Dispatch #8, Doc's #1 Formula and Did You Know Montana Has Seagulls?

Today is a rest day in Havre, MT. I've been 14 days on the road and yesterday somehow managed to ride over 100 miles so I decided it was time. It's difficult to take a rest day when you have momentum, but the weather report said I'd have 20 mph head winds and Havre is turning into a nice town to spend a non-bike day. I've gotten laundry taken care of, bought some spare tubes, and have restocked other sundries. Here's the route so far.

Here are the stats for the last few days.

Thursday, June 21 (the summer solstice)
Kalispell to the Snow Slip Inn (7 miles west of Maria's Pass and deserving it's own post)
in the saddle: 5:16:26
total distance: 71.20
average speed: 13.5
max: 37
odo: 893.4

Kalispell to Snow Slip Inn was a nice (mostly rail grade) up towards Maria's Pass, my last stop in the Rockies. The climb was also accompanied by a number of stops next to the river that ran along side me. I found a boat slip and took a very very chilly plunge. Hey, you can't visit glacial water and not swim in it, can you? Actually it was less a swim and more of a HOLY OPRAH CABOOSE IT'S COLD jump in and scramble out. Also, there were signs warning about bears. I didn't feel like lingering. Photos tell a better story, but alas, the computer here at the El Toro Motel, that's right the EL Toro Motel, is slower than a grizzly drunk on huckleberries and older than Diane Keaton so...

With only about 7 miles left in the climb to the pass and the Continental Divide, I stopped at what was supposed to only be a water refuelling stop, but ended up being my visit to the Twin Peaks of Montana. I camped in Jim, the Elk Hunter's yard, met a cowboy who was looking for his lost horse on the mountain, and learned from Joey, the nascent trucker, that everything I thought I knew about road atlases was wrong. Apparently, there is a secret "trucker atlas" that you can only get from a trucker. Aaaand I had a heart to heart with fellow cyclist Matt from San Diego about how to curse properly. The story of this stop is to be continued...

Friday, June 22
Snow Slip Inn to Shelby
in the saddle: 6:22:55
td: 92.62
as: 14.5
max: 42.4!!!
odo: 986.1

Left Snow Slip Inn (relieved to be intact) at 7 am. About an hour later I was standing on the Continental Divide and feeling pretty amazed about this planet an my place on it. Took some photos and enjoyed a great descent into East Glacier, where I stopped to have breakfast (biscuits and sausage gravy--Montana knows how to do a good biscuit and gravy dish. As I left East Glacier, the landscape took a pretty dramatic turn. Suddenly it became flat and there were no more trees. I had a descent tailwind so I trucked on over to Shelby, Montana where I found seagulls. In Washington State there were seagulls--on the ocean--but not in the interior, no seagulls in the part of Idaho where I was, but in the middle of Montana, yes there are seagulls. No local that I've asked has been able to give me a good explanation for this phenomenon. Camped in the city park and had a nice conversation with a fellow from Georgia, who was on his way with his wife to Alaska by way of RV. Amazed by the sunset in Shelby. I've seen nothing but beautiful sunsets in Montana.

Saturday, June 23
Shelby to Havre
in the saddle: 6:35:14
td: 105.47
as: 16
max: 30.6
odo: 1091.6 (Over the 1000 mile mark for the trip!!!)

I got into the saddle after a great breakfast intending only to go about 40 miles to the next town and camp. I wanted to make it a short day. 2 hours later, I was in said town and having the best cycling morning of the trip. I had an obscene tailwind coming out of Shelby and trucked east at an average of 20 mph for the first two hours. I was reminded of that scene in the great cycling movie "Breaking Away" where Dave is biking down the highway behind an 18-wheeler. I felt like Godzilla on two wheels and decided to make for Havre, about 60 more miles away. After about 12:30, the winds died down and even started to blow against me a little.

Nevertheless, I reached Blackie's Tavern (about 8 miles west of Havre) around 4:30 in the afternoon and decided to treat myself to a can of Rainer beer before proceeding. See, the trick to this trip or parts of this trip is to give yourself little rewards along the way. This is a philosophy I learned from my Seattle buddy, Douug.

Blackie's Tavern, at 4:30 on a Saturday afternoon was a pretty salty place. Lot's of old timers who were basically a sea of shaking heads when they learn I'm one of those crazy bikers. The bartender gives me a little grief about drinking and biking, but as I'm only having one beer she lets it slide. We all get to talking and it seems their biggest concern for me has to do with the mosquitoes I'm about to run into. Now, mosquitoes are pretty partial to me. I took a camping trip down to Hunter Island, NC one summer with my then girlfriend. It was just after Hurricane Hugo and the air couldn't be calmer and the mosquitoes more hungry. We stayed at camp for maybe 4 hours before I just couldn't take it anymore. At the hotel later that night, we counted over 70 individual bites. Soooo I was interested in what they had to say. These folk seemed to know what they were talking about. Blackies is a kind of fisherman's hangout. "So what are you using to keep away the mosquitoes?" asks the bartender.
"Oh, just some stuff I got from the drugstore called Cutter. It's got DEET in it."
"Hell boy, you should just get back on that bike and head back west if that's all you've got," said one of the bar patrons.
"Yeah," said another, "Why just last week, them bugs dragged a little girl out of a parked car. Took a water hose and three grown men to get her to safety."
"Should we tell him about Doc's #1?"
"Don't see why not, he don't look like he's gonna hop on the freight train to by-pass bug country. Hell, he'll be eaten alive."
"Thanks. Really, but I think I'll be okay."
"Nonsense," said the bartender. She pulled a glass container with brown liquid out from behind the bar pulled out the cork and held it up to me. "Smell it," she said.
I took a cautious smell. "Vanilla?" I asked?
"You'd better believe it. Not the imitation extract stuff, but pure vanilla. You just stop into a store when you get into town and get yourself a bottle of vanilla and a little spray bottle and you'll be set."
"And if anyone asks why you smell like a cookie, you tell them it's because you are so sweet," says a lady at the end of the bar.
I thank them for their advice and am just about ready to head for the door. The bartender must have thought she saw something in my eyes because she produced a medication bottle, filled it full of Doc's #1, and gave it to me. "Oh, that bottle held my heart medication. I need to refill it anyway. Go ahead and take it." I did. With hearty wishes the patrons sent me on my way. I need to send them a postcard and let them know how I fare.

So folks, I'll be letting you know how Doc's #1 works out. I didn't think to ask who Doc was or how many different formulas Doc has. I'm sure that's another story altogether.