April 30, 2019
Off Season Glacier Park
St. Mary to Browning
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It was only 36 degrees when we left the house at 09:00. Roadside puddles from melting snow and rain had a membrane of ice that early. The thin dry air suspended cotton ball clouds wherever you looked on the vast dome of blue sky. It would be chilly but spectacular viewing.
Our driver Ray is the father of the man watching our house while we’re gone. Ray drove us from our home to St. Mary where we ended our tour last June. We were headed for Browning, just outside Glacier Park within the Blackfoot Reservation. Ray had taught there for nine years back in the 60s or 70s and shared his reminiscences of his time there. In bygone years, it was cheaper for the railroad to bury the cargo from derailed train cars than spend money on keeping the track in top condition to prevent derailments in the first place. One time, a load of grain was lost, and the railroad buried it, maybe not quite deep enough. It started to ferment in the heat and moisture and bears dug it up. Cars stopped on the road to enjoy the sight of a tipsy bear sitting down in the cool river while a younger bear gamboled around, cuffing it and trying to play. Another time tribal police were chasing teenage girls driving a trunk load of illegal substances they planned to sell. The driver lost control of the car and drove it into a small lake on the reservation that became known afterward as “Spirit Lake.” The girls were fine and I assume learned a valuable lesson about trying to evade the law.
Ray dropped us at St. Mary Lodge and Resort about 12:30. What a difference a season makes. When we were here June 18 last year, it was rainy and temps were in the upper 40s, though it felt colder. Last year, a constant stream of RVs, pickup trucks, cars, and park service vehicles zoomed along on Highway 89. This year at the end of April, the place was deserted. The lodge and various restaurants and services were still closed for the season and would not open for another few weeks. That meant fewer vehicles to share the road with, always a great thing for cyclists.
The sky was clear with temps in the mid 30s. The strong sun made it feel warmer when out of the wind. We ate bagels and cream cheese and bananas to get ready for “7-Mile Hill” as you travel south. Ray said the top of this hill is called “Hudson Bay Divide,” the watershed for water flowing south to the Gulf of Mexico or northeast to the Hudson Bay. This is where we bailed out last year at mile four when we hit dense fog and heavy rain. This time, the biggest challenge was overcoming the urge to walk the bike up the steep grade.
Something interesting happened as we made our way through the first real cardio workout after the winter. At first we could barely catch our breath as we continued to pedal and climb, pedal and climb, muscles straining to propel us and our overloaded panniers up the grade. Our lungs burned as we drew harsh fresh air deep, deep, down. Then the breath evened out. The bodkins knew what the demand was, and our eyes told us how much we still had to endure before the peak. And best of all, we felt that breeze that comes over a divide as you approach the top.
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The breath-taking (consciously chosen modifier) beauty of the ride – and the cold temps when we coasted downhill or cruised on the level terrain – kept us motivated. We didn’t want to stop because we needed to stay warm. Strong pedaling has its merits. We averaged 8 miles an hour for the 30 mile ride, with just one stop for another banana, for a total time of about 3 hours and 45 minutes. That’s decent, considering we had to slow to 3.5 miles an hour for about four miles of eight to 10.2 (!) percent grade. At one point on the Starr School Road about 10 miles from Browning, a cloud blocked the sun and our feet and hands got numb from the cold. We kept on and warmed up when the sun came back out. As we neared town, a lot of the dogs were loose and some ran out to the road, teeth bared. Scott keeps a bent coat hanger on his handlebar, in case any get too close and need a discouraging rap on the nose. I employed a trick I learned from a dog trainer. I shouted, “OUT” as loud as I could. They stopped, turned their heads away, still barking for the sake of saving their canine dignity, but no longer looking at us or coming closer. It worked!
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We checked in to the Glacier Peak Motel and Casino about 16:30. Ray had told us the food at the casino was good and not too pricey, which the online customer reviews corroborated. That’s good business, because it keeps customers in the casinos longer. We ordered at a counter, then waited in a large cafeteria with other patrons, mostly families. They spoke to a gray haired man as they passed by his table, he was likely a tribal elder.
Our faces reddened by the wind and cold, our bodies exhausted from the ride, we were in bed by 21:00.
Today's ride: 30 miles (48 km)
Total: 30 miles (48 km)
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4 years ago