| DAY
TEN - Rest Day Missoula
I was woken early by yapping dogs. It turns out that there is a
dog show in town and all the canine lovers were hair drying the
Red Setters, curling the poodle’s hair and doing what they
do with a lot of noise at 6.30 am. Oh well, at least I don’t
have to ride today. I sleep-walked over to the shower, then went
to the laundry with two bags of dirty washing then decided to clean
the bike. The back tyre needed changing and after the mud and hill
storms on Lolo Pass it took 3 hours to get it back into shape. The
walls of the back tyre deteriorate because I cannot get 120psi into
it with my pump. I can get it done at a bike shop but I might be
100 miles away when I get a puncture.
Next I caught up with my diary - luckily I made notes in my notebook.
It’s a KOA campsite which caters
mainly for RVs. Most of the RVs have satellite dishes and they are
self contained which means the occupants/owners rarely venture outside.
This campsite has about 15 recumbent bicycles for rent and it was
good to see people of all ages, shapes and sizes enjoying riding
these bikes. Montana is making an effort to be a bike friendly state
- you can download a state map on the internet which shows shoulder
width and traffic density on all the roads in Montana.
At the end of my busy non-cycling day
the dogs returned from the show - the owners discussing the results
as loudly as possible while all the dogs wanted was to get their
make-up off and go for a run. I cooked up some pasta on the gas
stove and wrote some postcards before getting into my sleeping bag.
The Macpac tent is very big - fitting two people comfortably and
is very simple to erect - handy when it’s raining.
 DAY
ELEVEN
My body clock wakes me at 5 am. I lie there for a while - the
Harley Davidson biker in a nearby tent is snoring loudly. Someone’s
tampering with my bicycle. I open the zip quickly and a chipmunk
jumps off the bike and runs away. By the time I leave the park it’s
mid-morning. I have cleaned and lubricated the chain, folded my
washing and had a leisurely breakfast. I cycle to the centre of
Missoula, visit the Post Office, get some food supplies - it’s
Monday so I couldn’t get any supplies yesterday. I cycle around
to the Adventure Cycling office in Pine Street. I guess I didn’t
know what to expect so I was surprised when I saw it was a large
building - a converted church with some extensions built on it.
There are about 25 staff and 40,000 members. I walked inside signed
the guestbook and had a Polaroid mug shot taken to stick on the
noticeboard with shots of other visiting cyclists. I had a problem
downloading the images from my digital camera so Paul, from Adventure
Cycling, said I could go back to his place when he finished work
and use his new iMac.
The Moulton was admired by the staff -
lots of questions - these guys could tell that this is a seriously
good bike.
GREG SIPLE..., one of the founders of
Adventure Cycling in the 70’s asked if I could pose, with
the bike, for a photograph to use in the magazine. When I gave him
my name he said “I’ve heard that name before.”
Once I told him about my ride on a Moulton in 1970 he told me that
I inspired him in the 70’s. He suggested, at that time, that
they use Moultons for a ride from Alaska to Argentine. The ride
took place, but on conventional bikes. He said that, in some way,
I was one of the inspirational forces that started Adventure Cycling.
I cycled to Paul’s house a couple
of miles away. I sat on his wheel while he threw his mountain bike
in and out of traffic, up onto sidewalks and through suburban streets.
I met his wife, Monica, a chiropractor, and their 18 month old daughter.
We downloaded the images and went out to a Thai restaurant with
a visitor from Seattle, Mr Leong. When we returned home it was time
to head down to the ice-cream stall. Mr Leong hadn’t ridden
a bicycle for 50 years - he got on the back of the tandem, their
daughter in the trailer, Monica on a classic upright bike they bought
in Italy and I hopped on Paul’s titanium mountain bike. It
was great to see someone enjoy cycling after 50 years abstinence.(?)!!
The ice-cream stall turned out to be a local meeting place, lots
of bikes and people enjoying themselves. That night I went to sleep
next to the computer in their house, with two large dogs (one a
Siberian Husky) and a kitten for company. My sleep was interrupted
every half hour or so by the kitten jumping on my head.
DAY TWELVE
Paul went on a ride across Alaska with others for two weeks
- their story appeared in National Geographic. He visited Far North
Queensland a few years ago as part of the USA eco-challenge team.
I packed my bags and cycled with Paul
into town - he went off to work and I had a drink and muffin at
“Butterfly Herbs” an old store with jars full of herbs
from floor to ceiling.
I headed out of town (after 2 rest days
instead of one) on the road to Lolo. I had already been down this
road in the dark after that memorable experience on Lolo Pass. I
head out on Highway 93 bound for the area at the bottom of Chief
Joseph Pass (7,241 ft) - about 90 miles. There’s a bike trail
for about 8 miles from Lolo to Florence. The road follows the Bitteroot
River through a wide valley - snow peaked mountains about 10 km
away on each side. It’s a hot day, the road has a wide shoulder
so I can ignore the traffic. My saddle feels better - some Proofide
and tensioning has tightened the brooks so that the heavy duty riding
that lies ahead will be more comfortable. I call into the bike shop
in Hamilton to get some brake blocks but cannot believe the price
- they must be gold plated. I cycle on to Darby and the Scenery
improves - more trees and log homes.
I meet a fisherman who once caught a Black
Marlin off the coast of Cairns - he loved Australia and I’m
reminded of home. “I’m not sure how I ended up in Montana”,
he sighed wistfully, “probably the big sky and the rainbow
trout!”
Heading towards Darby the valley narrows
and the river flows faster, the mountains on each side rise to about
9,000 ft. This town has more of mountain character in contrast to
the wide main street, take-away food, neon sign places that have
become familiar on my journey. Soulless (soul-less!) with acres
of parking lots and tasteless architecture. I buy a loaf of bread,
some tomatoes and cheese and sit in the park eating sandwiches and
feeding the chipmunks. My dilemma is trying to work out how much
food I need to carry between towns - I make up some sandwiches for
tomorrow - the ride up Chief Joseph Pass and across the Big Hole
Valley to Dillon - another 100 mile day.
By the time I get to Sula, 20 miles on,
it’s getting late. Just a few houses in this place so I press
on, as the sun disappears behind the mountains. The road is narrow
and I start to climb then I discover major roadwork for 8 miles
- heavy machinery and the detour has a very rough surface, large
stones and potholes. As the darkness falls I see a tent symbol on
a sign and half an hour later my tent is set up under a tree next
to the river.
 DAY
THIRTEEN
Up at 5.30am I shake the dew off the flysheet and pack up. Instead
of leaving straight away I explore along the river. I find deer
footprints in the sand and follow a track up the hillside. An old
shovel, rusted out buckets and tools are scattered around a clearing
- it looks like an abandoned prospector’s camp. I fossick
around, find an old coin and head back to the bike. The road is
fairly steep and winds up the mountainside to Lost Trail Pass and
on to Chief Joseph Pass (7,241 ft). The road surface is new and
there’s a wide shoulder to give the logging trucks plenty
of room to pass. It’s 28 miles from here to Wisdom (pop 160)
the road crosses marshy grassland past the Big Hole Battlefield
monument - treeless landscape with views of the road disappearing
5 kilometres away.
When I arrived at Wisdom the mosquitoes
were all over me probably about 200 ready to take my book! I went
into the store and covered my arms and legs with repellent. “The
midges are only here in the summer” a lady said as I paid
for a drink. From here to Jackson was slow progress with a headwind
- the landscape still the same and the mosquitoes still attacking.
I cycled through Jackson, just a few buildings,
and over the hills in the distance a storm was brewing. I certainly
didn’t feel like getting a soaking as it is 48 miles without
a town and two passes before Dillon. The wind was strong and I had
to pedal down hill and struggle up.
It was dark when I arrived in Dillon.
I was wet, cold and tired. An hour later I was in my sleeping bag
after a hot shower and a cup of soup at the KOA campsite.
DAY FOURTEEN
Today I left Dillon with a tailwind, the road was flat and I
made good progress to Twin Bridges 26 miles away. The day became
hot, I stopped and covered my arms and legs with sun cream - this
was Australian weather.
 I
cycled down a valley on Hwy 287 through Sheridan and Alder. From
here the scenery changes from open farmland to rocky, dry hills
- gold mining country. The small towns of Nevada City and Virginia
City (pop. about 200) are authentic old western town which have
become a tourist attraction. Saloons, music halls, sheriff’s
office, all in rustic timber with signs telling the stories of hangings,
murder and robbery in this old gold mining area.
From here there’s a very steep climb
for 4 miles. I struggled in the heat and thought about the weight
I was carrying - perhaps I could go ‘credit card cycling’
instead of carrying all this camping gear!
When I reached the pass the view is incredible
- the Madison Valley down below and the highest mountains in Montana
as a backdrop. I can see the road all the way down to Ennis 10 miles
away - and it’s all downhill! I jump back on the bike and
fly - my computer registering the highest speed on the trip - 71
kph. In no time I was in Ennis with a grin from ear to ear! It was
late in the day after I had something to eat and I decided to head
for Cameron - 11 miles away. A strong headwind and storm ahead gave
me some doubts about my decision but I arrived dry and tired after
a long day. Cameron is the local bar and store with camping facilities
out back. After a shower I had a beer with the local cowboys in
the bar before going to sleep with loud country music and voices
continuing on until the bar closed at 2.00 am.
DAY FIFTEEN
I got up at 5.30 am and at 7 am was on the road again. The headwind
was very strong and every mile was hard work. The battle with the
invisible enemy lasted all day - pedalling down steep hills just
to make progress. For 30 miles there is nothing - some ranches and
fairly and cattle country in the valley. The road follows the Madison
River - world famous for trout fishing. The scenery begins to change,
trees appear and the ground seems more fertile. After hours of battling
a headwind I call into a fishing lodge/store. Inside is everything
a serious trout fisherman needs - hats, boots, jackets, rods, flies
- you name it. I get a drink and talk trout fishing. “Is it
really true that you can tickle a trout?” The storekeeper
tells me it’s true - at certain times of the year you can
pull them out with your hands. He has a workshop in the corner where
boxes of hooks and feathers are kept. He shows me part of his collection
of feathers - mostly from poultry. The variety of colours and textures
is astounding. “Do you know”, he said ”genetic
engineers have produced chickens with legs 3 inches longer so their
tail feathers don’t touch the ground specifically for fly
fisherman.” What an amazing world we live in!
As I head towards Quake Lake the scenery
becomes more interesting. Hills close in on each side. There’s
an option to take a shorter route down Highway 87 but I head on
up the hill - the scenic ride. This is an area where a large earthquake
formed a lake in the 1950’s; unfortunately campers were buried
alive. I look in on the Quake Visitors Centre overlooking the water
and try to imagine the drama in this valley four decades ago. I
cycle on past Hebgen Dam and the road that skirts the edge of Hebgen
Lake. From here I can see the mountains of Wyoming and I’m
excited about the ride through Yellowstone Park tomorrow.  But
the headwind is relentless along the lakeside. Houses huddle along
the water’s edge, there’s a small jetty with boats -
although the lake is only 10 miles long it’s as though I’m
by the sea once more. At the lake’s end the road turns south
and heads 8 miles through a forest to West Yellowstone. The town
is alive with tourists and I head for the information centre. Here
I get free maps, information on camp sites and pay my $10 entry
fee into Yellowstone Park. I choose the Grizzly Bear Campsite because
it’s closest to town. When I get there it’s RV city
- hundreds of them - with a small area set aside for tents. Not
my sort of place but I’m too tired to go somewhere else. I
need a shower, something to eat and sleep.
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