Eureka (Montana) to Seeley Lake

Re-entering the US brought up many images for me. For one, everything really appears bigger here. The pickups (utes), the houses, the RVs (campers), the food servings, the beer cans...well, The latter two excite me a tad. More food and beer wouldn't go astray, particularly as I start to shed the pounds. Was that a six-pack starting to appear? Well, I'll be darned - I can start to see muscles I thought had long departed, never to be seen again (truth be told I had never seen them before, ever).


After entering into Montana, we spent the night in the cosy town of Eureka. Quite a name, one obviously synonymous for Australians with the 1854 Eureka Stockade in Ballarat, Victoria, during the gold rush (a miner's rebellion). The town had set up a campsite in what appeared at first as a 'normal' town park, on the banks of the Tobacco River. Quite cleverly I thought they allowed people to camp there for US$5 a night; you simply walked up the main road for 100metres or so and visited a central town services office (open 24 hrs), which gave you a key for a shower. The park filled up by nightfall, and with most people then spending some money in the stores that lined the short main street, I could see how this initiative gave the area some much-needed cash (Montana has been hit hard by the recession).


This next leg of the Great Divide trail would see us travel around 245 miles (393km) to Seeley Lake, ascending a number of 5000-6000ft passes along the way. The first of these was 5,100ft Whitefish Divide; this involved an 16-mile ride up a generally gradual ascent, although within a few miles of the pass, with the sun belting down on us, it jumped to an around 7-8 per cent grade. After a pleasant six-mile descent we camped at Tuchuck campsite, a Montana forestry campsite.


Our next section would see us deviate from the official trail; we wanted to spend some time in Glacier National Park, a little to the east of the Great Divide, and so we took a six-mile deviation and spent two nights in the delightful 'town' of Polebridge, which was one mile from the western entrance to the Park. There are pretty much just a few houses in Polebridge, which included one general store, one pub, and one hostel. Not much else. But that was more than enough for us.


We pitched our tent next to the hostel, which is run by Oliver, a German who fell in love with the area and ended up immigrating to the US. A cyclotourist himself, Oliver had completed numerous journeys around the globe, including one across the 200,000 square km Nullarbor Plain in Australia, a feat that still has me pinching myself. When asked how he obtained water, he said there were enough bores to get along, in fact "there was plenty of water. If the kangaroos and other animals could drink it, then he figured he could as well - you just had to get used to it. The moment he saw a windmill-type structure, he knew water was present - and off he went to fill up. Amazing. Not being connected to the electricity grid also made Oliver a very self-sufficient person and, as such, he had an amazing greenhouse that was burgeoning with vegetables. It certainly made me think about how I would like to do things back in Australia - having a garden full of vegetables and fruits is definitely one thing I'd like to follow through on. Now, for a house to do it in...



We had a 'rest' day in Polebridge, during which we rode 20km (return) to Lake Bowman, a mountain-rimmed spectacle of pristine water. Rather than return to the Great Divide trail the next day, we instead opted to take a 28mile road that ran just inside the western edge of the National Park to the main campground area at Apgar. This day caught me by surprise. By taking this route we missed another arduous 6000ft pass - Red Meadow Lake - so maybe we subconsciously thought it would be a piece of cake compared. Well, it probably was a lot easier than the pass, but for some reason my legs weren't there on this day. Yes, there were a few steep inclines, one of which in particular I would have walked on any given day. But today I couldn't even surmount the smaller rises. This happens every so often - I think back carefully to consider what might have led to it. Alia thinks it's not drinking enough water on our days off, and this is true - I tend to stop drinking water, probably because I'm drinking beer. And coffee. Two of the most powerful sources of dehydration. Yet I also think it's our diet, and not enough energy-giving foods, particularly in the mornings. It's something we would address.


The ride was largely through an area of forest that had been burned out. In some ways we felt it robbed us of the 'real' forest, but after a while you begin to appreciate the process of regeneration, which would appear to take quite a bit longer here than in an Australian forest. It also allows for views of the nearby peaks, which we would otherwise not have had.


The main campground at Apgar is set up for bicyclists and hikers, a nice change from the many RV-dominated sites we have visited. Oliver had the same issue as we did - why do we pay the same as someone who takes up so much more space and resources? And how many more people could fit into the almost always full campsites if RVs didn't dominate? They probably have an RV-lobby group here in the US, maybe one that Charlton Heston once chaired, so I know I'm going nowhere with this...At least it's something Glacier has addressed - you simply cycle to one of three campsites that people can share, and all for just $5 each. Nice work.


Our next day saw us take up on the free shuttle buses up the 'Going-to-the-sun' road, which runs through the southern/central parts of the Park. This road, an engineering marvel built in the 1930s, hugs the side of the mountains as you ascend to 6646ft (2025m) Logan Pass. Talk about narrow; large vehicles are banned from the upper sections of the road, and cyclists can only ride up before 10am and/or after 4pm. Not sure why you would want to cycle this monolith, although the grade it doable at six per cent. Try 12 miles of this though and see how it feels. We see a baby Grizzly feeding along the roadside - what a sight. No site of mum though, but she's likely lurking nearby.






We managed a hike to Hidden Lake, and with a thunderstorm rapidly approaching we ducked back to get a shuttle back down to Apgar, only to be put a 100-long waiting list. With shuttles only taking 12 people each, it ended up being a three-hour wait, although in that time we were treated to an amazing display of nature's power, with lightning stretching across the sky, quickly followed by the deep growl of thunder. One lightning bolt hit the peak just above where we were standing, startling the crowd that had gathered for the bus. Many of the glaciers that once graced this part of the US have long since vanished; there are now 25 remaining from more than a 100 when the Park was proclaimed. It's a stunning place, one to add to your US list.


The next day saw as traverse 55 miles, or close on 90km, to Bigfork, on the largest lake west of the Mississippi River - Flathead Lake. It's a golden day, one of modest rises, (mostly) paved roads, and unending vistas of fertile farmlands backed by the Flathead, Swan and Mission Mountain Ranges. You still get tired on these days. Just no where near as quickly. We managed to set up camp just before Mother Nature released a barrage of water on us; against all sound advice we ended up eating in the tent that night, we really had no other choice. If a bear came, well, bring it on - I was just too hungry to care. And I would have put up a good fight...no bear would have it easy trying to get what was on my dinner plate. Grrrrrrrrrrrrr.


We would be away from towns for the next two days, so we stocked up and off we went, headed to a remote campsite at Cedar Creek (well, it's next to the highway, although it wasn't close to any towns). We had a sharp rise today, a six-mile ascent out of Ferndale; this one was worth it. We both felt strong today, and the descent was fantastic, getting up to 24 miles per hour on a well-packed gravel/dirt road. We have to make plenty of noise on these sections, as bikes are quiet enough to catch bears unawares up ahead (never surprise a bear I'm told, it's when they're most likely to attack)...so I belt out a regular supply of COOOOOOEEEEEEEEEES as we ride. Of course, any animal knows what's coming - an Aussie in between a good meal and beer - so off they scramble lest they get trampled by yours truly. And don't forget Alia's appetite. In fact, I've noticed how quickly she eats these days...she denies the charge just after molesting another meal in record time. Hungry girl.


A skunk, my first sighting ever, was all I run into on the trail. 'Pepe le Pew' I exclaim! He looks at me briefly, and then hops off into the brush. Good to see one at last, and not be sprayed. Bonus.


Cedar Creek campsite wasn't great. This mosquito-invested swamp of a site wasn't much fun. I mean, the mosquitoes here didn't just bite, they came with baseball bats and balaclavas, ready to mug you. Hordes of them. We eat dinner quickly and retreat to our tent. Enough said.


The next day - Saturday July 24 - is a rather special one. Alia's 30th birthday. She's a tad morose. Would I still love her now that she was 'old'? I ponder the question. I did enjoy being seen with a 20-year-old. Quite invigorating, actually. I'll let her know, I say....seriously, it's a day she deserved to be at a nice restaurant with her friends and family. I feel bad for not having a birthday cake for her but what can you do - we can only carry so much. That night, camped on the shores of Holland Lake (stunning setting, all to ourselves, set amongst cedars and pines so tall and straight I strain to see the tops of some of them), we celebrate with a Hershey chocolate bar and a hot chocolate. Such simple pleasures.


Alia has been extremely strong throughout the trip, her riding excellent, and generally the more rational of the two of us. I often think how lucky I am to have her, particularly as she was the one who pushed for the cycling adventure we were on. Definitely something I wouldn't have done without her urging. How wonderful.


Ok, that's enough of the lovefest. Back on the trail, we hit an impasse. It's a forestry road now closed to the public. Today (Sunday July 25) is meant to be our toughest to date, although we'd resolved to end it by booking into a motel for two nights. We decide to go around the impasse by heading back to Highway 83, and pick up the trail on the other side of the pass. We take a wrong road. Back to the Highway. We find the right road. Temperatures are now at 30 degrees Celsius. Our earlish start is lost with all the backtracking. We start climbing to rejoin the trail, nagging our minds though is the six mile ascent around Mt Richmond. We ride some more. Stop. More pedalling. Quick stop again. We look at each other - with Seeley Lake just 15 miles by highway from where we are, or 23 miles by the grueling pass route, we make what ends up being an easy decision, although one we delayed in a honest effort to stick to the trail. Head back to the highway, and just get into town. Too damn hot, and not enough energy...and not too much enjoyment, which is really what we're here for.



And so we ended up in Seeley Lake, a nice little town. But I don't really take too much notice - I just want the supermarket, some food, beer, shower, and a bed. Time to relax. And, so, as I write this (it's Monday July 26), I'm lying here, legs outstretched, mind at ease, tapping away at the Netbook. Alia is halfway through a sandwich; she's watching the Food Channel. It's just making us more hungry than we really need to be. Hamburgers tonight I'm thinking. I'm dribbling at the thought.


Next stop is Missoula, again off the trail. It's a 50 mile ride from here, along a highway. Should be a nice ride although the weather is expected to be hot with thunderstorms to boot each evening. Bush fires are kicking up we're told. Something to keep an eye on, which we'll surely do. However, that's for tomorrow. Now, back to that sandwich...