Covid Cross Day #38 Augusta, MT to Ovando, MT
Covid Cross Day #38
July 11, 2020
Augusta, MT to Ovando, MT 83 Miles
Start 6:07 AM Finish 4:47 PM
Ride Time 8:24
Ascent 3007 Feet
Descent 2807 Feet
Tour Total 3194 Miles
Last night was recorded as a campsite sneak-in. I slipped into Wagons West Campground in Augusta after dark and left before anyone was awake. I pitched my tent on the grass near a chain linked fence, and slept great. I woke up with the sunrise and the birds chirping. My tent was filled with condensation when I got up, and it was chilly outside. A half moon hung in the sky above me, and the town was still asleep as I rode south. On my way out of town I spotted five deer in a field to the right of the highway. It was the first time that I'd spied deer in Montana. It was a family with two fonds. I was freezing so I pulled over to put on my rain jacket and leg-warmers. Five more deer were spotted as I crossed Elk Creek.
I was headed south on US Highway 287 for eighteen miles to where I'd be rejoining State Highway 200 to travel west over Rogers pass. The mountains were immediately to the west, and there was very little traffic on the road. I felt a little wind. My fingers were freezing but I needed them to use my phone. Otherwise I would have put on my winter gloves. Six miles down the road I crossed Dover Dry Creek. There were black cows in the fields to the left. I was still sharing the road with sandpipers and other prairie birds, and I was enjoying their calls. If my memory served correct, today would be the last day that I'd relish their presence. I’d loose all of the prairie birds in the mountains. I saw seagulls again today flying up and down the road. Sam, the bartender last night, told me that they find mice out in the fields. I passed a really stinky farm as I crossed Flat Creek.
I could see the intersection with State Highway 200 a half mile in the distance. There was a gopher dillydallying in the middle of the shoulder, and I almost hit him. All of the services at the junction had been closed for some time. I had ridden eighteen miles and it was going to be another thirty eight miles before breakfast. My cycling buddy Scott would never have been able to do such a thing. Rogers Pass, which crossed over the Continental Divide, was nineteen miles ahead. I clocked 34 miles an hour flying down a massive hill. The rub was that I had to climb back up the other side of the valley. My body heated up on the climb and I un-zipped my jacket. There was no point in taking the jacket off, because another downhill followed. I passed the turn off for the Diamond Dot Ranch. Once again I sped 34 miles an hour racing down the hill to cross the emerald colored Dearborn River, which was was fifty feet wide and flowing south. From here I would have an eight mile climb to the pass. After crossing the bridge I pulled over for a break.
Prior to my trip, I had purchased a bag of pecan praline granola from Trader Joe’s in Manhattan. I had carried it 3100 miles for use in case of an emergency. I was starving. I dug through my rear right pannier to find my precious morsels. I spread out my wet fly and tent to dry in the strong morning sun. I removed my leg-warmers, rain jacket, and sweater, and lathered myself with sunscreen. There were two hand-painted rocks sitting on the guard rail where I had pulled over. On one was written "Love". The other had colorful stripes. I discovered that I had no cell phone service, and realized that my left shoe was completely coming apart. My cycling shoes had made it across the country two and a half times. It was a good thing that I’d be in Missoula tomorrow, where I'd be able to purchase a new pair. A single engine prop plane flew low overhead. I repacked my tent and hopped back onto my bike to start up the hill.
It was a slow steady climb, and predictably I had a headwind. After a few miles I came to the intersection of County Road 434. I passed the chain-up area which indicated that it was treacherous here in winter. I was following Meriwether Lewis's return route and was near to where they had crossed the Continental Divide. The Native Americans had called this route the road to the Buffalo. The mountain region tribes would travel to the plains in the summer to hunt. I crossed the middle Fork of the Deerborn River, and was now surrounded by evergreen trees. I now found myself in the mountains. No more prairie. How many weeks had it been? I was following the middle Fork of the Deerborn River which was to my left. A dude in a white pick-up truck aggressively laid on his horn as I was struggling up the hill on the shoulder. Come on dude! You were pushing the accelerator pedal with your foot and blasting your horn with your finger while I was using every bit of energy I had to get up the pass. Grow a pair of testicles! I hoped that he slammed into a telephone pole.
I entered Helena National Park. After a long uphill I reached Rogers Pass and crossed the Continental Divide at an elevation of 5610 feet. From here on, all of my urine would stream down toward the Pacific. I donned my sweater for the downhill. After the initial descent I left Helena National Park. I was now following the Blackfoot River. I crossed Codotte Creek and came to the Junction of State Highway 279. I then crossed Alice Creek. I was ten miles from my meal in Lincoln. I passed the Alice Creek Spur part of the ACA Lewis and Clark route, and I could have walked back up to the Continental Divide to the exact spot where Meriwether Lewis crossed on his return from the Pacific. It would have been a twenty-six mile round-trip on foot. I was hungry and kept pedaling.
There were mountains in the distance as far as I could see. I noticed ATV tracks to the right of the road in the grass. There were tall evergreen trees stretching in every direction. Huge deer fencing stretched along the side of the road. I noticed an escape ramp for deer trapped in the roadway fenced in area. I noticed several animal crossing underpasses. I saw a sign saying that I was in bull trout country. There was a mandatory throwback if someone caught one. I saw a man-made eagles nest on a pole. I crossed emerald-colored Landers Creek. On the outskirts of Lincoln I rode past a small airport. The wind socks were blowing west to east. I passed the Lincoln Ranger Station and noticed a sign about a grizzly bear exhibit. Finally, thank goodness, I saw a series of welcome signs. I was starving and tired. I passed an awesome skateboard park and noticed numerous cyclists throughout town.
Lincoln, population 1013, was a tourist / frontier town with plenty of bars and restaurants. I stopped at the Montana Steakhouse where I ordered four pints of Devils Hump from Highlander Brewery in Missoula, along with a Montana burger which included huckleberry sauce. I read the following article at the bar:
https://www.washingtonpost.com/national/a-closed-border-pandemic-weary-tourists-and-a-big-bottleneck-at-glacier-national-park/2020/07/10/607694f2-c2c0-11ea-b4f6-cb39cd8940fb_story.html My cycling friends Chris and Sidd had just cycled 'Going to the Sun' road in Glacier, and this had been a topic of conversation among cyclists whom I'd met. I've been trying to raise money for Montana Native American communities effected by the COVID crisis. Please consider making a small donation at: https://www.mtcf.org/Giving/Give-Now?fn=Montana+COVID-19+Fund
On my way out of town I passed the Lincoln library, where the Unibomber had written part of his manifesto. It was sunny back out on the road, and I had twenty-seven miles to my destination in Ovando. I was following the Blackfoot river which would take me all the way to Missoula. My surroundings were markedly different from previous segments of the tour. This stretch of the route coincided with the ACA Great Divide Route Section 1, which had been my primary intention this summer. I spotted a fly fisherman in the middle of the river, and noticed many motor vehicles pulled-over on the side of the road. I ran into Danish cyclists Morten & Darthe who were touring all over the United States going east to west and north to south. They had started their tour before the COVID-19 crisis and decided to just keep going. They had quit their jobs and had rented out their home. They were planning to just keep touring. Their blog can be followed at: http://dmoutdoor.dk
I crossed into Powell County, and soon after I crossed Arastra Creek. My high school friend Lori R's family had a ranch located here, and I sent her a photo of the cross-road and mailbox line-up. A few miles west, I passed the turn-off for Montana State Highway 141. I rode through a wide open valley surrounded by massive mountains. There were snow-capped peaks in the distance, and aspen trees growing alongside of the road. A car passed me honking with thumbs-up out the window. That was the kind of respect that I expected from motorists.
I passed a plaque and learned more about the Bob Marshall Wilderness Area. Yes! Parts of the native landscape absolutely do need to be preserved. I crossed the North Fork of the Blackfoot River and decided to pull over and go for a skinny dip. The clear cold water felt incredibly refreshing! The current was strong and pushed me downstream. I was in my bare feet and it was tricky to get back to my starting point. I had wanted to do this for weeks, but had waited for clean mountain snowmelt. It was so refreshing!
Finally I arrived at my destination in Ovando. I had called and arranged for a place to camp in front of the Brand Bar Museum. I stopped at Trixi’s Antler Saloon and ordered several pints of Cold Smoke Scotch Ale by KettleHouse Brewing Co in Missoula. I ate a buffalo burger and edited today's report.
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