Day 2

Starting odometer: 224.1
We awoke today to the sound of tent zippers. I put on regular clothes and wandered over to the bathrooms and to grab some breakfast. Most people were already in their lycra and packing, ready to hit the road. I ate some food, leisurely, then we began to pack up camp. We were the next to last people to leave the site, only faster than Dwayne, from Chicago, who refuses to get up early while he's on "vacation". That's what I'm talking about.

So, we finally get moving and pass a group trying to get their gear set for the ride. See, we're already passing people. We have all day and they are waiting in Bigfork with our lunch. I'm ready to take it easy. We ride mainly on concrete all day today with an occasional stretch of gravel road. These are all regular Montana back roads and I'm feeling pretty good. We catch and pass the Kiwis, leaving us wondering if they are going to be ok. We reach the first water stop and some people decide to swim. We don't, but check out people's bikes and chat briefly before heading on our way. There's a bridge to cross as soon as we get up the hill from the stop and there's the 3 Musketeers on it (3 guys from NC, VA, and I don't know about the other one). They almost run us out into traffic as they are straining to watch this bomber fly by the mountains of Glacier.



Of course, they catch us in no time and pass us again. We see them again at a water stop. We start before them, they catch us again. This time they pass us and we see them stopped in the middle of the road and next to them is this old guy in a Buick. Seems like trouble. In fact, it was a small black bear in a field that they spooked and it ran across the street just before we got up to viewing range. Figures. We don't see these dudes again pretty much all trip. We take our time, smelling the roses, so to speak. We're skirting Glacier, but riding mainly through fields. It's getting hot and water sounds nice. We do get chased by dogs and I was envisioning a bloody mess before they even got close to my bike. I was concerned, but we just yelled "no!" as loudly and with as much authority as possible while pedalling as hard as we could. No biting happened, thank goodness!


We get to Bigfork for lunch and it's pretty blazing by this point. We don't want to set up our tent as it will be 140 degrees inside anyway, so we put our stuff in our spot, don't bother showering as we're still sweating, and walk down to the center of Bigfork. We didn't have on our bathing suits, (silly, really) so we don't go swimming. Instead, we wander the streets and find a shady park in which to sit. We sit and a couple from Durango joins us. We chat and it's a lovely time. The Kiwis also arrive and after a brief chat, we go find some ice cream. That is just about heaven.

We're worried about the next riding day, as it's 62 miles up steep terrain to the town of Condon. We attend the map meeting, eat dinner, take showers, then head back into town for a couple of beers. I think this will help me sleep and I'm going to need it for the day ahead of us. We fall asleep pretty easily tonight and I'm sending happy thoughts to my butt, as it's about to get some real abuse.

Day 1

Today begins in Missoula, at home. We finish packing- did we overpack? (yes), underpack? forget anything? Oh well, too bad. The dogs are in the kennel, the house is closed up, we are on our way! We are both excited and scared, but there's no turning back now. Missoula is very smoky from fires- perhaps our trip will be cut short due to fire danger...No, I don't really wish that to happen. Happy thoughts! We cruise up 93, around the lake and arrive in Whitefish around 4. The orientation meeting doesn't start until 5:30, so we hit Dairy Queen for some cold ice cream. might as well, we'll work that fat right off tomorrow!

We pull into the parking lot and mosey up to the registration desk. We sign in and they give us safety triangles to wear at all times while riding. They ask us to put our names and where we're from on it as well. Hmm, what runs through my mind? Yep, it's for identification just in case we're found in a ditch or mauled by bear. Morbid, aren't I?

Anyway, we're at Whitefish High School for the night and we're told we can set up our tent wherever we like. Most of the tents are already pitched and they are all pretty darn close together. What's with that? There's this whole field and everyone is squished in together. Perhaps they feel safe in numbers. I don't know, but I want to sleep and if I keep hearing rustling of other people in tents I'm going to be up all night. J also doesn't want to be so close to so many, so we pitch ours out in the field.

It's time for the orientation meeting, which includes introducing the staff, talking about the terrain we will be covering, safety issues (ride single file at all times to help avoid being struck by a car), and a map meeting of the route we will be riding tomorrow. Turns out we hardly used our map because they have a person on staff who goes out with a broom and chalk paint and sprays directions onto the ground for us. How nice! J and I have spent endless hours staring at maps, wondering if we are on the right road. Should we have turned? Seems like all of the maps are slightly wrong, which could lead you on a crazy long ride that you weren't anticipating. I'm comforted by the directions. The deal is that these wonderful folks provide us with breakfast at 6 in the morning each day (6:30 for hot breakfast and coffee), then we start riding. About every 15 miles or so they provide a water stop with water, gatorade, fruit, granola bars, etc. So really, I just have to ride 15-mile increments and then refuel. There's also a lunch stop each day and dinner is around 6 each night. Sounds simple. There are vehicles along the route if you get injured or feel like you can't go any further they will "sag" you. There's about 38 of us in total, average age around 53. We are some of the youngest.

Dinner is then served. It's burgers and dogs with kraut, potato salad and chips. I look around at our peers. It's couples, groups of friends and a few singles. There's one lady who started the route in Canada, will be riding with us through this section, then will continue down the divide to the border of Mexico. There's a couple from New Zealand who are in their 70's. Most people don't seem to be in serious shape and there are a few who are rather overweight and seem like they may struggle. I guess we'll find out. J and I, shy that we are at first, talk to few people and concentrate on being ready.

After dinner we ride around Whitefish for a while. I'm more used to being there in winter, so it's nice to see it in bloom. I read for a while, write in my journal, then we sack down to get some good sleep in preparation for the short ride tomorrow- 44 miles on practically flat roads from Whitefish to Bigfork. We bring our bikes over and I wonder about safety. No one has any of them locked up. I hope we awake in the morning with all of them still there. We're jittery and it's hard to relax to get some rest. I bet I'll sleep better tomorrow.

the adventure continues

Training:
We have a goal: the Great Divide Montana. This is a mountain bike tour through Adventure Cycling that we have selected to ride. This is one of the few off-road tours they offer and one of great beauty. We commence in charming Whitefish, MT, travelling to Bigfork, up through the Mission mountains through the Swan Valley, stopping in Condon, Seeley Lake (where we got married 4 years ago!) and end in Lincoln. It's 250 miles on forest service and logging roads through land filled with Huckleberries, grizzly bears, amazing waterfalls, and things not yet known. They will carry our gear and feed us, so all we need to do is ride. Once we committed to it in February, the panic started to set in. I must prepare, I will not make my one week of vacation this year a thing of torture. I will have a great time. This means I must learn to love my bike, get over being saddle sore, push myself mentally and physically. Well, this is something altogether new to me.

I have my helmet to keep my noggin from getting splattered all over the concrete, I have padded shorts to give my seat a little more cushion (thanks to awesome birthday gift cards- thanks everyone!). I'm ready to go. My first fear: clip-in pedals. I have never tried them, never wanted to. Now, I give it a go. In the back yard. First with J holding my bike. Clip in, clip out, clip in, clip out. Ok. Then riding through the soft backyard. Clip in, clip out, clip in, fall. This becomes very boring and I finally say I'm ready to hit the road. I'm not falling very often, so it must be time. Little did I know that six months later I still have trouble clipping out in stress situations. J watches me fall hard in slow motion, trying to look away, but really unable to do so. Me, feeling that moment of trouble, knowing in my head that I need to clip out, but somehow my feet don't move and I'm crashing hard onto my leg, hip, shoulder, hand, landing on rocks, trees, gravel and pavement. I'm constantly bruised, usually bleeding. I'm most frustrated while trapped under my bike, still unable to free that foot from the pedal. I swear a lot. Then I untwist the pretzel I've found myself screwed up in and brush myself off. I look at J, he gives me a very sad face. He says it's very hard to watch me crash and burn like that. Maybe I need different pedals. Maybe I need a new brain. He has never believed that I am a klutz. Until now. I have finally made him understand why I will never drive a motorcycle. Yes, hun, I will kill myself.

Besides the accidents, our training has been both the time of our lives and a burden. How many miles are we riding? How much time does it take? How many days this week have we ridden? I feel to properly train for something like this I need to quit my job. It just takes too much of my day. However, the rides we have done have been pretty amazing. We have seen beautiful mountain country, bushwhacked trail, been attacked by a quail, (yea, that's right, a quail) and seen no one else on any trail we've ever ridden, with the exception of the one trail in town we've ridden together. Amazing. In the Lolo area we have explored everywhere, riding so far into the mountains that we had to look at satellite to figure out where we were. We've seen land ravaged by fire, logging, microbursts. We've ridden through rain, wind, snow, and especially lately, powerful heat.

What I've learned about my body and my mental abilities were the most surprising. My legs rarely let me down. I have demanded a lot of them and they continue to give me power. They may demand a break from time to time, but are eager to get back to that pedal motion. They aren't the things that fail me. My head does let me down. Sometimes if I just don't look at the hill in front of me, but rather at my front tire, I can keep cranking along. But it only takes one peek around the next bend to see the hill continues to climb instead of levelling out for my body to break. I've started playing head games with myself to see how to control that moment of giving up, of thinking, "I'm never going to make it" or "I can't do it". During our trip I will do it, I will make it. There's really no other choice.

new adventure

A few months ago, friends started to ask if I was going to create a blog. I thought about it. A lot. At first, I thought that blogging was only a place where people come to complain. Sort of like the private dialogue in your head, but public. There's no face-to-face confrontation, just that empty void in which to vent all of your frustrations in life, from the most simple- getting the wrong coffee from your favorite coffee stand to the larger ones: discontent at work, the government, a bad relationship, etc.

However, I have read some really great blogs of late, very positive, very insightful. They have restored my faith in the human spirit. So, last, but not least, I'm coming into my own. Entering the digital age to post my experiences and thoughts to friends and family.

My first life adventure to share is an actual adventure. I should have started recording months ago and for this I apologize, but I will try to summarize while retaining most of it's flavor. Teaser: the end result is that we are going on a bike trip on Saturday that will test my strength, both physical and mental. Here's the summary.

Biking:
This is a totally new thing for me. Like any typical American girl I had a bike. I remember it's banana seat and it's bright orange flag on it's pole (yes, I had a safety-first mother) that waved back and forth with every stroke of the pedal. When I outgrew this bike, it was not replaced. Not in high school, not during college. When I moved to Missoula someone gave me a bright pink bike which I rode some, mainly downtown from my house and have recently passed on to a new rider. Then I bought a used cruiser and was satisfied. This cruiser has a mega-padded seat with springs, 4 gears, a huge basket on the front, cruiser brakes. What more could I possibly need? Nothing.

Until J, my husband, got a job at Adventure Cycling Association last year. He asked me if I wanted a bike. I said yes, I wanted a road bike. Me, who loves things that are repetitive and boring: sewing, painting, etc. I can zone out and think about all of the world's problems and solutions. This is my sport. No, J says, you don't want a road bike. Trust me. You can only ride on the road and they are pretty fragile. Lots of upkeep. What you want is a mountain bike. We live in prime mountain bike territory. You will have much more fun on a mountain bike. Well, I do trust J, so I got a mountain bike. Full suspension. Cannondale. Lefty front fork. All these terms I didn't understand, but had faith that I would not have problems figuring out. My bike arrives, J drools over it. It's the coolest bike ever. I'm so lucky to have one. Do I love it? I pause for a minute, two, love it? No. It's a bike. It was built to get me places. We'll have to see if that love grows. Here's what it looks like.

So, the bike "adventures" begin. J is enthusiastic. I am nervous.