Connecticut to California – Day 8 – August 19, 2000

Sunrise on the east side of Glacier National Park reveals a miracle.  Sometime during the night, the wind direction has changed and a front has moved through.  The sky is clear and there is not a hint of smoke from the fires burning just south of here.

But, it is cold.  It is fifty five degrees but the wind is blowing very hard.  I turn on the weather radio and the National Weather Service is predicting winds 25 – 40 mph today.  I feel like it is thirty degrees outside.  However, the view from my cabin is stunning since the smoke has been blown away.  I fondly remember sitting on the swing typing yesterday’s story.  I decide I will just sit on the swing again – just for a little while – to enjoy the crisp, cool mountain air.

Through the gate of Glacier National Park on the Going to the Sun Road, I am immediately confronted with St. Mary’s Lake.  There is a pretty decent chop on the surface – giving physical form to the wind I feel on my face.  When I left the KOA this morning, I put on my full First Gear riding suit – Logan Pass, the continental divide is over 6,000 feet – and I know it will be cold up there.  Little did I know then, that I would be wearing the suit all day.

As I ease gently up the mountain, I understand that if this side is gentle – the other side is going to be steep.  I stop frequently to shoot the most amazing pictures.  The wind is blowing at least 40 mph and every time I get off the bike to shoot a picture, I think I am going to get blown over the edge.  I am past Logan Pass – and for some reason I think that someone ought to tell my wife – that, if I fall off the mountain into the river below, she should look for me in the Pacific Ocean – not the Atlantic.  Although, it is so cold at the pass that I am sure I as soon as I hit something on the way down, I will shatter into a million pieces.  The temperature is 40 degrees - - with the wind it feels like zero.

I am thankful that I have the trailer.  With the extra cargo space, I can carry enough riding gear to be comfortable whatever the weather.  The weather forecast this morning predicted that some areas will have a fifty degree range of temperatures today – 85 as the high and 35 as the low.

I was not mistaken about the other side of the mountain being more challenging.  Steep grades, gravel on the road, 180 degree turns – construction – you name it – it was there.  Meanwhile I am craning my neck to see over the side of the road to the river gorge below.

Fifty miles from the entrance gate I am out of the park and turning west on Route 2.  I had originally planned to do # 26 Salmon-Bitterroot Country at this point in my trip, but was forced to change my plans because of the fires in that area.  That trip would have taken me south on Route 93 – through Missoula and almost to Boise, Idaho.  Instead I will take Route 2 farther west and take 95 south and do a portion of #25 – Idaho Heartland.  I will pick up that tour just outside of Lewiston, Idaho – so much of the rest of today is spent in transit to that point.

Route 2 is quite splendid, but in comparison with my recent rides, it doesn’t compare.  I reflect upon how easy it is to get used to these spectacular roads – and be disappointed when you have to ride one that is not quite as spectacular.  The ride thorough Kootenai National Forest provides a reminder of the terrible tragedy in progress just south of here.  I come upon the largest helicopter I have ever seen sitting along side the road.  To those who have been victims of these fires – and those who are fighting them – whether on the ground or in the air – our prayers are with you.

I stop at the Idaho border – more to say a prolonged farewell to Montana, than to say hello to Idaho.  I have never been to Idaho before – and I really don’t know what to expect – but what I do know is that Montana stole my heart.

Idaho and I get off to a rocky start.  Soon I turn south on 95 – the landscape is attractive, but the traffic is terrible.  I guess I expected 95 to be like 89 was yesterday in Montana, but it seems that 95 is the only through road from anywhere here to anywhere there.

Once I cross the Spokane river in Coeur d’Alene the Idaho farmland comes into view – but I still can’t appreciate it the way I would like to – because of the traffic.  There are spectacular views of rolling fields of grain, but I can’t stop the bike – because there is no shoulder to the road – and I always have someone on my butt.  Nevertheless, in a state know for its potatoes, all I see are miles and miles of the most beautiful grain fields I have ever seen.  I am intrigued by the tire tracks made by farm machinery during harvest.  I imagine that creatures from space have landed here in the dark of night to confuse us with unintelligible symbols in the grain.

I pass through the Coeur d’Alene Indian reservation with its obligatory casino and smoke shops – through Moscow – home of the University of Idaho and on to Lewiston for the night.

I know, I know – I haven’t really given Idaho a chance yet – and the Idaho Heartland tomorrow may change my mind.  But right now I am missing Montana.

The bike trip meter says 412.4 the Garmin III+ trip meter says 424.2 and I say Goodnight from Lewiston, Idaho.

Connecticut Yankee in Yosemite Valley- the Trek
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