Day 12 – Helena to White Sulphur Springs, Montana

Drizzle. That would be the quickest way to summarise today. It had to happen sooner or later. I have experienced nothing but sunshine, almost continuously, since I arrived in North America on 11th June. So a grey, cool, cloudy day this morning in Helena was not an unwelcome sight. The precipitation held off all morning while I explored this modest and really quite pleasant capital city. There was even time for breakfast at an hour and in an establishment where I actually felt like eating, which I cannot say about every day so far.

The main business street through downtown – Last Chance Gulch – exists because of a lucky find by gold prospectors, who are immortalised in the street art. The street itself has been restyled so it meanders like a river, with flower beds creating the curves. It really works. Here I found a trendy little open cafe offering an eclectic breakfast menu. It was a pleasant change from the plates of eggs, sausage patties and piles of hash browns or pancakes that usually seem to be the best thing on offer. I had proper leaf tea in a tea pot and everything, although even in this cool cafe they had no actual milk to offer me – only half and half! I know that I am the problem; but of the things (rather than the people) I have always missed most while travelling abroad, a really good cup of tea, especially in the morning, is top of my list.

The other weird thing is that everywhere I went today wanted only cash. Luckily I found a handy drive-in ATM that suited my bike very well. So I got away with it. But those things apart I had a lovely morning in Helena, set off with a quick visit to the State Capitol Building, which stands far apart from downtown on a high bluff overlooking Montana, as I suppose it should. It was open and there was no one around so I enjoyed the grand staircase, very well appointed men’s room, and stunning view up into the dome, all alone

Outside I met Sachin, who was trying out a new, nomadic working life in Montana, after years on Wall Street and then the pressure of running his own business in Southern California. He said he didn’t want to die in the same place he was born. Hopefully that will be far into the future, and in the meantime it seemed as if Montana was certainly offering a new kind of living.

Then it was time to cycle. The main route east was a busy road – route 12 again – and for 33 miles I had to stay firmly in the wide shoulder as traffic whizzed past me. The drizzle soon set in. It was occasional-wipe setting weather for your windscreen wipers; but over time the road and I both got damp. An unexpected chance to stop for lunch came after 20 miles and I happily took it. I chose a hot dog with fries. The picture will show you what that turned out to be!

Like many places in these parts of America, the decor consisted principally of dead, stuffed animals. I was next to a large bear wearing a baseball cap. It was close to the door to the Ladies’ and several times young girls almost jumped out of their skins as they emerged unprepared for this grizzly encounter. The woman at the table next to me sat right underneath a mouse’s head and neck, with full antlers. It dwarfed her and it must have been a rather strange dining experience. Personally, I prefer my wildlife alive.

Back outside the drizzle continued. I crossed the Missouri River, still quite a small channel heading north away from Wyoming at this point. I think we will be seeing each other again in a week or so. The only town of the day, Townsend, finally appeared. I stopped to buy food ahead, since tomorrow will be a very long day with an early start and many empty miles. The Full Belli-Deli obliged and I set off again, turning left along Townsend’s Main Street, with its beautiful murals, while apparently just about everyone else went straight on towards the Interstate. Which suited me well, since I had 42 more miles ahead of me on an almost empty road.

For an hour, it was dry and the cloud began to lift. I enjoyed that part. Then the drizzle returned and as I climbed higher it became heavier to the point that, frankly, you would call it rain. I reached a high plateau in the gloom and it went on for miles. It felt like I was crossing the wilds of Northumberland on a wet day. But after I crossed the highest point the road became long and arrow straight. For about 18 miles I barely left top gear and stayed above 20mph almost all the way to White Sulphur Springs. Amazing and just what I needed.

When I arrived, it was much smaller than I expected. I have made myself at home in a cosy Airbnb chalet; but I must be riding at 6am to reach my next night’s accommodation, 127 miles away. That could be a tough one. Lunch will be after 59 miles. There’s not much else to stop for. It could be damp again first thing; but hopefully sunny in the afternoon. At least I get to use more of the clothes I have been carrying all these miles!

And so, rather urgently, to bed!