(Slept a bit fitfully during the night due to more thunderstorm activity. But nothing matched the 10:30 show.)
We awoke to partly cloudy skies and the air seemed a bit humid - as if to keep us in line: we can put on another show for you at the drop of a hat.
Broke camp quickly. Had breakfast at the truck and headed out of town. The first 10 miles or so were very discouraging. I think that it was simply a combination of just having had breakfast, a bit of a headwind, and it being the first miles of the day. The road undulated a bit, with no big hills. All the same, the going was slow. Knowing that I had 90+ miles ahead, I was wondering how I would ever get them done at this rate of 9 or so miles an hour.
With a sigh of relief, I came to the base of our morning climb: an 11 mile, very gentle ascent through Deep Creek Canyon. What a lush and beautiful segment of the day's route! As it was only 8am or so, traffic was very light to non-existent. The road wound up the canyon in very close proximity to fast moving stream (The Creek I suppose). The rock canyon walls were not excessively tall, but you still felt contained - almost embraced during this journey past trees, vines, small pasture-like areas, and the ever-present water. I pulled over to try to photograph a wonderful cabin with a red metal roof that was perched on a rock foundation right next to the stream. A little bridge enabled you to cross over the water to reach the house - one side of which was concealed by a wild rose bush. Had to curse the limitations of a camera lens (and operator, for that matter).
Upon reaching the top of the climb, the canyon opened up to some beautiful meadows, and revealed a canopy of blue sky. There were some horses grazing to my right. What a wonderful, wonderful spot. And yet, how different the experience would have been with strong winds, or rain, or heavy traffic, or swarms of bugs, and while we're at it, a rumble strip.
Mark had a check point set up at the summit. Several Riders clustered there to fill up water bottles and munch on fresh cherries and packaged cookies. The descent was protracted somewhat by a few miles of gentle rollers. The rollers were fine - but always had me wondering when I'd be topping off the last one, ready to cruise down into the ensuing valley. I finally reached the apex and was treated by an expansive view toward White Sulpher Springs. Meadows in front, mountain peaks to the left, and the town out a bit toward the right - 8-10 miles away. The descent was a dream of an easy grade - I didn't use my brakes for several minutes and yet didn't register more than 25 miles an hour. The view was wide open allowing me to see where it bottomed out.
During this stretch, I determined that when climbing, I prefer to feel a bit hemmed in. Don't show me the top. It might appear insurmountable. And when descending, I really like to have the whole region within view so that I can determine how/when to brake, and how much momentum I can safely snatch from the grade.
A tailwind took me quickly into White Sulpher Springs. The town was preparing for a July 4th parade of course, but I had time to slip into Dori's cafe, slide onto a stool at the counter and order up some breakfast. Tony and Chuck joined me as soon as my coffee cup had been filled. We appreciated the break - time to get a good meal and cold water in our bottles before sinking our teeth into the next 60 miles. Chuck continued on immediately after the meal. But Tony and I decided to stop at the Big Ride check point on our way out of town to make and take a sandwich to have on hand. The temperature had risen. The oasis of enchanting creek and canyon shade were no longer present. This was a stretch of hot, rolling hills, with marginal road surface. Though we had started off with what we though was plenty of water, the heat took its toll. We had to stop at Two Dot - a small one-horse community - where Tony gingerly entered the bar (the only place in town) and procured cold water. A can of soda didn't hurt the cause either.
We returned to the highway and rolled along, searching the horizon for anything we thought could be Harlowton. "That must be it!" I said, as I pointed to a section of trees and buildings in the distance. Tony reminded me that we still had 12 miles to go. "Oh, but the horizon can be deceiving" I replied with hope and a parched throat. We went through this dismal exercise 3 times before finally entering not a mirage, but the real Harlowton. We pulled into the camp site area - adjacent to the rodeo grounds. I was so happy to lay on some cool grass in the shade. My feet were relieved to be off the pedals. From across the dusty parking lot, I heard the rodeo announcer calling for volunteer teams for the wild cow milking contest. He really had to plead with the crowd to get a few members of the audience to partake.As the show was near its end, it wasn't worth it to buy a grandstand ticket. I was content to lie on the cool grass and pretend to be listening to a summertime radio show.
Barb suggested that we escape the heat and the anticipated rain of fireworks in the evening by going to town to find a motel room. Sounded like a great plan. We took the last available room at the CountrySide Inn and were immediately treated to air conditioned comfort. A trip to the local grocery store was the icing on the cake: our room had a small fridge to contain little treats long denied. OJ, V-8, beer, cottage cheese, and even some tapioca pudding on a whim. Diana and Janet soon joined us. The room was a bit crowded with all 4 of us, our bags and bikes. But the amenities made up for it.
Dinner in town at a local restaurant, followed by journal updates and a wonderful, deep sleep.
We awoke to partly cloudy skies and the air seemed a bit humid - as if to keep us in line: we can put on another show for you at the drop of a hat.
Broke camp quickly. Had breakfast at the truck and headed out of town. The first 10 miles or so were very discouraging. I think that it was simply a combination of just having had breakfast, a bit of a headwind, and it being the first miles of the day. The road undulated a bit, with no big hills. All the same, the going was slow. Knowing that I had 90+ miles ahead, I was wondering how I would ever get them done at this rate of 9 or so miles an hour.
With a sigh of relief, I came to the base of our morning climb: an 11 mile, very gentle ascent through Deep Creek Canyon. What a lush and beautiful segment of the day's route! As it was only 8am or so, traffic was very light to non-existent. The road wound up the canyon in very close proximity to fast moving stream (The Creek I suppose). The rock canyon walls were not excessively tall, but you still felt contained - almost embraced during this journey past trees, vines, small pasture-like areas, and the ever-present water. I pulled over to try to photograph a wonderful cabin with a red metal roof that was perched on a rock foundation right next to the stream. A little bridge enabled you to cross over the water to reach the house - one side of which was concealed by a wild rose bush. Had to curse the limitations of a camera lens (and operator, for that matter).
Upon reaching the top of the climb, the canyon opened up to some beautiful meadows, and revealed a canopy of blue sky. There were some horses grazing to my right. What a wonderful, wonderful spot. And yet, how different the experience would have been with strong winds, or rain, or heavy traffic, or swarms of bugs, and while we're at it, a rumble strip.
Mark had a check point set up at the summit. Several Riders clustered there to fill up water bottles and munch on fresh cherries and packaged cookies. The descent was protracted somewhat by a few miles of gentle rollers. The rollers were fine - but always had me wondering when I'd be topping off the last one, ready to cruise down into the ensuing valley. I finally reached the apex and was treated by an expansive view toward White Sulpher Springs. Meadows in front, mountain peaks to the left, and the town out a bit toward the right - 8-10 miles away. The descent was a dream of an easy grade - I didn't use my brakes for several minutes and yet didn't register more than 25 miles an hour. The view was wide open allowing me to see where it bottomed out.
During this stretch, I determined that when climbing, I prefer to feel a bit hemmed in. Don't show me the top. It might appear insurmountable. And when descending, I really like to have the whole region within view so that I can determine how/when to brake, and how much momentum I can safely snatch from the grade.
A tailwind took me quickly into White Sulpher Springs. The town was preparing for a July 4th parade of course, but I had time to slip into Dori's cafe, slide onto a stool at the counter and order up some breakfast. Tony and Chuck joined me as soon as my coffee cup had been filled. We appreciated the break - time to get a good meal and cold water in our bottles before sinking our teeth into the next 60 miles. Chuck continued on immediately after the meal. But Tony and I decided to stop at the Big Ride check point on our way out of town to make and take a sandwich to have on hand. The temperature had risen. The oasis of enchanting creek and canyon shade were no longer present. This was a stretch of hot, rolling hills, with marginal road surface. Though we had started off with what we though was plenty of water, the heat took its toll. We had to stop at Two Dot - a small one-horse community - where Tony gingerly entered the bar (the only place in town) and procured cold water. A can of soda didn't hurt the cause either.
We returned to the highway and rolled along, searching the horizon for anything we thought could be Harlowton. "That must be it!" I said, as I pointed to a section of trees and buildings in the distance. Tony reminded me that we still had 12 miles to go. "Oh, but the horizon can be deceiving" I replied with hope and a parched throat. We went through this dismal exercise 3 times before finally entering not a mirage, but the real Harlowton. We pulled into the camp site area - adjacent to the rodeo grounds. I was so happy to lay on some cool grass in the shade. My feet were relieved to be off the pedals. From across the dusty parking lot, I heard the rodeo announcer calling for volunteer teams for the wild cow milking contest. He really had to plead with the crowd to get a few members of the audience to partake.As the show was near its end, it wasn't worth it to buy a grandstand ticket. I was content to lie on the cool grass and pretend to be listening to a summertime radio show.
Barb suggested that we escape the heat and the anticipated rain of fireworks in the evening by going to town to find a motel room. Sounded like a great plan. We took the last available room at the CountrySide Inn and were immediately treated to air conditioned comfort. A trip to the local grocery store was the icing on the cake: our room had a small fridge to contain little treats long denied. OJ, V-8, beer, cottage cheese, and even some tapioca pudding on a whim. Diana and Janet soon joined us. The room was a bit crowded with all 4 of us, our bags and bikes. But the amenities made up for it.
Dinner in town at a local restaurant, followed by journal updates and a wonderful, deep sleep.
3 comments:
Liz,
Keep those blogs coming for those left in your dust. I hope to cross your path in New Ulm on 7/19 on my drive to the yooper MI....Marty O
Beautiful writing, Liz. It's such a pleasure to read along with you.
Excellent Post!
I recall (from BR2004) that valley and the climb.
Your writing style is wonderful.
Zach
p.s. say hi to Ash for me.
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