Stage 18 - Roosevelt Lodge to Red Lodge - June 11, Tuesday

The weather is cold again, but not so bad and MUCH more endurable. I shed some of the extra clothing I wore yesterday and still feel comfortable. I am NOT a cold weather cyclist; I prefer my weather hot.

We agree to have lunch 30 miles into our ride. Along the way I am excited to see a herd of bison. I am struck by the sadness of it all, honestly. A herd used to be thousands of bison. Now we visit Yellowstone and are excited to see one or two bison alone. A group of a hundred or so elicits great clamor and many cars stopped to take photos. Something has been lost from our heritage and we ogle its sad remains.



GODS OF RANDOM MISADVENTURES …

Bear Tooth Highway is closed. The highlight of our day lost. A climb to 11,000 feet stymied by ceaseless rain and snow.

Our alternate route takes us to Chief Joseph Highway. A Fed Ex man tells me it is very scenic, neglecting to mention a particular climb towards the end.

The scenery in this part of Montana is beautiful. I love the lakes nestled in-between mountains and hiding in valleys. The water is such a deep blue I can almost get lost in the watching. I pause to get pictures before I miss my chance.


As I ride, I think about my country and how different regions are connected. It is easy to understand rural folks’ beliefs about self-reliance and community and their disdain for government. People live in remote locations. There is no one to call or raise on the internet. You have only your neighbors for help. Anything else is poppycock. Perhaps an over simplistic view but at least I’m gaining a better perspective on how other Americans live their day to day lives. In many respects, I remain convinced we are more alike than different.

EPIC MEANS TREMENDOUSLY AWESOME …

I have ridden 70 miles and been cycling for five hours. It has been eight and a half hours since we left Roosevelt Lodges.

I see Judy and Sonya. The describe the climb awaiting me. I look to where they are pointing and see an incredibly steep incline with many switchbacks. I see the highway crisscrossing the mountain side. Sonya points out a truck crossing the highest switchback we can see. It is way up there; the truck is tiny. They inform me they only drove part of the mountain before turning around and coming down to wait for us. I think they expect me to stop cycling and load my bike on the van. Instead, I load up on water and chomp down a peanut butter sandwich. Then I am off, eager to test my mettle against this monster.

It is the ultimate opportunity! Ten miles, uncounted but numerous switchbacks, unforgiving steepness ranging from 5% to 8% grades; there are few if any 3% segments and those that exist are too darn short. I ride using my 28 gear; I have three in backup: 30, 32 and 34. I spin my pedals and settle in. It is endless. I spin on. I keep a steady cadence. I don’t think. I just cycle. Well ok, I think about my breathing. I pant; it's hard getting all the oxygen I need. My breathing is so damn loud. I listen in stereo. Yup, I'm such a deep thinker about unimportant things. I ban all thoughts of “the destination”, focusing on the immediate moments. I look down and am pleased with what I've done. I look up and measure my progress one switchback at a time. Oh my gosh, there are so many switchbacks. It goes on and on.

I think back to Hurricane Ridge and all the other big climbs already completed. I know I can do this. I think about Vik and all the encouragement he would be giving me. I think about Eddison and all the work he put me through. I think of Noah (my trainer) and all the high intensity work we completed. I think about Michelle and wish she was waiting at the end of the day to deep tissue massage all my aches and pains away. I am not alone on the mountainside; I am supported by so many people. I think about Terri, my children, my friends and how proud they are of me. Hell, I am no spring chicken. Yet here I am. I’m getting close. I find myself dropping down into my lower gears for relief, then back up, then all I am spinning is my 34. Onward and upward I go.

All of a sudden I hear someone asking if I have any Grey Poupon mustard; another fella offering me a cookie: the support van has arrived and David and Jonah are encouraging me on. I love their humor. They ask if I want to stop. "Nope, I want to summit". They speed on to await my arrival. Suddenly I am at the top. Drained. Yet I feel great satisfaction in my accomplishment; this was a massive climb and I conquered it. Every part of my body hurts.

In the picture accompanying this segment, look closely at the bottom left. Look inside the circle to the left of the line's point: that is where I met Judy and Sonya. Yup, that far away. I whoop-assed that climb. Ten miles, over 2,000 feet climbed, in an hour. Damn!

THE END OF THE DAY …

The second picture shows the elevation of my day's ride. To the far right is the climb I just described. I love this picture.

We load up the van. Judy drives. She is no slowpoke. We arrive at the Rock Creek Resort in Red Lodge. My day is almost done.

I call Terri and we catch up on matters large and small. Terri anchors me. I know how proud Terris is of what I am doing and it makes me stronger.

I will sleep well tonight.