7/21
Beautiful riding weather today, and we definitely took advantage of it. The day started with 6 miles of pavement on the I-15 frontage road out of Lima, Montana. We then took a left onto the Big Sheep Creek / Medicine Lodge backcountry byway, a dirt road in the mountains.
Washboard! But it soon dissapated to a nice dirt surface and remained that way until we hit pavement again. We climbed gradually at first (ugh more flats), then it didn’t matter whether it was flat, climbing, washboarded, whatever. The scenery was more than enough to keep me motiviated and riding happy.
At first the hills were straight out of Salmon, ID and the North Fork area (not surprising since they are essentially on the other side of the divide from here). I was reminded of my summer backpacking in the Bighorn Crags for the forest service. Perhaps the best part of the ride of Big Sheep creek was the wildlife. We saw herds of deer, foxes, the usual chipmunks and gophers, and many, many unique birds. The area is not heavily ranched, neither is it heavily traveled, so it was prime for wildlife sightings.
Perhaps the second best part was the creek. It flowed along with us up the valley, with a soothing sound and deep moss covered shores. The third best part (perhaps) was the canyon itself and the geological formations. The slopes are very steep and the canyon narrow. Although it was nearly ten o’clock we were riding through shade most of the way up. Impressive cliffs adorned the sides. In a word, spectacular.
I turned my cyclometer to ‘max speed’ and my GPS to the menu page and just rode, staring at the scenery.
Eventually the canyon opened out into a wide open plain with views of nearly treeless mountains on all sides. It was still nice, but the road went straight and was too flat. My legs are still aching for a good climb.
It seemed like it was hot, or going to be so, but it never warmed up. We wanted to eat a sandwich but couldn’t find a shady spot to stop. We rode 45 minutes more before we found some cliffs with a singletrack leading to them. Once we stopped and made our tuna sandwiches we found ourselves eating in the sun instead of the shade. It’s a cool Montana July, I guess. We were only at 7500 feet or so.
The super weather held. Yesterday saw numerous hailstorms near Lima (and all around). Today we only had sweet mountain clouds to shelter us from the sky. It wasn’t hot, but when riding (or climbing) it’s almost always nice to not be in the sun.
After lunch we dropped down a bit and then, finally, a solid climb to the Medicine Lodge/Sheep Creek divide (7920 feet). My granny gear was tickled to be back in service once again. We crested fairly easily then began a long, gradual descent to our next paved road. At some point along the descent I switched my cyclometer to trip miles and was shocked to see 60. It didn’t feel like we had ridden 30 let alone 60.
We turned west on the highway into a strong headwind to pedal the 4 miles to Grant, looking for some lunch. The first place we visited, the Horse Prairie Hilton wasn’t too inviting. The cook said they were nearly out of everything and were probably not going to be in business too long. He talked us out of eating there essentially. On the other side of the road was the Canvas Cafe. We got a nice lunch including a good dinner salad and an excellent fruit (Waldorff) salad with a Turkey sandwich. While we ate an old rancher came in to order his ‘usual’ of a burger (the waitress told us that is what he always gets). Apparently she hardly knows him despite his regular visits. She said that he talked more to us than he has to anyone. We asked him about the road, some of the ranches back that way and some other things. He has a couple of ranches on the road we were just on. He’s not fond of a rich guy named “Leon” who owns an over-the-top ranch we saw and whose house supposedly has the largest window in the world in it. He seemed to like cyclists (they always wave, he says), and has offered them rides before (though usually they refuse).
The lack of storms, cool temperatures and our high energy levels convinced us to roll out for some more miles. In minimum we would ride to Bannack state park to camp (12 miles) and perhaps all the way to Elkhorn Hot springs (36 miles).
The 12 miles to Bannack dissappeared before we knew it. The next 7 were a bit of a drag, literally, as we turned west, once again on pavement, into the wind. But then we had only 14 left through the town of Polaris, with some uphill to Elkhorn Hot Springs. When I say some uphill I mean a killer climb–and it was at the very end of the day as we rolled into our 103rd mile. Super duper granny gear (at least on 100th mile legs it was), and as we climbed the trees reappeared–thick and tall ones. The air was brisk with the sun behind the mountains and the cool air from the creeks all around.
We climbed the final 0.7 miles into the hot springs area at around 9 pm. To our surprise the restaurant was still open and they had outstanding food. Paula got a veggie melt sandwich to die for and I ate spagehetti with an impressive salad bar. We got a tiny room (the energy for setting up camp was spent climbing those last hills) then hit the sack.
106 miles, 6650 feet of climbing
7/22
I’ve been looking for a challenge on this trip since, oh, Colorado. Today I found what I was looking for, with plenty of extra challenge to spare. Despite some epic sections and conditions we managed to put in some serious miles and arrive in Butte safe and sound. Today’s effort can only be described as heroic. I can say that since it really wasn’t mine; it was Paula driving us up and over the final climb to the Continental Divide and into Butte.
We started with a soak in the hot springs at Elkhorn since the cafe owners were a half hour late opening. The room at the lodge didn’t have a shower, but the springs sufficiently recharged us. We ate a full breakfast, then somewhat lethargically packed up our stuff to head out. Our tires were spinning by 10, climbing 1000 feet to the top of the Pioneer Mountains byway on dirt. We felt good despite the steep grade; I think we were happy not only for the climbing but also the dense trees and good dirt surface.
We reached the top and rolled onto pavement. We descended a bit before seeing a sign for Crystal Park. People were digging for amethsyt crystals here, so we stopped to have a look around. We didn’t take our trowel, but Paula did look where the water had washed off previous dig sites. She found several large crystals in about 5 minutes. Some people who had been digging for a while said they were bigger than anything they had found.
The ensuing 30 miles of pavement to Wise River were extremely developed for a national forest. There is a campground or picnic area every mile or so it seemed and trails going everywhere. We saw some cars with bikes on them. The ensuing 30 miles of pavement were also wrought with headwind. It’s often worse to be going downhill into a headwind than uphill. There was a strong wind blowing up the canyon, and it pretty much stayed with us for the rest of the day.
There was a brief section that was steep enough that the wind was not a factor, and the two paved switchbacks were straight out of Mt. Graham’s Swift Trail. I still wonder how bad this summer’s fire there will be.
In wise river we didn’t have time for a full lunch so we just stopped at the Mercantile for gatorades and candy. We knew the task before us was sure to be an arduous one: Fleecer Ridge. Southbound riders had without question told us to take the paved alternate around Fleecer. I usually responded, “Thanks for the warning, but you don’t know me.” We haven’t taken any alternates yet, so why now?
The prelude to Fleecer was very nice, except for the howling wind in our face. At times the trees provided shelter, but it was brief. As the Jerry Creek road turned to switchback we rode off into the Fleecer Ridge trail–an overgrown, narrow quad track into the trees. The warmup was a real treat; finally some challenging trail after seemingly 500 miles of mellow bumpy roads. A rock garden led to a creek crossing and a steep pitch that I cleaned without much trouble. As I rode closer to the steep section my head danced on fire with a million thoughts. How far to the steep section? Is it at all rideable? How steep *is* it? Some people claimed they rode down it–how bad can it be? If there is traction will I just run out of juice midway? I had dreams of riding the whole thing with Bob in tow. I really had no idea what to expect. I could understand anything from beyond the most ridiculous hill I’ve ever walked up with a bike to something I’d have no problem riding.
After the steep pitch I rolled across a meadow then turned my head to the right. !!!!!
Ok, this is going to be hard. I put my head down and plowed straight into it with whatever momentum I could muster. I made it maybe 100 feet from where it gets ridiculously steep. Traction is the biggest problem: loose rock being the biggest theif.
I stayed where I was until Paula turned the corner to see how pathetic my attempt was. Then I walked my bike to the bottom, unhooked the Bob, and readied myself for another futile effort. I burned my legs up getting some momentum only to lose it 10 feet up the hill. I made it maybe 50 feet higher than without the Bob, which was still nowhere near the top of the pitch we could see. I have neither the ability, strength or concentration necessary to clean this hill.
OK, so now what? There was no way to push my Bike+Bob up it, but we decided to deal with that later. Let’s get Paula’s bike+gear up first. I pushed from behind while she steered and pushed on the handlebars. The first pitch was only a fraction of the super steep climb; maybe a fifth of it. We stopped at least a dozen times just to regain our breath. Our calves and achilles tendons screamed at us. We didn’t know which was better: stay on the rocky “trail” or push the bike over small sage brush off on the side. We tried both but neither suited our fancy; they were both impossible.
Halfway we took off the panniers and tent to divide the weight. I carried her bike while she hauled the panniers up. A half hour later we reached a spot where I thought I *might* be able to ride again, or at least be able to sort of, kind of, push a loaded bike up. Little did we know that we were only halfway up the entire climb.
So we walked back down, slowly and carefully, marveling at how high we now stood above the valley and my bike/bob waiting for its turn down in the meadow. It was beautiful up there. It was depressing to be going back down after working so hard to get up there.
Paula decided to try the Bob bag on her back, leaving me with an emtpy bob/bike to haul up the mountain. This plan worked well–she was climbing much faster than I was. Even empty the trailer got stuck and turned all over the place. I mostly took the new trail blazed by cyclists and motorcycles on the south side of the real trail. Again we stopped to rest a dozen or more times on the ascent. But finally we reached our other gear where we sat to regain some calories. We enjoyed a PB&J sandwich in the cool breeze and warm sun, sitting exhausted and drained.
I stood up to surmise the remaining climb (or what little I could see of it). Perhaps rideable? In went the Bob bag and all our other gear. I hopped on for some wishful thinking and fully loaded riding, all the while worried that we were again going to meet with another impossibly steep section.
Such a section never materialized, but the climb was still steep, loose and very difficult. Despite what I thought were drained legs, I found myself riding the hill out to the top–a solitary fence on top off the hill. Each time I’d crest a horizon/rise I’d see that the climb was nowhere near finished. But I was determined to reach the top without faltering.
The hike-a-bike brought us 0.3 miles and gained 600 feet. The remainder of the climb was 0.6 miles gaining 500 feet, for a grand total of less than a mile and 1100 feet of climbing. It took us an hour and 45 minutes total, including the short stop for a sandwich and two trips on the 0.3 mile section.
It wouldn’t be an epic ride without a solid hike-a-bike, now would it?
We rolled down a short downhill, one not nearly as difficult as the other side, then met with a rancher and his cattle. He did tell Paula “good job” for having made it over the hill, and he asked me if I had seen any cattle on the trail.
I found some trail booty on the way up: a full and brand new waterbottle from a shop in Butte. Dave, the college age son of Bruce, who we met at Red Rock Lake campground, had said he lost his waterbottle on Fleecer. I found it near the top (I walked back down to grab it and cheer Paula to the top). This worked out well: weight we didn’t have to haul up, and water we didn’t have to pump later in the day. It proved to be just enough to get us to Butte. But I get ahead of myself, we’re nowhere near Butte at this point.
Downhill gravel roads.. ah, we earned this downhill. We were both still reeling from Fleecer, and I was certain we would camp at Beaver Dam campground, midway down the descent. But Paula would not hear of it. She was certain we could make it to Butte, doing what we originally planned for 3 days in just 2. Between us and Butte we had a big descent to I-15 at 5500 feet, then a steep climb up to the continental divide at 7300 feet. It was already 6:30pm and there was a chill in the air. I was definitely ready to stop, but I also could not say no.
At some point during the hike a bike some sort of fly bit me twice between my fingers and on both hands. They immediately started itching and swelling–even the neighboring fingers. This was not good. I took a good dose of ibuprofen to keep the swelling down, but it had me worried. If my hands were going to completely swell up it was going to be better to be in town where I could get some medical attention, so the decision to keep going did make some sense.
We rolled past a nice campground where a warm sleeping bag and good food could have been had. Instead we fought a headwind on the gradual descent to I-15, but somehow we were not exhausted. It’s a good thing we weren’t, because the climb to the divide was much steeper than expected and featured the worst wind of the day. It was an epic climb after everything we had already done. I stopped to grab a break from the wind and watched Paula climb tirelessly away from me. I was impressed.
1200 feet of granny gear/wind climbing later we found ourselves in the trees and away from the wind. We crossed a divide that we thought was continental and cruised downhill into yet another windswept valley void of trees. We thought we were on the downhill run into Butte. 18 miles to Butte the sign said, 2 miles to Moose Town. 18 miles and 1500 feet to drop! We made it!
Not so. The next 3 miles took 45 minutes and extradordinary effort to cover as the road continued to climb and drop alternately, and all with the worst winds of the day. 2 trucks passed us, both drivers giving us confused and sympathetic looks. At last we crested 7300 feet and saw a real downhill unfolding down the valley.
The 14 miles into Butte were still not easy, but we were rewarded with an electric sunset over densely wooded ridges. I felt lucky to be out there experiencing it, and we were riding high on the accomplishment of completing a very difficult day. Before we could see the Butte city lights it was dark, and for once we found both of our lights and they both were working properly. In the dark I think we missed a turn from the actual “route” description. But highway 2 brought us exactly where we needed to be: an open Taco Bell and a Super 8 motel.
85 miles, 7200 feet of climbing, highest TopoFusion “difficulty index” to date.
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