apter 3- Grasshopper Guts and Glaciers
My sunrise ride out of Priest River was mostly wide shoulders and rolling hills, it was July 24th. I arrived in Sand Point before 9 am and ordered the “lumberjack breakfast”. Before the server had returned to ask me how it was, I had already devoured my “large” meal (which was served on a very small square plate). Luckily, the meal came with coffee cake and two pads of butter, which I finished in about 30 seconds, then washed down with two cups of coffee. My appetite was growing day by day, I was able to eat food like a wild animal.
The next leg of my trip took me along the northern coast of Lake Pend Oreille. I would never recommend anyone to ride their bike through this area. I had people yelling at me and literally trying to get me to fall by sticking their hand out the window, cars honking, and on two occasions that I did stop I got ridiculous questions like, “are you insane, are you nuts?” and “you need to get your head checked, why would you do something like that?”. My impression of Northern Idaho wasn't very fair because I only seemed to meet rude and impatient people, on the other hand, the scenery was impeccable. I was surrounded by ancient lakes created by glaciers, the hills were lush forests of every green shade imaginable. I finally made it through what I now call “hell’s panhandle” and into Montana, It seemed like it was one hundred degrees out, so I stopped for ice cream in Clark Fork at a convenience store that only had about two rows of mostly canned food, sliced white bread and old looking deli meat. They had a soft serve machine, so I figured it was safe enough to eat, it was a nice treat. I saw a sign for a bike shop and when I found it down a tiny street, I walked in to find some amazing old bicycles that had been restored. I wanted to buy some replacement spokes in case I had a mishap somewhere far and distant. They didn’t have any spokes that fit, it seemed that my bicycle was thirty years too new.
So I continued down the highway and soon found the alternate route which was supposed to have less cars and be a more scenic ride, I was mostly just excited about the prospect of getting away from the cars. Taking the scenic route is great unless it is 100 degrees outside, the backs of my legs turned crispy and lobster colored and there were still too many miles to count to get to the next town. After covering a distance of about ten miles, the road turned into choppy gravel and dirt, they were in the process of improving it but all that bumping developed issues with my brakes rubbing against my rear rim, creating a debilitating drag against my pedaling efforts.
I made it back to the “real road” and was very tired from the alternate route with my several attempts at correcting the brake pads. This time of the year, hordes of grasshoppers or locusts swarm by the millions and they were just waiting for me to run them over. What should have been black pavement was in reality a brownish polka dotted obstacle course of the hopping insects. There really was nothing that I could do to avoid splattering hundreds of them. My bike, my legs, and my gear was covered by a layer of grasshopper guts, legs, antennas, and grime before too long. The day was mentally stressful, so I started to look for a place to camp. I found a site at a place called Bull Lake that evening.
I couldn't have picked a better place to camp, even though it cost me something like seven dollars. I quickly set up my tent, changed out of my smelly, sweaty bike outfit and ran at full speed through the campsite to get to the lake. There was a pristine pool off water attached by a small inlet from the main lake that was than one hundred feet from my campground, and they had built a metal staircase to access the swimming hole.
While I was relaxing, wading around in the water, I met a man named Jerry who was camped next to me with his wife and friends. They were touring with their huge Honda Goldwing motorcycles and trailers, and had ended up parking right next to me. They offered me beer, cookies and advice on life. The two most important pieces of advice that they imparted upon me were, “whatever you do, don’t ever sell your bike” and “to find good, cheap food, if you are trying to save your money, stand outside of a Walmart and wait for a fat lady to walk out then ask her where to eat”. While this seems cruel, I later found this to be true. Poor people don't get that overweight from eating berries and granola at expensive restaurants. I had about $2500 to my name, a small unemployment deposit and food stamps, which needed to last me until I wasn't homeless. I wanted to make it to Libby the next day which wasn’t that far, so I left around 9 am, heading north through the Kootenai mountains. I was told by locals to be careful, that bears were spotted recently in the area. The road itself was well taken care of and I didn't have too many vehicles passing me which was a blessing and a curse because I started to feel like a bear could probably sniff me out pretty easily.
I saw a couple of bicyclists ahead of me who had pulled off the shoulder. It was a Dutch couple who had been riding by bicycle for about 9 months. They had already conquered South America, flew north to the States and were taking their time crossing the country. They were an unlikely tourist set, Joris wore big, worn out black boots and Stella had on jeans and a loose cotton t-shirt. They were eating some random black licorice they picked up along the way, and we only talked for a few minutes. I said goodbye, told them to have a great trip and continued on to Libby. Lunch wasn't the main thing on my mind, I decided that I would just push on through without it and eat when I got into town.
At about 10 miles from town my bike developed another drag and wouldn't even roll down the hill without me pedaling. I figured that this had something to do with grasshopper guts and was probably a result of the bumpy ride from my “scenic” detour the day before. I stopped at Kootenai Falls a half mile away, and took all of my 50 or so lbs of gear off the bike. I messed around with the spokes and used a little tool that I previously bought to true the wheel just enough to get the bike rolling properly again, I also loosened the brake pads more than usual just in case they were trying to rub against the tire again. I didn't know this at the time, but there were several broken spokes. I was able to successfully roll down the hill again without the dragging. I finished the Kootenai River leg of the journey to Libby about an hour after, and I was very hungry.
Libby, Montana is a logging town of about thirty thousand people, and they had placed giant sculptures of eagles everywhere in town. There was a crude, homemade wooden bird at the entrance to the town on a pole in someone's yard, then a twenty foot wing span giant metal eagle supported over the main street to the police department and one near the city campground that I passed by. I found the river about a quarter mile from the center of town and took the plunge once again. The pure waters washed away the grime of bugs, dirt and sweat that created a matted layer of black insect cake frosting on my legs.
I was famished and needed cheap, filling food, fast. I remembered the bikers at my last campground but I couldn’t find any fat ladies but I found a rather large man at a convenience store who promptly pointed me out to the towns’ only Mexican restaurant. He told me, ”get the giant burrito, most people can’t finish it”. I took that as a personal challenge and I had it digesting within about five minutes’ time. My campsite was the one right in the center of town and cost me five dollars. The wonderful thing about this campsite was the fact that it was right behind the largest grocery store for miles around, they had free internet access which I took advantage of for hours and free refills on the syrupy iced coffee that I ordered. I don’t think I left the grocery store's cafe until about midnight, I was dead tired and fuzzy eyed by the time I left. I often hand drew maps after studying Mapquest any time I could get online on my tiny and slow Acer computer, then would put it in my handlebar bag since it had a clear plastic sleeve on the top of it.
One thing I really lamented was the fact that I left my reading glasses in Diablo and it was starting to become a hindrance, this was the first evening that I really noticed it. Ian had gone on a two week kayaking trip with the ELC so I had no way of getting him to mail me them especially since I was in the middle of nowhere most of the time. My tiny little laptop sometimes could pick up a wifi signal, which was the only way that I could access the internet for maps. The next day was full of absolutely wonderful scenery and slightly cooler weather as my ride took me along Lake Koocanusa for 60 miles into Eureka. Not to say that it wasn’t challenging; the entire ride was up and down large inclines, winding in and out of valleys, passing by the mountain-fed rivers and streams feeding into the lake. Every time I went down one of the hills, the cool wind on my face invigorated me, and made up for soreness from pedaling up to the top of each hill.
I figured out why the town had the eagle sculptures, I couldn’t count on both hands the number of bald eagles that soared high into the sky riding those invisible thermals. The wide shoulders on the windy road and the fact that most of the traffic was from sightseers who drove a little slower made me feel more secure. The lake continues up North into Canada a few miles away, although my route quickly switched to a Eastern direction. The hills continued like rollercoasters for several miles then the countryside turned to cleared farmland and hay grass. There were several ranches that had beautifully painted red barns, huge rolled up pinwheel haystacks and farmers waving to me from atop their slow moving tractors.
I made it into Eureka in the early afternoon. Eureka was a town stuck in the past, it was full of western stores and western folks. I stopped in at an unusual taxidermy shop that had carved bear sculptures and antlers covering the front of the building. When I went inside, the store was crammed to the ceiling with bear heads, moose, fox, deer, everything. There were chandeliers made of antlers, pelts on spinning racks, fox fur, rabbit fur, anything with fur on it had been skinned and displayed in the store. I was in shock, I thought this sort of thing had been banned by animal rights laws. Maybe it was all stuff that had been left over from years gone by. As I meandered through the tight rooms, with dead animals gazing at me, I found a glass door that lead to a storage room. I had to peek in, and I was shocked to find thousands of pelts hanging from some sort of rack system. They all looked like fox furs, long and plush; it was actually really comfortable looking, but I was still sick to my stomach.
I left the store, got back on my bike, and once again searched for a river in town; this part of the country seemed to have an ample supply of rivers, so finding one was no hard task. There was a small shallow creek that ran through town, a small public park had been ideally located there and I learned my bike against a picnic bench, took off my shirt, shoes and socks and waded in. I had run out of drinking water an hour earlier, and was over-heating by this point, so the cool river water really refreshed me.
I wasn't the only one with this idea: I met Maricio and several other bicyclists who were touring with Cycle America; they were also playing in the river. The small group invited me to stay at the local high school with their larger group of forty or so cyclists. “What good timing”, I thought, even though timing had nothing to do with this kind of coincidence. I strongly felt that I was supposed to meet this group, it was like this event was planned out for me by some larger unseen power. I seemed to have always been in the right place at the right time and my attitude always remained positive, secret smiles plentifully planting themselves on my sunburnt face. I liken the smile to a deep knowing connection to the universe, like the one that seems to be planted on the Dalai Lama's face at all times.
Maricio told me to find Greg who was the director of the tour, he was so gracious by letting me eat the catered dinner and breakfast with everyone else. I stayed the evening in the high school gymnasium that they had rented. I even had the opportunity to take a shower in the locker room. Most of the cyclists opted to sleep in their tents, but many of them slept in the auditorium. I would have stayed in that room, but there was a hefty man who snored louder than anyone I had ever heard so I moved my belongings and slept in the padded wrestling room by myself. In the morning I ate breakfast with the group, including about seven strips of bacon and three helpings of eggs and I was on the road around 7 that morning, headed to Whitefish. I had an eerie feeling that morning that bears were watching me, licking their chops. I got over that feeling quickly because the drivers on the road were swerving like maniacs, and they were more of an immediate danger to me. I stopped at Dickey Lake, smoked some marijuana that the Dutch travelers had given to me and I was deeply moved with the greenish-blue colors of the lake in the early morning light. It was a feast of the senses, the way the long shadows of Dawn stretched her fingers out across the lake, distorting the shapes of the trees that cast them, creating a contrast between the dark stripes and the brilliant reflected light of the crystal water. I could clearly see the bottom of the lake including fallen trees, boulders and schools of fish from my perch about one hundred feet above. Maybe my perception was a little "enhanced" but it was strikingly beautiful nonetheless.
I left the serene lake and almost immediately the roads’ shoulder disappeared. The logging trucks zipped by at 70 miles per hour, inches away from my rear view mirror. I was then making my way up an unusually steep hill, when I heard sirens blaring. Before I could do anything, a speeding ambulance was about fifty feet behind me. I even felt like the driver was aiming for me, and the road had a big drop off into gravel. I literally saw my life flashing before my eyes. I threw myself into the sunken gravel and in the last instant unclipped my foot from the pedal. I somehow managed to not hurt myself. It just goes to show that danger lurks about every corner when riding a bicycle, being clear headed and aware at all times is the best thing to prevent possible disaster.
I was still several miles from Whitefish, and continued on ever-so-wary of the mad motorists seemingly trying to run me off the road. It was just after this moment that I was riding past a small pond and as I glanced over, a large fish jumped out of the water and I swear it winked at me. I couldn't have imagined it, it was so real. This little reminder from nature brought me back to the present moment, put a childlike smile on my face and re-centered me instantly. Maybe that was the mythical Whitefish.
Finally, I made it to the town of Whitefish! I arrived at noon, there were so many great things about this outdoorsy town. I had previously secured a couch to sleep on with Angie and Ian from the Couchsurfing community, but had time to kill before Ian was off of work. I went to the bike shop and the guy behind the counter hand drew me a nice bike map from Whitefish to Glacier Park. He told me where to get a delicious pulled pork sandwich, and I walked over the viaduct to Babyback BBQ. I talked with Jazelle who took my order, and then she drew me a map of a nice swimming hole where I could avoid all of the annoying children at the City Beach Park. Every person I met in Whitefish seemed to have all the time in the world, and they all wanted to draw maps for me. I remember thinking how all of the women in town were stunningly beautiful and pleasant to talk to.
I took my time walking through town, got a bowl of ice cream, some snacks, orange juice and a small bottle of vodka. Ian called and told me that he lived a stones’ throw away from Whitefish Lake Beach Park, so I just went there instead of the secret swimming hole. I found a shady spot to take a nap, got some ice from the concessions stand and filled my water bottle with vodka and OJ. One of the items that I brought on my trip was juggling balls, I pulled them out every night at camp and practiced. It was a wonderful meditation tool, as I found that there were no other thoughts swimming around in my head. I enjoyed my half drunken attempt to juggle. Ian from Couchsurfing called me and he set me up. I watched a ton of movies that I hadn’t seen yet. It was nice to finally take a break from all the ass-numbing miles of riding. Ian had a couple of days off so he drove me up to Whitefish Mountain Resort, and we took the chairlift to the top. I was blown away by the serene beauty of the Flathead Valley. This was a majestic place where the glaciers had carved and flattened everything around; it was obvious from our viewpoint, lakes dotting the valley floor, mountains rising sharply on either side, capped by their own glaciers. I gazed across the skyline looking north into Canada and south towards Kalispell, now this was the definition of a panoramic view! There was a multitude of flowers blooming at this time, including something called bear grass, they looked like something out of a Dr. Seuss book. The flower was a poofball shape many times larger than a dandelion on top of a long green stalk and bears enjoyed munching on the sweet little white flowers that bloomed all over the surface of it.
We later met up with Angie and went to the farmers market, which happened to be going on that evening. There was a great bluegrass band playing and Jazelle from earlier was there selling feather earrings she made. I then met up with my next host, Kevin. He gave me a key to his trailer which was parked on land that he owns right outside of Glacier National Park. I was set up very well with places to stay so far in Montana. That evening, I fell in love with the town and the people of this part of Montana. My love for the outdoors grew so much larger and Montana seemed to have the best to offer. The people in that area were very kind, calm and levelheaded. I thought to myself that I would have to return there one day in the future that maybe this should be home, my heart was overflowing with joy.
We returned to Ian’s home, and watched The Departed which oddly enough takes place in Boston, my Atlantic Coast destination. Ian and I went golfing the next day. I invested in a decent pair of sandals. My things were packed early that evening and then I rode the twenty miles to Kevin’s trailer which put me about 10 miles away from the entrance to Glacier Park.
I slept well in the tarp covered trailer which came complete with candles for lighting and there were maps of the National park and of Northwest Montana, there was even a large axe for chopping wood or an emergency. It only took me about an hour to get to West Glacier in the morning and I stocked up on much needed items (including bananas, oatmeal and instant potatoes). The first campground as you enter the park is Apgar and I had RVs surrounding me as far as my eye could see. However, there was one spot left at the hiker/biker area and I took advantage of it; most of these hiker sites were five dollars per night in the park. When I was finally ready to explore the park, I decided to take a free shuttle to Logan Pass. They started this service three years ago and it takes a lot of hikers up to otherwise hard-to-reach places; it also takes cars off the road. The drive is three hours or more round trip and luckily I was able to get the front seat of the shuttle and roll the window down for some great pictures. I later returned to my campsite and met Steve, who came to Glacier from Wisconsin on a train to do some backpacking. Later came Bratati who also took the train but from Seattle ; she was on her own camping and hiking get-away. I shared my next two days with these interesting people. Bratati was originally from India and we shared similar philosophies on life, particularly that of living in the moment (one of the main reasons for my bike trip). These were the kinds of moments that made life so beautiful, sharing them with Steve and Bratati was extremely satisfying. That night I learned some new yoga poses, including Warrior 2 and a sequence that starts with Downward Dog, and continues into other positions. We drank beer and wine, and I ate my instant potatoes that I bought earlier that day.
Steve and I decided that we would go on the Highline Trail which is 11 miles long and goes past the Garden Wall, however the thunder and lightning that morning was prohibitive and intense so instead we hiked 3 miles down to Hidden Lake. By the time we reached the majestic mountain lake, the clouds had parted and the sun was shining again. The valley was carved out by one huge glacier that had melted away a long time ago, waterfalls were cascading down the sides of the rocky cliffs and disappeared into piles of rocks far down below. We paused when we reached the lake and found a stream draining out of it where fish were swimming up towards the current, snapping at small insects that only they could see. There were hundreds of fish tightly packed together, literally just a few feet away from us. They didn't seem to be threatened by our presence like normal fish, they were just too badass for that it seemed. On the way back up the trail, a family of marmots were busy eating some sort of ground cover and several groups of goats were basking in the sun (some right in the middle of the trail). This raw beauty can only be seen if one goes out searching for it, and I wanted as much as I could get!
We took the shuttle back to Apgar and parted ways for the rest of the day. I rode my bike 8 miles to Lake Mcdonald Lodge, and the place was decorated like it was Christmas….in July?! I suppose it was July 24th, and about halfway to Christmas, but the timing of it all was hilarious. It was utterly surreal, here is was in this giant lodge in the middle of summer and yet it felt like Christmas inside. This was another one of those moments that have made me put on that secret smile, plus I took about seven xmas cookies for the road. I went to sleep early that night as I was going to wake up early the next day to ride up the highest mountain pass on my trip: Logan pass at 6600 feet.
I was on the road at 5:45 am and at about 8 am, I bumped into Lee whom I had met near Diablo Lake and was also riding across the continent, right around when I had experienced “The Maggot Run” at Ross Lake. All this way and here he was. We planned to meet up with each other on the other side of the pass at St. Mary Campground, we said goodbye again and I kept on pedaling up “Going to the Sun Road”. On the way up, I caught up with two bikers that passed me earlier, Nana and Janet. These ladies had also been riding from Anacortes and together we all made it to the top of Logan Pass. We took pictures at the top and I swooped down the other side at 30 mph. Whizzing past glaciers that used to be so much larger, I was keenly aware that one day Glacier National PArk would no longer have glaciers. When we got to St. Mary Lodge, Nana bought us diet coke's and we went to the local café for burgers. I went back to the campground and set up my tent at the hiker/biker site.
A few minutes later, the Dutch couple, Stella and Joris whom I met near Bull Lake a week ago arrived and we got a better deal by splitting the cost of camping. We talked about their travels, and a little bit about what it is like to live in Europe versus life in the United States. They were surprised that I tend to tip about 20 percent when I eat out. I guess that the Dutch are more frugal than Americans, but it does allow them to travel on less. However, the servers in Dutch restaurants also get paid a livable wage and it isn't customary to tip there. Either way, we went to the café I was at earlier and bought another burger, this time I only tipped 10 percent. Later, as I was preparing for bed, Lee's nieces came strolling by my campground and I walked with them back to their campsite. Lee had a beautiful extended family that lived in Whitefish, they were all so friendly (and they gave me homemade peanut butter cookies). It was great that they met him at the campground during his trip. We made plans to leave together in the morning because Lee and I were both heading East. When we finished making our plans, the clouds closed in on us and the thunder came rolling down the glacial valley, crackling through the air like millions of giant whips so I quickly headed back to my tent and went to sleep protected from the driving rain. In life, I found that all that is needed is a dry tent, food and company.