Tuesday 30 June, 2009
Wolf Point to Culbertson
I will let Tim's blog tell the story of the day's ride from Wolf Point to Culbertson, Montana, but I will provide the photos:
Tim’s blog: “We decided that we had experienced all of Wolf Creek by last evening, so instead of taking today off, we traveled 57 miles to Culbertson. A lot can be said both pro and con about the decision to skip another day off. So far we've been 22 days on the road with only one day off and that was in Whitefish. Everyone’s tired physically, but I didn’t realize how the decision to go on would effect me emotionally. Looking forward to having a day off is what got me to Wolf Point. Ever since the hot day going to Glasgow I haven’t had legs, every mile came grudgingly. When we got to Wolf Point we celebrated with pitchers of beer and long naps. The reality of the decision to press on didn’t hit home until I got back to the hotel room around 9 pm last night and saw my dirty laundry in a pile on the floor and my computer sitting on the table still in its case, not turned on once that day. I spent the next half hour packing all my crap back in the panniers and regretting that I hadn’t spoken up at the meeting to say, “Hell no I’m taking tomorrow off. I’m 3 days behind on the blog and need to catch up.” Those 30 minutes repacking just got my blood pressure up and kept me wide awake until 1 am.
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| The endless road to Culbertson |
“The ride to Culbertson sucked. The whole day was spent spinning at 100 rpm into a 20mph head wind. My legs were exhausted at about the 40-mile mark, along with my butt on a nice 8% mile-long uphill. Kevin’s butt was so sore that he put on a second pair of cycling shorts. We arrived in the dreary RV park to find out that the café in town closed at 2 pm giving us front foursome an hour to set up tents and stow our gear then start calling Susan and Bill to tell them to come directly to the café to meet us before it closed. They made it in at 1:38.”
[Again Kevin was pissed at me, and when Bill and I entered the café--half dead from the effort of getting there on time--Kevin loudly dressed me down in front of the others for not returning his call. He had gone out of his way to leave a message with the campground hostess and to call. I had received his message and knew that we had to get to the café they’d chosen before 2 so we hadn't stopped at the campground but cycled past it and directly to the cafe. I agree that I should have called to let him know that I’d received the message. Bill and I were both struggling in the heat and wind and on the last big climb, Bill dissolved in tears of exhaustion, so I was distracted. Nonetheless, I hate being called out in front of the others and being treated like a naughty little kid who is purposely not answering her phone etc. I don’t believe Kevin realizes the struggle that Bill and I at 67 are having. We put in many more hours in the saddle than he does most days, and the heat and hills are real challenges. Bill says his heart medicine makes him teary and I believe it, but I know that both of us are also exhausted. Neither of us wants to admit that we are not as strong as the others, particularly Bill, who would love to be up there with the other guys and not nursed along by the old gray-hair. SW]
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| Internet photo of a more congenial group of cross country cyclists meeting a touring cyclist couple from Ohio in the Culbertson cafe |
“Shortly after returning to the RV/trailer park, it started to rain/thunderstorm. We all went to the laundry/bathhouse for shelter where it was at least 100 degrees inside. I typed blog stuff and did laundry. Kevin lay down and fell asleep. Bill, Susan and Rick did their laundry and visited with the neighborhood children who had been trying to sell us stones that they had broken into chunks with a hammer (customized rocks). Kevin bought two. Toward the end of the storm, the park owner came by and chided us for having the gall to prop the laundry/shower room door open (with a customized rock), letting the rain come in and make the floor wet. We were too exhausted to respond. After the rain, nifty cotton ball clouds appeared.”
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| My little tent set up beside a small tree |
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| Diane's tent set up beside a larger tree; she's struggling to close a Ziploc bag |
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| Before dinner beer after the storm; Bill's drinking his from his coffee pot as he has nothing else; don't know what Diane is reading; the large plastic box is Bill's kitchen and the smaller one mine; we carry them atop our BOB bags; at this juncture, he and I and Rick are the "cooks" |
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| That night Bill and Rick and I cooked a couple of Mountain House dinners. Kevin topped off dinner by pulling from his kit a delicious brownie/chocolate sauce Mountain House desert; he's jettisoning his cooking gear and food; Bill's photo |
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| Scary sky presages the big windy storm |
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| Mammatus clouds forming just after the first storm |
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| Kevin zonked out on the laundry room floor while a storm storms outside |
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| A freckled, sunburned "reverse-raccoon" perusing the next day's Adventure Cycling route maps; Bill's photo |
