June 30, 2023
Murdering Flies and Cursing Engineers
Ford's Cabin to Whitefish
This is what you came for.
-Scott Jurek, Ultra marathon racer
June 30- Ford Cabin to Whitefish, 50 miles, 2976 feet.
I was a little concerned about the people fishing down the road from the cabin since I don't think my camping spot is technically legal. But there were no problems from people, griz or wolverines during the night.
I left bright and early (!) at 9am and again ran into Stan from Portland at the jct of Red Meadow Road and North Fork Road. I met him yesterday with the Swiss riders. It turns out he lives just a few blocks from where Jen and I lived in Portland, and, along.with some other neighbors started a bike bus in the neighborhood for kids, which is an organized ride for kids and adults to ride to school. It's a great idea that's happening in other areas of Portland as well.
I was debating whether to go 10 miles off route down North Fork Road to the town of Polebridge in Glacier National Park or continue on the route towards Red Meadow and Whitefish. It was a flip-a-coin moment. Polebridge has an amazing bakery and general store, and I could have camped near Bowman Lake, but I could have ended up staying a few days, which isn't conducive to moving down the road. But Red Meadow is on the route and I elected to stay on route.
The climb started on fairly good gravel pack, which deteriorated into a mixture of sandy, loose rock, baby heads (large rocks), wash board and other unpleasantness. There was very little surface to maintain any momentum on the 3-10 percent grades, and I had to push much of the last 2 or 3 miles. Rough, and I might have heard myself spewing expletives, like SFD. I encountered several side by sides, motorcycles and trucks which passed in both directions, and most were courteous on the narrow, dusty, rocky road. I'm handling the heat well on this trip, but today the dirty bastard biting flies have gotten me a few times. I've destroyed a few in retaliation, and may they rot for eternity in everlasting hell.
| Heart | 10 | Comment | 2 | Link |
1 year ago
1 year ago
| Heart | 8 | Comment | 4 | Link |
1 year ago
This short climb really tested my commitment. What the hell am I doing? I could be sitting on my porch drinking lemonade instead of shoving an 80 pound bike up a rocky, fly-infested mountain! But, I turned on some music, Jamestown Revival, which helped me slog up the road in a better mood. I like the sounds of riding- gravel crunching under my tires, water flowing beside the road, a Swainson's Thrush pushing me up at the end of a ridiculous climb-but sometimes the earbuds go in during a monotonous climb and I listen to music, a podcast or audio book.
When I finally rounded the corner and saw stunning Red Meadow Lake laid out in front of me, I stopped all of the caterwauling and bellyaching. It's really amazing. I unstrapped the chair for only the 2nd or 3rd time of the trip, plopped it down in front of the lake and ate lunch. I'm still working on the original pound of cheese and beef jerky I brought from Silverton. Yeah, I packed too much food. There was a large group of people next to me from Ohio or somewhere picnicing and swimming, and I hoped they would offer me a coke or a sandwich. But I guess I didn't look pathetic enough. They must be jealous of my large calves.
| Heart | 6 | Comment | 6 | Link |
1 year ago
1 year ago
There are some obvious thought bubbles in this group:
"That cyclist's calves are so huge, he must have all the sandwiches he needs in them-thar bike bags."
and
"We are not worthy of such handsomeness! Someone more handsomer than George Clooney would find our sandwiches laughable. So let's just not embarrass ourselves, m'kay."
1 year ago
1 year ago
I was debating whether to roll to Whitefish, which is another 30 miles, mostly downhill, or camp at Red Meadow. It was still early in the day and I decided to head to Whitefish. As I was preparing to leave, a GDMBR rider named Jason rolled up and stoped to talk. He was from Hillsboro, Oregon and had ridden from Eureka today, about 65 miles so. His plan was to continue to Whitefish, so he was in for about 100 miles. Argh! He is riding the route in 4 weeks with family support. I like that people do the route in so many different ways. Racing seems to get most of the attention, but hundreds of people are just riding their ride. I am in awe of anyone who can ride the 2700 miles in 15, 20 or 30 days, and I'm in awe of anyone who can ride any section of the route at any speed. It's not for the weak minded, as Augustus McRae says in Lonesome Dove.
I left and headed up for a couple miles to the pass and began the descent, which was miles of fun. My rim brakes have held up well, although these roads are testing their limits. Flying downhill was an appropriate reward for the punishing climb earlier in the day. And it was all downhill fun and games until the road engineers decided that the paved approach to Whitefish ought to include some short, relentless climbs and rollers, just for shits and grins. There are few things that make me lose my cherub-like demeanor more than uphills after a long, brutal day of climbing and bastard giant flies. I was questioning the parental lineage of these engineers the whole way, skillfully cursing their offspring and ancestors to long bouts of horrible and painful explosive dysentery. That will teach them.
But, just as I was about to extend the curse to include leprosy, the Swainson's Thrush came through, pushing me to Whitefish Lake State Park. The hiker biker site is really nice there, with a small pavilion, table, plugs for charging, water and a nearby bathroom and shower. And it's close to the lake. For $8 a night, a great deal. So, a rest day tomorrow!!
Today's ride: 51 miles (82 km)
Total: 306 miles (492 km)
| Rate this entry's writing | Heart | 14 |
| Comment on this entry | Comment | 4 |
1 year ago
which has the strength to meet any hill or fly or loose gravel or ...
come what may!
1 year ago
1 year ago