Northern Tier Day #51 Whitefish, MT to Rexford, MT

Northern Tier Day #51
July 10, 2019 Whitefish, MT to Rexford, MT 66 Miles
Ride Time 5:03
Tour Total 3993 Miles

I slept great last night in my king-sized bed at the Downtowner motel in Whitefish. A garbage truck woke me up at 4am, emptying a dumpster in the alley behind my room. I spent over an hour in bed this morning editing yesterday’s report.

I took my time getting ready, rolling up my dry muddy tent and packing my clean clothing. All of my devices and lights had been recharged. I had used my front and rear lights all day long yesterday going over Logan Pass. Breakfast at the motel was sparse so I went back to the Buffalo Cafe where I ordered an Eggs Benedict with a large orange juice.

I stopped by the post office and then headed north out of town on US Highway 93, where I would be headed back up towards Canada. As I was riding out of town, a cyclist told me to look for a black bear, but I never saw it. I was in a large valley surrounded by mountains, and could see the ski slopes to the north.

Last night at dinner Tim was complaining about the ACA paper maps, specifically that individual panels weren't necessarily oriented so that north is at the top of the frame. They’re good for a micro view; town to town, services, river, train, and geopolitical crossings, and highway junctions. But one doesn’t get an overall sense of the whole picture by looking at the parts. For example, I had forgotten that I was going north today, back towards the border. This morning while I was waiting for my table at the Buffalo Cafe I was captivated by a wall-sized map of Montana, that showed the mountain ranges, rivers, roads, and towns with extraordinary detail. I was struck by how far I had pedaled since Wibaux, which seemed like a long time ago. I got a sense of how far west the Rocky Mountain range began in northern Montana. This past couple of days I've seen a dramatic landscape change and I needed to adjust for the next, the best, and final chapter.

The bike path out of town lasted for about a mile, and then I was back on the edge of the highway with a 60 mile an hour speed limit, and a horrible shoulder with a cracked white line. I passed a white cross, which wasn’t reassuring. I had to climb out of town. There were highway information signs for the border crossing 60 miles ahead. It was a 24 hour border. I was only going 50 miles and planned to stop at Eureka, and camp in the city park to make up for the expensive hotel in Whitefish.

A six-inch shoulder emerged, with a sharp drop into the gravel. I tried to stay on the white line. Wide trucks would have to wait until there was no oncoming traffic before they could pass me. I spent as much time looking in my rearview mirror as I did looking forward, which was a shame, because the views were spectacular! I passed the Whitefish Bike Retreat which the bike mechanic had told me about yesterday. I was glad that I stayed in town.

An asshole in a white SUV came way too close to me. There's no way he gave me 3 feet. He had plenty of space to the double yellow lines and there was no approaching traffic. Motherfucker! My shoulder is 6 inches wide and then it drops sharply down into gravel. I seriously hope he slams into a telephone pole. The positive part of there being no cell phone service yesterday in Glacier National Park was that motorists couldn't text while driving.

All of a sudden I had 14 inches of shoulder on a long flat and I could cruise! In the huge field to the right I saw two deer running towards the road. We were converging until they spotted me and stopped. Behind them was an enormous mountain range. For a moment it smelled like cow poo. I got the sense that this area mostly belongs to wealthy transplant sudo-ranchers. I passed a roadkill deer, and there were mountain ranges on the horizon to the west, north and east.

I realized that I screwed up and didn’t take Twin Bridges Road to leave 93 for a few miles, for an ACA traffic respite. I realized it almost soon as the route had returned to 93. The Salish Mountains were to the west, as I entered the Stillwater State Forest.

I was greeted to the town of Olney, population 191, with the ‘Welcome to the Olney Container Site’ sign. I peddled into the town for some Gatorade. There was a post office, a volunteer fire department, and mostly lower income households. The old school house was for sale. I found the Olney Country Store, and there were two cyclists sitting out on the porch when I arrived. One of their bikes had a trailer bob. The couple was from Seattle and their original plan was to tour the San Juan Islands. The coastal rain was insane this week, so at the last minute, they put their bikes on Amtrack and ended up last night in Whitefish. They were planning to go to Eureka tonight. They didn’t have ACA maps and hadn’t even heard of Adventure Cycling. They were using Google maps and doing a lot of gravel roads, which they enjoyed. They mentioned that the railroad line right in front of us was the Amtrak Empire Builder train line that goes from Seattle to Chicago. This was the same line I had been following on the Hi-Line in the prairie.

The highway was lined with tall straight pine trees, and there were dark clouds on the horizon. Both large and small trucks were out on the road hauling timber. I love that the ranch gates here incorporate 2 foot diameter tree trunks. To build those things certainly takes some doing. It had gotten cloudy and cooler, but the sun was trying to make its way back out. I passed a roadkill gopher on the shoulder.

Woah!!! I saw a young 250 lb. black bear run across the road right in front of me! O.M.G! This was the best wildlife sighting yet! I knew that I didn’t have enough time to photograph it, so I just enjoyed the moment.

I had forgotten that the log trucks came apart. The rear attachment gets stacked atop the front end to go up to the cutting area, and then the two parts return spanned with a load of timber. I passed a beautiful jagged 100’ rock outcrop to my immediate right. Across the street, The Point of Rocks Restaurant was closed and for sale. The rock face meandered with the road for a good distance. I couldn’t see it but I was following the Stillwater River just to the west.

At mile marker 159 I realized the shoulder was wet from the weather system I had seen earlier. I got lucky this time. I didn’t see any more systems, but things could change any moment. The highway was actually striped wet and dry; wet where the rain had fallen and dry where the motor vehicle tires had passed. There were 5 wet stripes and 4 dry.

I entered Lincoln County, and the town of Stryker, population 26, was a mile down the road. I couldn’t see a thing, and there were no services listed. I saw a timber truck loaded full of logs and pulling a loaded trailer. I left the Stillwater State Forest. I crossed the 20 foot wide Stillwater River and saw the sign for Stryker. I passed the post office and saw the railroad tracks. I entered Kootenai National Forest. There were signs saying ‘Welcome to the Tobacco Valley! Kootenai River Country.’ To my left was the emerald colored Dickey lake. There was a skunk roadkill that I could smell for 1000 feet.

One thing that I miss about the Prairie are the birds. There were so many of them. Here I hardly see or hear them. Outside of Trego the wind picked up from the north, and I had a strong headwind. I passed an antelope standing on the side of the road. Sometimes I really hate my phone mounting system.

One and a half miles out of Fortine it began to drizzle. The sun was still out and I was warm, so I didn’t bother to put on my rain jacket. I passed a sawmill that was no longer in operation. I heard a crack of thunder.

I went to Jerry’s Saloon in Fortine. As I was pulling in, I overheard a guy talking with his buddy about having gotten busted with an M-16 automatic rifle. It was a fantastic bar. I ordered a rack of ribs with a baked potato and salad, along with three Pioneer Pale Ales from the Homestead Ale Brewing Company . The Beastie Boys ‘No Sleep Till Brooklyn’ was playing on the jukebox. A local guy wanted to hear my story and offered to play anything I wanted on the jukebox. I requested some White Stripes, and he obliged. I told the bartender about the black bear I’d seen, and she taunted me by telling me that grizzlies could run 35 miles an hour.

After lunch I set off down the Old Tobacco Road towards Eureka, and had it completely to myself. There was a lake, pine trees, hills, and distant mountains. It started to drizzle but I didn’t mind. A large beige dog was lying in the middle of the road. I greeted him, “Oh you’re a good guy right? You’re a good dog! You’re a good dog!”. He was big, and excited to see me. My pepper spray was in my left hand.

Thanks for all the comments on Crazy Guy and Blogger! I really appreciate them. When I’m on my couch in Brooklyn I also follow cyclists’ journeys, though I prefer being on this end of things. I’m living the dream! Come join me out here.

I met a young couple headed east doing a small tour. They had run into the Tacoma crew, and reported that they were spending the night ahead in Eureka. They mentioned that there was a good bar in Rexford, which was now my revised destination after a brief stop at the brewery in Eureka. We all agreed that this road was absolutely spectacularly beautiful, and that we were living the dream.

I saw several deer and none of them were afraid of me. It started to rain with Montana-sized drops, so I pulled over to put on my rain jacket. On my way into Eureka I passed the City Campground where there were 20 pitched tents. Eureka was on the ACA Northern Tier, Great Divide, and Great Parks bike routes.

I found myself back on 93 and I never did find the Eureka brewery, so I kept on going. I was only 8 miles from the Canadian border. I took a left heading southwest on State Highway 37, and had an asphalt bike trail that was fantastic.

This area was definitely more affluent than eastern Montana. I could see the wealth in the architecture and the services that were available. Yesterday in Whitefish, I walked into a large and fully-stocked health food store that was the most comprehensive I’d seen since Iowa City.

It stopped drizzling and the sun peaked out from behind the clouds, so I removed my rain jacket. I pulled into the USFS Rexford Bench Campground and set up my tent in site 10 on Loop A. Kids had chalked drawings and hopscotch games on the pavement.

After I set up my camp and put my food in the bear box, I pedaled to Rexford where I found the Frontier bar, that had been recommended by the eastbound couple I had met earlier. The decor was typical Montana taxidermied dead animals. I ordered several Cold Smoke Scottish Ales from Missoula. I then took a shower (I know, right?! The bar had a shower!), and later ordered a cheeseburger, french fries, and fried pickles.







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