Mutiny on the Bikeride

So several days ago we rode through Glacier National Park. It was perhaps my favorite riding day yet.

We spent the night in St. Mary's, a small tourist village on the southeastern side of the park. We stayed at the KOA campsite, which could be described as luxurious given the amount of amenities to be found there. Upon arrival, we hung out in the beautiful visitor's center. Sharon and I then went out to the hot tub and enjoyed the impressive views of the Rockies while the tub jets massaged our sore muscles. When we finally made it to the campsite, imagine our surprise when we discovered the whole place was covered with wireless. That right there was an amenity we'd been deprived of throughout the majority of Montana's churches.

Anywho, we set up our tents. We were pretty well assured that there would be no storms (and thankfully, Murphey's Law cut us a break; we remained dry throughout the night). However the winds which had dogged us on the bikes all day (terrible headwinds) never died down. Jessie and I opted to stand by the tent we had set up and sleep in it. Now this tent was massive. So tall and wide was it, I would not be surprised to learn it's designer had done ship sails before going into camping equipment. All night the tent was rocked and buffetted by the wind, leaving Jessie and I (the only ones in this six-sleeper) waking up to find the tent's sides on top of us.

J-Muf had the right idea all along. Muffin literally took one of our tarps, folded it in half, weighed it down with rocks, propped up the insides, and slept in the crevice. It sounds complicated, but it was really just a glorified tarp burrito. A burrito made of J-Muffin filling.

So the major issue with Glacier was the times in which we were able to ride through the park. On a certain, unknown stretch of road, bikes were not allowed to ride from the hours of 11-4. Long story short, we had it in our minds that one either had to bike 50 miles before 11 or 66 miles after 4 (this didn't end up being the case, but it's the Park Service, of course things would way more complicated than they needed to be). So 9 of us decide to wake up at the buttcrack of dawn to get the 50 done before 11 a.m. Normally this wouldn't be an issue for anyone in the group, but we still faced killer winds and had to climb Logan's Pass through the park, a 6600-ft. climb.

Waking up early that morning was the best decision I've made all trip. We were face-to-face with the breathtaking Rockies as the sun rose behind us. In the begining, the mountains were bathed with red light and the water (we passed two major lakes going up the pass) reflected the early morning sun. Jessie and I got some spectacular photos. The other benefit to riding through the gates at 6:15 was the fact that the park service wasn't up yet: no $12 entrance fee. Take that, NPS.

It was about 20 miles to the top of the pass. The first 14 miles wasn't bad, we were climbing slightly, but as we followed the two lakes inward, the rise wasn't great. The last 6 miles were legit. It was a steady climb, but I was so pumped, it didn't feel like much. I think the coolest part was seeing the mountains around me and looking below, knowing I had climbed all that way...on my bike. Shazaam!

When Jessie and I reached the top, we went to the 'lodge.' NPS, once again confirming their status as tools, didn't open the lodge until 9. Then they tried to tell us the bathroom wasn't a 'visitor's area.' Okay, lady, I just climbed up your mountain on a bike and am freezing my butt off. Your 'center' isn't open, so if me and my friends want to hundle in the bathroom, you better damn well let us. Fortunately, I had Christopher there so I didn't have to say this to her: he did that himself.

From there, for fear of getting us kicked out of the park as well as to avoid hypothermia, Jessie and I got our pictures and started heading down the pass. I was a little shocked to hear Jessie freaking out about the cold. Fortunately, our relationship is such that we can comfortably call each other out on stuff (Mom: we're both 8s). So I told her to suck it up and go; we were going to be fine once we got a couple thousand feet lower. Unfortunately, the other side of Logan's Pass was quite a bit longer. It was 12 miles of 6% grade. Normally, I would be ecstatic at this opportunity...but I was freezing. Coming up the pass, we had gotten all sweaty under our long-sleeves. Then we went over the top, stopped pedaling, and had intense winds for 12 miles down.

Now realistically, I knew I was fine. When skiing, I often start freezing once I'm on the lift. On the bike it was really no different. I considered the possibility that my hands were getting frostbite, but I figured my exposure wasn't prolonged enough to land me with any serious problems, such as lost extremities.

Jessie however is from Miami. Never having skied or done anything of a similar vein, she really was freaking out. She told me later she was thankful Anson (from Alaska) would be at the bottom to help her with any mild hypthermia she might develop. I know Mr. and Mrs. Pouchet are awaiting the priceless video I have of Jessie stopped halfway down at Christopher's flat tire. Don't worry; I should have the video up later tonight.

Later we made it out of Glacier by the appointed time and stopped by the town of West Glacier for lunch. As fate would have it, we wound up sitting next to the H4H Director in Whitefish (where we were to spend the night). He had never heard of us, but when he found out who we were and the fact that we had a day off the next day in Whitefish, he solicited us to come help on his build.

We spoke vaguely of our interest, but I think the importance of our day off was perhaps not emphasized enough...? Then he bought our lunches; we were between a rock and a hard place.

Hours later, after dinner in Whitefish and the return of the rest of the riders (and this is around 9 pm after a long day for the other 21 riders), Christopher decides we are all going to the build the next day. This idea was met with some major resistance, to say the least. Many were perhaps willing to go to the build, but the notion that we were suddenly forced to forgo one of our precious days off for something completely unplanned was out of the question.

Things worked themselves out however after a slight mutiny. The build became optional and Christopher, utilizing his guilt trip skills likely learned in Catholic school (they start us young, you know), managed to rassle up about 13 people to go and put in a half day. I went, which I wound up being glad for as I was able to experience the wonder that was Dottie, a retiree builder. Dottie wasn't the site manager, but she may as well have been given her ability to put people to work. Oh, and let's not forget her precision. Dottie was big on making the caulking underneath the eaves (because people will notice that, for sure) blend into the wood grain 'like a bird feather.' Isaiah, who was not doing his correctly, got chewed out, majorly. "Have you ever looked at a bird's feather?!" Dottie exclaimed. "That looks like a rat's tail!" After some profuse apologizing, Isaiah was asked to find something else to do. Shazaam!

The rest of my day in Whitefish was a bust though. I fell asleep at the gym watching the Olympics then went to the library where every skater in town had decended upon the computers, rendering me unable to update the blog :-(

We did go out to watch the Olympics after dinner however, where Jessie graciously explained all the inner workings of the gymnastics world. We didn't even need the commentary (the volume was muted, no closed captioning either), we had Jessie there.

Which, btw, reminds me: we have two riders on the trip who have done some pretty high-profile sporting events. Jessie has attended international competitions representing Trinadad in gymnastics; Kate is a world-champion rower. I didn't even find this out until the Olympics came on; you two rock.

Yesterday we had a fabulous ride into Eureka. Revved off a fabulous salad and cappucino (also having bummed onion rings and milk shakes off fellow diners), I hit up the local thrift stores and wound up with western gold: a cowgirl outfit. An impromptu hoe down followed that evening's dinner. Pictures to come.

Today was the ride into Libby and we are currently staying in the local Christian school strewn with scary extremist posters. I'll write some down to share.

Once again, thanks to everyone who sent mail. Ellen, I'm getting your letter out soon; my life hasn't been my own much recently. Pictures and videos hopefully later tonight; get hyped for some footage from the "Montana Vortex" and other roadside attractions.