The road brought us close to 6500 ft, where the ground was mostly clear, but shortly after our ascent we ran into big snowdrifts. Knowing that the summit sat above 9,000 feet, we had to call it early, which was unfortunate but necessary.
We drove around for a while after, Jerome pointing out the various mountain ranges and surrounding wilderness, giving me an idea at how vast this part of the country really is. Even though our hike was cut short, we still managed to work up quite the appetite and ended up in a burger/brew pub where I indulged in what might have been the best tasting burger and fries to ever grace my palette.
While we were on our way back, the dog managed to get ahold if the bottle if bear spray, chewing off the safety and then bit down on the trigger. I heard a hissing noise, looked back and grabbed the bottle away, preventing any further destruction. Eyes watering, we pulled over and coughed out a lung. The dog, of course, was perfectly fine. We, on the other hand, got a nice dose of spray. We knew it could have been much worse, and took our newly cleared sinuses for granted. Plus, now I know what bear spray tastes like...
Fresh mountain air
By the time we got back, it was time to go out again, this time to experience Missoula's "First Friday", the monthly art crawl. This month was special, as they unveiled the poster for the 50th anniversary of the wilderness act, which helps keep the wilderness as such. Being highly active members, Marcia and Jerome knew plenty of people, introducing me along the way. It was such a nice day, and a nice change from the nothingness that is east Montana and the Dakotas. During dinner, they let me know that I wasn't obligated to leave the next day either if I wanted to spend more time in the city.
Although I eventually decided to take off the next day, we went to the farmers market in the morning, where I had the chance to peruse and taste some local delicacies. Huckleberries are a Western Montana thing, and man, do they do it right. In everything from jam to croissants, chocolates to wines, huckleberries were present, and did not disappoint.
It takes a lot for me to truly love a city to the point of imagining myself living there. The last time that happened was when I visited San Fracisco, but that was short lived after realizing the cost of real estate. Missoula was the perfect city, and there's no doubt I'll be back again. But for now, the adventure had to continue.
In store for the day was my last pass, Lolo pass, which would bring me into Idaho. The narrow shoulder had me on edge, but there really wasn't too much traffic, making it enjoyable. I even had a chance to snap a picture of an eagle and a cow...
They weren't on speaking terms...
The coast down the mountain was phenomenal. Nothing too steep, but a 6% grade for over 5 miles which ended up being cut short to stop at the Devoto cedar grove. I spent some time walking around and making my appreciation of nature skin deep.
I had to...
The night ended at a US Forest Service campground, hidden in the forest and running alongside the Lochsa River. I realized I only had a $20 bill, therefore unable to cover the $8 camping fee, so I went to an occupied site asking if they could break it. Instead, they invited me to take up a spot next to their tents and invited me to have dinner with them! Of course, I accepted, and enjoyed yet another night of good food and good conversation.
I had let them know that I'd be out before they woke up, so we said our goodbyes that evening. My route would snake me along the Lochsa river through the Clearwater National Forest all day, making for the most scenic and enjoyable cycling conditions to date. The lack of services was a positive this time, since a lack of services meant a lack of traffic.
I flew through the miles, hitting 70 by 3:30. When I saw a sign for a campsite, I ducked in and rewarded myself with a short day, giving me time to read and just enjoy nature for a while. There was one other car in the site, and that belonged to a family having a picnic. I rode up, asking if the water was good for drinking. They responded with hot dogs, ribs and potato salad...
I just kept getting lucky with nice people and good food!
A family of Nez Perce, they told me their history and I asked plenty of questions, eager to lose my ignorance of native culture and heritage. I've learned quite a bit on this trip, just by stopping at markers and taking every chance to visit interpretive centers and local museums, but nothing compares to talking first hand with the natives. It really is quite a sad story, one that we white people should really be ashamed of. But that's a story for another day.
They packed up, and I was left to set my tent and relax.
Doesn't get any better than this!
Shortly after, a couple drove up and got out of their car to talk to me.
Bill and Sara had camped in the site 30 years ago, and on their trip to Missoula decided to take a peek. After hearing where I was planning on going, Bill informed me that they lived in Portland, and that if I pass through after the 17th, to ring them up for a place to stay! And that's not all... They just happened to have a plate of ribs in the car, and graciously offered a couple my way. Unbelievable.
The bobcat
It's been a full month on the road, and I've loved it. However, I'm getting excited to head back to Winona and into the real world for a little bit. I'm reminded constantly.
Near Winchester, ID
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