Elkhorn Hot Springs, MT, to West Yellowstone, MT

It was something I briefly noticed from the corner of my eye. I looked back again, more intently this time. Something moving in the trees, about 100 yards away. Another deer perhaps. We had seen plenty of deer along the way.

But this wasn't bambi. No, this was much larger and bulkier. And it was moving fairly rapidly on all-fours.

"BEAR!", I exclaimed to Alia, just as she came up beside me. A lone Grizzly. With a strong headwind the bear wouldn't smell us, so Alia, remembering what we had been taught about how you should never startle a bear (this is when they're likely to get defensive and attack), starting ringing her bike bell. "Ssssshhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!," I blurted, totally ignoring Alia's sensible approach to the situation. "I think we can get by it if we just continue along the road," I said, half alarmed at my own suggestion. We set off. But the bear, which was essentially loping at a 45 degree angle towards a point in the road a few hundred yards ahead of where we were, was much faster than we had anticipated.

He was out from under the trees now, and getting closer to the road.

We were into our second day from Elkhorn Hot Springs, travelling along the 1860s trail that once linked Utah with the gold town of Bannack. This was also the route taken by the Lewis and Clark expedition of 1805 to find a way from St Louis along the Missouri River to the Pacific coast (see http://www.lewis-clark.org/ for more information on this amazing journey, set in train by President Thomas Jefferson). We had spent the night camping at Bannack, now a State Park complete with preserved (ghost) town. Bannack sits adjacent to Montana's (then known as Idaho Territory) first ever gold strike, in 1862 on Grasshopper Creek, and became Montana's first capital in 1864, a distinction it only held for only a short period.

We were close to nature in Bannack as well; a horned owl decided to do some hunting right next to our tent at around midnight; these are BIG birds, and the flapping of its 5ft-spanned wings sounded more akin with a helicopter than an animal. Combined with another two owls nearby, each screeching to the owl close to us (and us imaging a conversation along the lines of - 'Nooooo Bruce, the Aussies are in the bloody tent, not next to it'), we have to admit we were too afraid to stick our head outside to try and see it (we learned it was a horned owl the next day).





From Bannack, we then entered the most remote section of the route to date, a 57 mile stretch beginning just south of highway 324 through to 7 or so miles north of Lima, on highway 91. When I say remote, we were still riding on a fairly solid dirt roads through cattle-grazing ranch lands. People were thin on the ground though, and we only encountered two or three cars along the day's 43 miles of riding. We were climbing the entire day,from Bannack's 6000ft of altitude to the 8000ft Medicine Lodge/Sheep Creek Divide, and into the stiff headwind I mentioned earlier. It wasn't an entirely pleasant day, although the scenery was improving as we got higher. Until that scenery included a bear.










Well, deep, deep, deep down, seeing the bear was exhilarating. Particularly once it saw us and scooted up the hill away from us. From what I understand bears that haven't had any interaction with humans will generally scare easily, fleeing at sound or smell of us. When people tell you bears can run fast, please believe them. This one ran up a 10 percent slope at a rate of knots; they can reach speeds of 60km/hr.


Our day wasn't quite done yet. We had been warned about the mud in these parts, and how sticky it was. Something to do with its clay qualities. We had dodged a particularly harsh storm earlier in the day, only to discover the water it dumped on the road ahead of us rendered our bikes useless. We were only a few miles from our designated campsite, and from the crest of the day's ride when we hit three miles of the sticky stuff. You could only push the bike for 10 metres at best before you had the clean mud from the tires...it ended up taking us two hours to do around 2.5 miles, which included me carrying Alia's bike for a few hundred yards.





As if to emphasize the 'fine line between pleasure and pain' theme of our entire trip, the views from atop of the summit were incredible. Mountains to all sides, all draped in the soft glow of a setting sun, the odd 'mooing' of a cow reverberating through the valley stretched out below. Oh, and the almighty 'FXXXXX' coming from my mouth as I dragged Alia's bike to the top. Serenity.










With the sun beginning to set we made the decision to camp beside the road, just near Hansen Livestock Rd and an adjacent stream. We had just enough time to set our tent and eat our dinner, nothing more. We had travelled just over 43 miles, and we were exhausted.

Any fears of a repeat of the mud-choked roads we encountered the day before quickly dissipated the next day. The road was bumpy yet firm, and after a short ascent that morning we were quickly motoring downhill at around 18 miles an hour, wind at our back and sun warming us from above. After about 13 miles we entered a canyon that we would travel through for most of the day. We were following Big Sheep Creek as it wound its way out of the mountains and into the flats just north of Lima; the cliffs had me looking up for the most part, the reds and oranges of the rock adding some vibrancy after the softer tones of the day past.

Small towns, even those with under a 1000 people, always seem like metropolises once you've been away from it all for even a few days. And so it was with Lima. A motel/RV park, a gas station/grocery store, and a diner. That was it. But it was enough. We've actually found ourselves a tad lost in larger towns, with too many choices distracting us. Our needs are simple, and they centre on food and lodging. And beer, but you already knew that.

It was in Lima that we met four people hiking the Continental Divide trail. Talk about stamina. These guys would go without towns for up to 9-10 days at a time. They weren't travelling together; there was a couple from just outside Portland, OR (Kelly and David), another man from Chicago, and another lady from New York. It was Kelly's 35th birthday, and we kindly invited to their motel room to celebrate that fact. And to eat cake. Ehhhh. We later learned Kelly had recently been given the all clear from a cancer she had a few years earlier; the trip was their way of celebrating that fact. They had started the trek in April, and were travelling until September. I would suggest visiting their website - http://www.cancerhike.com/ to learn more. We enjoy chatting with fellow hikers and bikers, you almost always come away learning something, and you get to meet people who understand the need to sometimes throw in the job to do some travelling. It's a luxury being able to do that, I know, but it is also beyond many people's comprehension.

With the rain coming down overnight and into the next day, we decided to miss a notoriously muddy section of the Great Divide trail (the road north of Lima Reservoir) and instead head southeast along highway 91 (also Interstate 15) to Monida. From there, we headed east towards Red Rock National Wildlife Refuge, a site dedicated to the preservation of the Trumpeter Swan. Set up in 1935, a time when the bird was just about extinct, the site has helped play a prominent role in preserving these majestic birds. Ironically I only saw a few from a great distance (you're not allowed to get within 400 yards of them as they are known to simply desert their nest and young ones when they feel threatened), although I ended up seeing one up close in Yellowstone National Park.



The Refuge entails open grass plains and a two large lakes/swamps, all buttressed closely to the south by the mountains of the Continental Divide (and the Idaho border). We camped beneath one particularly impressive mountain, on the shores of Upper Red Rock Lake. That day, in which we travelled 47 miles, we had the pleasure of seeing countless Proghorns, deer-like animals that can run up to 70 miles and hour, along with two badgers, an animal we hadn't seen before. Think of a striped pancake on four legs, and you have a badger.

Of particular interest though were the mountains of Yellowstone, which could be seen to the east. We were close now; after following the Great Divide trail over 7120ft Red Rock Pass, we left the route via road 055 and highways 87 and 20, and headed to West Yellowstone, a town on the outskirts of the famous park. West Yellowstone was little more than a tourist town, a staging post for the Park. You knew that from the volume of traffic, and the $37 'going rate' for a simple camping site. But these towns serve their purpose, and that was preparing for Yellowstone.