Day 74: Havre, MT to Shelby, MT

July 25, 2008

113.11 Miles, 8:01:44 Ride Time, 14.08 Average Speed, 36.84 Maximum Speed

I had a good night's sleep in the dorm room - no air conditioner or fan, but there was a breeze through the window. Nice.

I met up with Jordan, who had slept on a couch in the study room down the hall, and we were riding out by 7:30, to find that it was sunny, mild and we had a tailwind. To everyone the last several weeks who told me I was riding the wrong direction: WHERE'S YOUR PREVAILING WIND NOW, HUH? HUH? That's what I thought.

Havre was big enough to have a Super WalMart on the edge of town, and we stopped there. After all the small towns, country stores, and gas stations/convenience stores of the last several weeks, I actually felt slightly disoriented wandering through the massive place. With all the choices, I ended up buying the same granola bars I always get.

Today was an unusual day on the High Line, in that there were little towns a few miles apart most of the day. We ended up stopping at each tiny town to verify that yes, there's the grain elevator by the railroad tracks, and yes, there's the tiny post office that is open two hours a day. The meshing of my style (do as many miles as possible when there's a tailwind) and Jordan's style (stop every ten miles, or at each small town, whichever comes first) would make this an enjoyable but long day.

Our first stop was Kremlin (pop. 126). What did it have to offer? An attractive town sign which, in its red, white and blue glory ("Kremlin USA Style"), made it clear that this Kremlin had nothing to do with the one in the former Soviet Union, in case anyone was confused. There was also a Methodist church, painted green, of all colors. Highly unusual.

Next up was Gildford (pop. 185), where we were shocked to discover, lying on the road beside the town sign, a box containing a Pizza Hut "pizone" and breadsticks. The food appeared to be in perfect condition, and was still warm. This was a mystery: The nearest Pizza Hut was thirty miles away in Havre; had the stuff made it that far on the roof of a car before finally landing, intact, on the side of the road in Gildford? We wondered if someone was filming us for a "Candid Camera" - style TV show ("Up next: Watch as two desperate cyclists eat food found on the side of the road!"). I did actually briefly consider eating it (I mean, there weren't bugs crawling on it, or anything), before deciding that my standards really hadn't declined that far - yet.

We looked around for a cafe in Gildford, but found only a grocery store, where the lady there was so nice, we bought some candy and pop and hung around for a while. There was a cute but shy little dog, Fiona, in the store, and Jordan and I competed for her attention. I commented on the dog's shyness, and the lady told us "Oh, she's still upset since our other dog was run over by a train the other day." Yikes... what a grisly scene that must have been.

Still searching for a late breakfast/early lunch, we rode another five or six miles to Hingham (pop. 157) where there was bar that appeared to serve food of some sort; it didn't look appealing, however, and we were very unimpressed by the town's main street, which was dirt. I mean, that's not really even trying to make a good impression, is it? An old man at the post office told us there was a good cafe in Rudyard, so off we rode.

Rudyard (pop. 275) was much nicer - they even had a movie theater. We stopped at the Dancing Beagle for lunch, and were there two hours. The food was very good (I had an eight inch wide cinnamon roll for dessert - biggest I've ever seen), but this really was ridiculously leisurely, especially given the rare tailwind which we shouldn't have been wasting.

We stopped in Inverness (pop. 103), which I remember nothing about, and then Joplin, which had one of the more elaborate town signs, and then Chester (pop. 871).

I was looking for a milkshake, and when we asked an older guy on a recumbent if such a thing could be obtained in Chester, he said "Follow me", then led us on a slightly harrowing ride through a couple of back streets and then a section of deep gravel (!) to a newly-opened ice cream shop. The milkshakes were good, but as we sat in the place, an old cowboy walked up and started talking to us. He was a "low talker", so I had to strain to hear everything he said, and quickly grew irritated as he told us we "had a long way to go", and that it was dangerous riding in Glacier National Park, etc. etc. I really have no patience for that stuff at this point, and basically tried to ignore the guy. Jordan, who is nicer than me, seemed to enjoy the converstaion, however.

It was more than forty miles to the next bigger town, Shelby, and it really was late in the day to leave for there; however, we still had a tailwind, so I convinced Jordan that it was doable, and we rode off.

There wasn't much to see on the ride to Shelby; we did stop at a motel that was miles from anything; there was a working pop machine, but no other signs of human activity of any kind. The motel appeared to be in business, but there were no customers, and no one was in the office - there was a phone number to call if you wanted to stay there. Presumably someone would then travel from miles away to take your money and give you the key. Pretty bleak, but also intriguing; I might have stayed there if the weather was bad, or we had run out of daylight.

After an enjoyable wind-assisted ride, we arrived in Shelby (pop. 3,216) at dusk. As we failed to locate the town park, where camping was allowed, I wimped out and got the last motel room in town; Jordan continued to search for the park. My motel turned out to be an overpriced dump, and I soured on Shelby as I walked around town trying to find someplace still open that sold food. Lots and lots of bars and casinos still open; almost no place to get chocolate milk. That's just not right.

The faculty parking lot at Montana State University. Actually, I learned that a student collects these old cars, and the University lets him park them near the dorm.

One of the great mysteries of the trip. This was lying on the ground many miles from the nearest Pizza Hut. It was in perfect condition and was still warm. I briefly considered eating it, but, in a testament to my still-barely-there standards, didn't.

This motel was miles from *anything*. I stopped because there was a pop machine out front, and saw no signs of human activity nearby whatsoever. Interesting sign, though; check out the androgynous cowboy/cowgirl.

Today's ride: 113 miles (182 km)
Total: 5,449 miles (8,769 km)

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