We fill our bellies with baked goods and bike bags with veggies at the Missoula Market, then leave town. We aim for Ovando, where we reconnect with the Divide.
It feels good to be back on the trail.
A day later, and we’re in Lincoln, eating
burgers. A man is hollerin’ about bears, hills and fast cars on our route ahead. I nod politely but really would like to just eat in peace.
Thunder clouds chase us out of town and we camp in the woods, before Huckleberry Pass. No bears or fast cars is sight, only a gurgling stream and hooting owls.
We cross the Divide three times in one day, zig zagging back and forth from the Pacific to the Atlantic drainage.
At the top of the second, a man is there on his 4×4 checking cell phone messages. He says there are big cinnamon rolls in Basin.
Montana is covered with all kinds of roads. I’m constantly amazed at the access. Alaska can’t compare.
We come across a logging operation, and talk with a forester. He tells us they are clearing out old beetle kill on Forest Service land. These trees were killed by the Mountain Pine Beetle. I learn this is a native species, and part of the natural cycle. With climate change, the trees are under more pressure and can’t use their usual defense against the beetles.
I always thought the beetle killed trees were the result of an invasive species. I guess not, in this case.
We climb some more, guzzling water and scarfing fig newtons.
Soon, it’s down down down into Basin.
After thunderstorms pass, we go on to Butte, crossing the Divide one more time. There’s a bike trail in town that winds through all the old mines.
Tyndall’s as happy as a clam. I’m happy with pizza for lunch.