Sunday 28 June, 2009
Malta to Glasgow, MT
Pam and Sean volunteered to drive over two hours out of their way to drop our gear in Glasgow. We took them up on their offer and treated them to a thank-you breakfast at the hotel cafe. We all ate a big breakfast, said our good-byes, and got a late start leaving Malta.
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| Internet photo of the Great Northern cafe, obviously an earlier photo as the rooster decorations on the yellow overhang are missing from the photo I took below |
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| Pam, wearing a "Star Jumps for Joy" tee and her husband Sean at our farewell breakfast in the Great Northern cafe |
Not far out of town we had a choice. Should we take the AC Alternate “scenic” route through the Bowdoin National Wildlife Refuge, or should we continue on a more direct route on Hwy 2? We decided to take the scenic route. This route would add a couple more miles to our day, but, heck, most of us were were not pulling our trailers or carrying our gear. We saw several antelope and deer and numerous waterfowl, unfortunately too far away for me to id without my binocs. I did see a burrowing owl sitting atop a fencepost, however, and this made my day. I had never seen one in the wild before. It had comically long legs for an owl.
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| Internet photo of Burrowing owl on fencepost posed very much like the one I saw; I was concentrating on the gravel road and unable to whip out my camera |
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| Kevin and Rick vote to take the Refuge route |
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| The paved road fast turning to gravel |
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| Rick, fully loaded, on the paved portion of the Refuge road; I think that's Diane's bike in the foreground |
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| Bill's photo of an abandoned house with the inevitable RR running through the backyard and horses grazing in the side yard shade. Is that an open range there in the front yard? Picked up that pun in East Glacier |
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| Unfenced horses; were these wild? I'm nervous that Diane is getting so close to take a photo |
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| Since I had no binoculars with me, the waterfowl looked just like this . . . tiny black specks |
The road through the Refuge was very rough, and, unfortunately, we had not read our AC maps carefully enough. The last nine miles of it were dirt/gravel. Kevin was leading, and Rick and I were keeping him in sight. Tim and Diane and Bill were riding together. Riding ahead, Kevin kept us apprised of deep gravel and tricky spots, so we all managed to ride the gravel miles without incident . . . if you do not count the following, related by Tim on his blog: The gravel caused a slow snakebite puncture in Bill’s rear tire, so about a mile after making it back to Hwy 2, I stopped to help Bill change his tube. We had heard about how bad the mosquitoes are, but nothing prepares you for the reality. Sitting on the shoulder of the road removing the tire from the rim I was swarmed by scores of them. I applied 25% Deet Cutter but it didn’t faze them. So we had to get out our raincoats and put them on to keep them off us. Still swarms of mosquitoes buzzed around. Even after the tire changing was finished, the mosquitoes weren’t finished with us. Any time we slowed below 15mph they were there in droves. They also would draft you then land on your shorts and bite. Around the edge of my chamois my butt had so many bites it created an outline.
For some reason, Kevin, Rick, and I did not run into many mosquitoes on this stretch. However, I didn’t know it then, but I was to have a similar mosquito experience outside of Williston, ND.
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| Seems that the Montana DOT puts these up at accident sites; pretty unnerving seeing so many of them |
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| A church and rundown cemetery in the middle of nowhere; makes me wonder where the congregation comes from |
We ate lunch in Saco at OB’s Café. The waitress was the daughter of the proprietress and you could tell that she and her mom were in the midst of a battle. She was surly and offhand with us and charged me 50 cents for the ice water I had with lunch. I left a tip and Rick questioned why. Maybe it brightened her day. I can't think that she is paid much or that she makes even five dollars in tips in one day. Often I feel fortunate for the fate of my birth.
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| OB's Cafe with its rude waitress and 50-cent water; note the unencumbered bicycles |
It is 29 miles from Hinsdale to Glasgow and it was HOT, over 90 degrees. After 15 miles, a hillside rest area offered me a break from the heat. I was riding solo some distance ahead of Bill and Diane, who also stopped here after a bit. I sat down at a picnic table in the shade, took off my shoes, and poured cold water over my feet, wrists, and head. Probably rested there for close to half an hour.
Already at this rest stop when I pulled in was Bill Temple. We first met Bill in Harlem, the day we were celebrating our first 1,000 miles. He is a Havre school bus driver, has been randomly riding since the mid-70’s, and is a man unto himself: He sleeps on the ground—no tent, no pad. Wanders a bit—says not clear which way he will be going. Rides a bike he paid $60 for years ago—no clips, minimal useful gears, calls himself the “slowest guy on the road.” He’s friendly, open, self-effacing, white haired, white bearded, and smiles a lot. He also calls himself an “odd duck,” but I found him charming. Says Bill: “I love the open spaces, the prairie, the rural roads; I just go, then one day I say, ‘I’ve had enough’ and I quit—don’t really know why.” He was sitting at a picnic table in the shade writing in his journal. I said hello but didn’t initiate more conversation. It was clear that he wanted to be alone with his journal.
The last 14 miles were murder for the three of us: unbearable heat, no strength left in our legs. Finally we spotted the entrance into the RV park where we were staying, an old travel trailer with “Trails West Campground” printed on its side and an arrow pointing to the CG.
The CG was a run-down place but had cold drinks in the lobby, WIFI, and a swimming pool filled with icy water. I was overheated and light-headed when I got in and wanted nothing more than to drink cold recovery drinks and sit a bit, but Kevin, saying that I was no more tired than everyone else, insisted that I tour the campground and learn what he had learned from the owners. That I did, and learned that it was primarily an RV CG and that all of the campsites were gravel pull-ins right out in the open with nary a tree in sight. I asked the manager if I could camp on the narrow strip of grass between the entry road and the CG road. He was obliging, so, I set up my tent there under a tree in the only shade possible. Then I managed to cool off in the frigid pool, washed out my bike duds, and ran into town with the owner’s daughter and Diane for pizza for the gang--my idea as I could not stand the thought of lighting up my camp stove--and a trip to a pharmacy.
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| The only shady spot at the CG; I put up with the few cars passing by in order to have shade; no fly on my mesh tent tonight |
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| Kevin, already settled in with his cold beer and a pink flamingo, welcomes Bill U and me to the CG; Bill is proudly showing Kevin his new purple church key; beer drinking prowess bonds them |
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Tim helping Dave, one of the Louisiana riders, mend a flat;
Pat & Dave have camped and ridden with us the last several days |
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| Tim siting in the sun working on his blog |
After pizza, it was bed. Tomorrow is another day.
