Day 49, August 2 Bannack State Park, MT to Sula, MT

Internet access has been spotty. We haven't seen a lot of libraries and when we do they seem to be closed. It actually becomes a little stressful to look for them and time it appropriately with our days ride.

For example...

Our ride to Jackson (Day 48)did not end up happening. After following some of our maps bunk directions and circling through Dillon a few times, we got back on track. The wind however was waiting in full gale force for us.

I won't dwell too much on this next 20 miles, but it wasn't pretty. You feel insane, angry, hurt, helpless. I think we were both trying very hard not to say anything because when you speak it automatically sounds snappy, so you just bear it. There is no grinning.

Two other local pink clad lady bikers passed us, but on the otherside of the pass, they seemed as beat as we were. Just as you approach the top of the pass, the wind, as if it wasn't killer already, picks up.

After some munching, we decided that rather then press on to Jackson and be miserable for another however many hours, we ought to stay at our saviour of a state park: Bannack, a short four miles off route, with the wind at our backs. Hurrah. One of the pink ladies lived right next to the park and offered help if we needed it. They were both riding back to Dillon, then driving home (to ranch and Jackson, respectively) Good for them.

Bannack is the strangest state park I have ever been in. It is actually a ghost mining town that has a pretty bloody history that started with the corrupt Road Agents and ended with the Vigilante executing their sheriff and deputy.

Despite the town's creepy history, the camping was quite nice and full of nice campers. We met Tommi and Jack from Missoula who were willing to split some firewood and then gave us some drinks. A local favorite: Moose Drool, brewed in Missoula, was my beverage. They also said they had trouble getting over the pass with their trailer and thought we looked like we were doing a pretty good job (whether this is true or not I don't know). Another MT woman came over and offered us some starter chips (I would just like to say this is before we had actually tried starting the fire). We both relaxed in the clear creek instead of showering and then cooked our backpackers kitchen meal.

So in the morning, it was was the usual frigid, but we made some oats and got off pretty early to try to beat the afternoon wind. We stopped constantly to take off clothes, pee, remove another layer. We just couldn't seem to get any momentum going. We also met Doug, an eastbound 3-wheeled recumbent biker, probably retired, who had started way up in Vancouver and was heading for Charleston South Carolina.

In Jackson, we stopped for our "real" breakfast at Rose's Cantina. The food is Montana is real good, but, as we've read on some signage "if you're in a hurry, you're in the wrong town." That said, it probably took us too long, but we felt better afterwards, well I did. I think Andy's chicken fried steak was a wee bit heavy.

The area was full of lots of meadows. Hay farming country, surrounded by beautimous mountains, that were pretty hazed over, but we still enjoyed the views and the cows chewing cud. We get lonely without them.

In Wisdom, another 20 miles or so, we stopped at the grocery to get supplies for dinner and breakfast and get some strange concoction for the now. In our time there we met Matthew, a very freckled and tanned, lanky, 50-something, who was already in his 8000nth mile of biking. He had started in St. Louis, but has gone all over the west since. His meal was a can of beans and some tortillas. He said he had taken a week off to work a bike race in FL and had gained 15 lbs in the week. We must take this as a warning. His blog is longhaultrucking on crazyguyonabike, but we can't find it at the moment.

Anyway, we left to go over Chief Joseph's Pass, our last (we think) continental divide. The way to get to the pass was much more difficult than the actual pass, so much so that we decided to take a rest day when we got to Sula. Maybe it was that knowledge that helped on the pass, and the fact that the temperature dropped as clouds formed and rain passed near and around us.

Once on the top, we saw the sign for Welcome to Idaho and went the other way, down the mountain, which was a much more severe grade than we had on the way up (there are some benefits for doing east to west). We layered back up and put on our rain gear, not so much for the rain, but the wind on this 7% grade was super super strong, so much so that we did not have to really brake during this 13 mile descent.

Andy got a flat on the way down (I am always secretly grateful when HE gets them and not me) and we stopped to fix it just a few miles before Sula. Of course, then it started to rain and the cold started to sink into our wee little bones.

Sula, it turns out, like many towns in our future, is not a town really, but a campground/restaurant/generalstore/gasstation, all in one. To us, although everything was closed, and the lady who owned the campground had to come out in her grandma bathrobe to give us the key to our cabin, we thought it perfect for a day off, with no distractions. Although the promised hot springs was a hot tub, but hey we'll take it.

Since it was cold and rainy, we opted for the cabin the first night, which was really just a bed, but oooh the sheets felt soo nice and soft. After making our spaghetti and tunafish dinner, having Matthew stop by on his way to Hamilton (another 33 miles or so- crazy! even if it was downhill), we got into the tub, showered, and slept like babies after our 97 miler of a day. And the Sabbath was comin!