I feel no need to rush on such a beautiful morning as this. I'm usually up and about by 6 or 6:30, but I slept in today until almost 8. Boy, it sure felt good!
This is just right. Warm, sunny, with a breeze out of the West; a perfect day for riding East. I made my usual breakfast of oatmeal and finished it off with some grubb'in yogurt. I noticed that I'm eating more as this adventure unfolds. I suppose my body is getting with the routine at last.
I probably won't hit the road until late so I don't know if I'll make it the 66 miles to Glasgow, I might settle for Hinsdale, just 33 miles from here.
I'm tired of talking about the wind and I know you're tired of hearing about it. Let's just say today is supposed to be the last of the headwinds. I won't miss them a bit.
The morning started out sunny and warm with just a hint of an Easterly breeze. I was on the road a little before 9 then around 10 I broke out the solar panel, plugged it into the power pack and plugged my iPad into that. I'd rented a movie, Contagion, (Matt Damon, Laurence Fishburn, and by the way, Matt Damon owes me 4.99$) from the iTunes store and watched it in my tent the night before in Harlem, which had used a lot of precious juice.
My goal for the day was modest; a 30 mile jaunt to the little town of Dodson. The idea was to limit the mileage on account of the predicted 15 mph headwinds. Damn, there I go again! Anyway, I figured I'd keep it cool. My Adventure Cycling map promised a campground and a B&B at Dodson. "Turn South on Route 204 for .7 mile, then take Stage Road to campground." Yeah, sure.
I roamed up and down country roads, past dilapidated structures, doublwide mobile homes with toppled satellite dishes, fields of rusted cars, all seeming oddly out of place in this magnificent setting. As I've travelled East the countryside has been taking on a new character. The treeless scablands of sage and creosote have given way to a more lush surrounding.
Ageless Oaks and ancient Elms bunch greedily in clumps along the banks of the meandering Milk River. Where just a few days ago the land struggled to support a few indigenous dry grasses, now the hills are green and teeming with life of all sorts. Streams seem to gush out of every hollow.
I fooled around looking for the campground for half an hour, but no go. I'm sure it's there somewhere, but I couldn't find it. There was nothing for it but to make a run for Malta, another 17 miles East.
Back on Highway 2, I pulled over in a wide spot near a small creek and made a cheese sandwich. As I sat munching my lunch, pondering The Meaning Of Life, The Universe And Everything, I was startled out of my reverie by the roar of an unruffled engine. I jumped up and spun around in time to see a homemade 4 wheeled bodyless contraption hurtle down one side of the creek bank, splash through the muddy water and careen up the other side tipping as it did onto 2 wheels and nearly dislodging it's driver and passenger: a wild-eyed half-naked hillbilly and a spotted, 3-legged dog.
The hillbilly somehow righted the jitney, the dog gave me a haughty look, then they sped from sight behind a small hillock.
I didn't have time to get my camera out so you're just going to have to trust me on this one.
05/29/2012
May 29, 2012.
Just a quick note. I made it to Malta, Montana today. I'm sitting in a Dairy Queen eating a fish sandwich, and am going to find a place to camp tonight.
All is well, I made 50 miles today. I feel pretty good though I'm a bit tired. I'll be glad to get to bed tonight.
Today turned out groovy but it didn't start that way. I got up early and went downstairs for the continental breakfast. I haven't been eating enough on this trip, so I resolved to pig out this morning; I would make a true spectacle of myself. Alas, I was only able to get down one waffle, a glass of orange juice, half a cinnamon roll and a cup of tea.
At breakfast on the previous morning, I'd observed the copious amounts of eggs, sausages, waffles, toast, cereal and coffee my fellow diners ingested and I was determined this morning to hold my own, but compared to these world class eaters, I was an amateur. This was the big leagues and I was just plain out classed.
I went back to my room to pack and wait out the rain. The weather report had promised the winter storm warning would be lifted by 9 am, but now the TV weatherman was telling me it would be noon before it would be prudent for me to travel.
I sat in bed and watched an old Clint Eastwood movie: the one where he whips a ragtag group of marines into a first class fighting machine. "I eat barbed wire and piss napalm," he tells his recruits. Gotta love Clint.
Around 11:30, just as Gunny Highway's (Clint's character) boys were about to get their first taste of combat, I noticed that the rain had let up. I hurried downstairs, loaded up my bike and with a good strong tailwind covered the 40 miles to Harlem, Montana in a little under 4 hours.
The sun even came out for a while.
I'm camped on a lawn behind the Harlem city hall. A rain squall blows through now and then, but I've got the hatches battened down and my perimeter secured.
After a day and a half of resting and gorging it's time for me to continue my trip east. I've been keeping my eye on the weather forecast, and meteorologists have been calling for an improvement today. When I checked again this morning it indicated the possibility of snow up until about noon. That's not good, but there're some really good winds out of the West which will make riding lot easier.
I think I'll go down to the restaurant, have some breakfast, and ponder this strange situation. Right now I'm thinking I'll ask for a late checkout, get out of here about noon when the weather is really starting to improve and just get as far as I can. I'm learning that discretion is the better part of valor.
I walked up into the mountains above my campsite in Shelby, Montana. There was a storm coming creating these incredible tableaux so I took some quick photos then ran for cover.
This is a small brick building in the process of being demolished in the little town of Hingham, Montana. It's the only really permit looking building in the little town so it's kind of surprising that they're tearing it down.
Today was a very hairy day. Think of the strongest wind you've ever experienced, then triple it. Now imagine riding a bicycle headlong into that wind while being doused with buckets of icy cold water. That's sort of what today was like.
The weather was really bad. And I don't mean just regular bad I mean very bad. There were raindrops the size of Tater Totts. They actually hurt when they hit you.
This is the kind of weather they typically get in the fall or very early spring or even late winter. I talked to several old-timers who have lived in this area for many years, and they just looked up at the sky, shook their heads, and said, "Never saw it do this before."
I knew it was going to be tough. I had been battling headwinds for the past two days, and it was almost a week since I'd taken a rest day. I was getting tired. I'd been sleeping okay but I just couldn't get enough to eat. I would eat and eat until I was full then stuff myself some more. But no matter how much I gobbled up it never seemed to provide enough energy for me to keep from bonking.
There were places this morning where the wind blew so hard that I was physically unable to ride the bicycle. Several times I would have to get off and walk along side, pushing it up even the slightest hill. I believe I did this for more than 5 miles today.
It was brutal.
Along about noon, just as I had pulled off the side of the road and was seeking shelter beside some bushes, a black pickup slowed and stopped next to me. The passenger side window rolled down by electric power. I heard him before I saw him. "You okay out there, or do you need a ride?"
It was one of those big trucks, you know, really high off the ground. I had to reach up and grab the windowsill then pull myself up so I was standing on the running board to see inside the truck. I was so tired. It felt like a class 5.9 rockclimbing move.
"Man do I ever."
"Well, throw your bike in the back and get on up here."
The inside of the truck felt to me like a vacation in Tahiti. It was warm and dry and the only wind was a warm breeze wafting from the heater vents.
Chad was his name. He and his elder brother and his father grow wheat in the area. They have about 140,000 acres planted this season. The reason he happened along was that his father-in-law saw me riding earlier and mentioned it to Chad. They got to talking and Chad thought it might be a good idea to come out and check to make sure I was okay. I thought that was pretty cool. Chad and his dad In law are pretty cool people.
When he learned that I needed to buy a tube, he drove me right up to the bicycle shop, then dropped me and my bicycle off at a motel.
I'll be here tonight, Saturday night and tomorrow, Sunday night. The weather is supposed to get better Tuesday but I think that if it's even halfway decent, without too much of a headwind, I will leave here Monday midday.
I've decided to bag the long haul to Havre today and just pedal to Hingham, 22 miles east. I'll make Havre tomorrow, then rest there on Saturday. I might even take in a movie!
