Pushing over the top of a 5k climb I managed to catch up with Eric and Erin from Seattle. They were sensibly taking it easy on the descent whereas I was trying to make the most of gravity being in my favour. We were riding through the Swan Valley, although we were not exactly in the valley. The Great Divide route takes a bit of getting used to as it tends to detour up and over mountains on heavy trails as opposed to taking the more direct asphalt-friendly route through the valley. I'm sure the temptation to short-cut befalls many cyclists having a bad day. In most cases there is a point to the detours. They typically avoid traffic-heavy roads, they incorporate scenic areas or they simply seek to make the marathon route even more challenging.
We camped together in a small informal camp-site commonly visited by fishermen. In the US there is both formal and informal camping. The formal camping tends to be either private or else public on state-owned US Forest Service lands. It is in fact possible to camp anywhere on forest service lands once you are clear of the roads, thus, a lot of informal dispersed camping is available as fishermen, hunters and hikers find suitable spots to camp in more isolated country. These are typically near a water source and are often only evident because people have created fire-pits with a ring of stones. Fatty Creek was one such camp ground. However, we were not totally in isolation. Up the road a family from the eastern part of Montana was vacationing in a couple of trailers on their own land. The normally serene country ambience was being shredded by two ATVs (quads). The harsh roar of an engine is always disconcerting in the countryside but these are typically brief encounters with man as he overtakes or passes you. These engines were roaring up and down the road repeatedly, as men would do when playing with a new toy. In this case however, the throttling was the work of two girls. It got to the stage where Erin, Eric and myself were looking at each other as if we wanted to throttle them. Just then, we heard a crash and the engines cut out. One of the girls had managed to clip the guard-rail on the bridge, which knocked her into the path of the other girl chasing. We rushed out to the tears and squeals. Thankfully not too much blood was spilt and it was more a case of cuts and bruises. Eric ran up to the trailers but the parents were already hurtling down the hill. I guess we weren't the only ones who could hear the sudden silence. The girls were only twelve and thirteen and had finally succeeded in wearing their parents into submission to allow them to ride the four-wheelers. Needless to say I'm sure the girls now fully understood their parents' initial hesitation. Thankfully the situation was not serious enough that it required our intervention but while the mother was patching up the girls the father rolled down to us to express his gratitude. I have never heard a man express the word thanks so many times through the puffs of a cigarette.
The weather had turned unfavourably overnight. I awoke to thunder-claps and so I jumped out of the tent to get up the road ahead of the lightening storm. The tent was wet but the showers were intermittent allowing me to sneak away just in time. The route was not too arduous in terms of topography but it did include the first sections of single-track riding of the whole route. This inevitably slowed things down and in inclement weather made life quite difficult. In such scenarios it is important to keep pedalling as once you stop your core temperature drops being potentially dangerous. Thankfully, I managed to ride away from the storm and after 60k I was riding under blue skies with steam rising from me. I pulled in at the camp ground in Holland Lake to take advantage of the sunshine so I could dry my tent out. To get to Seeley Lake I still needed to get over a fairly big climb on dirt. It was while the sun was splashing rays on my wet tent that another Eric came over to me and started chatting. Very soon I was invited to stay and join in his family and friends' Labour Day weekend annual gathering. Presented with the choice of climbing a mountain or eating a mountain of food I naturally opted for the respite.
Once I washed the crud from my clothes and my bike and jumped in the lake for a bath I could relax and enjoy the party. Erin and Eric had arrived and joined in the fun also. With our bellies full and the micro-brews flowing it was time to sit around the camp-fire and enjoy the blaze. Riding solo I never bother making a camp-fire as I prefer to rest prone in my sleeping bag to keep warm. However, the camp-fire is the heart and soul of the American camping experience and so it was a real pleasure to experience such amazing hospitality from such friendly and funny Montanans. The previous year an English cyclist had joined them for their feast. They found him in the outhouse trying to stay out of the rain;looking after cyclists riding the Divide was fast becoming a tradition.
Across the lake we could make out a wedding party at the lodge. There was nothing left to do but crash it. Some of us walked the few miles to the lodge in the dark to check out the party. Unfortunately it was the lamest wedding ever and the crowd was quite preppy. It is difficult for mountain men to integrate with such a crowd and so we had a couple of beers on the fringe of the party hoping that curious types would realise that we were the real party but sadly the crowd was bland and so we hit the road with some PBRs for take-out. It was worth the try.
While the weather in Montana was not proving kind the people were proving overwhelmingly so. It is so difficult to experience such hospitality on the beaten path or when you don't have the language. It is these experiences that make up for any of the isolation one experiences while travelling solo. The Great Divide is undoubtedly proving to be the most fun part of my round-the-world adventure.
Hope you are all well
Mark
Holland Lake