Yesterday morning I left the warm embrace of Missoula. By the time I finished stopping for excellent coffee, getting supplies (bread, plums, proscuitto, cookies, trail mix, Twizzlers), and chatting with a somewhat erratic Missoula denizen on a street corner for far too long, it was 11:00am. I still managed to get 80 miles since it was flat terrain and calm winds. About 30 of it was on a bike path from Lolo to Hamilton, which was very pleasant. Although the bank thermometer said 90 degrees, if I kept pedaling and hydrating and evaporating I was pretty cool.
The most striking thing about the day was the severity of the smoke. Visibility was reduced to about four miles. Beyond that, the mountains just disappeared into the grey/brown haze. It was unfortunate because people say it's a pretty valley when you can see. Everything smelled like a campfire and the smoke burned my eyes and throat. I breathed shallowly because a full inflation of my lungs made me cough painfully. It wasn't completely miserable, it was just unpleasant. Later in the day it got even worse. As I got further into the mountains and toward the fires, visibility dropped even further and the sun was dimmed to a small red disc. I kept getting nervous because it seemed like the sun was setting and therefore it was time to get off the bike. At 4:30pm I checked to see when sunset was, and it wasn't until 8:15pm. Eerie.
The Sula Country Store and Resort has a Conoco station and a restaurant, with campsites around back. This area was scorched by fires in 2000 (?) and looks a lot different now. Beautiful vacation homes are built on hillsides completely barren of vegetation except for blackened burnt-out stumps. I'm sure there are also some foundations of beautiful vacation homes which didn't make it.
I set up my camp in a warm breeze filled with falling ash and finally got arranged in the hammock. You have to be acrobatic and also patient, for any adjustment requires a balancing act. Taking off socks, for example, makes the hammock go sideways unless you are careful. I performed all the manoevers necessary to get into my bag and immediately fell asleep. Sometime around 4am, I woke up again, freezing. The temperature had dropped drastically. I mustered the courage to go outside and gather up my remaining clothes. I got back in the hammock and flopped around putting everything on while the cold wind blew outside. Finally I was warm, mostly due to the exertion of wiggling around. I fell asleep again and woke up an hour later, still cold. The sun wasn't up yet so I just pulled my hat down lower and curled into a ball. I drifted off for awhile until there was some light on the horizon, when I got out of the hammock and went to the shower block. I got in the shower and stood there until my core temperature came back up. There is an exact moment when your body reaches temperature equilibrium and a fuzzy narcotic sense of well-being sweeps over you. When I walked out (furtively since I had probably cost them $5 in hot water), a guy was walking his dog and said it was 36 degrees.
After I packed up camp, I stopped in the store/restaurant. Before I could even get through the doorway I was beset with questions about my bike and my trip. A fellow named Gordon told me some stories about past bicycle tours he had done. He and others wished me well. Everyone was very kind and I left with some really nice vibes.
I climbed up Lost Trail Pass and Chief Joseph Pass, which were nice humps but not drastic. They take time, though. I try not to get out of breath and I stop sometimes. I don't like using all of my energy because I might need it later. On the other side of the pass I came out of the mountains into the "Big Hole", a large expanse of dry sagebrush prairie, perhaps 30 miles squared, ringed by mountains. The wind picked up out of the south and blew me into the lane a few times. The few cars out there were all very polite, though. This road is on the American Cycling Association "Trans-Am" route and a lot of cyclists come through here. As I came into Wisdom, MT, I passed Tony, a recently-retired Greeley, CO police officer on a trike headed the other direction. He said he had just had heart bypass surgery and that this probably wasn't the greatest idea but he was doing it anyway. He was an enormous fellow and I'm sure he'll at least drop a few pounds doing it. I wished him well and continued on my way.
I stopped in Wisdom and bought a cherry Coke from the market, which didn't have much in the way of provisions. The whole town seemed a little bit like Invasion of the Body Snatchers so I headed south towards Jackson, my final destination. This turned me into the wind, which was picking up. It was only 18 miles but it was slow going. Ominous storm clouds came into view and I began to get worried. Pretty soon there were dark clouds all around me with lightning striking the peaks. I was sprinting by now, not wishing to get caught in the tempest. There was no shelter out in the flat treeless expanse and I didn't think sitting in a ditch would be fun for long. As it began to sprinkle, I pedaled all-out into the headwind, hoping that Jackson was right around the corner. I was very hungry and was trying to eat trail mix through the packet with my teeth while pedaling furiously to beat the storm. Eventually, I pulled into the Jackson Hot Springs Resort (a fancy name) and grabbed the last of their cabins as rain began to fall.
This place is the only accommodation in Jackson, MT (pop 37). It is also the only bar, restaurant, and casino. It has a big lodge with lots of animal heads and Lynyrd Skynyrd blasting at top volume. My bicycle is parked next to a row of gleaming Harleys. There was a band setting up (I believe the name was "The Good Ol' Boys") and people were fixin' to have a shit-kicking time. After having a ribald conversation on the front porch with some gentlemen, I filled my belly with Montana fare and retired to my bed. I will be going to sleep in the next several minutes or less.
View Larger Map
The most striking thing about the day was the severity of the smoke. Visibility was reduced to about four miles. Beyond that, the mountains just disappeared into the grey/brown haze. It was unfortunate because people say it's a pretty valley when you can see. Everything smelled like a campfire and the smoke burned my eyes and throat. I breathed shallowly because a full inflation of my lungs made me cough painfully. It wasn't completely miserable, it was just unpleasant. Later in the day it got even worse. As I got further into the mountains and toward the fires, visibility dropped even further and the sun was dimmed to a small red disc. I kept getting nervous because it seemed like the sun was setting and therefore it was time to get off the bike. At 4:30pm I checked to see when sunset was, and it wasn't until 8:15pm. Eerie.
The Sula Country Store and Resort has a Conoco station and a restaurant, with campsites around back. This area was scorched by fires in 2000 (?) and looks a lot different now. Beautiful vacation homes are built on hillsides completely barren of vegetation except for blackened burnt-out stumps. I'm sure there are also some foundations of beautiful vacation homes which didn't make it.
I set up my camp in a warm breeze filled with falling ash and finally got arranged in the hammock. You have to be acrobatic and also patient, for any adjustment requires a balancing act. Taking off socks, for example, makes the hammock go sideways unless you are careful. I performed all the manoevers necessary to get into my bag and immediately fell asleep. Sometime around 4am, I woke up again, freezing. The temperature had dropped drastically. I mustered the courage to go outside and gather up my remaining clothes. I got back in the hammock and flopped around putting everything on while the cold wind blew outside. Finally I was warm, mostly due to the exertion of wiggling around. I fell asleep again and woke up an hour later, still cold. The sun wasn't up yet so I just pulled my hat down lower and curled into a ball. I drifted off for awhile until there was some light on the horizon, when I got out of the hammock and went to the shower block. I got in the shower and stood there until my core temperature came back up. There is an exact moment when your body reaches temperature equilibrium and a fuzzy narcotic sense of well-being sweeps over you. When I walked out (furtively since I had probably cost them $5 in hot water), a guy was walking his dog and said it was 36 degrees.
After I packed up camp, I stopped in the store/restaurant. Before I could even get through the doorway I was beset with questions about my bike and my trip. A fellow named Gordon told me some stories about past bicycle tours he had done. He and others wished me well. Everyone was very kind and I left with some really nice vibes.
I climbed up Lost Trail Pass and Chief Joseph Pass, which were nice humps but not drastic. They take time, though. I try not to get out of breath and I stop sometimes. I don't like using all of my energy because I might need it later. On the other side of the pass I came out of the mountains into the "Big Hole", a large expanse of dry sagebrush prairie, perhaps 30 miles squared, ringed by mountains. The wind picked up out of the south and blew me into the lane a few times. The few cars out there were all very polite, though. This road is on the American Cycling Association "Trans-Am" route and a lot of cyclists come through here. As I came into Wisdom, MT, I passed Tony, a recently-retired Greeley, CO police officer on a trike headed the other direction. He said he had just had heart bypass surgery and that this probably wasn't the greatest idea but he was doing it anyway. He was an enormous fellow and I'm sure he'll at least drop a few pounds doing it. I wished him well and continued on my way.
I stopped in Wisdom and bought a cherry Coke from the market, which didn't have much in the way of provisions. The whole town seemed a little bit like Invasion of the Body Snatchers so I headed south towards Jackson, my final destination. This turned me into the wind, which was picking up. It was only 18 miles but it was slow going. Ominous storm clouds came into view and I began to get worried. Pretty soon there were dark clouds all around me with lightning striking the peaks. I was sprinting by now, not wishing to get caught in the tempest. There was no shelter out in the flat treeless expanse and I didn't think sitting in a ditch would be fun for long. As it began to sprinkle, I pedaled all-out into the headwind, hoping that Jackson was right around the corner. I was very hungry and was trying to eat trail mix through the packet with my teeth while pedaling furiously to beat the storm. Eventually, I pulled into the Jackson Hot Springs Resort (a fancy name) and grabbed the last of their cabins as rain began to fall.
This place is the only accommodation in Jackson, MT (pop 37). It is also the only bar, restaurant, and casino. It has a big lodge with lots of animal heads and Lynyrd Skynyrd blasting at top volume. My bicycle is parked next to a row of gleaming Harleys. There was a band setting up (I believe the name was "The Good Ol' Boys") and people were fixin' to have a shit-kicking time. After having a ribald conversation on the front porch with some gentlemen, I filled my belly with Montana fare and retired to my bed. I will be going to sleep in the next several minutes or less.
View Larger Map
Missoula isn't all hippies
Is there a reading for "actually burning at this instant"?
Great bike path
If only you could see them
The smoke creates great sunset light even early in the day
Gloom later in the day
The Sula Country Store, where I camped. Red moon rising through the smoke.
First Continental Divide crossing this trip. There will be more.
This camp robber was really insistent. Finally I gave him some bread.
These Canadians stopped at the top of the pass to take pictures of me.
Into the Big Hole
Tony, the retired policeman, on his contraption
Clouds looking nasty over the Bitterroots
Time to pedal faster
This is where I am staying tonight.
This guy is getting ready to play
