Rainbow after the storm in Malta, MT.
| Day | 39 |
| Date | Tuesday July 31, 2001 |
| Layover day |
Took another weather layover day after a ten mile false start. As usual, the weather appeared to be clearing at about 10:30 AM ... the sun always comes out right around check-out time at the motel. So I felt compelled to at least give it a try. I got about five miles out of town when "Big Sky Country" lived up to its reputation and presented me with a clear view of some weather that was definitely not messing around. This time I have no regrets about turning back: it rained steady all day.
I mostly spent the day hanging out with Scott the eastbounder, who also decided not to move today.
Havre tomorrow for sure.
Rainbow after the storm in Malta, MT.
| Day | 40 |
| Date | Wednesday August 1, 2001 |
| Distance | 94 miles |
| Moving average speed | 13.8 mph |
| Left at | 7:30 AM |
| Arrived at | 3:45 PM |
| Overnight in | H. Earl Clack Campgroup (city fairgrounds), Havre, MT |
| Latitude | 48 d 33 m 22 s N |
| Longitude | 109 d 42 m 32 s W |
| Cumulative distance | 3014 miles |
I got an early start, and the wind was more or less cooperative today, even favorable in stretches although mostly calm until about 3:00 PM when it built up to a pretty strong westerly. I was practically in Havre by then, so it didn't matter much. I also had my second mechanical failure of the trip: a flat tire a little bit east of Havre, coming after 3005 miles without a single flat. I repaired the tire and contemplated replacing it (the tread is pretty worn now), but decided not to just yet. If there's another flat soon, then I will replace it.
US 2 turns back into a miserable road for cycling west of Fort Belknap Agency, MT, where traffic on state road 66 from Billings, MT joins. There are two lanes, no shoulder, and a 70 mph speed limit and a bunch of REALLY inconsiderate Montana drivers on the road. I think they're still bitter about the failure of their experiment with having no speed limits at all. It's strange that although Montana and North Dakota share a border, they have entirely different attitudes toward sharing the road with bicycles. My favorite Montana manuever is the one where some guy in the oncoming lane decides to pass the car in front of him despite the bicycle (me) in the opposing lane, so you get this situation where there is a car coming at you head-on at about 80 mph and you have nowhere to go but the ditch.
Speaking of Montana drivers, I saw some really poignant arrangements of roadside crosses today: twice there were seven crosses sharing one signpost, and one overpass over the railroad just east of Dodson had played host to no fewer than three separate accidents killing a total of five people (two, two and one).
I logged my 3000th mile today. Most folks I talk to figure that 3000 miles should have carried me all the way from Boston to Seattle, but it's more like 75% of the way there. I blame frequent flyer programs for this geographic distortion. Too many people are basing their distance estimates on how many frequent flyer miles they would get from flying from Boston to Seattle, forgetting that 1) planes can take a much more direct route and 2) aviators always navigate with nautical miles, which are 15% longer than statute miles.
But it is starting to feel like I'm putting a dent in it anyway.
Now after setting up a schedule for myself based on the Empire Builder, I find that due to my layover day yesterday I am now behind schedule, just like the Empire Builder so often is. However, like Amtrak, I padded my schedule, so if there are no further delays I should still wake up in Whitefish on the morning of my father's arrival. Speaking of the Empire Builder, the eastbound train passed me just west of Chinook at 1:52 PM today. It should have left Havre, 21 miles farther west, at 1:32 PM, so it looks like today was a good day for Amtrak.
My companion from Williston, ND to Cut Bank, MT is the Burlington Northern Santa Fe Railroad, in particular the part that used to be the main line of the Great Northern Railway (which merged with the Northern Pacific, the Spokane, Portland and Seattle and the Chicago, Burlington and Quincy to form the Burlington Northern in the '70s, then the Burlington Northern merged with the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe to form the Burlington Northern Santa Fe about two years ago). There is a great deal of traffic on this line, which follows US 2 very closely in places (or, more accurately, US 2 follows the main line of the Great Northern, since certainly the railroad was there first). It is generally possible to get the engineer to toot the horn for you if he sees you and you make the universal hand-pulling-whistle-cord gesture from the bicycle.
I spent quite a lot of time talking to a BNSF freight conductor and a friend of his in front of a supermarket in Havre. They tried to convice me to make a side trip to the Rocky Boys Indian Reservation about 20 miles away where a pow-wow is starting tomorrow. Apparently this particular pow-wow is one of the biggest in the country and draws dancers from all over the US and Canada. If I hadn't already soaked up my one-day pad in the schedule waiting out the rain in Malta, I definitely would go, but as things are, probably not. The frieght conductor said he does the run from Havre to Whitefish over Marias pass twice a week, and there's no comparison between Marias pass and the Going-to-the- Sun Road (the latter is far more spectacular), so I guess I have made up my mind over which pass I will cross the continental divide.
Unfortunately, it didn't occur to me until after our conversation that I should have asked the freight conductor if he had any extra BNSF employee timetables.
Statue of James J. Hill, the "Empire Builder" (the empire he built was the Great Northern Railway), in front of the passenger rail terminal in Havre, MT.
Great Northern class S-2 "Northern" locomotive number 2584 (225 psi boiler pressure, 58,300 lbs tractive effort) on display at the passenger rail station in Havre, MT.
| Day | 41 |
| Date | Thursday August 2, 2001 |
| Distance | 104 miles |
| Moving average speed | 11.6 mph |
| Left at | 8:15 AM |
| Arrived at | 7:00 PM |
| Overnight in | O'Haire Motel, Shelby, MT |
| Latitude | 48 d 30 m 13 s N |
| Longitude | 111 d 51 m 31 s W |
| Cumulative distance | 3118 miles |
Today was one of the hardest days of the ride, although I can't figure out why. The distance was not that much longer than usual, the wind was not much stronger than usual (15 mph from the southwest), and although I gained about 800 feet in elevation during the day, that's not a whole lot of climbing. Maybe I was just having a bad day.
Most of the locomotives passing me on the BNSF are very modern 6000 horsepower units (mostly DASH9-44CW's and SD70MAC's with a smattering of 3000 hp SD40's); the type of locomotive you would expect to see on the main line of a class 1 railroad. I have seen a new locomotive arrangement: BNSF is running unit trains of covered hoppers (grain, I suppose) which are incredibly long. They use four of their 6000 hp locomotives to move these things, and they don't go a lot faster than I do uphill. (An aside: as locomotives grow more and more powerful, freight trains don't get any faster, just longer. Such are the economics of bulk transportation, I suppose.) The interesting thing is that they put two units at the front of the train, and the other two at the end, controlled remotely from the front (or at least I hope so, as they are unmanned).
One of these unit grain trains passed me going west as I was working my way upgrade between Devon and Dunkirk, MT. As usual, I made the universal hand-pulling- whistle-cord gesture, and immediately the engineer responded with a pretty good rendition of shave-and-a-haircut-two-bits. Immediately after, the window on the left side of the locomotive (the side I was on) was opened and somebody started frantically waving at me through it. I believe it may well have been the frieght conductor I spoke to yesterday. At least, I know that since the engineer sits on the right side of the locomotive, it was definitely a freight conductor who was waving at me.
The eastbound Empire Builder passed me at 12:20 PM in Rudyard, MT. If it left Shelby, MT at 11:20 AM on schedule, then the intervening 63 miles took an hour, which is credible. The westbound Empire Builder passed me in Dunkirk at 6:20 PM. If it took it 10 minutes to cover the 11 miles to Shelby then it arrived at 6:30 PM, an hour and ten minutes late. So it was a mixed day for Amtrak.
Passenger rail station in Shelby, MT
BNSF Dash-9 on the point of a westbound freight.
| Day | 42 |
| Date | Friday August 3, 2001 |
| Distance | 91 miles |
| Moving average speed | 11.9 mph |
| Left at | 8:30 AM |
| Arrived at | 6:30 PM |
| Overnight in | St Mary Campground, Glacier National Park near St Mary, MT |
| Latitude | 48 d 45 m 15 s N |
| Longitude | 113 d 26 m 33 s W |
| Cumulative distance | 3209 miles |
Finally finally FINALLY managed to ride my way out of the great plains today after 1000 miles and 13 days of some of the most boring real estate this country has to offer. I can think of no good reason for bicycling in the great plains except that they are in the way. As if they wanted to make absolutely sure that I would have no regrets about leaving, the plains provided me with yet another typical afternoon southwesterly, 20-25 mph. I thought I had a trick up my sleeve which was that my last ten miles into St Mary on US 89 would be mostly north, putting the wind at my back. Little did I know that on US 89 the wind would hardly be relevant.
Adventure Cycling provides two possible routes from Cut Bank, MT to West Glacier, MT, one that goes north into Canada and visits the Waterton Lakes before traversing the Going to the Sun Highway, the other takes US 2 over Marias Pass. I didn't want to miss the Going to the Sun Highway, but I didn't have time or inclination for Waterton Lakes, so I freelanced my own route from Cut Bank to St Mary which was 84 miles shorter and didn't hit any particularly bad roads.
Passenger rail station in Cut Bank, MT.
My route took me through the town of Starr School in the Blackfeet indian reservation, which has to be one of the most depressing towns I've passed through. Some time ago I noticed the pattern that the more hopeless a person's outlook is, the meaner the dog he gets to compensate. If things are really bleak, then what you need is a whole pack of really mean dogs, and don't bother putting up a fence so that they don't chase whatever happens to pass in the road.
I'm undoubtably going to lower myself in the esteem of some of my readers who are dog lovers with what follows, but I think I might as well just come out and admit it: I hate dogs. I don't fear them; fear implies a certain respect. I just hate them. The dog has to be one of the stupidest creatures on the planet, convinced that every piece of real estate he ever pissed on is his. The concept of a public right-of-way traversing his territory is too subtle for the puny canine mind. These ignorant creatures are convinced that they are protecting their domain by coming out in hot pursuit of passing cyclists, but the net effect of all this sturm und drang is just the same as if the worthless animal had never ventured out.
I often daydream about countermeasures. Doggie treats laced with deadly poison? Too slow. Lure the dog into traffic? Too risky. .357 magnum? Unfortunately, the dog's owner might have one too. These days, I don't even speed up when the dogs come out in pursuit: I'm so bored with the whole scenario.
Anyway, after my adventures with the dogs in Starr School, I reached US 89 ready to get in front of that southwest wind. I immediately hit a wall: US 89 is the first road definitely off the great plains and in the Front Range. The tailwind I was counting on to blow me into St Mary was nothing but a breeze on my back as I crept uphill. Fortunately, the last five miles into St Mary were a bodacious downhill, but a tailwind could hardly have made any impact on the speed that me and my 100 pound machine went down it.
| Day | 43 |
| Date | Saturday August 4, 2001 |
| Distance | 81 miles |
| Moving average speed | 12.3 mph |
| Left at | 7:30 AM |
| Summit at | 9:30 AM |
| Arrived at | 4:00 PM |
| Overnight in | The Bunkhouse Traveler's Inn and Hostel, Whitefish, MT |
| Latitude | 48 d 24 m 44 s N |
| Longitude | 114 d 20 m 24 s W |
| Cumulative distance | 3290 miles |
Today was supposed to be the Big Day of the ride: I was going to reach the highest point on my trip, Logan Pass on the Going-to-the-Sun Highway at 6646 feet. I had to get an early start because of bicycle restrictions on the GTTS Highway, and I was all psyched up for a big climb.
The sad truth of it is the Going-to-the-Sun is a bunny hill. A cupcake. Not a difficult climb at all. Six miles of a 6% grade: big deal. It looked like the eastbound trip would have been twice as long climbing, but the grade was the same. I would take the Going-to-the-Sun Highway in either direction over the ride from Northampton to Lenox across the Berkshire Hills in Massachusetts. The Berkshires are real climbing.
Approaching the summit of Logan Pass on the Going-to-the-Sun Highway, Glacier National Park, Montana.
The highest point on the ride: summit of Logan Pass at 6680 feet above sea level.
Now a word about those restrictions that the Park Service has put on bicycles on the Going-to-the-Sun Highway. Specifically, they are that from June 15 until Labor Day between 11 AM and 4 PM all bicycles are prohibited from the seven miles along Lake McDonald and eastbound bicycles from the twelve miles from Logan Creek to Logan Pass (the climb), i.e. exactly where and when you are most likely to want to ride your bicycle in the park. For eastbounders, this effectively means you have to summit before 11 AM. For westbounders, this effectively means that if you are planning to spend less than a full day in the park you will have to spend a lot less than a full day in the park: as a practical matter you have to be out of the park by 11 AM.
I reached the summit of Logan Pass at 9:30 AM, 18 miles and two hours after leaving my campsite in St Mary. It was 10:52 AM when I entered the restricted zone along Lake McDonald on the other side, 24 miles farther down the highway. There was no way I was going to sit there and wait for five hours, so I wound up the mule for all it was worth and made it seven miles to the other side of the restricted zone at 11:18 AM, at which point I was two miles from the exit from the park.
So that was it: I had four hours in the park. Nice mountains, nice lake, but I gotta go because the Park Service won't let me ride my bicycle on the Going-to-the-Sun Highway. I think those restrictions are completely backwards, of course (it's the damn automobiles that should be restricted), but since bicycles are vastly outnumbered, and since we know it is easier to discriminate against minorities, in the interest of the convenience of those who no longer have the strength to travel under their own power those of us who do are practically excluded from Glacier National Park.
Eastbounder Richard Burton left Bellingham, WA late in July and is riding in the west (returning eventually to his home in Fairbanks, AK). Just west of West Glacier, MT.
Shay locomotive on display in Columbia Falls, MT.
Whitefish, MT is quite the quintessential Rocky Mountain resort town: lots of SUVs, fancy mountain bikes with elaborate suspension systems (ick), street fairs, coffee houses, internet cafes and of course the obligatory micro-brewery (Black Star). This place is lousy with roof-rack cyclists (for those unfamiliar with the lingo, a roof-rack cyclist is one who puts his bicycle on the roof rack on his automobile and drives it 600 miles to ride a 60 mile van supported tour). I suppose that given enough time Whitefish, MT will evolve into a carbon copy of Boulder, CO.
EMD NW-3 locomotive (1000 horsepower 12-cylinder, 567 cubic inch displacement per cylinder) on display at the passenger rail station in Whitefish, MT.
| Day | 44 |
| Date | Sunday August 5, 2001 |
| Distance | 64 miles |
| Moving average speed | 13.8 mph |
| Left at | 12:00 noon |
| Arrived at | 5:00 PM |
| Overnight in | Rexford Bench Campground (USFS) near Rexford, MT |
| Latitude | 48 d 53 m 59 s N |
| Longitude | 115 d 9 m 22 s W |
| Cumulative distance | 3354 miles |
I spent most of the morning waiting for my father's train to come into Whitefish. It was scheduled to depart Whitefish at 7:26 AM, it didn't arrive until 10:10 AM and it departed twenty minutes later, more than three hours late. Apparently it had been three hours late leaving Seattle, its point of origin, because the westbound train whose equipment comprised this eastbound train had been late getting into Seattle and they couldn't turn it around in time. Clearly, there is a vicious cycle at work here. What a way to run a railroad.
Anyway, the old man arrived intact and reasonably well rested so after eating an early lunch/late breakfast in Whitefish it seemed like there was nothing else to do but press on and try to make the most of what was left of the day. The weather was perfect, winds mostly favorable, and surroundings a welcome relief from the plains. Dad keeps up very well for a man of sixty; I pull ahead a bit on ascents but otherwise things are pretty much even.
| Day | 45 |
| Date | Monday August 6, 2001 |
| Distance | 82 miles |
| Moving average speed | 13.0 mph |
| Left at | 8:45 PM |
| Arrived at | 5:30 PM |
| Overnight in | Ranch Motel, Troy, MT |
| Latitude | 48 d 27 m 10 s N |
| Longitude | 115 d 53 m 8 s W |
| Cumulative distance | 3436 miles |
West of Whitefish, MT, the Northern Tier route does a series of long meanders north and then back south as it tries to follow rivers (and the lakes created by damming them) through the mountains to find the levellest route west. It almost seems as if the Adventure Cycling Association, headquartered in Missoula, MT, wants to prolong your stay in their home state.
We spent yesterday going almost due north along US 93, only to spend most of today working back south again on state road 37. State road 37 follows the shore of Lake Koocanusa, which was created by damming the Kootenai river near Libby, MT. It's a very pretty route, but by flooding the river valley the Army Corps of Engineers made it impossible for it to be a very level route. The road is high up on the hills that used to be above the valley, and every time it crosses a creek (which was formerly a tributary of the river but now feeds the lake) there is a long descent followed by the corresponding ascent afterwards. These are exactly the sort of conditions that amplify differences in strength between cyclists.
One often hears novice cyclists say something like "I can keep up on level ground, but not in the hills", or more recently all the sports commentators were remarking that Lance Armstrong would have to make up his time defecit during the mountain stages of the Tour de France if he wanted to have a hope of winning. It would almost seem that climing hills is an entirely different process from running over level ground, perhaps using different muscles or different technique. This is, of course, pure bunk.
You can understand why less powerful cyclists can keep up on level ground but not on hills if you can understand freshman physics. First of all, to debunk a popular myth, what matters in determining how fast you can propel a bicycle is not the amount of force you can exert with your legs. You can always choose a lower gear and spin with a higher cadence to get the same power with less force. That is lemma 1, that what determines the speed of the bicycle is the product of force times velocity, i.e. the power, that the cyclist can produce.
Now consider the situation on level ground. On level ground, the force that limits your speed is due to wind resistance, which is a force that grows as the velocity squared. The power required to overcome wind resistance is the product of force times velocity and therefore grows proportional to the velocity cubed. Thus the velocity grows as the cube root of the power: a cyclist needs to be eight times more powerful in order to be twice as fast on level ground.
The situation on hills is a completely different one. On hills, the force that limits your speed is just your weight (sum of the weights of bicycle, rider and load), which is a constant independent of velocity. Therefore, to go twice as fast on hills, you only need to be twice as powerful (c.f. factor of eight for wind resistance).
Thus just from physics you would expect differences in strength to translate into large differences in speed on hills, but small differences in speed on level ground. Notice that this analysis has completely neglected the benefit that less powerful cyclists can get from drafting more powerful cyclists on level ground which I suppose can often make up for most if not all of the difference.
Why do I bring this up now? Well, the old man had a bit of a struggle on state road 37, but he persevered valiantly and didn't complain too much. It takes a week or two on the road to really get seasoned, unfortunately I guess he'll be seasoned just about in time for our arrival in Seattle ....