Kevin and I both managed to get up and out pretty early in the morning. As I was rolling out of the campground, the 5th wheel folks were poking their heads out of their rigs with nearly closed eyes and steaming cups of coffee. I pushed into town and happened upon more super scary, home-made signs advertising the horrors and evils of methamphetamines…a bit much to encounter shortly after the rising sun. Fortunately, a truly legit Mennonite breakfast joint ( I know…go figure) was right around the corner…and practically the only thing open in town. I’m happy to report that their work ethic translates to their food production. So with a long conversation around the compare/contrast relationships of Mennonite and Amish cultures, a four egg omelette, and a cinnamon bun the size of my head, I quickly recharged my batteries and shot out towards Missoula.
I faced a relatively short 50 mile stretch of road, but I could have guessed that the law of averages would make that stretch last me the full day. The opening piece was pretty enough, and St. Ignacious provided a nice little break…but as the miles added up the wind really started to press against me. The pass at Ravalli damn near brought me to a stop, but I was rather head-strong to make town well before business hours closed the doors at the Adventure Cycling Association (ACA). I slugged through the winds and hardly noticed the fact that my feet had completely leathered in the sun. They now required frequent applications of sunscreen in order to keep the itchy spots of sunpoisoning from swelling under the skin. My flip-flops were creating a wicked solid-band tan line that looked damn-near fake to most people…but I couldn’t imagine putting my feet into shoes on a sunny day anymore.
I enjoyed a break near Evaro, and then I should have bombed down a scary steep hwy into the corridor of interstate 90, but the head wind was so strong that I had to pedal just to keep my balance. This hill that would normally take me a few minutes to roll down instead took me ten times longer to push my way down. It was laughable how fiercely I was being held up and shoved to the side. I was very nearly at the end of the Flathead Valley, and it was so dry that I never even knew I was sweating. The hills completely petered out on both sides of me as I caught a glimpse of the first freeway of my entire trip. I hardly hesitated as I crossed over it and veered east on an access road into town.
Ten miles and some odd-ball directions later, I came across a coffee shop just a few blocks away from the ACA office. In the time it took me to drink a cup of coffee, I met three separate people who had been on long distance bike trips in the last two years. Add to that the manager of the place who was really into endurance hiking/camping, and the other guy who I recognized as an ex-Seattleite in the bike community…and I was suddenly left with impression that Missoula is not for the lazy.
I should probably take a moment to introduce you guys to the Adventure Cycling Association. They’re a non-profit organization based in Missoula that (in 1976) helped create the bike-travel culture that thrives throughout the United States (largely in the summer months). The organization started as Bikecentennial…an idea that sprung from the minds of two couples doing a hemi-tour (biking the Western Hemisphere from north to south) between 1972-1975 (2 years 8 months and 9 days, covering 18,272 miles…I would later find out). One of the original foursome of this group still works as the archivist at the ACA…a wonderful gentleman named Greg Siple. Every summer he catalogs the cyclists who come through town to visit the ‘mothership’ of an organization that relentlessly pursues the rights of cyclists while linking together the best routes for people to use when travelling long distances by bike.
So…I’m somewhat of a history nerd…and rumor has it that I enjoy pedalling a bicycle around every once in a while…and lets face it, if there’s any chance that I’ll ever be involved in anything even close to a ‘hall of fame’, this place is it. Greg had taken my picture before, so he also had a small file logging some of my previous trips…and I had a few more to share with him this time around. So with a double shot of caffeine in my system I merrily bounced into town and straight up the steps of the ACA.
