Montana

Wow

With a start like dropping in from Lolo Pass, a night in Lolo Hot Springs, into Missoula to discover another brilliant city with great hospitality and plenty of endless highways and breathtaking vistas.

Years ago on the Scope Grand Canyon Bike Away 2000 one of the bike guides was a girl called Jen.  In the journal I had for that which most participants and organisers signed she said something along the lines of having to bike Montana, land of the big sky.  It's always been a vague ambition of sorts, but not that I ever particularly expected to get here.  So because of that it's been one of many things that I had certain visions and hopes for before I came, I've been blown away really in so many ways.  And as much oif the saddle chat and other chats go, we are so lucky to be seeing it by bike, I couldn't think of a better way

I've mentioned the ride into Missoula, of which the highlight was probably a 7 or so mile stretch at a decent pace galloping past farm houses and ranches.  I had a grand old time in Missoula and was glad to have had the extra day.  There's always more that you could do, but I saw a few of the streets and chatted with a fair few locals, as well as getting to know some of the co-riders a little better.

The group dynamic and organisation is still in the 'forming' stages, with a little storming.  But leaving Missoula pretty late after a rest day we were all riding well together  and at least from my perception, spirits were high.    We were all riding close and I don't recall any navigational errors or stutters   At one point we were passing a school in Bonner, I was trying to get a picture of the flecking shadows we were riding through, but these of course also disguised any obstacles, which Tom in front of me went over and I rear ended him one handed, we were lucky to maintain balance and for me to not take out half of the group.  It unsettled me a little, and reminded me not to get too relaxed into my confident riding. 



A little further down the way There was a nice straight section and I tried to bomb ahead so I could get some good shots of the group riding by.  However I didn't really give myself enough space, but managed to get the camera outta my handlebar bag and snap off a few reasonable snaps.

 

So after this I was catching up to the group and my lungs were smarting from that bout of exertion.  I was happy for the lunch stop at around 25 miles.  We eat well out of the side of the van, and though on the side of the road, the views on the other side are really something.  The sun was really blazing, and there was a fair amount of banter.

I think my flickr stream speaks for the constant beauty of the surroundings.  It is just incessantly breathtaking.  The afternoon ride was very pleasant, the group spread out a little but was navigationally easy and everyone was at least paired up.  I rode with Grant for a bit into Ovando and there were plenty of opportunities for more pictures.  Ovando is great.  Little old town with a population of about 60.  We pretty much had the run of the place and a few of us sat outside the Stray Bullet supping on beers and soaking it all up.  Colleen was imparting local knowledge as a 5th generation resident   Apparently the town is very familiar with cycling tourists as part of the 'ride the divide' race and mountain biking route.





Other highlights in Ovando include: 

• the western style porch,  
• escaping dinner for long enough to watch the sun set over the mountains, 
• a Mad Max II character with a painted souped up car that played cock-a-doodle-do sounds, 
• photo shoots and more banter.   
• Oh and to top it off a campfire under the stars.  I was left to tend the fire as it went down (which was only fair as it had been me that started it and kept it stoked) and I was very happy indeed with the fire and the empty town and the Montana night sky and a little reflection.

This morning I decided to keep a little more thoughtful and silent, try and avoid uneccessary chit chat too much, which led to me being quite solitary.  I imagined myslef a bit as the man with no name rounding up my herd of cyclists.  Dressed all in black, my helmet my cowboy hat, my SPD cleats my spurs, my steed my steed and a banana my cigar.  Flot the first 20 miles I stuck at the back making sure no man was left behind, taking in the scenery and filling my lungs with that clean air as much as possible.  After 20 miles I asked permission of the nearest rider to put the hammer down,  The designated rest stop/muster pint was in Lincoln at 27 miles.  I stomped the first mile, then eased off a bit and back on, and off and on.  Speeding into the town was a great feeling, it's nice to really shred yourself once in a while.  Though it left me a little wrecked for the next section of riding.  I had found myself quite breathless all day for relatively little input (apart from that heavy input where breathlessness would be expected).  Maybe it's all the breathtaking scenery, though to me it feels more likely mild effects of slightly higher than usual altitude.

More scenery, then the hill, one of our highest passes at 6131ft.  I was quite behind at the start, but started to feel stronger as I climbed the hill.  I was hot hard work with the odd thunder clap threatening a downpour.  I was happy for the rest stop at the top where we seemed to remain within a tiny bubble of good weather.  As we finished lunch and posed for a picture the weather finally broke after nearly two weeks.  We suited up and headed down hill towards Helena.  




I kept to the back, thinking my weight and propensity for down hills would mean I end up around the middle.  As I set off I realised my speedo wires had come undone again (this is my bike computer, not swimming gear)  which was a bummer as I wouldn't find out my top speed.  It was a fun one, wind and rain and long bends to ride around.  A mile or two after the worst of the hill Nic had sustained a puncture so I stayed back to ensure no man was left behind.  He's clearly strong enough to get back up with the pack without too much effort, but I'm pretty strict on this whole not leaving team members in the middle of nowhere.  So by the time we were on our way we were a way at the back of the pack.  So we had a bit of fun trying to get as much speed up as possible, even if we both felt a little weary.  Drafting comes in handy at time like this, even if the person you're drafting off as neglected to fit fenders (or mud-guards, depending on your preferred vernacular), and though not the safest method, using the van to ease the ride is also very fun.  At Canuon Creek Rob, Bron and Tom were waiting back having a coffee.  SO we collected ourselves together and headed across more prarie than mountain land into fierce headwinds and dramatic skies. 

Last bit through town was a little uninspiring, more american sprawl, and finishing at a generic motel... I don't mean to sound ungrateful for a place to rest my head.  But I find it strange that after a day where I had designed to be mindful of my surroundings and activity, not crap on or bullshit too much and try and appreciate it all I felt quite creative and uplifted and inspired.  But many of the more insightful parts of this were all lost once I got into the room and logged on to upload pictures and write this burble of memories.  Hopefully on my rest day there will be a little deeper reflection rather than just recounting bit by bit occurrences which though significant to me now, and good to jog those memories in the future they are little more than anecdotal and the crapping on I was trying to avoid all day.  There is some significant work to do in the next few weeks and a need for focus and a sense of purpose.

Oh and no man left behind, unless he's popped back to his room to grab a pen and paper and tidy up when the taxi's arrive to take us into town!!!  Though a stroll and solo pulled pork in Millers Crossing are probably good for the solitary theme of the day.  And 'solo pulled pork' is not a euphemism, it's a sandwich eaten alone in a bar... don't even go down that route!