Chapter 4. Me and Lee in storm country
July 31, 2009: Lee and I left St. Mary campground late on Sunday due to the thunderstorms that kept rolling through the valley that morning. There was a big uphill climb as we headed south out of the park, but we found a shortcut down along the Cut Bank Creek when we came down the other side of the hill. The street was called Eight Mile Road, and it put us right into the broken glass strewn streets of Browning, Montana. The locals in Montana had been telling me not to stop in Browning because it is dangerous, but we didn’t care about idle talk. There were a few strange looks that some people gave us but the majority of the locals were very nice. We ate lunch and continued towards Cut Bank with a North wind blowing us sideways the entire time; we got there around 5 pm, very tired.
The camping was not easy to find so Lee went into a casino and asked around, and as he and the bartender came outside, she was rattling off her street address. We found her home, and also her son, Vladimir’s personal toy collection strewn about the backyard. At least the yard was flat, and there weren’t too many dead mice that I had to pick up, maybe three or four. It cracks me up the places I have found to stay at, there was no budget for hotels, it had to always be free or cheap. I also scored a little rubber ducky that had been forgotten in Vladimir's mess and it became my mascot, firmly fastened to the pack on the rear rack of my bicycle. The following morning, we went to Albertson’s for my daily banana and snack purchase, got some coffee at Mc D’s and were off around 9 am. The wind was just so incredibly strong, and the ride was difficult all the way to Chester. I made it to town about an hour before Lee so I napped on the bench at the rest stop. When he came rolling into town, we found free camping at the city park and shared a six pack of beer and dinner. Two beers down, and bellies full of potatoes, peas and salad, we met JP who was heading west from Maine to Anacortes. He was younger than me, full of very useful information, and we gave him some suggestions and places to stay for some of his ride going the opposite direction as us. I slept well that night, only got up once and when I did, the stars were shining and I could see the Milky Way very clearly. I felt like I had never been so close to the stars, I really felt the universe so close by. I would be hard pressed to tell of any other place in the world where the stars shine more brightly than in Eastern Montana.
The next leg of the journey was to Havre, and we were blessed with a tailwind for about ten miles. That wind turned into a strong north wind once again, and we slowed back down as we pulled in to Hingham where we had lunch at Spencer’s Hi Way Café. With the help of good old Spencer and his phone book, we called the Northern Montana University to book two dorm rooms for the night. JP, whom we had met at the city park told us about the ten dollar dorm special the night before and we were thrilled about the prospects of being out of storm country for an evening. After finishing our greasy deep fried chicken and potato chips, we stepped out of the café and the storm clouds had all decided to congregate right above our heads. It didn’t matter at this point if it was raining or not, but we put our rain gear on and braved the storm.
After pedaling with all our strength for several hours, only to go 10 mph, we made it to the "great metropolis" known as Havre, at about 10,000 people strong. The town was a bit of a mystery, like why were there so many people out in the midst of nothing. Maybe there was a larger train depot or mills for all that wheat that we had been riding past, that never ending wheat spanning as far as my eye could see in any direction.
We got to the University, a man named Bill ran the student union; he was sympathetic to cross country bicyclists even though he didn't ride himself. Lee let me have the first floor room and it had a television, couch and two separate beds. I caught up on some writing and phone calls while yet another storm system moved in to the area. Lee was sewing up some of his gear that had torn over the last few weeks and talking about taking a day off. I decided that it was time for me to go on ahead early and I said my goodbye’s to Lee who had been great company throughout the lonely stretches of the Montana plains. I had a deliciously cheap pancake breakfast at the local grease hole (yes that's what I said) simply named “Spud”, then bought bananas and granola at Gary and Leo’s Grocery Store (coincidental name? I think not). The skies had opened a patch of sunlight for me and the winds were blowing at my back, it was nice to be back up to 20 miles per hour for a long stretch. I rode for 90 miles through the flattest terrain I had seen so far; Fort Belknap Indian Reservation was no different, flat, hot and desolate.
The most interesting thing that I saw that day was an old Spanish style mission church that was a faded shade of pink and the colorful graveyard next to it. Someone had taped a cardboard sign on the old locked rusty gate surrounding the grounds. It was so creepy, I didn’t read it, because I think it probably said something like,” anyone trespassing into this graveyard will be cursed for the rest of their life and suffer a horrible death”. As I started to ride down the road, a Native American man with five children spanning the ages of five and thirteen who were jammed into a beat up pickup towing a horse trailer swerved over into my lane and stopped suddenly. I was thinking that I was in for it when he said, “hey, I’ll trade you two horses for that bike of yours!” I said, “no I like my bike, but thank you”. The children in the truck were all giggling and they sped on down the road, laughing along the way. I had a good chuckle over that, humor makes life fun.
The rest of the day went as smooth as it could and I found the local park in Malta. Most towns in Montana usually have a park where you can camp for free or for just a few dollars a night, I must be an unspoken rule since the state is so large. I met an older, balding gentleman with a bicycle trailer named Gary who had ridden across the country more times than he could remember and a French Canadian couple in their sixties. The couple made a delicious, healthy dinner for us and shared their wine with Gary and I. I slept under a covered pavilion that night; It was a very productive day of riding. In the morning, I was up early and ate biscuits and gravy at the coffee shop downtown, alongside truckers, old timers, and locals. I needed all those calories, it was the reason I always looked for old school diners, I only bought food once a day if I could find a cheap place to eat with huge portions. With a full belly and a determination to make it as far as my legs would carry me, I shoved off. Once again had the wind at my back and cruised into a town called Saco, known as the mosquito capitol of the world. I bought a diet coke from the convenience store there, rested for about ten minutes and got back on “Bella” the bicycle. I named my bicycle a sweet feminine name as I grew to love her dearly, she cared for me as long as I took care of her. When I left Seattle, my girlfriend and I ended our romantic relationship. I decided to be celibate during this trip because I was trying to figure out who I was, where I was going in life and needed to be clear headed. I was also now in a relationship with my bicycle, so why not name her?
Saco wasn’t as full of the little bloodsucking mosquitos as people said, but as soon as I left town, the surrounding farmland just outside of town was terrifying. I couldn’t stop for a second before my whole leg was covered in mosquitos. Lucky for me, I was feeling strong and just kept standing up, pumping up the hills as fast as I could. After about an hour, I was running out of water, Oswego was still ten miles away but out of nowhere there was a rest stop. I pulled into one of the pavilions and a nice English lady was chatting with an Australian couple. Mary and Morris (the Aussies) invited me for lunch (which consisted of canned ham, canned pearl onions, canned beets, potato chips and sliced cheese. It was actually quite delicious, and best of all, free.
I made it to Oswego and bought a vanilla ice cream waffle cone. While at the little shop, some of the locals were staring at me in my weird looking bike outfit. I was Spandex man, with my tight fitting clothing showing every curve of my package. They were probably just jealous of my sweet looking ass and thighs after all the biking.
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