Post 4- Glacier Park to Wolf Point

July 31, 2009
Lee and I left St. Mary late on Sunday due to the thunderstorms that kept rolling through the valley. There was a big climb as we headed south out of the park, but we found a shortcut down along the Cut Bank Creek when we came down the other side. The road is called eight mile road, and it put us right into the broken glass strewn streets of Browning. The locals in Montana have been telling me not to stop in Browning because it is dangerous, but we didn’t care about idle talk. There were a few strange that some people gave us but the majority was nice. We ate lunch and continued towards Cut Bank with a North wind the entire time; we got there around 5 pm. The camping was not easy to find so Lee went into a casino and asked around, and as the bartender was coming out, she was rattling off her street address. We found the home, and also her son, Vladimir’s personal toy collection strewn about the backyard. At least the yard was flat, and there weren’t too many dead mice that I had to pick up.
The following morning, we went to Albertson’s for the daily banana and snack purchase, got some coffee at Mc D’s and were off around 9 am. The wind was just as strong, and the ride was difficult all the way to Chester. I made it to town about an hour before Lee so I slept on the bench at the rest stop. When he came rolling into town, we found free camping at the city park and bought a six pack of beer and dinner supplies. Two beers down, and bellies full of potatoes, peas and salad, we met JP who was heading west from Maine to Anacortes. He was full of very useful information, and we gave him some suggestions and places to stay for some of his ride coming up. I slept well that night, only got up once and when I did, the stars were shining and I could see the milky way clearly.
The next leg of the journey was to Havre, and we were blessed with tailwind for about ten miles. That wind turned into a strong north wind once again, and we pushed in to Hingham where we had lunch at Spencer’s Hi Way Café. With the help of ‘ol Spencer and his phone book, we called the Northern Montana University to book two dorm rooms for the night. JP told us about this ten dollar special the night before and we couldn’t refuse. After eating greasy deep fried chicken and lays potato chips, we stepped out of the café and the storm clouds had all decided to congregate right above our heads. It didn’t matter at this point if it was raining or not, but we put our rain gear on and braved the storm. After pedaling with all our strength for several hours, only to go 10 mph, we made it to the great metropolis known as Havre. Bill runs the student union and he is sympathetic to cross country bicyclists. Lee let me have the first floor room and it had a television, couch and two separate beds. I caught up on some writing and phone calls while yet another storm system moved in.
I decided that it was time for me to go on ahead early and I said me goodbye’s to Lee who had been great company throughout the lonely stretches of the Montana plains. I had a deliciously cheap pancake breakfast at the local grease hole, then bought bananas and granola at Gary and Leo’s Grocery Store (coincidence?). The skies had opened a hatch of sunlight for me and the winds were blowing at my back, it was nice to be back up to 20 miles per hour for once. I rode for 90 miles through the flattest terrain I had seen so far; Fort Belknap Indian Reservation was no different. The most interesting thing that I saw that day was an old Spanish style mission church that was a faded shade of pink and the colorful graveyard next to it. Someone had taped a cardboard sign on the old locked rusty gate surrounding the grounds. I didn’t read it, because I think it probably said something like,” anyone trespassing into this graveyard will be cursed for the rest of their life”. As I started down the road, a native man in a beat up pickup towing a horse trailer swerved over into my lane and stopped. I was thinking that I was in for it when he said, “hey I’ll trade you two horses for that bike of yours!” I said, “no I like my bike, but thank you”. He had about five children with him in the truck all giggling and they finally left, laughing on down the road. The trip went as smooth as it could and I found the local park; most towns in Montana usually have a park where you can camp for free or for just a few dollars a night. I met another biker named Gary and a French Canadian couple in their sixties. They made dinner and shared their wine with Gary and I. I slept under a covered pavilion that night.
In the morning, I was up early and ate biscuits and gravy at the coffee shop downtown. With a full belly and a determination to make it as far as my legs would carry me, I shoved off. I once again had the wind at my back and made to a town called Saco, known as the mosquito capitol of the world. I bought a diet coke from the convenience store there, rested for about ten minutes and got back on Bella (she’s a pretty bike). Saco wasn’t as full of the little bloodsuckers as people said, but the surrounding farmland was horrible. I couldn’t stop for a second before my whole leg was covered in them. Lucky for me, I was feeling strong and just kept pumping up the hills as hard as I could. I was running out of water, and the town of Oswego was still ten miles away but out of nowhere there was a rest stop. I pulled my steed into one of the pavilions and a nice English lady was chatting with an Australian couple. Sure enough, Mary and Morris (the Aussies) invited me for lunch (which consisted of canned ham, canned pearl onions, canned beets, potato ships and sliced cheese. It was actually quite delicious, and most of all, free. I made it to Oswego and bought a waffle cone. While at the little shop, some of the locals told me not to stay the night in Fort Peck Indian Reservation, which was about 15 miles to the East. I didn’t listen to them and I kept on truckin’ through town.
At about 6 pm I made it to Wolf Point, I had pedaled around 120 miles that day and all I wanted was a place to set up my tent...