traffic, quite a contrast to crossing the Great Basin and encountering one car all day. I stopped at Frontier Adventures and got some advice from the owner on where to buy groceries (his convenience store, 12 miles down the road) and where to eat (Ponds Lodge about 6 miles down the road). I stopped at Ponds and ordered a pizza and nearly depleted their supply of Mountain Dew.

I felt much better, getting over the disappointment of not finding the rail trail AND blowing seat time. Plus, I had 4 pieces of pizza I had wrapped up that I could eat down the line.

Hmmmm ... pizza!

I did the climb to Henry's Lake via this really bizarre route that, among other things, requires you to go around gates and ride over small damns. First real mountain biking of the trip. Very enjoyable under sunny skies, cool temps and colorful forests of pine and aspens.

Around 3:30 I had a go/no-go decision: stay at an RV park, being the only tent on the premises or riding another 20 miles, including another climb to clear 9100+' Red Rock Pass. I told the worker who had given me the prices for the RV park that I was going to push on and that might be the mistake of my life ...

... it almost was.

The climb to the pass was difficult because I was also fighting my nemesis, Howling Headwind. I just had to distract myself with the beauty of the area: large peaks, draped with aprons of pine trees, pushing up into the deep blue sky. Avalanche chutes scouring rock paths through those aprons. Scrub willows already wearing their autumn attire in the broad valley below. I finally reached the pass and crossed into my last state of the trip: Montana!

I was hoping that it would be all downhill to the campground, but, of course, it wasn't. The route also took a turn directly in the direction of the wind. I was really weary as I finally got within 1 mile of my destination campground, but there were two small hills I still had to climb before reaching camp.

It is what it is ... I'll get there when I get there.

When I finally, finally arrived at the Upper Lake campground in the wildlife refuge with the odometer ticking over at 72 miles (second longest day of the trip) there were 3 southbounders setting up camp. We had a very nice evening around the campfire, relating our travel stories. I shared my precious 3 pieces of pizza with boys which augmented their constant diet of ramen noodles and peanut butter on cookies. The stars and the Milky Way seemed particularly brilliant as I watched a couple of satellites slowly sweep across the sky, taking pictures of our campfire.

Idyllic ... but, holy [expletive deleted], what happened later that night ...

I had gotten up the middle of the night and had just snuggled back into the down bag when ...

Something galloped through the camp ...

Then something else galloped through the camp ...

I had the tent doors closed so I couldn't see what they were nor did I really want whatever it was to see me ...

Then, something very heavy walked right past my tent, its weight causing the gravel in the road to grind. It let out a low moan and I just hoped that I wasn't on the menu. I was shaking because I had so much adrenaline coursing through my body due to this animal being so close to the tent.

Eventually I heard something crashing through the trees about 30 feet away where I was going to set up my tent. Man, I'm glad I picked a different site! Every few minutes there would be more tree crashing, sometimes accompanied by a low, loud moan.

I just stayed as still as possible (in spite of my legs shaking???) and hoped that no one would be curious or angry about the odd shaped, tent like object that had mysteriously appeared that evening.

The tree crashing continued on and off for the rest of the night, but as morning drew near, I heard a different, kind of huffing sound and wondered what that might mean. Finally, as the sun peeked over the hills, I heard some other campers moving so I thought it would be safe to finally open my tent door and have a look ...

... nothing but a couple, walking to the Upper Lake with their inflatable stand up paddle boards: the huffing was them inflating their SUPSs!

In the light of day, I think the big thing that came into camp and smashed through the trees was probably a moose. I've never heard of them dancing on tents ...

I thought, last night, though, that it might have been a bear and they have been known to dine on a camper or two.

Man, I was sooooo happy to see the other campers and the light of day!

Today was a 57 mile slog to Lima, Montana (44.63305 , -112.59216). Initially the route was enjoyable in that it hugged the tree lined foothills while an expansive park of golden grass spread in the opposite direction to the base of similarly grass covered hills, but eventually the route turned towards those lightly vegetated hills and I felt like I was back in the Great Basin of Wyoming with nothing but low lying plants and no trees. Amplifying this sense of "here we go again" was both my nemesis and the poor road conditions. Ultimately, I climbed to Lima Reservoir which glistened beautifully in the clear blue afternoon skies and then it was mostly downhill to Lima, with the usual downhill fun spoiled by the headwind and the rolling nature of the road that put in a little uphill test every 1/2 mile or so.

Lima Reservoir

Thanks for that, road builders!

Ultimately, I hit the paved streets of Lima and got a room at the only motel in the city (there were 3 rooms left ...). I intend on doing laundry ($1 for load including soap!), eating at Jan's Cafe (haven't been there yet so I don't know what they are famous for ...) and sleeping without wild animals trouncing through my living room.

All in all, in spite of the blunders and various problems, it was great to see some of the beautiful forests, mountains and hills of Idaho and Montana AND I was able to put nearly 200 miles behind me in the past 3 days. The border is about 530 miles away which means I may reach it by September 20th ...

... if I'm not destroyed by wild animals ...

I will report later on what my plans are for the next few days.

Before I forget, I hope that the memorial for Aunt Joan this weekend brings joy and happiness to the family!

I hope all is going well for you and your loved ones.

2015.09.08 Upper Red Rocks Lake, Montana

noreply@blogger.com (John) — Wed, 09 Sep 2015 03:49:00 +0000

Vance here. John traveled 60 miles today, and crossed over into Montana. Next stop Canada! I pushed Google Maps near its limits with the map below, giving the big picture of John/s progress so far.

Left Click on Image to Enlarge

Around 762 miles so far, with vertical feet roughly matched at 33,730 up and 32,346 down. Use this link if you'd like to zoom around the map.

John stopped tonight near Upper Red Rocks Lake, Montana (44.59311 , -111.72946).