Cackling and smacking myself from the beauty of it all

Along The Great Divide

2 pedals are better than 1

I stood there looking down at my pedal lying on the gravel and seriously asked out loud "Hey, What are you doing down there?" I got no answer, So I walked up the hills and pedaled down them one footed for most the afternoon. Eventually I got back on a slightly more trafficed dirt road and hitched myself a ride back up to Eureka. At the V.F.W. over 25 cent coffee I borrowed the bar tenders cell phone and called Crank Bros. (the pedal company) and told them my predicament. Without hesitation they had new spindles and bearings in the mail that day. They were excellent and super quick to mail them but it was the mail that was in not so quick. I spent the next four chill days shuffling around Eureka with my coffee cup and book. After two days I was giving directions to tourist and feeling like Norm from Cheers at the V.F.W. for 25 cent coffee. There are worse places to be ship wrecked than Eureka. Its a nice little town with free camping in the town park, (as long as you dont tell them you are there) abandon rail road trax for walk along and a river for swimming. I met quite a few cycle tourist since Eureka is both on the Adventure Cycling Northern Tier Route and The Great Divide Route.
Monday rolled around and the Post Office reopened and my spindles were there! I got my bike back in one piece and was just about to leave town, again when I met Mat and Gracie. They are unicycling south on the Continental Divide Route. I finnished my book and sold it back to the ever so nice book shop lady Teresa and caught up to Gracie and Mat.
It rained on us all day and by evening were soaked and cold. I threw down the idea of a little 4 mile detour to my favorite cabin. (I felt I knew the area pretty good by this point) . I rode ahead and got a fire going in the wood stove and hot water for cocos all around.
Gear hung drying all over the little cabin, we cooked up a mulligan and slept listening to rain drumming on the roof.The sun was out the next day as we rode through eye clawing, turtle heading scenery. Of all things a Prius drove up on us and the driver gets out and says "Hello Gracie" its seemed pretty wierd. But turns out his name was Alan and he had been tracking them through their web site and had arranged to ride with them previously. Alan went and dropped off his car and came and rode with us for the afternoon. At the junction for Polebridge I said good-by every one as they were heading off route get supplies and I still had plenty of food from the Eureka food bank. I hope I meet up the the uni-crew again they were really great fun to roll with. check out there website at: divideby1.com

I pat myself down in the morning and think; " I didn't get mauled by a grizzly in my sleep, thats good"

I skirted the Flathead lake to the east and pedaled north through Kalispel and Eureka and sure enough ran into the Canadian Border.
The ever Amazing Kelly Marie had sent sent me a package General Delivery with some snacks (which I devoured quickly) and knobby tires for the off road Divide Route (I licked them but decided against eating and just ended up puting them on my bike). I put the tires on 10 ft south of Canada. The Border patrol eyed me suspiciously but I didn't care. I was not going into their stupid country this time.
So in all reality my trip has started! Everything I'v ridden so far, the 3200 some miles was just to get to this trail head and the beginin' of my south bound ride. I'll be heading south for a few yearsish now.
I rode back down to Eureka got some supplies and continued south. I was well into the back country and it was raining pretty hard. I had my hood up and went right past a very important turn off. I went the wrong way for hours and then the dirt road I was on ended, yep just ended. I turned around and after a while I ran into a hunter who gave me the wrong directions. I went the way he said untill I knew I was lost again. It was evening, it had been raining all day and dispite it being incredibly beautiful I just ended up feeling like frustrated grizzly bait. Just before dark I spied a sign that said Weasel Cabin 1 mi... Oh shit dudes, I can not believe my luck. It is a forest service cabin open to the public and free as a man who don't do undies. I got a fire going in the little wood stove, feasted on the food left on the shelves by previous campers and felt like a toasty 10 bucks.
The next sunny morning I got directions from a Ranger and happily headed down the right path until my left pedal snapped off.

Near the begining

The old Hoback canyon got me into Jackson, WY. Its a great town if you like: skiing, sledding,hiking, rock climbing, hang-gliding, base jumping, rollerblading, wake boarding, wrestling, skydiving and bowling..... or biking, if you like that sort of thing. The guys at the bike shop Fitzgerald's are top notch. I'm not just saying that cuz they let me hang around, drink their coffee and read the bike mags. Anyways Its a great shop, good bikegeekyness with out the snobbery.
My first night in Jackson I slept in a down pour along the Snake river. The first real rain I'd had, came down like effin' dogs and hogs. Thanks to D5000 and The Mountain Hardwear there really is "No bad weather, just bad gear". Truly the best gear set up I'v ever had, I stayed warm and cozy, thanx, man.
The next day in front of the library I met Brian and Hana and they awesomly hooked me up with a couch and dinner. And thanx to Traci for the coffee and delicous green chili soup!
I climbed out of Jackson's hole on the old carless route over the Teton pass and dropped in to Idaho. I side swiped Idaho on its east side, plodding along the hot flat hwy 33, sandwiched between the lemhi range and the Beaver mountains. Cheers to the bunch in the Hunters tavern in Mud Lake who's collective goal was to "keep from sobering"
I ground it out over the Lost Trail pass and into Montana.
Missoula should be a milestone on anyones route cycling though this part of the world. Its a bike friendly, people friendly mini city and also home to the Adventure cycling association. Greg siple gave me the grand tour as i snuck in more than one complimentary ice cream.
Downtown Missoula I met James, mallory, livey and Alina. James, mallory and Livey had just rode in from Oregon on their way to scattered points further east. They had gotten set up to stay at Free Cycles the local bicycle collective. I tagged along with them and stayed there as well. Free Cycles is an open community space where bikes trickle in on random donation and its all volunteer run. The place was a mad house in its opening hours with all sorts of people and kids coming and going. But at night it was all ours, I felt at home there sleeping under the tool boards and watching the morning light filter in through the hanging frames and wheels. A big thanx to Jeff for all his kindness and above and beyond killer food hook-ups. (Good luck in your endeavors, man). It was really hard to Missoula