the cycle is complete....

August 9, 2007

6:15 is really too early to wake up for a person who doesn't like mornings. That's probably why I put my shorts on backwards. Fortunately, I realized it... uh, almost immediately.

I rode downtown to the convenience store where I bought breakfast... a chewy, tasteless pastry. I also bought two packages of beef jerky and a couple of other items to eat along the way, and refilled my plastic jug of Gatorade. I didn't know how far I'd be able to make it today, but I planned to ride my little heart out and either make it all the way to Cut Bank or stop exhausted on the side of the road and pitch a tent.

I showed the cashier my map to make sure I was on Highway 2. I'm only on it for about three miles, then I turn onto 501. He wasn't sure either, and we looked at one of the store maps to figure it out. We determined that the road right in from of the store was Highway 2, so I was set.

When I went outside to stash all the food in my handlebar bag, the cashier came out to talk to me. He let me know that if I go the opposite direction, 501 is only about two blocks. I can catch it there. I thanked him, and took off.

However, when I got to the intersection I didn't see a sign for 501. I stood there a moment, waiting for the inspiration which never came, then decided to turn around. Was I willing to trust a guy who just finished a twelve-hour graveyard shift in a convenience store? Normally, I probably would, but... Not here. Not now. I appreciate his help, but I just can't afford to make a wrong turn. I rode back past the convenience store pretty fast and hoped he didn't glance outside.

I left the store at 7:00. It was 50 degrees, and there was a misty rain falling. I was getting wet, but not particularly cold. As I was riding through the rain, I thought that there was a certain symmetry that I had started my trip in the rain, and now I'm ending it in the rain.... the cycle is complete.

I didn't stop much, but when I did I was struck by the complete silence. Nothing muffles sound like the mist, and there were no sounds to muffle out here in these open spaces.

Today was all about cadence. I focused almost totally on my riding, and especially my cadence. Through my rain-soaked, fogged lenses, I looked at and enjoyed the scenery, but mostly I concentrated on keeping the crank spinning at a high RPM.... I had to put some miles behind me unless I wanted to sleep on the side of the road. I had a slight tailwind, more of a breeze, for which I was grateful. Eventually, the mist became lighter and lighter, then eventually stopped altogether after an hour and a half or so. I kept my jacket on, unzipped and with the sleeves pulled up, because it's so bright and hard to miss even in this overcast weather.

I reached Del Bonita about 9:15. Shortly after I arrived, I saw a glimpse of the sun. I hadn't been drinking much, only about one bottle over the 32 miles. Since I knew there may not be any more water between here and Cut Bank I went inside to refill that one bottle.

The two ladies inside were old hands at this. Since this is the only stop for 72 miles, they've seen just about every biker who comes through. One of the ladies even said that they let people pitch a tent in her backyard, as well as let them use the shower.

We talked about the weather, as I frequently do with people I meet, and I felt like a really stupid American. She was using Celsius and I had no idea about how hot or cold it was. When she told me the temperature last week, I just raised my eyebrows, looked really impressed as I nodded knowingly and said, "Ooooohhhh."

At 9:45, the clouds almost instantly all but disappeared.

Around midmorning, I came to the slow realization that I was probably going to make it all the way today. Of course, I had mixed feelings... I was excited that I was going to make it all the way, yet saddened by the fact that this would be my last day. I've been having a lot of fun.

The Border Patrol officer at the Del Bonito crossing was all business. Unsmiling and monotone, he asked if I had anything to declare. "No." Do I have any weapons, etc. "No." Do I have any meat products.... I started to say, "You bet. About a third of the way down my colon. I had some great ribs last night," then finish with a manly-sounding, "Heh, Heh."

Then, in the back of my mind, I seemed to recall that they do body cavity searches at the border.

"No, Sir, I do not."

Meat products? Wait... I remembered the beef jerky in my handlebar bag. Does that even count? Regardless, it's no problem. As long as I don't have to open my handlebar bag I'm okay... he'll never see it.

"May I see some identification, please."

"Sure. It's right here in my handlebar bag."

It took about fifteen seconds to find my wallet without actually opening the top of the bag and using touch only, but it seemed a lot longer. "Some weather we've been having, eh?"

I gave him my driver's license and he took it inside. When he returned he asked me if I was a pilot. I was impressed, especially since I haven't flown a plane in three years. Again, I considered asking him how much I owed the library for those two late books, but.... no, I don't think his sense of humor is similar to mine.

Besides, I'm already on the lam for sneaking a knife into Canada and not paying for my campsites. I didn't want him to know that The Librarians are after me, too. My life of crime is going to catch up to me someday, now that The Librarians have me on their list.

As I re-entered the United States, there was a sign welcoming me into Montana. I guess the border patrol told them I was coming.

Or maybe The Librarians.... they're smarter.

The wind picked up and it varied from a crosswind to a partial tailwind.

Now, instead of the silence, I could hear the wind in the wheat. Occasionally, I could hear a grasshopper.

I've heard some people say that parts of Montana have no speed limit. I learned today that it isn't true. It's just that the speed limit varies from car to car, depending on the amount of horsepower.

My route took me through the Blackfeet Indian Reservation.

As I told you earlier, you get to know the sounds of your bike. Now I was hearing a new sound. It almost sounded like the ping of a spoke breaking, but when that happens your rim goes out of true and your brake pads start rubbing against the rims. Besides, this was happening way too frequently... three or four times a minute. I finally figured out what it was.... tiny grasshoppers (there were thousands) were jumping into my spokes and getting batted down.

About eight or nine miles from Cut Bank my left calf started cramping. I never get cramps riding ( probably because you have to use your muscles to get them... and you have to have muscles in the first place). I tried favoring it, and kept gimping toward my destination.

As I pedaled through the outskirts of Cut Bank (pop 3,329) I was amazed.... never in a single location have I seen such a large collection of mobile homes. There were single wides, double wides, and triple wides. They were placed end-to-end, perpendicular, and in "L" shapes. Lots of dirt yards, not much grass. I saw a lot of oil well-related companies and used cars. Lots of barking dogs chained near front doors. Leaning against a rickety chain link fence there was a dirt bike for sale with the words, "Git-R-Done" painted on it.

I'll bet I have some relatives here.

After five hours and seventeen minutes, 74.3 miles, and an average of 14.1 miles per hour, I entered Cut Bank. I had done it.

I pulled in to the Subway Deli and turned on my phone. I noticed I had a message from Heather and when I listened to it, learned that she had some mildly alarming news. Things were about to get complicated....

In spite of the fact that someone had specifically told her that Cut Bank had a station that would be able to accommodate bikes, she had just learned that they can't. The train has neither a bike rack nor a baggage compartment. Oh well, that's not that big of a deal - I'll just take my bike to the local bike shop. I've done that on several occasions. They'll box it up for ten or twenty bucks, then mail it to my house for another sixty or so. However, as I soon learned, Cut Bank doesn't have a bike shop. In fact, the closest one is more than a hundred miles away.

Okay, now I'm starting to worry a little bit. I can catch the train here, but I'll have to leave my bike. I guess I could paint "Git-R-Done" on it and try selling it, but I'd really like to keep it. Over the last three weeks I've become somewhat attached to it (and I'm not just referring to the saddle, which I plan to have surgically removed from my butt as soon as I get back home).

I rode through the downtown area and stopped at City Hall. I went inside and told the lady at the desk my situation and asked if she had any suggestions. After some consideration she suggested I try UPS. There's one in town, but they don't open until 4:00, another hour and a half. I rode in that direction and stopped at the Super 8 Motel across the street from UPS. They didn't have any single rooms, and the doubles were close to a hundred dollars. Understandable, in a mobile home resort town like this.

Realizing that I'd be camping if I didn't get a motel pretty quick I called another place and reserved a room. It was on the other side of town, a little more than a mile and a half away, and I pedaled there immediately. On the way I stopped at the Visitor's Center and made the same inquiry. The answer was the same... try UPS. My hopes were hanging on a thin UPS thread.

By the time I got my room rented and my bike unloaded, it was time to ride back to the UPS store. After I arrived, and waited a while for my turn, I learned from a helpful employee named Katy that they COULD ship it.

...if only they had some boxes. She'd ordered them three weeks ago and was still waiting. She didn't even have some small ones that she could cut and tape together to make a bigger one.

Think.

"Well, let me ask you this...," I said, my mind stretching for options. "If I call the bike shop in Great Falls and make arrangements with them so that they can ship my bike, you know, give them my credit card number and everything, do you know of anyone who can take it there? I'd be happy to pay them to do it." She considered a minute and said she'd try to think of someone. I gave her my phone number and pedaled back to the motel.

On the way I passed a sign advertising rental cars. AHA! I can rent a car, drive to Great Falls in the morning, drop off my bike, then be back in Cut Bank in time for the 10:45 train.

In my motel room I made calls to the two rental agencies, but it was now after 5:00 and they were closed. I then called the bike shop in Great Falls to find out if I could even make arrangements with them. The guy at Knickerbikers was friendly and helpful, and said that he would be happy to take care of it.

It would cost $20.00 to box and anywhere from $175 to $200 to ship. "Isn't that a little.... steep?" I asked. As I mentioned above, it usually costs about $60.00 - $80.00 to ship. He said that they charge that much because they don't even do it themselves; they hire a middleman. In fact, he was thinking of discontinuing the service because you never could please anyone when you box a bike up.

I told him I'm still looking for someone to deliver it to him and he suggested that I not give him my credit card information until I make some final delivery arrangements. He also told me there's a bike shop in Havre, and gave me the number. It's about the same distance from me.

I called Havre and talked to the owner, Roger, and told him my situation. I asked him if he could tell me about how much it would cost to ship. He laughed caustically and said, "Sure, buddy, I've got a magic scale right here that will tell me how much your bike weighs and how much it'll cost to ship. OF COURSE I can't tell you!"

"I see.... Can you tell how much it'll cost to box it up?"

"Forty bucks. Go ahead and give me your credit card information and I'll mail you the bike later."

I told him that I'm still looking for a way to get it there and I'd give him the information after I found someone.

In a pig's eye, I will.

Time's running out....

I wondered if I could find a bike box somewhere else and still ship it UPS. I had forgotten to get the number of the local UPS office (it's not possible to get it by looking online or calling the national number - you only get voicemail options), so I climbed back on my bike and rode back across town. When I talked to Katy she said that I could do that, and suggested that I try Alberton's grocery store. A small glimmer of hope arose.

I pedaled down the street to Albertson's and went inside. A young, redheaded man named Jonathan was the first person I saw. I asked him if there were any boxes and he told me they had plenty. As we were walking to the back of the store I let him know why I needed them. He stopped in midstride and asked why I don't just ride to Shelby and catch the train there. They can accommodate bikes.

As it turns out Jonathan rides bikes. He's been on the train I'm taking, and they DO have a baggage compartment in which you can ship your bike... you just can't load the bike in Cut Bank because there's no station. However, if I ride to Shelby, 24 miles down the road, I can box and load my bike there.

I immediately pulled out my phone and called Amtrak. I learned that there was a train leaving from Shelby daily at 11:40. I needed to be there by 10:40 in order to box my bike. Sorry, but the Saturday train, the day after tomorrow, is sold out. Yes, we have one seat left on tomorrow's train. I reserved it. .... Wow ....

Meet Jonathan, in whose debt I will forever be.....

I seriously considered trying to ride to Shelby that evening... just leaving the motel room in Cut Bank and getting another one near the train station in Shelby. I didn't want to risk anything happening in the morning that might prevent me from getting to the station, but.... I simply wasn't able to ride an additional 24 miles, not with my calf starting to cramp after riding more than 80 miles today.

Really, though, probably the main reason not to cut and run is that I'm just too cheap to pay for a motel and not use it.

Besides, I really hate giving up any motel with a view out my window like this one:

And really, what could happen?

So, the adventure continues for at least one more day.

I sure wish I had checked the weather....

Miles 82.9
Maximum speed 42.6
Average speed 13.3
Time 6:13:53
Cumulative miles 899.53

Today's ride: 83 miles (134 km)
Total: 897 miles (1,444 km)

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