Saturday, October 23, 2010
October 23: What do we do upon standing at the gates of a temporary paradise? I know that I'm breaking sequential order in the sequence but I must ask each other what do we remain to virtue when we have held sacred had proven...unreliable, all to easily giving up when anything gets a little tough. cowards!!! Stand and fight you red simperings.
Friday, October 15, 2010
October 8: Got up and dressed, gathering my wet items in a plastic bag as I packed. Talked a bit to Ken who then left for work. I mounted up, and took off again down highway 2. I was a bit slow in my going, my knee tight from the moisture still in the air. I reached the outskirts of Spokane and proceeded to wander hoping my natural direction sense would get me there. Highway 2 became Division Street and posted no biking notices, so I had to turn off. I had some really bad Mexican and after about ten miles of wandering found myself at my Warm Shower host's, Mary, house. Still at work her housemates let me in and told me Mary would be home soon and would be making dinner. laundry, shower, the usual right into port. Things I'm so accustomed to doing right away it's rote. Being clean is still my biggest guilty pleasure on the road. after, I walked to the supermarket to get hair gel. Mary came home and we had a big breakfast as dinner meal of eggs, potatoes fresh bread and some wine. We talked a little Mary, myself, her housemate Tessa and Tessa's fourteen year old son, Michael. Gathering my clean cloths following dinner, I retired to my room for an early Friday night. To bed and warm relaxing sleep.
October 7: It's dark. It's wet. I've been biking for miles in the night and the rain and I still have 19 miles before Spokane. The shoulder's wide bulky the weather is miserable. I stop in the town before Spokane, Riverside only to find no lodging just a grocery. Things seem bleak but just as I find the needles of despair poking against my side, in comes a gentleman, named Ken, who after conversating about my trip offers me a spot in an RV he uses for storage on his property. My one question is if it's dry and I'm sold. I go to gather food for dinner while he smiles a stoge and waits to give me directions. when I come to the counter the clerk girl Lindsay brings me a bunch of extra food insisting I take it for my trip. I tell her I'm a veggie but I will take the macaroni salad. She smiles heats up and wraps the pizza I bought and gives me a card insisting I send her and the girls a postcard when I get where in going. Ken gives me the directions saying he'll come back and find me if I get lost, which I did and he did. We hang out and talk for a bit on his porch and I meet his wife, then into the trailer I got stripping and hanging my wet layers before cold and damp can seep into my bones. another day that providence has blessed me with fair fortune and I fall asleep dry, warm and thankful.
October 7: I woke up to the proper Pacific Northwest welcoming: Rain! I tried to wait it out a little, sending pictures and writing notes. Norm went to the computer lab to complete his homework for class. Finally with the rain continuing, I packed up and headed over to the vegetarian cafe and tea house in town called Common Knowledge to spoil myself on some long awaited goodies. The food was great although it took a whole, the clock ticking away the hours of the day. Great vegan cookies!! I was about to leave when a patron, Clark struck up a conversation and bought me tea. We chatted for an hour before I said I had to leave. The conversation was great and among other things I found out that I was lucky in where I was in Idaho as the rest if the state was not so hip. To have all the time in the world, but with the time at two thirty and seventy miles still to go, I began pedaling in the steady drizzle.
October 6: A scary way into town. I found myself biking in the darkness for Sandpoint, little shoulder to ride and heavy traffic in the darkness. To make matters worse I still have no music and no reply from anyone from couch surfer besides a guy named Joel, who's in California but gave me some spots to look for people to put me up. Fifteen miles down and I get to civilization but I'm actually in the strip mall suburb of Sandpoint not the city itself. I grab a bite, talk to Joel who gives me directions and points out a great pub where I might find someone named Eikhardt's. I finally get there and order a sampler of local brews. Some very tasty local one at that. Although distant at first the bartender Bob starts to warm up to me as we along with this patron named Norm get to talking. Norm lives outside of town but is housesitting his friends place just down the street. he offers me some floor space and I take it as I order us a round of beers. We stayed for another hour talking and sipping our beers, Bob, Norm, and two bikers named Chris and Dave who are driving through all offering route suggestions and topography hints. We leave and walk back to the apartment, Norm helping me carry my bike up the landing as it begins to rain. We spend the rest of the evening in enjoyable conversation mostly over geography. The big surprise is though when I find out that the person he's housesitting for is actually Joel from couch surfer. I laughed myself quietly to sleep that night over the small world irony of the moment.
October 6: Flat number nine! Another for the rear tire, big surprise, but this proved to be the most enjoyable flat of the trip. I pulled off in from of this multicolored bright market in the town of East Hope. It was another pebble rolling against the tube flat, which are the worst because you can't save the tube as the problem is a series of small punctures along a horizontal line. Sad too because this particular tube had lasted over eight hundred miles. As I was changing the tire, a pick up pulled up and killed the engine. Out popped JT, a geologist by schooling, a cook and proprietor of the cafe in the market. The mostly vegetarian cafe. We get to talking and I help him move a stove into the kitchen. He shows me around his garden and the property. The market is more like an art community house, hosting classes, visiting artist and gallery space. JT offers me a place to crash, but with my busted phone still buzzing in my head, I know I need to make Sandpoint tonight, and so decline. As I'm finishing my tire off JT comes out and gives me a sparkling orange drink and a hummus and fresh organic greens sandwich. This is the first veggie and hummus goodness sandwich I've had in thousands of miles and I devoured it greedily a little down the road, ignoring the wizzing by cars and the fading sunlight bouncing off the waters of Pend Oreille Lake.
October 6: The first leg of the day, phone calamity aside, was beautiful. Challenging as all, but the ranges and lakes that surrounded me were breathtaking. Green luck giants, cradling myself, the road, and, one after the other, a succession of crisp light dappled clear blue lakes. There were some houses but hardly any civilization for the first fifty miles. Just water, green, asphalt, and me.
October 6: Technological injury! As I was pedaling early at the start of the day, my headphone wire snagged, jerking my phone from my hand. The poor thing bounced onto the pavement cracking the back in a thin ice display of jagged lines. Nothing seamed to be broken, but as I rode on the voice controls started activating on their own. After an hour, I found myself without music: horrible for me as my tunes have been my companions the whole journey. I continued on in silence. My pace effected by both the event and the quiet now surrounding me.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
October 5: Day two through the Rockies and this one made the first look like a breeze. The climbs were steeper and longer, the downhills shorter and more gradual. Tom make matters worse was the knowledge that I was being forced further North out of my way due to the mountains. Thirty miles of road connecting through would have saved me about a days ride. Oh well! Despite this, I matched my miles from the Divide day putting in another ninety through the mountains. The other positive is that it was another day of shear beauty, cradled in the arms of ranges to my left and right. I reached Libby around sunset, and checking my messages for the day (no service again) met the Ivers at a small Mexican restaurant. They treated me to dinner and I got to say it probably was the best Mexican I had since leaving Brooklyn. it was tasty, no frills, solid and cheap. Over dinner, we discussed routes and talked of Libby. The town was extremely depressed, to the point of death moans nearly. Founded on mining and timber, Libby had lived to see both evaporate into near nothing. To add to this the town's other big business an Asbestos plant, which ironically had supplied the asbestos for the World Trade Center, had also closed down, leaving not only many out of work but also poisoned and sick with no hope of recourse as the local judge, his pockets thick with payoff cash, had dismissed the bulk of any clowns as coincidental. Keith Ivers, an Assistant Principal, had seen his school shrivel as the mass exodus from the town flowed steadier than the Libby River, it's namesake. Next year they'd be closing one of the school buildings down because of lack of need.
October 5: I wake early and start baking having prepped the food the night before. Taking advantage of Jim's pullup bar, I get some sets in while I have the chance and shower before sitting down with Jim to eat. I know he likes it because he has seconds. Jim departs and I ready my gear to leave. The sky is clear and the only annoyance as I pack and load out is the constant barking of Jim's Great Dane/ Labrador mix, Orion, (the dog barked the whole Tim I was there practically, very territorial). It didn't help that after I was packed and ready to go, I looked down to see that I'd left my water bottles inside the house. I had just got down telling Orion he was an asshole (Jim's endearing words about his dog, not mine) seconds before. With that, I began the ascent out of Kalispell.
October 4: I wake to the steady patter sounds of rain against the small window next to where I'm sleeping. I talk to Jim for a bit as he gets ready for work. Most of the morning, I spend plotting, working out and making to get lists. I finally venture out to wander in the early afternoon when the rain finally does down a little bit. Wandering Kalispell is interesting as it seems to be a little but lovely historic frontier town strip at it's center surrounded by strip malls radiating out in every direction. On my lists of things to do I have the library to research, where I meet a woman running for office who invites me to speak with the mother of a death row inmate (unfortunately, I can't find the damn coffee shop they were meeting at), the town's Salvation Army in my never ending quest to find a sturdy, warm yet somewhat fashionable wool sweater (no luck again), Wallmart for a cheap replacement tire for my back wheel (the last Bell I got there lasted about a thousand miles but was starting to wear down in the center), and the grocers for deodorant, sunblock and ingredients to make an egg bake for Jim and I in the morning. Missions accomplished, I grab some food and go to the Moose Saloon to taste some local beers and shovel down some peanuts. Moose is great no liquor just beer, half sawdust on the floor (literally) dive bar, half pizza serving public house. I recommend it if you pass through Kalispell.
October 3: It's crazy how long I've been from a sizable city. Kalispell's 30,000 seems a juggernaut in my eyes right now. I haven't had reception for the last two days, so it's really short notice when I finally get to connect with my warm showers host Jim. Despite this, he's still gracious and accommodating, setting me up in his gear room which is filled with climbing gear, wood cores, and biking jerseys. Jim, a general mountaineer is a former bike racer and tourer. His walls tell of some of his exploits which include the adventure cycling bicentennial ride of 76' and a tour from Des Moines to Alaska. Thunderstorms are brewing and Jim says I can stay tomorrow if I need to. We talk a little but Jim, a lawyer, has some homework for tomorrow's clients, so he bids me a good night and leaves me to my own meanderings.
October 3: The day of the Divide had finally come! Thanks to Sam the Ranger's rundown, I knew exactly what to expect. The ascent was beautiful and it was hard not to stop every three seconds to tale a picture. Until reaching the divide, i hadn't realized how deeply i had missed the forest. It was in some strange way closer to home then I had been in a very long while. I reached the summit and start the descent. Awesome downhill. I was definitely cruising over sixty mph for quite a bit. Reaching the base, the rest if the ride consisted of rolling climbs and plunges until left Glacier Park and began riding through more urbanized settings. From Columbia Falls on, I never left commercialized strips. Quite a contrast to the majesty of the morning.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
October 2: I stand at the ankles if the Rockies in East Glacier Park Village. The plains are finally behind me and I'm excited to tackle the Continental Divide tomorrow. The couple I'm staying with Sam and Jo are amazing and generous people. They even have a tent platform in the backyard for cyclists. Dinner was delicious: Salad! Real salad with veggies, potato pancakes, grilled winter squash, homemade apple sauce, cider and huckleberry wine (which is tasty). I felt so good putting all those delicious things into me. The conversation was equally as enjoyable and we hung out after my shower talking until bed. Sam is a park ranger, professor an emt and he offer quite a bit of insight for me of what lied ahead on tomorrows ride. I went to bed feeling confident and comfortable and ready.
October 2: I got to Browning finally and stopped for a drink. Now the whole time I'd been going everyone had warned me about Browning. Don't go there. Don't even stop. Of course it being me, I got to stop. I didn't stay long so maybe I mosses out on the full effect, but everyone I met there were great. nice, polite, and interesting. As a pedaled out of the city, all I could really find was that it was filled with poor, proud people. Makes me wonder what people would say about a lot of places I lived.
October 2: It was an easy ride up until Cut Bank. As I left the city I dropped down in elevation at the river only to have to climb back to 3000 feet rapidly. As I reached the top I crossed into Blackfoot Nation and found myself atop the Plateau. The next six hours were some of the hardest riding I did on the whole trip. The area was the barren yellow rolling fields seen all along Eastern Montana. A few grazing animals, mostly horses dotting the landscape. What was present and fiercer than ever was the wind, directly set against me and wailing on at about 35 mph. I later found out that it's not unusual for the winds here to reach a hundredth and I was lucky that it was such a calm day. either way it took me what seemed like days to make it the thirty plus miles to the city of Browning. At one point, a conductor got out of his train while he was waiting for an eastbound train to pass and gave me a bottle of water. His be was Chris and he said that he'd been pacing me and despite me pedaling like the devil, I was only going about eight miles an hour.
October 1: The ride to Shelby was epic in distance though luckily uneventful in incident. For the first and only time on the Highline did the wind gather behind me. I cruised completing 106 miles in less than nine hours. I like to call the trip the day of the fifteen towns passing, because that's how many I cruised through, the closest concentration on the whole highway. I got into town and eventually found the super cheap hotel I was going to crash at. really it was more like a hostile or dorm suite as the bathroom was communal. I went to the supermarket for dinner again returning to my room to eat. it's frustrating because you try to eat healthy and it winds up costing you more. I could have gone to eat at some Chinese buffet or junk dive and spent nine bucks but to eat healthy at the store I needed to shell out fourteen. like I said frustrating.
September 30: The rest of the day in Havre was quite rejuvenating. I wandered all around the small town, sometimes taking pictures but mostly just looking. It had been a while since I had been able to wander a city and I realized that day that it had been too long. After, I bought groceries, ate in my room, and drifted off early to bed.
September 30: Woke in pretty good shape despite last nights festivities. first things first, ran over to the bike shop and pulled the owner away from a siding job to open up and replace my cable. Next headed back and packed everything, and went for food. The place had stopes serving breakfast, and left me with very little to eat, basically a grilled cease sandwich. As I was finishing my food, my friend called and we got into a lengthy discussion about the problems and pitfalls of our country. An hour later, I'm still hungry and it's getting late. I go into this taco joint I ate at yesterday and order some more food while weighing my options. Rather than go to a small town and risk getting caught out in nowhere I decide to stay the day and start early and bike far.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
September 29: A big day of pedaling to get to Havre, the largest city on the Highline before the divide. I got into town feeling adventurous again, closer to myself than I had been since Sam left. After dinner, I did some prep work: pictures, seat adjustment, tried to fix my rear shifter cable. Unable to repair the last, I went to the local bar next door. despite the warnings about Havre, I found it very chill. The people were friendly and the whiskey cheap. Spent a part of the night talking to a real cowboy named John about horses.
September 28: Camping in the Malta town park was a little sketchy. Whole I was cooking dinner in the windy dark night, this meth head kept walking by. Later, I was in my tent a group of heads drive up to get high in the public rests. You hear the darndest things on the other side of the thin walls of a tent. Learning from my last trip to the Bahamas, I slept with my cell gripped in one hand and my hatchet in the other. As the signs say on the Sioux Rez, Meth Hiyah! luckily nothing happened besides a little less sleep and a forty minute bout with the town sprinklers spraying alarmingly close to my tent.
September 28: Woke up sluggish and unsure. I felt weak from recovery and homeward sentimental and somewhat defeatist in my outlook. Despite that, I started pedaling. the wind was insistent and naggingly pushing against my head and feet the whole day, and for the first forty miles, I was of a pitiful character. The fifty miles had taken seven and half hours and with the already late start of checkout or 11 am, I found myself twenty one miles still away with an hour of day light left. I got to a point where there was an opportunity to turn off and cut the day short, but doing so would either add miles another day or put me behind again. for me it became a deeper thought, if I stopped now there and then and didn't make Malta, I wasn't going to keep going. it scared me because I'm so close to finishing the crossing (relatively speaking, what's a thousand miles or so?!) and what would it mean to give up now. I couldn't do that and so I kept going, my pedaling growing stronger as I filled my lungs with air and determination. The wind slowed me still but I pushed through in the fading light, and continued to go forward as the gravely shoulder of the road became shrouded in the cloudy dark night. The wind finally died about five miles before town and the chill settled into consistency. Trucks and pick ups and sedans whizzing by two or three for every mile or so, and for the first time since Sam's been gone I'm happy. Biking with a smile even. It's like I rediscovered that I'm out here because I want to be out here. Sometimes it is miserable, yes, monotonous, and stark, but at the same time most of it is often astonishing and winding, new yet redeeming, genuine but surreal. The path goes ever on, it's you who chooses to get on an off. That day was the closest I came to quitting.
September 27: Woke up in the middle of the night with a sore throat, congestion and a fever. Although the fever broke by mid morning. I decided to stay the day in Glasgow. What also helped is I had a thirty dollar motel room, so if I needed to hold up somewhere inside, this was my cheapest option. Stayed in bed, slept, watched the veg box, and moped admittedly a little to myself about homesickness, venturing out only for food.
September 26: Visited the Glasgow Bile Shop or as the owner likes to call it The Museum of Klunnkers and Ancient Bicycles. The shop's origins lie in the owner's love of bicycle mechanics and tinkering. For years, he spent taking in Junkers and throw aways repairing them, selling a few and storing most in his garage. finally, his wife and partner, suggested the bikes some where else after she found herself unable to park the car in the garage anymore. They had a second little green two story house on Glasgow's main strip that they had bought out of foreclosure, and this the shop was born. Average price range for a bike there 50-100 bucks.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
September 26: Just visited the Glasgow bike shop which is owned and operated by a sweet old husband and wife duo. The business started out as the husband just repairing junker bikes he found and keeping them , occasionally selling one or two. Soon the garage filled up and they couldn't get their car in, so she made him move the bikes to a property they owned on the main strip in town. Thus the Glasgow Bike Shop was born or as the owner likes to call it, the museum of old wrecks and heaps. average range for bikes at the shop 50-100 bucks, all quality restored.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
September 25: The brewery, Missouri Breaks, was great. Such a nice feel, this place could have been cut out and transported to any major beer loving city. the home batches were tasty too. I recommend the Belchin' Ale. I met a bunch of great people including Mark, Press, Suzie-Q, Cody, Johnny, and the owner, Doc Z's (who is also the town's MD and originally from Syracuse), daughter and assistant brewer, Jessica. I also got to avoid find accommodations by running into Paul, the couch surfer contact I'd emailed but got no response from in town. he never got an email and didn't know about me but said immediately agreed to pit me up for the night. I ran over to a local mom and pop for dinner that had been owned and operated by the same family since 1927. I got to talk to three generations of family about the town and the cafe as I waited for my food. after that, I ran back to the brewery and Paul dropped me off at his place and went to dinner at his Aunts. Freshened up and watched tv with him and his sister Jenny after he returned until I started to doze.
September 25: I get up and I'm all packed and ready to go before nine. I stop at the local diner for breakfast and get a wonderful suprise: Beth called ahead and picked up my tab for breakfast. With a smile on my face, I mount up and start pedaling with Glasgow in mind...currently a little over a hundred miles away. I plug along soon crossing into the Fort Peck Indian Reservation, but as the day wears on the wind is unrelenting against me and I decide to abandon Glasgow for tomorrow and stay at Wolf Point. Of course my first destination after scouting the local hotels and campgrounds: the brewery.
September 24: In Culbertson, I settle on dinner before camp set up in the town park as it is still light outside. It's the homecoming game and the junior high school game just finished so the place is packed. I order my pizza and turn to find no available seats. A nice family of three (the fourth, their daughter is at the field still) offers me a seat at their table. I have a lovely meal with Larry, Beth, and their son, Christian, local farmers and members of the town community. They invite me to the main event of the evening, the varsity high school game and I say perhaps. After dinner, we say our goodbyes, and as I'm leaving another table invites me to come over and chat. These three, around my age (low to mid thirties), are Indian Health Service workers. We get to taking and I find that I have quite a few things in common with the doctor, Heather (both lived in Park Slope area at one time, vegetarian, theater background). They give me some info about the area I'm going to pass through and recommend the brewery in Wolf Point to me. as were leaving, we have someone rake some photos of us and I give them each a flyer. I say goodbye and go to the park and set up camp, writing and making phone calls before heading to the field to catch the second half of the game. It's an enjoyable and relaxing sight, if at times comical to see such small bodies playing football (ice become so used to professional football, hulking masses bashing like freight trains across the field). The home team wins and the crowd leaves joyful and laughing.
September 24: We wake up later than expected...a little too much fun last night, and load up the bikes. Sam is going to rode to the Montana border with me and then return to get ready for his 7:09 pm train. We reach the border, snap some pictures and say our goodbyes. it's so hard to let Sam go when we're so close: less than 900 miles to go, but I know he's got to take care of business. I continue on, truly alone the next twenty miles to Culbertson, MT.
September 23: During the afternoon, Mariel took us to the North Dakota Badlands by car. We got to cross the Missouri River, which was awesome because I had bee sad I wasn't going to get the chance. The Badlands are amazing, a weathered beauty that is grooved into the memory. The overcast skies only add to the gray, brown and ruddy pigments creating a stark timelessness sense of earth. Going to the Badlands we give up getting to see buffalo, which is in the other direction, but an unexpected bonus lay in wait. as we came over the rise there on the yellow plains ahead was a herd of free roaming bison.
September 23: It's rodeo time! We go to the civic center and watch as the riders try to hold on for their eight seconds as the 1500+ pound bulls attempt to buck off a slightly snug rope secured around their flanks. it was a fun watch with Sam and Mariel periodically turning to ask me if I still want to ride. My answer never changes, but unfortunately it's not in the cards. Because this is a professional competition, I can't ride. too much liability, although I got a raincheck for Las Vegas if I can get there around Halloween for the PBR Championships. I don't know if I'll make it in time. after the rodeo, we go to the after party at J Dub's. Great time hanging with riders and locals. As we leav, I meet a rider whose participating in an exhibition tomorrow and offers me a slot. unfortunately, I have to decline having used up all mine and San's down time in the last two days. :(
Friday, October 1, 2010
September 22: We took Mariel out to dinner to thank her before going to comedy night at a great bar called J Dub's. We got there late but caught the last comedian. Pretty funny. There's a rodeo in town and Mariel persuades us to stay another night. it wasn't too hard as I really want to ride a bull. She says she'll work on it and makes a few calls.
September 22: Stayed in Williston, as Sam figured out what to do. it's looking like a two day trip on Amtrak with a stop over in Chicago is going to be the most affordable. I spend some of the day trying to convince Sam to keep going, and the rest in prep work: laundry, email, Warm Showers, plotting, working out, etc. I also tuned up my bike, cleaning the breaks and fixing my rear fender.
September 21: Really bad news! Due to a bank/airline mess-up, Sam doesn't have enough money to keep going. we're cutting the day short and just going to Williston instead of on to Montana. I called Haley to see if she could find us a place to stay and she hunted down a bunch of numbers. We got into town and went to the Chinese Buffet, Sam's favorite, and ate while we kept our fingers crossed for a place to stay. one of the numbers Haley gave us, a woman named Mariel was a possibility. Mariel called back as we were finishing dinner with an answer of yes and her address.
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