Hungry Horses and Spotted Bears

Saturday, July 25
West Glacier to Whitefish

As noted in this 14 Percent Ride blog post, you can only do something for the first time once. Finishing my first tour as I rode into the University of Montana campus at Missoula in 2007 is as clear in my mind as if it had happened only 10 minutes ago. Epic. Never again would I finish my first-ever bicycle tour. But that’s not to say riding into Loveland, Colorado or being driven to the hospital in Langenthal, Switzerland were not memorable ~ and special ~ in their own way. They were. And so it would be today, the last ride of the Glacier/Waterton tour.

It appeared at first that our biggest challenge would be to understand the route sheet. Being only about 26 miles from West Glacier to Whitefish, our router decided to offer a variety of options, resulting in a lot of “if you chose Option 1, go to line 20 of the sheet, but if you want to ride Option 2, go to line 46.” Except it wasn’t that straightforward on the actual sheet, which just had lots of Option 1’s, Option 2’s and Option 3’s all over the place. But, I’d ridden in Switzerland where the only thing that wasn’t optional was the name of the hotel we were aiming for at the end of the day. And where Bill and Bob succeeded in finding options to the options. Sometimes on purpose. How hard could THIS day be?

Note: Since I DID NOT say anything about how I saved Bill’s life by having enough warm clothing for two people on yesterday’s ride, I know he won’t mind a little poetic license regarding the Swiss trip. It’s only a little, though.

The side trip to Hungry Horse dam was highly recommended so dam it was to be. To save you the trouble of returning to the first post, I’ll just tell you now, “It was a grand morning, cool and clear, when we headed out early after a quick breakfast.” Eight miles out of West Glacier, I turn onto Reservoir Road for the four mile ride to the dam. The road was quiet, rolling and scenic, providing a most pleasant approach to the more-impressive-than-I-had-expected Hungry Horse dam.

To Hungry Horse Dam




After spending time in the visitor center, we decide to ride around the lake behind the dam. There is an 11 mile stretch of paved road and we’ll have to turn around and backtrack, but this is such a nice area that doing it twice doesn’t seem to be a bad thing. Shortly after crossing the dam, the road climbs gradually above the lake where we get good looks at several occupied osprey nests.

Beyond Hungry Horse

Looping along to follow the contour of the shore, the road carries us into a bit of the Montana wilderness. There is a campground and a couple of houses. We meet a few cars. There is a construction crew re-building a small bridge. But we are mostly alone in the quiet of the forested hills above the large lake collected behind Hungry Horse dam.

At the end of the paved road, I stop and ponder the significance of this sign:
My conclusion? When you are at a point in the road where your only options are to go to Hungry Horse or Spotted Bear, you are a LONG WAY from home. Maybe it’s time to go back.

Roads often look much different when ridden in opposite directions; that was the case today on the return to Hungry Horse dam and then on into the town of Hungry Horse itself. A nice 15 miles. The remainder of the ride to Whitefish was enjoyable as well. OK, there was that 2.5 mile section of Highway 2. Narrow, no shoulder, fast moving, heavy traffic. But it was off on rural roads again at Columbia Falls and after 10 miles of fairly easy riding, the tour was over.

It was probably the least affecting tour ending of the four I have experienced. Yet it still had that same bittersweet character. The riding had been hard work and it was nice to be able to anticipate a day not perched on a seat that would be small to someone half my size. There would be no pulling myself and the bike up hills or riding those unpleasant parts that you encounter any route – the long, straight, flat stretches that seem to never end. On the other hand, it was with considerable regret that I realized I wouldn’t be on that seat tomorrow, going up another grade, rounding another curve, finding another spectacular vista unfolding ahead of my handlebars, rolling through country I’ve never seen nor will ever forget, … Sigh. What a great tour.

If you’ve been on a cycling tour, then you probably know how enjoyable it can be. If you haven’t, then maybe you don’t know, nor can you figure out, why anyone would find pleasure in the experience. I doubt all the writing about my tours gives any more insight into the experience to either group. But I get to relive the rides, so I write about them. And in that, perhaps, given those of you who read the accounts a smile or two as well. I hope so.

Today's Ride:      Tour Totals:
61.2 miles           427.9 miles
2708 feet            19,525 feet

Epic

Friday, July 24
St. Mary to West Glacier via Going to the Sun Road

Note: there are 27 pictures in this post, so I chose the "small" format. You can click on a picture and open it in full size.

Have you ever done anything epic? You know, as in heroic; majestic; impressively great. That definition sets the bar pretty high. A less grandiose picture of something epic is surpassing the usual or ordinary, particularly in scope or size. Looked at this way, epic may actually be within reach. Come to think about it, I have been called “out of the ordinary” more than once. But that’s another story altogether.

At the Thursday night meeting in St. Mary, Greg said getting over Going to the Sun Road would be an epic ride. It was certainly going to be different from the riding we had behind us. We would climb about 2,100 feet over 12 miles then descend almost 3,000 feet in the next 12 miles. But epic? We would have to make the ride and see.

After breakfast, we packed a lunch and clothing suitable for hiking. These would be carried up to Logan Pass, the designated picnic stop. There is a restriction in riding a seven mile stretch of Going to the Sun Road. One of our choices was to start early and ride hard to get into the section before the restriction started at 11:00 a.m. As the section in question was at the bottom of the descent, some 41 miles into the ride, this was only theoretically a choice as far as I was concerned. Besides, it would turn the ride into a race; I prefer a tour. So, it was the second option that we all (as far as I know) chose: ride to Logan Pass, have lunch, change clothes, enjoy some of the hiking opportunities then continue the ride at a time that would bring us to the restricted stretch after 4 p.m.

Remember the paragraph that described weather for the day’s ride? The one in the second paragraph of the Happy Wanderer post? The one that was to apply to every day, unless otherwise noted? Good. You do remember. Consider yourself otherwise noted.

Bikes are ready - just waiting for the riders

As we coasted down the hill from the campground into St. Mary, we could see the mountains up ahead. The forecast was for a chance of rain and thunder storms; low clouds draped over the rocky slopes made the “a chance of” condition seem decidedly optimistic. But it is of little consequence. I have been captured again by the enjoyment of being in such a spectacular place and by the anticipation of the climb.

Entrance to the park and Going the Sun Road

It was a short jaunt to the park entrance, followed by a very nice ride on the lower part of the road – we were not officially climbing yet. Right from the start, the views were impressive. The twisting road presented new vistas at every turn. Rocky slopes cascaded down from the right, their course briefly interrupted by the level road surface before continuing down on our left. I pull off at an overlook. The lake below is surrounded by towering mountains; there is a small island in the middle. While admiring the view, it starts to rain in a way that lets you know it’s only going to get worse. A few miles farther and we start the “gradual climb.” A waterfall cascades down from the slopes on my right. And the rain gets more serious, encouraged, it seems, by the thunder that rattles around the lower reaches of the road. I get on my helmet cover, don my light rain jacket and head up.

For a while, the intensity of the rain increases with altitude. The thunder does not last long though, a good thing as the road soon gets up and onto the side of the mountain where we riders are quite exposed. I stop at the first big switchback and wring out what water I can, snap a picture, and continue on. The rain soon lets up and the wind, quite brisk at this point, is at my back. I make seriously good time going up a section that my computer rates at 7 to 9%.

The skies alternately cleared (in a relative sense) then dropped a damp, foggy mist during the remainder of the climb to Logan Pass. I’ve been wetter. I’ve been colder. And on rides on roads not nearly as impressive. No rain would have been OK. But the weather did not dampen what counted. That would happen soon, however. Here are pictures from the ride up:












As soon as I parked the bike, I realized it was COLD. I was damp. The air was damp. The wind was fierce. After stopping at the van to pick up my lunch, I headed for the visitors’ center. Ignoring the sign on the door that said No Food or Drink in Visitor Center, I joined several of the group eating lunch and trying to dry out and warm up. This morning, Bill had suggested a hike to Hidden Lake. That sounded like a great idea. Now, it was cold. Shivering cold. Hiking did NOT seem to be a good idea. I had dry socks, a wind-stop base layer shirt, leg warmers and an extra pair of tights. I changed into the drier, warmer clothes, but my jersey was damp and it was still cold. We decided to start the descent to get out of the weather; we could wait out the cycling restriction at Lake McDonald. Down we went.

It was an interesting descent. Going down, the road is steeper with considerably more twists and turns. And the surface was not all that great. In fact, one section was pretty much just loose gravel. But the views down into the valley below were breathtaking. And, the weather improved dramatically. It warmed up right away, the mist lifted and the rain was gone. For good. I stopped several times to take in the views and capture them, imperfectly, with my little camera. Here are the pictures from the trip down:











The restaurant at the Lake McDonald lodge offered up a pretty special buffalo burger, accompanied by a locally brewed Huckleberry Lager. Ice cream, jam, beer – that huckleberry is one versatile fruit! The lake was nice but, in the end, the wait for the restriction to lift got a little long. After a few hours of sightseeing, sitting by the lake, watching one of the riders fix another’s flat, we rode to the sign and waited for the big hand to crawl past 12.



It was a fairly easy 12 mile ride into West Glacier and the Highland Glacier Hotel. Luggage was carefully unpacked:


And we found a physician-approved recovery beverage:


Up and over Going to the Sun Road made for a great ride. But epic? I do not think I’d go that far. Trail Ridge Road in Rocky Mountain National Park; riding from Ulrichen to Bergun in Switzerland. Epic rides in my book. But let me repeat, Going to the Sun was a great ride. One I’ll remember for a long, long time. Along with all of the others. It might not be a collection of epics, but it is an epic collection, to be sure.

Today's Ride:      Tour Totals:
54.3 miles           366.7 miles
2967 feet            16817 feet

Many

Thursday, July 23
Waterton Lakes, Canada to St. Mary, Montana

How many crazies are there? Apart from me, of course. When leaving Uganda last October, the friend of our Ugandan host drove me to the airport. Just entering the Entebbe airport property required a stop at a security checkpoint. Manned by soldiers. Who were armed. One of the guards leaned over and our driver (names withheld to protect the other crazies on board) looked at him and said, "If you are looking for the gun, it's in the boot." I said, well, nothing. I was thinking, "GUN! You have a GUN in the trunk! WHAT! Are you CRAZY?!" Or something more or less along those lines. The guard looked in the trunk then came back, smiled at the driver, and said, "It must be the little one. I don't see anything." And he waved us on. I asked about the encounter, as calmly as I could. Our driver smiled and said, "I was just joking with him."

If you think no one else could really be that crazy, well there was this one rider on the tour. Going through the border crossing at Chief Mountain, he told the agent that he'd dropped all of his drugs and related paraphernalia a few miles back. The agent dragged him away for interrogation smiled and waved him through.

I'm not sure who is crazier, those who joke around with security guards and border patrol officers or the guards and officers who smile and wave them through. Whatever, I heartily do NOT endorse such behavior. And yes, I have heard people say "Hi Jack. Oops, don't want to say THAT in an airport." More than once.

OK, maybe one of the other riders in the group was even crazier. In a different way. On a long, gradual descent, I just had to pull over to take a picture. As I turned to snap the photo, one of the other riders went whizzing by. He wanted a picture too. So, he took his hands off of the handlebars, dug his camera out of his jersey pocket, turned, took the picture, re-pocketed the camera and kept on going. That may be just plain good cycling. But I think he was crazy. One of the so many of us, it seems.

What a day. The ride from Waterton to the border was breathtaking. We left the main highway at Babb and rode in to Many Glacier. Lakes tucked into mountains with the remnants of glaciers on their upper flanks. It was you could hope for on a bicycle ride.

Here are some of the sights along the way...

This was the day of the bear for me. A few miles after crossing into Montana I was riding up a gentle slope when I saw a number of cars and few of our Cycle America group stopped on the far side of the road. There was a good sized cinnamon colored black bear walking away from the road. Just as I got my camera out, it disappeared into the tall grass. We saw another - a mother and her cub - just off the road as we entered the resort area of Many Glacier. The shot I got wasn't all that good, but here it is:



Today's Ride:      Tour Totals:
75.3 miles           312.4 miles
4341 feet            13850 feet

Down Time

Wednesday, July 22
Off Day at Waterton Lakes

Weekends. Time to shift direction, concentrate on something besides work, the news, whatever. What is it for you? That occupies your week? That you seek to avoid on the weekends?

For the riders of the tour, today is an off day; no riding required, although the option is there. Since the little saddle is starting to fit just a bit too well and since my bike has been somewhat obstreperous, it seems a good day to shift my attention to pursuits other than pedaling.

OK, so this entire trip is a vacation. Time off from the "grind." I'm not (or maybe just barely) aware of so many things that occupy my thoughts during a normal week at home or on a business trip. Even things I don't realize I notice until a tour like this when I become completely oblivious to them, for a variety of reasons.

For example, on my first tour I slept in my tent every night, a pretty major change in routine. At the end of about the third day of the ride, I called Shirley. During the conversation, she asked me, "What time does it get dark where you are?" My reply? "I don't have a clue!" Sound asleep before sundown is the norm.

But the tours really do provide release from the normal norm. No laptop, no work brought along to catch up on, no newspapers. This year, being in hotels, I'll have to admit to having the TV on a few times - surfing for the Tour de France coverage which was never found. But it is near total disconnect. All you need to do is get up, eat breakfast, get ready to ride, ride, eat at the picnic stop, ride some more, find some mid -afternoon refreshment at at the end of the ride, unwind in town, eat dinner, sleep and repeat. It's great and I highly recommend it.

Waterton Lakes Village is in a beautiful location. Mountains surround the north end of the lake that extends down into Glacier Park in Montana. The location of the US/Canadian border is visible from a spot just above the visitor center which offers a grand view of the area. The weather continues to be near-perfect.


At Waterton Lakes

Our hotel is located in the village, not far from all it has to offer in the way of services

Our hotel in Waterton
NOT our hotel in Waterton
In the hotel yard (our hotel)

Hiking trails, boat rides and cycling options are available. We decide to take the hike up to Bertha Falls and then on farther to Bertha Lake. The trail is well maintained and winds around with a repeating pattern of sections lined with wildflowers followed by an opportunity to walk in the cool shade of the abundant evergreens before emerging at an opening offering panoramic view of the lake below. The walk to the falls is pleasant and not all that challenging.





On the way up to Bertha Falls

The falls are of the tumbling ilk, water rolling down over a rocky stair step, never really getting launched over the edge of anything. We take a few pictures and head on towards the lake.

Lower Bertha Falls

The trail immediately becomes steeper and not long after the falls we get up onto a ridge that, on approach, appears to want to carry us along the edge of a sharp precipice. That wasn't really the case, though and we were soon back into forest shaded hiking, winding our way up in what I would later determine to be 24 switchbacks.

It is quiet and we encounter no other hikers. A bit above the falls, we do meet a group of young men and women working for the park, repairing one of the switchbacks. Hard labor for them, but they are smiling and chatting as they go about the digging and scraping and hauling of rock. If you have to do this kind of work, it might as well be in a place like this!

Later we find that there is another waterfall, this one taller and more of the water-throwing-itself-down-the-mountain type. There is a bit of bad news in this discovery as the water is coming from a place well above where we are. That would be where we will find the lake we are going to see. We climb on and eventually reach the high point of the hike where we can look down on the surface of Bertha Lake.

Nothing much to see here. Just one of those picture post card perfect vistas of a turquoise lake surrounded by rocky peaks, their lower slopes painted a cool, dark shade of green by the trees that grow right down to the water's edge.


Bertha Lake

We walk down to the lake level, through a field of bear grass. This is the first time I have seen bear grass and it is showing off by sparkling brilliantly with reflected sunlight.

Bear grass

The only "improvement" is a rough log bridge across a small rill that feeds the falls we saw on the way up. There is a couple wading in the water in a clearing across from our location. And a single merganser swimming and diving, unconcerned with our presence.

A page from my journal with notes and my impression of Bertha Lake (left)

We sit on bleached trunks of fallen trees and eat lunch. As we finish, another of our group comes down the trail. It is getting awfully crowded so we take off for town. Once there, we settle down and do some serious consideration of local insects.

Grasshopper

The tour has provided a chance to "get away from it all." And the day off at Waterton Lakes provides a chance to get away from the tour. What a grand day.

Today's Ride:      Tour Totals:
00.0 miles           237.1 miles
0000 feet             9509 feet