In Memory of Warmer Summers

For a couple of weeks I’d been communicating with my good friend Lin Davenport of Thermopolis, Wyoming.  Lin was in Wisconsin and making plans to perhaps meet up with me should our schedules work out.  I’ve known Lin for…I’m unsure…getting close to 40 years now?  We’ve kept in contact through some tough times in each of our lives and celebrated some good times as well.  Lin had to make a dash for home because her mother was not doing well and while we were on our way to Circle, Montana Lin pulled up in her car for a roadside reunion.

These kinds of meetings are not easy to gauge as our itinerary can change on a moment’s notice.  Good job catching us Lin and it was a pleasure to see you again.

July 7 through July 9th

The ride is certainly not all about the land, but this is Montana – large farms, huge tracts to work, so this little team was listed for sale.  Are we farming or what?

Meet Cadence.  She camped with us near Wolf Point and is riding solo from Minneapolis to Vancouver Island:

After Wolf Point we overtook John here crossing the Missouri River on an old bridge that was opened only to cyclists on this particular day due to some historical reseachers visiting in the area.  John is from Salem, OR also riding solo on the Northern Tier to Maine.

And last, but not least, meet Katie. Katie camped with us outside of Glendive having started in Virginia and riding the Trans-Am to the Louis and Clark Trail solo on her way to Washington.  She’s a former USAF pilot and she’s an accomplished traveler.

We completed Montana after roughly 800+ miles in the state on July 9th getting to Medora, North Dakota.  We met with the “Three Teachers” once more and tried to get a hotel room due to bad storms expected that night.  The Teachers were succesful, we were not, so off to the campground Sallie and I went. 

While doing a load of laundry, Sallie and I encountered Greenbriar at the same campground.  We had not seen him since Logan Pass in Glacier

Unfortunately, a bad electrical storm settled in with extremely high winds and driving rain.  Sallie’s tent was struck by some loose wire fencing and her rain fly was shredded on one side.  We shifted gear around and both of us shared my tent for the remainder of the night.  The storm took down a number of tents, there were some vehicles damaged by falling limbs and one RV was slammed into by a trampoline that came from an undetermined distance away.

July 4th though the 6th
Dodson, Glasgow, and Wolf Point, Montana

North-Central Montana moving east no longer has the mountains to maintain one’s interest.  We left the mountains back awhile ago, but after 1,000 miles of them that was okay.  New problems crop up when faced with the new agricultural terrain though and the mind gets to wandering. 

Upon coming into Blaine County, Montana we had been and will be riding for a few hundred miles paralleling a rail line they call the High-Line because of the crossing it makes this far north. 

I noted an awful lot of seagulls in the area and watched their behavior quite carefully, concluding that these birds were most definitely eating road-kill and might actually be hunting gophers and prarie dogs.

Carniverous seagulls.  Blaine County, Montana.  The High-Line railroad.

Blaine the Train?

I half expected Roland Gilead to come into view on the horizon.

July 1 (cont.) through July 3
Cut Bank; Chester; Havre; Dodson, Montana

My little rant about the border crossing is not intended to take away the most important thing that took place on July 1st.  We are talking a little bit of Trail Magic in meeting the next three riders as we share a campsite in Cut Bank, Montana.

Please meet Meg, Anne, and KJo. 

They are teachers from the Boston area out on a ladies only tour on the Northern Tier from the west coast of Washington to home.  They have a deadline to get back so they are all business (except for First Breakfast, Second Breakfast, First Lunch, etc.).  As you will read these three extremely good natured friends and awesome cyclists will figure large in our trip, so our encountering them at Cut Bank was our good fortune.  They even forgave me for passing on the recommendation from the RV Park owner that they eat at Pizza Hut as the best choice of local food.

The five of us connected again a few days later in Montana after Sallie and I picked up some big mileage days to catch these determined athletes.  Our efforts were rewarded by tasty peanut butter and tortillas in the parking lot of this fine establishment along the way (the bar’s pizza oven was down and the steady customers were all smoking so we had our cyclist’s lunch in the parking lot). 

In between First and Second Breakfast and First Lunch there is a mandatory snack break.  Such are the calorie intake needs on the Northern Tier.

June 29 to July 1

Alberta, Canada via Waterton Lakes National Park and Cardston, AB

Meet Frank and Trudi from Grass Valley, California.  We met them at the border as we were going into Canada.  They are riding from Jasper to a variety destinations in the U.S.

We found Canadian roads to be impeccably paved, with wide shoulders and drivers so courteous they always drove into the oncoming lane to give us plenty of room despite our cycling in the center of their ample road shoulders. 

Canadians are a very polite people.  Unlike the folks in Montana, Canadians do not throw glass bottles onto the shoulder of their roads, although I thought I saw a shard from a broken tea cup at one point.

July 1st is of course Canada Day and I was given a small Canadian flag to celebrate this event by our host at a campground.  Unfortunately, it almost got me in a little trouble with a U.S. Border Patrol Agent.

To summarize the conversation that day as we returned across the border to the U.S., the following was said:

U.S. Customs and Border Protection Officer (CBP):  “What is that flag you are flying on the back of that bike? 

Me:  “It’s a Canadian flag.  It’s Canada Day.”

CBP:  “Not here it isn’t, maybe back there it is (as he points behind me with a heavily tattooed arm that fit well with his extra-long goatee.  The man looked like a Hells Angel). You are in the United States of America now. Take that flag off that bicycle.”

Me: (No response, just glad my sunglasses were still on my face)

CBP:  “Have you ever been arrested for a felony crime or incarcerated in prison for any reason?”

Me:  “No sir.  I’m a retired state trooper from Wyoming.”

CBP: “Where do you live?”

Me: “Florida.”

CBP: “That’s a horrible place.  Why do you live there?”

Me: “Because I’m a retired state trooper from Wyoming.”

And so with this fabulous greeting from this fine representative of the executive branch of my government, we returned to lousy Montana roads with no shoulders, broken bottles everywhere and less than courteous drivers. 

All part of the adventure…

By the way, the flag remained on my bicycle and it remains there today. I will display that flag as long as it will hold up in a presentable condition.