7/25 – Lincoln, MT
We were up and moving quickly. We walked into town to find breakfast and hopefully some tights. Breakfast was good and filling. As we waited a guy with a Bob pulled up. Dave (who we had heard about from the two other GDMBR riders, Matt and Steve) about crapped his pants when Paula said, “hey dave!” as he walked in the door. He sat with us as we ate, exchanging the usual trail talk stuff. It was good timing to meet him while we were eating anyway.
We walked down to the general store and were shocked to find polar tech (good material) tights, and they were half off – $16. We weren’t expecting to find anything better than sweat pants.
It was already getting warm at 11am, and we were still reeling from yesterday’s deathmarch, so we rested at the campground and left around 5pm thinking we were avoiding the heat. We successfully avoided the heat, but like most days on this trip, we didn’t expect the unexpected: rain.
We didn’t climb more than 5 minutes in the sun before we were shrouded in clouds. If you had asked me how the evening would pan out at 5pm just as we were leaving I would have said 0% chance of rain. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and it was still around 90 degrees.
We made some good time and drank little water as we made progress upwards towards Huckleberry Pass. On the final switchbacks we started getting a sprinkle and hearing thundercrashes in the distance. We increased the pace but it was no use. The storm was waiting for us on the other side no matter what speed we climbed at.
The rain gear came out at the top, which by the way came very easily (I think the profile is exaggerated for this climb), and we headed down into the rain. The road became wet, then muddy, but we were high and dry in our waterproof gear. It actually felt kind of good for a time (I had a bit of a sun headache going) however, it was getting old and I was worried about how the rest of the evening would turn out.
We eventually rolled into open plains on the other side of the pass and the rain lifted. We could see little storms in almost every direction, but especially to the west. Which way were we going? West, of course. They looked harmless enough, but as we pedaled we watched the lighting crack every few minutes. It didn’t look so good.
We reached highway 200 without much incident, then, a familiar sight for us and our late night rides: the sky turned gold. The sun was peeking out below the clouds (it’s now near sunset) turning the Montana landscape into a sea of golden air. It was magnificient, really, but we were getting desperate. To the north (our intended campsite) there was a significant storm. Mostly, the weather was unpredictable. When we reached Ovando we pulled in to Trixie’s restaurant/bar/whatever and inquired about lodging. They called and set up the local bed and breakfast for us, then fed us veggie burgers. So now we are safe and sound out of the thunderstorms and ready for a big day tomorrow: 76 something miles to the Super 8.
When we left Trixies I looked north to where our campsite was. The lightning was still dancing out there and it was very dark. We were 8 miles short of our intended spot, but out of the rain.
36 miles, 2400 feet of climbing
7/26 – Ovando, MT
The breakfast part of the Blackfoot Bed and Breakfast did not dissappoint. We filled ourselves with pancakes, bacon and eggs. Not our usual affair, but mighty tasty indeed. Our host was up before us cooking (though usually breakfast is at 7, he made it early for us). We were out the door around 7:30.
As we pedaled the small hill out of town Paula said, “Your Bob wheel is squeaking like crazy.” She was right and not only was it squeaking it was barely rolling. The bearings were totally siezed up and there really wasn’t much I could do about it. So I took it off and rolled back to the Blackfoot B&B where the owner (I can’t remember his name) hopped right to it helping me fix it. He was obviously the type of person who likes a good fix-it challenge; he seemed pretty excited about it actually. We got the nuts of and tried shooting grease into it with his grease gun. We couldn’t pop the bearings out or figure out how to get the axle out either, so it was a bit of a bust. The seal came off one side so we greased the bearings up well and made it turn a bit. It will have to do for the final 300 miles to Roosville.
Also, my cyclometer went blank, apparently due to a dead battery, but it may have been the rain since it went haywire for a while too. So I lost my total mileage, but it is working again (Paula’s light uses the same watch battery).
Other than the repair (and the hour delay it caused) today was a fabulous day. We saw some of the best riding of the entire trip, without a doubt. We warmed up on 26 miles from Ovando to near Seeley Lake, where the real fun began. A slow grind of a climb waited for us there. It was getting hot but there was sufficient shade: I actually lost GPS reception for the first time (that I’ve noticed).
We reached the gate on the road where motorized vehicles are not allowed. We took a short break to eat a sandwich here and regain some resolve for the rest of the climb. Now it was hot and the hill steep enough that shade was at a minimum.
The road/trail was everything expected: overgrown, singletrack-ish, beautiful and even challenging in places. Our little bear bells jingled as we hopped over a few downed trees and bumped over some big rocks. It was nothing too serious as we soon found ourselves at the top of the 2200′ climb.
Big downhill, big grins and big cool air. Then, the best part of the day: Morrell Creek. We were both nearly out of water at the top. Morrell was the first source we crossed and it was a good one. I sat in the shade pumping 32 oz after 32 oz of ice cold, crystal clear water into my nalgene. I’d drink half then use the rest to fill up some of our containers. I could have stayed there drinking water all day.
But the fun continued. Not far from the creek we turned off onto another abandoned road, this one much more like singletrack. Yellow and white flowers lined the sides of the trail, whacking into our legs, bikes and even arms. It was beautiful and it just rolled on and on through the woods. Paula absolutely loved all the flowers. It’s one of the best trails I have ever ridden, period.
We rolled past Holland lake, passing on camping with ATVers and motorcyclers, and ran into another N-S rider (we saw a couple from Colorado at about mile 16 today as well). This guy was huge and was doing the whole thing for his 50th birthday, solo.
The road from Holland Lake was a typical GDMBR piece of crap road: wide, dusty and washboarded. Of course it had some traffic too. It made me appreciate the quiet roads of the day even more. On the other side of highway 83 waited more quient roads and even more flowers to brush through! The days final 18 miles on the west side of 83 were a dream come true. They were mostly flat, it was a beautiful, peaceful evening and only 1 or 2 cars. The ‘road closed’ section here was flowered just like the other one.
This really was some of the best riding along the entire GDMBR. And now all we have is 194 miles to go. I don’t know if we have it in us to finish it off in 2 days, and such an effort would be incredible. Likely we’ll go for three so as to not kill ourselves, but we never really know until we get out there. It will be sad to see it end, but a part of me does want to be done too.
82 miles, 6100 feet of climbing
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