After a delicious breakfast, we pedaled out in the crisp, clear and cool (60°) morning. A wicked wind (think Dorothy & Oz) and rain blew through in the evening, washing away the haze that hung in the sky the day before.  Well kept cottages lined the street as we headed out of town on our (only) flat two mile warm up before we started our straight and steady climb on wonderfully quiet roads.  The increasing elevation gave us a beautiful view of the clouds that still hung in the hills and a straight shot back on the town we’d come from.  We continued our climb, throughly enjoying the scenery.  About 15 miles in, we came across the road construction we’d be warned about.  For our safety, the crew would not let us pass on our bikes.  So we quickly threw our bags and bikes in the back of the lead truck and were carried through a mile and a half of the roughest area.  As quickly as we’d unloaded, we loaded back up and headed on.  With most vehicles avoiding the 12 mile stretch of on/off construction, we had the road almost to ourselves.  The quiet was filled with singing birds and the soothing music of the creek we followed up the mountain.Words and photos do not do the area justice.  Nor do they describe the climb that would not end.  As we came close to the top and hills faded away, we could feel the breeze that previously had rustled only the very tops of the trees.  It was nearly a 24 mile continuous climb and though there was no elevation sign, the GPS said we’d reached 5873 feet.  We were excited to see our town from this vantage point, it just took forever to get there.  The straight road down was fun, but short lived; we soon were pedaling again.  We took a short break along the road to eat the lunch we didn’t pack;a few cherries, small bag of potato chips and one chocolate muffin.  Looking back we caught a glimpse of snow on the 9500 foot Mt. Edith.  Everywhere we turned was stunning.  On our Long road into town, we saw our first Antelope (ever) playing in the field.  Tired and parched on arrival, we quickly dropped our bags and pedaled another half a mile for a refreshment, Jerry “bearly” made it.We’ll skip the photo of the best pulled pork sandwich either of us have ever had and defer instead to dinner Montana style!It was a tough 43 miles, but a nice finish to the day.

At 7:30 a.m. it was overcast, biting and a damp 55° as we left the warmth of our hotel room.  First order of business was to stock up for lunch as there would be nothing between here and there and our continental breakfast was not going to take us very far.  From our doorstep we began our climb through the Castle Mountains, aptly named for the rock outcroppings that look like castle walls on the mountainside.  Once again we had the road to ourselves.  It was supremely quite except for the chirping of the ground squirrels as they scurried for cover or the screech of the eagle hunting in the sky.  The clouds made for striking contrast against the fields painted in soft hues.  We pedaled past Lake Sutherlin and the Bair Reservoir (note the rain on the horizon).  After miles and miles of almost treeless hills and fields, we turned a corner into a beautiful green enclave that lasted for a few miles; then we were once again in the treeless high plainssurrounded by the Castle, Belt and Crazy Mountains on the horizon.  At mile 40, we stopped for our stale peanut butter and jelly picnic, but with the entire sky getting darker by the minute, we did not linger.  Ten miles out, the wind decided to challenge our trek into town.  Though it was not a strong wind, it was enough to slow us down and make us earn every mile.  On the edge of town, we met Connor and Amala on their way to the town we’d left 60 miles ago; final destination Portland, Oregon.

On the other side of town we found our “accommodations” for the night, a tiny bit better than a tent; but became immensely better than a tent when it poured an hour later.  Pretty sure the farmers don’t want us to leave, but that the Montana tourist department may escort us out.

Thankfully, the rain stopped in time for us to bike the mile back into town for a ‘Jail House Pizza’ dinner.  Just about as fancy as our room (note the bars on the windows), but much more appealing.  “We” left just enough pizza for lunch, as well as, room for real homemade banana cream pie.Unlike the fries from a few days ago, there was no guilt after our 63 tough miles.  See you tomorrow!

Mother Nature smiled sunshine on us today and gifted us with a little tailwind.  We sailed on the flat, straight road east, paralleling the defunct Diamond R Freighting Company (railroad).  We would occasionally catch a glimpse of an old bridge, now grown over with grass and often used by the farmers that now reigned.  Trees were few and far between and you could see for miles.  We took an occasionally look back at the mountains becoming mere silhouettes on the western horizon.  By ten o’clock, we had already logged 30 miles, so stopped for a little break and cold water, but Not at this bar.After our short break the flat ride became mild rolling hills, some rolling longer than we would have liked.  But on several of the rises we would catch a glimpse of the Musselshell River weaving it’s way through the countryside.

Shortly before noon, we came to our last food outpost and the crossroads we would need to decide the direction on.  Heading south would take us to Billings (where we ultimately wanted to be), but it was another 45 miles.   Continuing east was only another 24 miles and a stop for the night.  Knowing we couldn’t make such a decision without food, we went in for a bite,after all, they said Bikers Welcome.  The gentlemen at the bar told us the south route from this point was much easier than the route from Roundup.  But we’d already clocked 50 miles and though the thought of not having a big climb to get to the city was appealing, we were a bit tired.  So after lunch, we continued our easterly trek; Billings would have to wait until tomorrow.  Though biking through these parts is gorgeous, the population is sparse and towns are really spread out, creating a challenge to our route each day; and as you may have noticed, we both prefer the comforts not afforded by a tent, even though we carry it with us, for emergencies.

 The road became a ribbon of continuous ups and downs, slowing us to half the pace we enjoyed earlier.  The breeze did nothing to cool us and in the full sun, our ODO’s were reading 104°; it was Hot (a far cry from our 59° start)!  An hour down the road of struggling to get up and over, only to climb again, the hills became a little more spaced and occasional clouds made the temperatures tolerable.  We finally came upon our cowboy town and a break from the heat of the sun.  For dinner we opted for the roasted chicken in the grocery store across the street, instead of biking back into town.  It had been a tough 70 miles and we were done for the day.

You were spared too many pictures today, as somewhere during the day, one of the camera’s decided it had had enough.  Unfortunately, many photos were lost, but our memories still remain.

Another overcast, yet refreshing 55° after yesterday’s draining heat.  Unfortunately, the weatherman’s last minute wind direction change, was not in our favor; guess we were due.  We had to backtrack two miles to get back on course, which allowed us to read the historic marker and catch a few of the road signs; Arrowhead Rd, Horsethief Road and even Ponderosa Drive….this is Cowboy Country, still.  We crossed the Musselshell River and began our long slow Bull Mountain climb into the wind.  The morning was almost hypnotic, as if we’d travel back in time; wild open spaces and horses roaming free.  Inevitably, a car would break the trance and bring us back to the slow crawl up and into the wind.  

We were delighted to see a few of the Highland Cattle we had first fallen in love with in Scotland.  It took us well over two hours to climb the 17 miles to 4010 feet, we could not wait for the downhill.  Unfortunately, we were lucky to break 20 mph pedaling hard against the wind; a far cry from the 40 mph we enjoyed a couple of days ago on a downhill.

The other side of this mountain was barren of most treesand we could see forever.You could almost here the music from The Good, The Bad and The Ugly movie playing in the background.

As we crested one of our many climbs, a chirping sound was everywhere.  The sky was void of birds and there were no trees in sight for birds to hide.  We soon realized the prairie dogs were calling back and forth to each other from across the road.  This long road into the wind was as difficult as it was beautiful.The sky even screamed, “This is Montana!”

But the wind was working on us, hard.  Around every bend and atop every hill we searched for some glimpse of this city of 100,000, though we could see for ever, all we saw were the plainsand antelope (sorry MaryEllen).At mile 40, we finally saw a speckling of civilization that breathed necessary life into our tired legs.  It was another five miles before we found a place to eat lunch and rest.  It took us another hour for a couple necessary stops (camera) before we checked into the luxury of a Real hotel.  By design, dinner was across the street and delicious.

 The hard fought 50 miles and almost six hours in the saddle was going to feel good against the pillow tonight.

Missoula to Billings, Montana

400.3 Miles

Continental Divide at Flesher Pass (6131 feet)

It was 62° with a cool northwest wind, when we finally left the comforts of our hotel.  A quick navigation through town,over the Yellowstone River and we were in the middle of the country.Small farms were scattered about.

Even with the nice tailwind, we slowly crawled up the mountain.  Wide switchbacks and our 1,000 foot higher vantage point offered gorgeous views and a shot back to town.  Many more rocks and a lot less trees on our long downhill run.  Around a bend, stark trees told the story of a bad fire years ago, though brush had began to bring green back to the hills.We had another smaller climb that dropped us by a thriving farm and only our second cornfield since our start (Marck, this one’s for you).On our first straight stretch, we met Don and his kids, Anders and Julia from Chicago and their friends Mark and Pat from Glendive, Montanaheading to Portland, Oregon.

This straight stretch of road went on forever, again revealing a beautiful soft palette of field grassand beautiful sky.  Prairie dogs greeted us for miles, as we biked along our long road.  We saw no people, one ranchlots of wide open space and ample wild life.It was an absolutely beautiful ridein the middle of nowhere, made that much more enjoyable with our cool northwest tailwind; but still lots and lots of nothing out here!

Twelve miles from town our flat ride became a little more rolling and signs of civilization once again returned.Our stop for the night was a straight shot into town.A few hours rest and then a bike into town for dinner.  Oddly enough, it took us a while to find a place in this two block town, but what a find.  Yes, the Greek salad is Really this big and the pizza can easily compete with Reginos.  It was a wonderful find!

Though this is the lowest altitude (2900 feet) we have been in since arriving in Montana, think we’ve finally adjusted to the thinner air; not so much to the climbing, however.

Fifty three miles done….Good Night!  One last thought(s) for the night….

Fifty seven degrees and sunny when we pushed away just after seven this morning, with a nice breeze coming out of the south; unfortunately, we were heading south; it was going to be a long day in the saddle; maybe a wagon train isn’t such a bad idea.  Picked up our frontage road just out of town, sandwiched tightly between the interstate and railroad.  This would be the day of few pictures, as we were blocked from anything to see by traffic lanes.  We crossed the Big Horn River,lost our pavement for a bitthen made a quick switch to the other side of the interstate, which afforded us better views and took us by a very sobering monument.  The Apsaalooke Veterans Park tells the grim story of an Indian heritage lost.  Shortly down the road was the Battle at Big Horn Museum.

 It was a good time to take a break from the wind, soak in more history and get refreshment at the last food stop before the end of our ride.  Shortly before ten, our road and the railroad unexpectantly split from the highway; the quiet and scenery returned!  This slight turn in the road also served to put the wind just off our right, so the onslaught was slightly tempered; perfect, since the wind had turned up a notch.  We were able to relax slightly and take in the vistas.

It was almost noon and we were suffering from the continuous uphill and battle against the wind.  Almost like a mirage, we saw a grocery store through the trees.  It was a wonderful break for food and cold drink.  Sorry we did not take a picture of the incredible fresh fruit bowl of raspberries, strawberries, bananas and blueberries, but it was consumed too fast to focus.  Leaving from this stop, our course turned a bit more to put the wind just at our shoulder.  With no trees to break the wind, the slight turn was what we needed in order to continue; even the occasional train was welcomed for it’s wind buffering effect.  Our usual afternoon cloud cover did not happen; shade was sought after by all.

At 50 miles, we found a lone tree to take refuge under to enjoy an orange before the gradual climb became much more noticeable.We enjoyed the quick down only to climb again relishing the idea of the next drop that took miles to come.We were jazzed to cross the border and enter a new state,the rain on the distant Big Horn Mountains looking very refreshing.Once again we were saved by an honest to goodness old time bar,proof;not sure we would have made it our last ten miles without it.  Finally we reached our downhill and wind so strong that on the flat road, we were doing 22 mph without pedaling; the wind was howling.  We were still exhausted.  After almost 7 hours in the saddle and 73 miles, we were hungry.   Fried pickles, salad and Chicken Fried Chicken (with gravy) was just the ticket!  On our walk back from dinner, the wind had completely died.

Bedtime!