Day 15 – Forsyth to Baker, 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.