Thursday, June 9, 2022, Day 9
I awoke to a soaked rain fly, but it hadn’t rained. It was a heavy dew and it was cold too. My phone said 50 degrees, but it felt colder. I was definitely thankful to be wrapped in my down jacket.
Yesterday, Sheri bought me a cool pump that has a reservoir that you pump up and then release all at once into your tire. It’s specifically for popping the bead of a tubeless tire onto the rim. Without this pump you need a compressor or need to burn a CO2 cartridge. I needed this pump also because the one I brought sucks and will not pump up higher than about 30 psi.
I got my REI Co-op ADV 2.3 Gravel bike converted to tubeless before going on this trip and did a single ride to test it out. The day after my test ride, my front tire was flat. I brought it back into REI and they had to re-tape the rim to get it to hold air. I asked them, “Shouldn’t you check the back tire? I’m assuming the same person converted both wheels?” “No, it should be fine,” was the response. Well, my back tire has a slow leak and I’ve been having to burn a CO2 cartridge each morning to get it back to sufficient pressure. It has lasted all day, but it was getting old. Hence, the new pump.
When I tried out the new pump, I got the tire pressured nicely, but then it lost all the air. The core of the value appeared to be bad, as I couldn’t even tighten the tip to seal it. Ugh. I had to pull the wheel off (this requires a 6mm hex wrench on my bike), pull off the tire, replace the valve (luckily I had one spare), and put in some sealant. Next, I got a chance to try the reservoir on my new pump. It was now dark and I was working by headlamp. My first tries were failures. The tire was on enough to hold any air. I fiddled with it a bit and pumped up my reservoir to 100 psi and voila! I heard two audible pops and the tire seated both beads. Sweet. In the morning, it still held air. I put it back on my bike, lubed it up a bit and rode it around the campground. It seems to be holding.
The start of my ride, on my newly fixed back tire, was great. Just blissful, easy riding on the last ten miles of the Trail of the Coeur d’Alenes. Then things got tougher. I took a paved road to Shoshone Park, riding by the Lucky Friday mine. The Coeur d’Alenes valley is the richest silver mining in the world and still the biggest silver producer in the US.
At the Fish Hatchery, I got on a dirt road leading 10 miles up to Mullan Pass at over 5200 feet. Judging from all the snowmobile parking signs, this is a real popular area in the winter for that sport. Up high I met Brandon, a bear hunter from Wisconsin out here for a week trying to get a trophy. He was “glassing,” which means he was sitting in a chair looking through his tripod-mounted binoculars trying to find a bear and learn its patterns. I asked, “Once you spot them, do you hike in there and shoot it?” He told me that you can’t just go at the bear, as they have very sensitive noses. If you don’t approach downwind, you won’t get anywhere near the bear. He was wearing an automatic pistol on his hip and I asked what it was for. He said that this was grizzly country and it was to protect him from bears, if he got surprised. I told him I was riding across the country and he asked, “What do you do when you get to the snow?” Say what?
Brandon assured me that snow blocked the road a mile or two further. Ugh. I asked if he thought I could walk through it. He couldn’t get his truck through it, so he didn’t know how long it lasted, but they walked quite a ways in it. Two miles was nearly to where I thought the summit might be, so I continued.
Sure enough, I found the snow and had to start pushing my bike. I could see that I was near the elevation of the pass and hoped that the road would stay high for too long. Pushing my bike through the snow, completely alone and isolated, I started to think…this is grizzly country…and I have no firearm. And I’m well aware how delicious I look to a ravenous bear just waking up from a long winter’s nap. I wondered how long I could hold off a bear with my bike. I’m thinking one or two seconds. Then my phone died.
Bummer, but I had my spare battery and plugged it in. Now the problem was that I didn’t have a cell connection and lost my track in Google Maps. It displayed nothing. That app sucks. When you’re following a route, it should download the map that is needs for that track so that you don’t have to re-start the route every time. I didn’t worry at first. There was only one way to go. Then I got to the pass and there were two ways to go. I chose the one that looked marginally bigger and I chose correctly.
I continued to push on the way down for a few hundred yards and then I could get back on the bike. I rode for a bit and then pushed a bit. Back and forth. In all, I had to push the bike about two miles through snow, most of that on the way up. I still had no connection and couldn’t tell Sheri about my situation and that I’d be late to our meetup in Saltese. Oh well.
A mile or so down, I came across a doe and a just-born fawn. The baby could stand, but couldn’t really walk. They were on the road and I needed to pass. I got off my bike and walked it slowly on the far side of the road, but the mama was very nervous and very agitated. I thought it might try to kick me or something, but she eventually ran down the road. The fawn laid down completely flat to the ground. I didn’t approach it any closer than I had to, for fear of making it even more nervous. I hope the mama returned shortly after my passing. I shot some video of our interaction. I hated causing that mother stress.
I rode down five miles of mud to I-90, but the road just passed under it and I then took a trail parallel to it for four more miles to Saltese. By the time I got there, Sheri had left. She got confused about the time change and thought I was 80 minutes late, when I was more like 20 minutes late. Sheri then got a signal, saw that I was in Saltese and reversed back to me. We had lunch there and made a new plan.
I’d rode another 27 miles to St. Regis. This was mostly along the Hiawatha/Olympiad Trail, which was another double-track dirt/gravel trail like the previous ones I’d been riding. This trail started out baby smooth and finished similarly, but the core of the riding was rocky and bumpy. It was tiring and I was fading a bit.
The Hiawatha/Olympiad Trail must allow motorized vehicles. Two ATVs, coming the other way, passed me. And I saw a service truck as well. I haven’t seen the signs saying “No Motor Vehicles” that graced the previous trails I’ve ridden.
I met Sheri where my trail intersected a paved road in St. Regis. We decided to stop here and I followed Sheri 1.5 miles to the campground, which was really nice.
We were now in the Mountain time zone, the far western end of it. This meant that the mornings would be darker, but the nights lighter. We were quite surprised to notice that it was past 9 p.m. and we were still reading in daylight. Dim daylight to be sure, but daylight. In the Pacific time zone it was light at 4:30 a.m. I like it light in the morning, but I’d be okay with it being darkish until at least 5 a.m.
I’d ridden some of the day alongside of I-90. This was a new interstate for me. I was familiar with I-40, across New Mexico and Arizona, I-70 through Colorado, and I-80 through Wyoming, but I was now wondering where was I-50 and I-60? Turns out, they don’t exist because the states in which they would travel already have highways with those numbers and that is not allowed, per US Highway regulations.
Friday, June 10, 2022, Day 10: Rain, Rain, Rain
We slept late and awoke to the forecasted rain. After doing our morning puzzles (Wordle and Wordscapes), we headed into town for breakfast and a dry place to hang out. I finished my piece for the week on Boulder’s plan to test a guaranteed income program. Summary: bad idea.
Days like today are tough and make me think about what my goals are for this trip. I stated them at the start of this adventure and they still hold true, but I have a strong aversion to skipping sections. I don’t want to jump in the car. But I also don’t want to be miserable. This is supposed to be fun. Riding in the rain usually isn’t very fun and it can be more dangerous to be on slippery roads. Indecision wracks me.
I didn’t start riding until 12:30 p.m. and immediately was on a dirt road, which was now mud, though I wasn’t sinking into it. Our initial plan was to just ride 17 miles to the town of Superior. I got there soaked and covered in mud. Sheri wanted to go on and I felt fine and though I was wet, I wasn’t cold, so we headed for Tarkio. I rode all paved roads to there and was feeling great so we decided to go to Wye, still 44 miles away.
Sheri took off to get us a room and I promptly rode myself into a dead end. After struggling with my phone and reversing back to talk to a local woman, Jody, who was riding a fat-tire tricycle with three dogs, all of which chased me, barking incessantly, and two goats. She told me that where I turned around at the gate is indeed a road, but that all the rain has caused the grass to overgrow it. But she said there was a crazy guy that lived up there, so, yes, it was better to retreat to the freeway. Then she asked me if I’d like to smoke a bowl with her. How nice. I politely declined and pedaled on.
I rode back to I-90 and got on it. It had a huge shoulder and it didn’t feel dangerous at all. In fact, most cars and trucks passed me in the left lane. I got off at the next exit, which was only two miles or so, and got on the frontage road. That worked fine and I was rolling again. I followed Old Highway 10 until it disappeared into the ground. I had to get on I-90 again. All my troubles had Sheri thinking we should stop early and she got us a motel in Alberton. It was a cozy, quirky place right on the ? Fork River. I mean, right on it. We had a front door and a back door and from our back door an Olympic jumper could have splashed into the river. There were tracks on the other side of the river and trains went by often, one carrying a number of commercial airliner fuselages! The trains were quiet though — no whistle blowing — so it was a fine place to stay.
We went over to the saloon for dinner and Sheri did a load of laundry, after her walk and her weights workout, of course.
Saturday, June 11, 2022, Day 11: Rain, Mud, Wind, High Prices
Sheri and I have agreed on a philosophy for the trip, which is to make progress every day, even if it isn’t very far. Small mileages will eventually add up to big mileages. Plus, at least we are staying in a new place and moving eastward. The exception would be if the weather is truly horrible all day long. Or if the stretch we must cover is large and the weather is bad. So far, we’ve had some bad weather that had me starting later in the day to avoid the worst of the rain, but once I’m out there, it’s been fine. Today was the same, though I haven’t ridden in any rain that is much more than a drizzle.
Our goal today was just to get to Missoula, which was only 37 miles away. We met up briefly in Frenchtown, at a nice park there. Getting there, I did have to do a 3-mile section of dirt roads, which were a bit muddy and covered my bike and lower extremities in mud. Same ole, Same ole.
After meeting Sheri I generally rode frontage roads of I-90 and one of them had a nice paved bike path along side it. Once in Missoula and headed toward our first choice hotel, I spied an REI directly to my right. I jumped into the parking lot, through the front door and directly to the bike service shop. I told them my story about buying the bike two months ago and riding across the USA and apologized for the mud-covered bike and then asked them to adjust my shifting. My bike had been making some noise in my second and third lowest gears. They happily obliged and even gave my drivetrain a cleaning and a fresh lube. REI is awesome.
Sheri and I experience severe sticker shock trying to get a hotel room. Nothing was available for under $200 and when we finally relented to that price we found that everything was booked under $300 and we didn’t try above that. We fell back to getting a tent site at the KOA campground in town. This campground is huge and feels like a small town. It has named roads, a pool, mini-golf, a lounge, stores, many bathrooms, cabins, RV sites, tent sites, a couple of teepees. It was something and so were the prices: $67 for a tent site, but at this point I just wanted to get into some dry clothes, so we took it.
After putting up the tent and taking a shower, we drove over to the University of Montana. Sheri had scoped out a trail that went past the big “M” on Sentinel Mountain. While she hiked up to the summit, I toured around the campus a bit and then made a grocery run.
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