Northern Tier Day #46 Havre, MT to Chester, MT
Northern Tier Day #46
July 5, 2019
Havre, MT to Chester, MT 62 Miles
Ride Time 5:44
Tour Total 3620 Miles
I slept great last night at the Siesta Motel in Havre. It was nice to get myself fully recharged. I had high hopes for yesterday, but they didn’t pan out. I regret not staying at Chinook for the Blaine County Fair and Rodeo.
I arrived at the motel before noon, and took a long warm bath while editing yesterday‘s report. Afterwards I went to the nearby fireworks stalls, a pair of storage containers set up by the railroad tracks in the middle of town. The clerk remembered me from earlier when I stopped to ask where the festivities were being held. He tried to sell me a suitcase-sized set of mortars. I bought a much smaller set, and he threw in an extra.
I rode over to Simon Pepin Memorial Park, where a mediocre band was playing. Folks were playing games of corn hole. The scene wasn’t happening for me, so I set off in search of a bar. I surveyed the entire town and learned about the fire that had burned down most of Havre in the wild west days, as well as it’s outlaw history with brothels and bandits.
I settled on the Oxford Sports Bar, which was much better than it’s name suggested. Across the street in the middle of the plaza, a kid was playing a drum set. The bar was packed full of weird old memorabilia in addition to gambling machines. They had great beer on tap. I ordered several Lewis & Clark Huckleberry Hefe Weitzen’s and I ate two sets of cheeseburgers and chips.
Afterwards I rode to the west edge of town to the Triple Dog Brewery, which opened at 4pm. I sampled the Hi-Line Honey Rye and watched the FIFA Women's World Cup Holland versus Sweden match. The friendly bartender let me add one of my stickers to their collection.
I went back to the motel and heard from the westbound cyclists from Tacoma. They had just arrived in Havre and were tired. They were staying at a friend’s house, and we wouldn’t be getting together after all.
I packed up my mortars and cycled to the far west end of town to the Great Northern Fairgrounds & Campground. It was up on the plateau out of the valley, and the entire town and surrounding area population were there seated in lawn chairs. There were additional storage containers on-site selling fireworks. It was basically a free-for-all, and a good thing that I didn’t camp there. I wouldn’t have slept a wink.
This morning I went to the Exxon Town Pump and got a Starbucks Frappuccino, an orange juice, and a banana. It was cold, and I was wearing my leg-warmers, sweater, down vest, rain jacket, and balaclava. On my way out of town I passed two eastbound cyclists. The four-lane highway was too busy and I didn’t have an opportunity to run across the highway to meet them. All of the sprawl was to the west end of town. There were hotels, a shopping center, and a Walmart.
I had headwinds from the northwest, and it was forecast that I would have these all day. I had a short day planned with only 56 miles to Chester. I was aiming to stick to my itinerary and arrive in Cut Bank on July 6th.
I pulled over to remove my down vest for the perfect Goldilocks temperature. I got word that fellow 2018 TransAm cyclist Asa, whom I met last year in Lander, WY has started his east to west modified Northern Tier tour. He just cycled from Washington DC to Pittsburg on the Allegheny Trail.
US Highway 2, the railroad tracks, and I moved up onto the plateau and away from the river. It was pancake flat with grass in every direction and a huge Montana cloudy sky up overhead. I could still see the Bear Paw Mountain range to the south. A flock of black birds flew low on the horizon.
A freight train passed me going west and I got him to blow his horn. I saw a fucking hypodermic needle on the shoulder. God Damn! That pissed me off. I could see the Sweet Grass Hills range far to the west on the horizon, and slightly to the north.
I read a roadside information sign yesterday about the Honyocker. Back in the day when this area was being promoted, the railroads and government was promising the garden of Eden. People moved to this area in search of a better life and started farming. There were several years of drought, locusts, and crop failures. One out of every two Montana farmers lost their land to mortgage foreclosures. This is the story of Montana- the promised dream that didn’t measure up. It sounded a lot like the current Republican platform.
At a certain point a second rumble strip commenced parallel to the primary one near the white line. WTF! This made the entire shoulder a jittery, bone-shaking, shit fest. I don’t like riding left of the white line, so I tried riding on top of the line or in the 6 inch space between the line and the primary rumble strip. Whenever a motorist passed, I would cut all the way over right near the grass. It was bumpy, but I had my 3 feet.
I finally diverged from the Milk River, as it cut north. This region reminded me of the headwaters of the Mississippi River. Four rivers comprise the Missouri headwaters; the Yellowstone, the Missouri, the Milk, and the Marias. This is the main overland route across the Continental Divide.
I passed a small green elevator and an unnamed collection of buildings. I was introduced to Kremlin by way of a row of 40 squat grain silos in a perfect north-south alignment that I could see from miles away. As I got closer I realized there was a town there. It had no services so I didn’t stop. Kremlin has a population of 98.
I could see Guilford, population 178, from 6-1/2 miles out. I was up on a ridge and it was far off on the horizon. I was on rolling hills, and it was straight road with gentle ups and downs. I met east-bounder Rolf who was riding a modified Northern Tier. He was originally from Germany, but was living here with a green card. He warned me about the 7 miles of construction after Chester, and speculated that the couple I had seen this morning in Havre was from Michigan.
Right after Rolf I ran into east-bounder Dave, from New Hampshire. He was surprised to hear that Rolf was ahead of him. They had been riding together in the Cascades, and had both spent the night in Chester at hotels. He mentioned a beautiful classic 50’s style restaurant in Rudyard that was unfortunately closed today. The wind was out of the north.
There was a turn off to Guilford, but I decided to keep going. I was hungry, and Rolf had mentioned a nice bar and restaurant in Hingham, which was 6 miles down the road. I ran into Jim and Mary, eastbound Northern Tier legends. They’re 80 years old and had first done the route seven years ago. Jim promised me that the clam chowder in Anacortes was fantastic! He said that he had gotten a bloody nose from all the bouncing up and down on the stretch of construction after Chester.
I stopped and removed my rain jacket and balaclava. I could spot the Hingham water tower and grain elevator from several miles away. I was hungry and looking forward to getting a meal. The crosswind picked up from the north, and it was a chilly.
I loved the sign for Hingham featuring a water tower and grain elevator. The bar came in the view and my mouth began to water. I stopped at Spencer’s Highway Bar and Grill where I ordered a Triple Dog Brewery Belgian Amber with a ham and cheese sandwich. The bartender had done several long distance cycling tours, and said that I was two weeks from Anacortes. The Seinfeld Soup Nazi rerun was playing on the television screen. It was hilarious and completely lived up to it's reputation. I had no cell phone service after Hingham. There was a westbound freight train to my right about a quarter-mile in the distance.
Later I saw my first passenger train, an eastbound Amtrak. The shoulder was really narrow and it was frustrating. I kept getting stuck in the rumble strip or over in the gravel. The shoulder eventually widened out and was better. Rudyard, population 258, was off to the side of the highway. It had a huge cement grain elevator and a smaller tin one. I didn’t see a water tower. The town sign said that there were 596 nice people and 1 old sore head.
An eastbound freight train passed me carrying stacked cargo containers. As promised by the bartender in Hingham the shoulder became pleasant. It was 10 feet wide and was fantastic. I deserved this as a reward for the double rumble strips that had been rattling me all day long.
The sun came out and I removed my leg-warmers and rain jacket. An eastbound freight train passed me with stacked containers and immediately afterwards a westbound freight train passed me pulling box cars.
Inverness, population 55, was the next town on the horizon. I spotted several small square tin grain elevators, and passed a small cemetery about 2 miles east of the town. I didn’t see any services from the highway, so I rode into town for a survey. I found an auto repair garage and a bar. I was in the mood for a Gatorade, so I kept going.
I spotted two antelopes with giant puffy tails in a field to the side of the road. I was able to snap a couple photos before they ran away. I could see a whole herd of them in the distance, about a half mile away. I passed two idle freight trains sitting on the tracks a quarter-mile to my right. One had containers and the other had boxcars. Together they created the horizon line.
At one point I realized there was green alfalfa grass to both sides of the road, as far as my eyes could see. There were no barbwire fences; only the highway, the telephone poles, and a freight train a quarter-mile to the north. There were clouds in the sky and some sun. My cell phone service returned somewhat briefly.
I rode up onto a ridge and spotted Joplin, population 157, a mile to the west. I spotted three tin grain elevators. I was now in Liberty County and my phone service disappeared again. I was 10 miles from my destination. An eastbound freight train passed me and I was a little confused because of the idle trains ahead. All day long I’d been seeing the Sweet Grass Hills to the north. I made my closest approach right before Chester. The range possesses a special significance to the Blackfeet Indians and other tribes on the Northern Great Plains.
I could spot the grain elevators of Chester, population 847, from 6-1/2 miles out. I called the City Hall and got permission to camp in the City Park. She said there were bathrooms but no showers, and that I shouldn’t camp in the pavilion. As I got closer to town I realized the town was across the road from the large green elevators that I had spotted. Two miles away I could see 2 water towers and a cell phone tower. Chester is the heart of the Hi-Line. I found the campground and surveyed the town. I went to the Grand Bar and Grill where I had several Going to the Sun IPAs with a jalapeño cheeseburger and fries, and later a chicken dinner.
Locals have been warning me about the town of Browning on the Blackfoot Reservation to the west, but I’ll be bypassing the Reservation on my way up to Canada. I also heard about the Hutterites, an Amish-like cult that’s populated around here. The planted yellow fields that I’ve been passing are either canola or mustard seed. Farmers here are growing summer and winter wheat.
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