Seeley Lake, MT to Elkhorn Hot Springs, MT

Well, here we are back in a motel again, although this time in southwest Montana overlooking the Pioneer Mountains. Washing decorates an otherwise featureless but somehow cosy room. Our bikes lean against a timber-veneer wall - you get the feeling they're enjoying the rest as much as we are. Dark clouds are brewing out yonder; there's some thunder overhead, and the rain drops slowly begin to thud into the hard-baked ground. We're in ranch country; most of the valleys we've traveled through of late are for cattle grazing, although most of the ridges are tree-covered, with peaks bursting through at regular intervals.




This leg of the trip began with a 60-mile jaunt from Seeley Lake to Missoula, a university town of around 70,000 in western Montana. Missoula allowed us to be tourists for a few days, and we ended up staying three nights in a campsite not too far from the Downtown. As luck would have it, the campsite was located behind a REI store - REI is an outdoor/adventure cooperative store, which includes a comprehensive bike section. Our bikes, needing a service, only had to be walked a mere few hundred metres in order to get the attention they required. And it was excellent service, I will add.


For the record, and for those interested in the bike-mechanic side of our trip, I required a new chain, cassette, rear brake pads, and a crank (bottom bracket) re-grease; Alia needed a new chain (but not a new cassette - he explained that once the chain becomes too loose, it creates grooves in the cassette that doesn't allow for a new chain to sit properly - Alia hadn't let her chain get to this point, while I had) plus some new rear brake pads. Both also had a general check of our spokes/wheels (both had slight wobbles that were fixed with some tightening of the spokes), and some general tightening of gears. My service (incl. parts) cost $120, Alia's $85.


The rain is now pounding down, slanted from the west. So glad we're holed up in this room. We've had excellent weather of late, temps around mid-80s (high 20s), and minimal humidity. Rain is welcome is these parts, and it does help keep the dust down on many of the roads we travel along (our 2,400 mile route had us on backroads 80% of the time).


Missoula was pleasant, it's Downtown laden with authentic 1900s buildings and charm. We visit the Adventure Cycling Association head office (this is the organization that plans the route we're on); they have a policy of taking your photo, and giving you as much free ice cream and pop as you want. You can also do some research there in a room set aside for bike riders. It's a very welcoming place.


From Missoula, which isn't on the 'official' Great Divide Trail, we aim to head to the mining town of Butte, around 130 miles to the southeast. This leg will have to be done via chunks of the Interstate Highway (No. 10), although the majority is along what are referred to as 'Frontage Road'. I'm sure the name tells you what they are; they are often remnants of the old highways that once linked towns, to be replaced by the 75-mile an hour highways that now criss-cross this massive land. Sometimes the roads get you far enough away from the Highway to soften the sounds of traffic. Other times they don't, and they literally sit adjacent to the Interstate. Still, the scenery is remarkable, Like the part that had us cycling through the Madison Limestone outcrops (see picture), and just gets better as we head south. Much the land we pass through is where gold prospectors tried their luck in the 1860s, or thereabouts - we pass many a ghost town. This overall leg was broken up into 30 miles to Beavertail State Park; 59 miles to the charming town of Drummond; and then the final 42 miles to Butte.


Pools of water are now forming in the gravel parking lot downstairs. The rain seems in a hurry. It's almost rushing to quench a thirsty ground. We had only just returned from a short walk to 'Ma Barnes General Store', about a half-mile from here. We were stocking up for our next leg, which will see us out and about for two days without going through a town. The lady who served us was a lovely woman, very intent on knowing what we were up to. She had sign a book saying we were passing through on the Great Divide trail. As we were leaving, she offered us a booklet on the Lord's teachings. Not my usual bedtime reading but I take it anyway, cautious not to offend. Maybe my indifference to this sort of literature brought on the heavy rain. Better see about a boat perhaps...


Butte was fantastic. A true mining town if there ever was one, it's entire Downtown remains locked in the late 1800s/early 1900s. The pace is slow, relaxed. The locals amble. It's hot but dry. The town is rimmed to the east by the Rocky Mountains, although even more startling is the open-cut mine that sits adjacent to town. Dubbed the world's richest hill, it's yielded massive amounts of copper, amongst other minerals, and many a man rich. There are two large open cuts, although only one is still active. The other, Berkerley Pit, was closed in the early 1980s, and has since filled with water. Now toxic water, as much of the minerals once dug up have since leeched into it. We're talking about a pit that's 5600 ft long, 1800 ft deep, and over 2000 ft wide. You can see it for yourself - it's now a tourist attraction, although charging people to see what is so obviously an environmental hazard doesn't make sense to me. But there we are, paying to see it, so how can I talk... The company has a plan to deal with the water once it hits a certain level, expected in 2023, and it's all monitored by the government. But few tourists who are with us at the viewing platform give much credence to the company's claims of how safe it all it is. Think BP, and you get the picture.


Our next three days have us climbing. The first, which sees us ride around 30 miles (and up 2000ft) to Highland campsite literally on the Great (Continental) Divide, offers majestic views back towards Butte. We pass through rock-strewn pastures, likely deposited by glaciers of many years ago. Much of the trail has us passing through tight valleys, often adorned by colourful rock ledges; from deep orange to soft grey. It's an imperfect landscape, rough and disorganized, and it's this quality that likely makes it more appealing to two Aussies used to the brown, hard land we grew up in, one that we consider so beautiful and captivating.









The next day sees us climb some, and then descend sharply to Interstate 15, before climbing to almost 8000ft (or 2000 ft over 12 or so miles on this part - Interstate 15 sits just under 6000 ft in altitude) just under Fleecers Ridge. Here we tackle the toughest part of the entire trail, a sharp but thankfully short descent down the side of the same Ridge. We're forced to walk the bikes down 0.25 miles of it, it's that steep. Loose stones make the walk treacherous, although we both make it down safely. The next 8 miles are downhill to the town of Wise River, where we camp for the night.


The next, and final part of this section, sees us travel on paved road along the 'Scenic Byway' of Highway 73. For the most part we have this glorious piece of bitumen to ourselves. It's initially a gradual ascent, although as we draw nearer to our present location it becomes tougher. Breathing becomes more labored, for me at least - that's the altitude, or so I believe. As with the two previous days, we're gaining 2,000 feet today, topping out at just under 8,000 ft near Crystal Park. We pass some meadows near the top, one of which is likely named after the moose that are no doubt present. The grass flows with the westerly breeze. Sharp, jagged peaks sit proudly to our east, the result of tectonic movements 70 million years ago. The mountains to our east are rounded, smoother - the result of being capped by erosion-resistant sandstone.


And, so, back to Elkhorn Hot Springs, which is where we hitched our bikes after a winding descent that began just after Crystal Park. Our next leg will see us enter Yellowstone National Park, somewhere I've always dreamed of visiting. We remain in good health, and apart from a few flat tires, the bikes continue to purr. Our muscles do ache most days, and our stomachs are rarely full, but we continue to savour the good fortune we have been presented with. Maybe I should begin reading that booklet, as a form of thanks to the Lord above? After all, the rain is continuing to fall...