Category: Montana

Another big day today. I tried really hard to make an early start. I was up at 6.30am. I got a takeaway breakfast from the cafe next door. But somehow I didn’t convert that into early, cooler miles. Perhaps 3 days running was just asking too much of me. But still, I got a good morning’s ride in before the real heat kicked in. My target for lunch was the only proper place I would see along the way today, Miles City. And I arrived there by 11.30am, which is early for lunch. That was 45 miles out of a 125 mile day in the bag, so just the 80 or so left to get to my destination, Baker, for the afternoon. With nothing in between to stop for. Nada. Zilch. Really, there is nothing out there. I realise this is a recurring theme (and the next couple of days look marginally better); but it was once again the main feature of the day. And did I mention the heat? It was hot. A little more humid, too, so more sweating.

I was worried about having enough water with me for the afternoon. I think I had more than 5 litres on board leaving Miles City, and it’s heavy! But the idea of running out is not attractive. As it turned out, I was fine. But better that way round. You get used to your drinks being warm, and as long as they are wet, it’s not an issue.

The first 25 miles out of Forsyth were along what seems to be known as Frontage Roads, that is to say a road that runs parallel to the interstate Freeway; but at a safe distance from the fast moving traffic. I had the Frontage road to myself; but eventually it disappeared, forcing me onto the Interstate freeway itself, which felt wrong but is apparently fine out here. This particular stretch of I94 heads into North Dakota (Bismarck, the next biggish place was 303 miles away!) and it wasn’t actually very busy. Nevertheless I stuck carefully to the wide shoulder for 20 miles until the Miles City junction arrived. Job done.

Miles City was actually quite big and important feeling, all things considered, and had an attractive historic central area with a few blocks of old, taller brick buildings around 100 years old. I saw my first traffic lights since Helena and found a pleasant little cafe for lunch in a craft shop. On their menu was a baked potato, and I jumped at the chance. I’m getting a little weary of burgers, pizza and sandwiches – all very meat heavy – and starting to crave vegetables, which are conspicuous by their absence in most of the dishes I have been served recently. It’s odd but most of the menus I have seen don’t even include a pasta dish. It’s wings and baskets and grilled meat and fries all the way. Maybe a meat heavy salad or two. I know I’m not in the most cosmopolitan part of America. It would just be nice to see something different.

Anyway, I set out on route 12 and found it a pleasant cycling experience. There was a little more traffic than yesterday; but I had the road mostly to myself. The countryside was more green and undulating than yesterday and you could see for miles ahead. There were a few long climbs, at a gentle gradient, and a few epic long descents that lasted several miles and felt like free miles.

One by one, the miles ticked away. Each mile is marked by a green sign at the side of the road, so you can accurately gauge your progress. In the main, I have found this to be motivating. It leads to a lot of mental arithmetic, which passes the time. I had the wind behind me again today, so progress was decent. I have invented a game that also keeps me occupied. It involves guessing where the next mileage sign will appear in the long stretch of road ahead. I have got pretty good at judging how far a mile is.

Otherwise, the time just passes slowly by. I talk to myself most of the time. There is always a song in my head. Sometimes the landscape diverts my attention. Sometimes the traffic keeps me occupied, if there is any. I stop every few miles for a drink or a snack and maybe to take a photo. Usually I do that after I have climbed a big hill or feel I deserve a reward. Today, while I was taking in the view, someone slowed to a stop to ask if I was OK. That is a first. It was in the middle of nowhere, mind you. There aren’t too many cyclists out here. That said, weirdly, I saw three cyclists today and they were all on recumbent bikes!

I was slightly inaccurate in suggesting there was absolutely nothing before l reached Baker. Twelve miles before is the very small community of Plevna, where the railway joins the road. There is no shop. The only thing to stop for was a decent sized bar, hard to identify from outside unless you knew it was there. I stopped and greedily consumed a root beer. And, here’s a nice surprise. In this generally quite expensive country, it cost me all of $1.50.

Baker finally came into view and by 6pm I was checking in to my motel, which – thrillingly- offered a spa pool. I didn’t need a second invitation. Somehow I averaged above 16mph for the whole 125 miles today, despite more than 4,000ft of ascent. Quite a surprise. But a nice one. There isn’t much to Baker. It has a cross roads and a stop light and the first gas station for 82 miles. The train line runs through town, so you see and hear the freight trains. There are grain silos. There’s a grocery store and a few bars and a medical centre. But after such a long journey to get here, it is a little underwhelming.

Tomorrow should be little less intensive. I have covered 355 largely empty miles of Montana over the last three days and I am ready for a new state. Bring on North Dakota! I’m nearly there.

Another day, another huge empty space to cycle across. This is far from the end of this daily ritual; but today’s ride was particularly empty, even by recent standards. Knowing what lay ahead, I took the wise precaution of having three breakfasts. My first (fruit, yoghurt and muesli) was kindly provided by Sabrina, my host in Roundup, before she left for work at 6.30am, leaving me sitting on her back porch. Second breakfast (2 huge pancakes and maple syrup) came at the Backporch cafe in town, since it was open at 7am and I needed to be ready for the miles ahead. Then I used up some of those calories by riding the first third of the 102 miles facing me.

It was actually great cycling because I had the wind at my back and an essentially traffic-free road through undulating prairie and low, rocky bluffs. As a couple of hours of cycling goes, this was a lot of fun. Eventually I reached the small “town” of Melstone, which was bigger than I was expecting, because I was expecting a gas station. It boasts a bar and a cafe, post office, mercantile (the local word for general store, it seems) and not a few houses. A rare sight in these parts. I was the only customer in the cafe and a jolly man with a walrus moustache asked me what he could con me for. I went for the ham omelette. OMG. I took a photo and will include it here so you can see the extent of the challenge I faced. It beat me; but only just. The walrus man told me they get a couple of cyclists a week at least, which he seemed to think was a lot.

And then there was nothing but a long, mostly very straight road for the next 66 miles. There were a couple of dots on the map; but nothing to stop for. Two of the dots seemed to consist of a US Post Office in the middle of nowhere, perhaps with a few nearby ranches. The third, Vananda, is a ghost town. There was once a railway that followed this route (between 1847 and 1980 when it was abandoned, although there is not much left to see) and this would once have been a water stop. The old schoolhouse still stands hauntingly against the arid landscape, with just a couple of other buildings for company. Good thing I wasn’t banking on a refreshment stop here.

My destination today, Forsyth, is a proper place, however, with lots of active rail lines and a junction on the Interstate highway, which I will be cycling alongside tomorrow for a while. You can do that here, I was surprised to learn, although I will be keeping it to a minimum. Forsyth’s Main Street is a great example of old America. Many of the large brick hotels, including the one I am staying in, still appear to function and retain their original turn of the century signs. There is even an active movie theatre here. It has managed to retain a touch of its former style, and I like it, despite the temperature reaching 99F late this afternoon. I cooled off with a root beer float (ice cream with root beer poured over it in a glass) and that made everything OK!

Another big day tomorrow – bigger than today – and hopefully my last in Montana before I reach the next state. There’s nothing much to hang around for, so I’m pushing ahead while the wind is at my back. It certainly helped me today. Somehow I rode 102 miles at average speed of 16.5 mph. More of that would be welcome.

Today was long – 128 miles long – but I got through it successfully despite a very mixed bag of weather. The morning was grey and drizzly again. It was only light enough to set out about 6.30am and it was a case of wearing all my waterproof clothes, putting my head down, and getting the miles behind me. It was pretty empty in every sense. This first part was the hilliest; but after a couple of hours and 750 feet of ascent, I peaked at 5,752 feet and began a long, gradual descent that basically continued all day, on and off, ending 128 miles later at about 3,200 feet. Which certainly helped. Somehow I managed an average speed over all that distance on a loaded bike of 13.7 mph. That’s not too shabby.

I left the grey mountains behind and set out across a more prairie-like landscape, with very few trees and low, grassy bluffs either side. This carried on for 59 miles until, eventually, I reached the small town of Harlowton, which promised much and delivered little. It seemed a bit stuck in the past, trying to cling onto a way of life that’s no longer sustainable. It had a historic Main Street but many of the buildings stood empty, or had even fallen down. It was a sad sight and must once have looked very different. I struggled to find anywhere to get brunch, even after all this distance, and settled in the end for a pizza and a hot chocolate in a gas station / casino on the edge of town. The people I saw mostly looked pretty downtrodden. Harlowton did have a nice open air swimming pool, which had people swimming in it despite the rain. And an impressive school football field in a natural bowl. But those were about the only rays of sunshine I noticed.

Speaking of which, around noon it became dry and – a couple of hours later – even a bit sunny. I peeled off my waterproof trousers, gloves and jacket as soon as they were dry and enjoyed the rest of the day in relative warmth and, at times, genuine sunshine. It was another thirty miles to the next small settlement of note, Ryegate. It was so small, I almost missed it. But here there was a cafe! A handwritten sign in the window said it would be closing at 2pm. It was currently 1.45pm and the place was empty. Yikes! Inside, however, I found that all was well. A 3-part meal then unfolded with soup and a sandwich, followed by the most delicious huckleberry smoothie. And that made the prospect of the final 37 miles to Roundup, along more long, very straight roads, seem alright.

I was expected there by my second Warm Showers host around 6pm. I thought I would beat that by half an hour, even allowing time for a root beer stop at the lonely gas station on the corner of a road junction another 17 miles away. Out here, you don’t miss out on any such opportunity. The man inside was busy swatting flies. He said they have been bad this year because it has been unusually damp, a sentiment as heard from several different people today.

Almost all of the traffic, which seemed to have increased since Harlowton, turned off route 12 at this point, which was lucky because the broad shoulder I had been using out of an abundance of caution, also disappeared. I was enjoying the empty highway when suddenly, and for no apparent reason, my back tyre went flat. It was my first puncture in over a thousand miles of cycling in the USA, and I had no choice but to pull over onto the grass verge to fix it. This proved quite an exercise because, after removing my bags and the back wheel, I found it close to impossible to remove the tyre from the wheel rims. The tyres were newly fitted by the kind people at Alpkit before my bike was shipped over to America; but were the same kind that came with the bike. I wondered if this was something to with pressure from flying in the aircraft hold. Who knows. Anyway, with a lot of patience, strength and a little ingenuity, I got the job done and was able to resume my journey. And barely a car passed me the whole time.

All of which meant that I was on time, rather than early, for my Warm Showers appointment. Sabrina, my host, outdid herself and cooked dinner for us both, which I was not expecting. And now as I sit on her back porch at 9pm, the weather is putting on quite a show. There is a beautiful, bright, thin crescent moon away to the west, where the sky is not quite dark. To my right are large, heavy clouds and we just had the most enormous clap of thunder very near by. It is raining gently. I hope by tomorrow that will be gone.

Sabrina (an ex-marine with a past working in disaster zones) seems now to have one paid and several other voluntary jobs. She typically rises at 4am and leaves the house for work by 6.30am latest. I have promised to be ready to leave the house, too. I suppose it’s a good thing, given that I have another 101 miles of empty space to cross. But my internal clock has other thoughts.

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!

A funny thing happened today: I put on a second layer. I haven’t done that in weeks, or even thought about it. But today, at the top of the MacDonald Pass, 6,325 feet above sea level, it seemed sensible to put on a thin gilet, and I’m glad I did. What followed was 15 miles of continuous descent at speed, in windy conditions, under threatening clouds. According to Strava I was above 30 mph for 5 miles and I touched 39mph. The road was wide, the views were long and it was quite exhilarating. After that, I found my motel in downtown Helena, Montana’s small state capital, just as the heavens opened and the sky rang with thunder. I haven’t seen rain for weeks either.

These were the highlights of a day that began slowly with a long breakfast in the Straybullet Cafe in Ovando. That was followed by 43 miles of sunny but much cooler cycling through wide open grassland, with mountains never too far away, until I reached the next diminutive settlement, Avon, at the junction with my old friend route 12, as well as some railway tracks. It was all enjoyable, but also about 3.5 hours of not much new to mention.

I did encounter another cyclist who crossed over to chat. He was pulling a trailer in which sat a dog, Mona, wearing ski goggles. They are riding the Continental Divide bike route that, apparently, also passes through Ovando, which explains the bike sculpture outside the cafe. I was told that Mona has to walk up the hills and is usually quicker.

I also paused for refreshment by the side of a reservoir at one point and was surprised to see large numbers of cormorants and pelicans. We are a long way inland. But it broke the pleasant monotony of big skies, ranches, trees and hills.

Avon provided a family run cafe, and I knew better than to ride past. This was lunch, albeit a little late. I had Hobo soup. Even the waiter didn’t know what was in it; but we agreed that it contained pork and I enjoyed it. Better still was the blueberry pie and ice cream that followed. It was an odd clientele. One man at an adjacent table offered to tow me up MacDonald Pass. He also said I was going over “the easy way” and now I know what he meant. My whole day started and finished at about the same altitude: roughly 4,000 feet, but I built up to the pass over most of the day heading east, and then went all the way back down again in 15 miles. It was still a slog getting up to the top though.

MacDonald Pass, but the way, has nothing to do with fast food restaurants. Indeed the summit was bare. Alexander “Red” MacDonald was hired to manage the toll road in 1870 and the pass took his name. Also near here, in 1911, Cromwell Dixon, the “Bird Boy”, won a prize of $10,000 for becoming the first American aviator to fly over the Continental Divide. Sadly he never enjoyed it. He died two days later when his bi-plane crashed at the Inland Empire Fair in Spokane!

When the rain stopped I ventured out into downtown Helena. It seems like an interesting little city with a few nice bars and cafes and a pedestrian friendly centre. I’ll see a bit more of it in the morning when I find some breakfast before I head on across the empty spaces of this vast state.

What a bizarre day I had today. It began with a severe bout of toothache, which woke me up in the small hours and required painkillers to contain. Since it was Friday and I was about to head into the middle of nowhere at all, I decided it would be wise to get some medical advice. Incredibly, 90 minutes later, I was sitting in a dentist’s chair being X-rayed. How’s that for prompt service?

To cut a long story short, I had an infection that had flared up and I was prescribed antibiotics by a very nice dentist who is also a cyclist. So we chatted a bit about my trip and the realities of cycling in Montana. Which, so far, for me, has been a very positive experience. I picked up my prescription from the huge supermarket-cum-pharmacy over the road from my motel in Missoula, still a little bemused by the whole experience. How did that all happen so fast? And of course, since I went to the dentist I have experienced no further symptoms. Typical. But better safe than sorry.

Having not eaten, I grabbed brunch at the Starbucks implant in the supermarket while I waited for my prescription. I also took the opportunity to change into cycling clothes in their restroom, where the sound system was absolutely superb. The supermarket was playing some decent tracks (Sting, KT Tunstall, Madness, and other songs that had actual tunes) rather than the usual dross you get most places these days. But in the bathroom I was treated to Robbie Williams singing Angels, and I am willing to admit that I joined in. Such was my feeling of exhuberance after this morning’s unlikely events.

And so into the city centre, a few blocks away, where I paid a visit to the national headquarters of the Adventure Cycling Association. This was a complete coincidence. I had heard a little from other American cyclists about this charitable organisation; but had no idea they were based here in Missoula. Until now, that is, and I am so pleased I made the effort to call in. Geoff, who was front of shop, was a delight to chat to and showed me a map of the highways of Montana that indicates the available width of shoulder for cyclists. Together we came up with a plan for how I might cross this huge state from west to east. Then I had my photo taken with a snazzy modern Polaroid camera and was added to their wall of cyclists. Brilliant!

Look hard, on light blue card left of the gap, 5 rows from bottom.

Then it was time to fuel up for my afternoon ride. I had 55 miles to cycle to the small “town” of Ovando (population about 50), and the only place serving food there stopped at 8pm. So, on Geoff’s advice, I stopped off first around the corner at Worden’s, who attract a cool clientele and do a wicked sandwich. There were several young cyclists there to chat with, and I could happily have stayed longer; but they had work and I had cycling to take us in different directions, so off I went.

Worden’s finest

Missoula is not a huge place, and it’s downtown is not in the middle, so you leave it behind surprisingly quickly along bike-friendly routes. Soon I was in the mountains, following river valleys out into the American west. The weather today, thank goodness, was significantly cooler and cloudier than the last several days, and what a difference that made. I found it easy going on a broad shoulder, following Montana route 200 through ranch land with dark mountains as an ever-present backdrop. I stopped just once, at a handily placed gas station/country store/bar/casino, but otherwise kept riding smoothly along, enjoying a following breeze and long sections of downhill. This was big country.

Montana skies

Just when I was ready for the day to end, I reached Ovando. What a place! It isn’t big; but it lacks nothing in character. The main buildings, including where I am staying, are wooden and look unchanged in many years. I am also deep in Trump country here, if the regular signs are anything to go by.

NOT FAKE – This photo has not been altered in any way

I had a great time over dinner with two fellow guests at the Ovando Inn, Jereme and his daughter Haley, who are here for a fishing trip. Jereme works for Diagio and knows his way around the world of whisky. They were both newish to a life in Montana having previously lived in Idaho and Washington, and were getting to know what life was like as an “outsider”. It was a pleasant evening and great to cross paths.

Tomorrow I am heading over mountains to Helena, the state capital. Then I am really moving out into the empty spaces. At least the heat has relented. I needed that.

Home for tonight

I promised myself a relatively short day today and I was glad of the chance to rest and reset. Route 12 took me all the way into Missoula and the first 30 miles were downhill. It was like yesterday in reverse, following the smaller Lolo Creek on its way down through high, forested mountains. The road was straighter and I think a little steeper; but there was a gentle breeze in my face today so effort was still expended.

This side of the mountains, in Montana, the valley was broader and there were more farms, ranches and settlements generally, with cows and horses in the fields that lined the valley floor. The mountain sides showed signs in several places of large forest fires, with blackened trunks of pine trees punctuating the otherwise bare hills. These areas went on for miles at a time, and it was a sad sight. It takes a very long time for them to regenerate.

Then, suddenly, at the bottom of a long, straight downhill section, I reached a road junction with all sorts of traffic, gas stations, fast food and, according to the signs, a lot of casinos. This was Lolo. I won’t call it pretty. But it provided me with a late breakfast, which I needed quite badly.

Lolo

The rest of the way into downtown Missoula, perhaps ten miles, I was able to follow a cycle path. Initially this simply followed the busy dual carriageway at a safe distance; but then it turned into a neat urban bike path that followed the line of a railway right down to the riverbank in the city centre. Despite the oppressive heat, a few other people were out on bikes and I got a nice feeling about this little university city, surrounded on all sides by mountains.

Downtown Missoula

I found my motel and crashed out to avoid the heat, making a brief foray outside to a local bike shop to pump up my tyres and ask for advice about crossing the state on a bicycle. At least I have found a good map to help me. It even shows gravel roads!

The temperature at 7pm today was 98F. It is due to cool off a little over the coming days. I walked into town around sunset when it was bearable and found the place to my liking. Missoula has been a milestone that I have had ahead of me for many days, and it was signposted from more than 200 miles away. I have managed to set out a couple of possible routes for the next week of cycling but there are some big empty spaces out there! For a couple of days at least it will be more mountains. I have found places to stay as far as Helena, the state capital, and we will go from there. It is a complicated business!