Montana's given us:
1. Two trips over the Continental Divide
2. 158 miles over two days of the heaviest, most consistent headwinds we've seen so far
3. Just to clarify, that includes a 55 mile ride in which we went down the West side of the Divide and encountered downhills on which we were pedaling vigorously to reach the thrilling speed of 12 mph.
4. One-foot-wide shoulders and double-long logging trucks-- that's a semi-truck, a 17' tall trailer full of trees, and then another trailer attached to THAT one whistling by behind it.
Despite all the above bitching, Bozeman, Helena, Lincoln, and Missoula have all been awesome towns (okay, small cities...). The ride into Bozeman from West Yellowstone was stunning-- 90ish miles up into Yellowstone Park (the only time we got to head through it, unfortunately, due to miscommunication...) and then down along the Gallatin River on rt. 191. For a better concept of just how cool this was, check out this Google map. The whole road was along the Gallatin-- we saw its headwaters up at the top of the pass near West Yellowstone, Idaho, and by the time we hit bottom in Bozeman it had widened and deepened substantially. The narrow, winding road was a bit sketchy, but nothing we hadn't seen before. And it was simply gorgeous. I kept saying "Wow" aloud and under my breath, until I got sick of it and had to switch to "Gosh." And Bozeman was a blast, too-- beautiful religious center on campus and one of the best Co-ops I've ever seen (it almost gave the Brattleboro Co-op a run for the money, and that's saying a lot!...). And, as described below, a great little cafe, where I think Marie and I convinced the barista to do Bike & Build next year. Montana blows me away because it's a gorgeous place full of beautiful, active people, and seems less overrun by tourists than, say, Jackson or West Yellowstone.
The next day's ride, from Bozeman to Helena, was our last, grueling century-- 103ish miles over tough, dry terrain in 100ish heat. Marie and I rode into first lunch--32 miles-- in about an hour and a half. That was great.
And then we tackled Montana's high desert. Or, more accurately, it tackled us.
There was a deadly climb up to a plateau that we managed just fine, but the 10-mile downhill was probably the most difficult bit of cycling I'd ever done. I called it "Teton Pass upside-down" because we were pushing 13 mph at the end of our wits. We ran into Amelia halfway down, stretching, and all teamed up to run a paceline against the wind. When we hit the bottom, we were thrilled to see a "Bunkhouse/Steakhouse/Bar" with a few locals hunkered down inside.
Wilma, our bartender, served up ice-cold fountain sodas for all three of us, and when we'd been adequately revived enough to tell her about our trip she gave 'em to us for free.
1 comment:
Hey Spandex Nephew--
I know that you're too busy now, but keep this in mind for later, and keep getting those shots!
http://www7.nationalgeographic.com/ngm/yourshot/index.html
(Amateur photographers can send in their work to nat'l Geographic and they choose one or two for the magazine each month.)
Love, Aunt Lea.
P.S.--Are you still in love with Montana(can one ice-cold fountain soda undo a high desert of heartbreak?)
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