Sunday, July 24th
I head out the hostel a little after 8 to get out my room and get some breakfast. Outside Keegan is sitting in the passenger seat of a parked car as a guy next to him talks loudly into a phone. We exchange a wave. He has a long day ahead of him.
I eat huevues rancheros outside a cafe in the sun, drink a bad cappuccino, and head back to the hostel to pack and leave.
There are two routes i’m trying to pick between. One would be heading directly North, touching the edge of Glacier, then joining the Northern Tier route. A more scenic but definitely longer route. The other option is to follow the interstate for around 120 miles, either riding on the shoulder or parallel roads if they exist, then joining the Coeur d’Alene trail just after entering Idaho. It’s a 72 mile rails-to-trails cycle path which is meant to be one of the best in the country. Eventually I decide i’ll take this. It means tolerating the interstate for a day or two, but the time has sadly come to favour direct over scenic routes.
I repack my stuff, pump my tires, and after a chat with a wildernesss ranger staying at the hostel, slowly make my way out of the city.
I have a few stops to make on my way. First the supermarket where I over buy on snacks for the next week. I keep meaning to buy less food and just top up more often, but inevitably end up panic buying 16 granola bars.
Outside I try and pack this all in or on to my bike. As I do so a large guy missing a number of teeth comes up to me and asks me if 11pm means 11 at night or in the morning. It’s an odd question. He then tells me he’s cycling to Houston, Texas on a 10-speed bike which he only cycles at night. It’s an odd conversation and I can’t tell what’s true and what isn’t, but also can’t identify a motive for making it up. I wish him well and head along, taking back roads by the railroad to REI, via a thrift store where I pick up some new old shorts to replace my current pair which have been bleached by the sun over the last two months.
At REI I buy gas and a water bottle to replace the one I left at the garage sale, and finally i’m on my way, eventually finding my way to the road which runs parallel to the interstate heading West.
As usual, a one day rest day wasn’t enough and I feel tired and slow, I can feel it’s going to drag today. It’s already 3pm and several times I scale back where i’m aiming for – originally St. Regis, which would have put me in 30 miles of the trailhead. But then Superior, eventually I set my sights on a National Forest Campground right at the side of the Interstate, around 11 miles east of Superior.
I cycle next to the interstate until the road following it begins to wind off on long scenic detours before it runs parallel again. I go past four llamas in a field as the winds off into the hills somewhere. It’s at this point I stop, and eventually turn back, reluctantly deciding to ride on the interstate for the rest of the day.
The shoulder on the road is wide, and the cycling is ok. I feel a little more vulnerable than when I was riding it with other people and the speed limit here is higher I think – 80mph. It’s hard to relax and I count down the miles to Alberton and detour off the interstate when it arrives.
There’s a couple of bars there, a church, a self service gas station with a shop which is closed, and strangely enough, a bookshop – Montana Valley Book Store. It’s probably my best bet of getting some water so I lean my bike outside, close to a vending machine which judging by the Coke logo looks like it hasn’t been updated since the 80’s, and enter the shop.
The books go from floor to ceiling, there’s a basement too. One guy is sat in a corner head in a book, and a family have stopped to let their kids browse. There’s also a large white cat who has the run of the place. I’m surprised to find a book shop at all, let alone people in it. I fill my water then browse some photography books, picking up a small old pamphlet on black and white development from Kodak, and an illustrated history of California from the 50s. Now i’m over the worst of the mountains and maybe 9 or 10 days from the finish, I don’t feel so bad about carrying a little extra weight.
I speak to Jeannette for a while, she’s wearing a tie-die t-shirt and working there whilst the owner is away and used to work at the bar next door. It’s a very small town. I sit outside on a bench to eat a late lunch and try and wait for the heat to cool. Jeannette gives me a postcard of the shop as a souvenir and smokes a cigarette as we talk and I eat some bread. It had been feeling like a bit of a nothing day but the distraction of the shop I stumbled upon and a little conversation refreshes me.
I carry on for another 25 miles or so. The interstate becomes slightly less busier with traffic. A lot of people would have been returning to Missoula earlier in the day, kayaks and bikes strapped to their cars and campers. It’s mostly downhill for me and some great views over the Clark Fork where train trestle bridges criss cross over the water between trees.
The book falls off my bike and I pick it up, luckily it lands it shoulder with just a small scuff.
Signs for a rest stop and camping appear. Two miles away. I’ve only made 54 miles, it’s been a drowsy, hot and slow day. I’ll have to do better tomorrow, at least i’ve cleared the city and i’m halfway to the trailhead. Another 60 miles on the interstate in the morning should hopefully pass more quickly.
I pull into the rest area, then follow signs to the camping. It’s in Lolo National Forest and is only 10$ to camp but I only have $20 notes. I find the hosts (as far as I can tell campground hosts seem to be people paid to camp in these campgrounds all season to collect money) but they don’t have change and after I explain my trip, that i’m on a bike, they tell me I can camp for free. A fat chiuauaua licks my shoes as we talk. They tell me about a guy who wrapped his car around a tree last week and I look forward to getting off the interstate, hopefully tomorrow.
I find a spot and eat the rest of my bread. It’s actually one of the more picturesque places i’ve camped, picnic tables dotted carefully amongst big trees which have scattered pine cones on the ground, but the highway is less than a hundred meters away and it rumbles away into the night.
Map