Day 11-12, Thursday & Friday, July 10&11
Olney, MT to Glacier National Park
Daily Mileage: 108.33 miles
Total Mileage: 914.5 miles
Daily Time on Bike: 9:44 hours
Average Speed: 11.1 mph
Maximum Speed: 34.8 mph
Part I.
This day is quite unusual. It's been broken into several sections, and I'm writing this part of the entry around midnight of the 10th. We woke up at 10AM this morning and rode to Olney for a nice breakfast while watching the trains go by. Afterwards, we rode to Whitefish were we stopped for a while at Glacier Cyclery, an outdoors store to buy flashlights and camping towels (oh, and postcards). Next we rode to Columbia Falls, about 10 miles away. We stopped at their bike shop to get gel gloves since our hands are almost always numb with the ones with which we’re currently riding—they’re incredible. Then we headed around the corner for what turned into a long stay at Pizza Hut. Two medium pizzas and a lot of water got us to this site, Glacier National Park. We called home to let the family know where we were and that we are doing well. Now, we're sitting outside a closed cafe at 12:30AM waiting for our climb up and over Logan Pass where we hope to catch the sunrise tomorrow morning. Logan Pass is the highest elevation pass of our trip and coincidentally the Continental Divide. Hopefully, it won't snow and we won't see any bears. We received numerous warnings when entering the park about the bear population.
Part II.
We left Apgar around 1AM to begin our ascent of the “Going to the Sun” highway. We had our small headlamps, of which David’s didn’t work for the first ten miles—nothing like biking in the middle of the night with only one small Mag-lite attached to your head for two cyclists. The first twenty miles we moved at a moderate pace. We only stopped twice to use the restroom alongside the road for fear that bears would jump out of the woods. Then we came upon the sign that said no passing for the next twelve miles—this was when it became really fun, and incredibly scary. We were wearing every piece of clothing we owned, which isn't to say that was a lot. Our outer jackets were worn with the zippers down for the time being until the snow flurries started. We could see the stars really well for a while and then clouds rolled in. About ten to twenty times along the route we would hear huge waterfalls over the very small ledge that was the only thing separating us from absolutely nothing on the other side except hundreds, perhaps thousands, of feet drop off. David rode on the outside and I took the oncoming traffic lane. We only saw five cars during the entire evening so we deemed this arrangement pretty safe. It's a very strange sensation riding your bike in the dark with a small headlamp lighting your way, knowing that you could be swept right off the cliff at any moment if snow or rocks break loose.
Whenever we would faintly see or hear something we'd say, “I bet that's really beautiful!” We faintly saw a 500-foot waterfall, the “Three Bridges,” the “Weeping Wall” and many more above-the-clouds scenic views of the surrounding mountains. (Postcards will have to suffice as our tour guide for this journey through the West Side of the park.) As we neared the top and could barely see the Pass as we made our push for the finish; however, the finish was still five miles away. My flashlight had gone out completely for a second time; the first time I swapped the batteries out of my camera. We finally got to where we crossed from West to East and, wow, was the wind blowing. (Later we found out there were gusts of 50 to 60 miles per hour.) It was hard to maneuver our bikes with such a wind, but I think the excitement helped a lot.
When we got to the top, the Logan Pass was barely visible; although, the end of the road looked like we were biking right into Heaven. The clouds hung low and the sun was just starting to come up, so it looked like this blue cloud was just waiting for us at the end of the road. By this time the wind was really moving, and we struggled to get out a couple of pictures with the Continental Divide sign. Afterwards, we ran for the bathroom, hoping to find some hand blowers that would help us warm up a bit, but when we got there they were locked. So, we got out the sleep sacks (that didn't provide a great deal of protection from the wind and 30 degree non-wind chill cold) and balled up by the door of the visitor’s center. I fell asleep, but David kept kicking my numb feet to make sure 1 was still alive. When I woke up, I remember David getting the rainfly from our tent, at which point we curled up in both the rainfly and sleep sacks—absolutely no use.
Finally, a grounds keeper came by and opened up the restroom so we could sit inside; however, it wasn’t much better since they didn’t have heat. While David kept eating and running around to stay warm; all I wanted to do was sleep. We got to the top at 5AM (a four-hour ascent as planned and now it was about 8AM). The groundskeepers, even though they weren't supposed to, let us into their room that had a nice fire burning. After about five minutes we decided to make a break down the mountain. We hurried to reload our bikes and shove newspaper up our shirts to block a bit of the piercing cold wind as we descended. And then, still half frozen, we made our descent.
The descent was incredibly cold for the first five or so miles and the wind was horrible. I rode in the oncoming traffic lane and was prepared to hit the pavement at any moment if it looked like the insanely powerful wind blowing down the mountain was going to sweep me off the side of the mountain. We both had similar experiences with coasting down the mountain at 15-20 mph and being stopped dead in our tracks by the powerful wind, unable to continue until it died down. It whipped right over the mountains handing up terrible crosswinds. The only part of our bodies not well covered was our fingertips, and I still can't believe they weren't frostbitten! After a few miles the sun livened up the harsh landscape, and we began to thaw as well. More cars were ascending the road, and David and I were beginning to open the breaks up to coast faster. Near the bottom we were being blown forward, uphill at 20 mph. Once, on level ground with no straight drop-offs as before, we started taking pictures of this incredible landscape. We made a pit stop at the border visitor's center and then ate at the first, and only, restaurant we came upon. Now we're camping early (1PM) at a Kampground of America (K.O.A.). It's a bit pricey, but I made up for it by taking a 45-minute hot shower. The wind is still gusting really hard outside.
(Photo: Tim on the Continental Divide … freezing.)
Daily Mileage: 108.33 miles
Total Mileage: 914.5 miles
Daily Time on Bike: 9:44 hours
Average Speed: 11.1 mph
Maximum Speed: 34.8 mph
Part I.
This day is quite unusual. It's been broken into several sections, and I'm writing this part of the entry around midnight of the 10th. We woke up at 10AM this morning and rode to Olney for a nice breakfast while watching the trains go by. Afterwards, we rode to Whitefish were we stopped for a while at Glacier Cyclery, an outdoors store to buy flashlights and camping towels (oh, and postcards). Next we rode to Columbia Falls, about 10 miles away. We stopped at their bike shop to get gel gloves since our hands are almost always numb with the ones with which we’re currently riding—they’re incredible. Then we headed around the corner for what turned into a long stay at Pizza Hut. Two medium pizzas and a lot of water got us to this site, Glacier National Park. We called home to let the family know where we were and that we are doing well. Now, we're sitting outside a closed cafe at 12:30AM waiting for our climb up and over Logan Pass where we hope to catch the sunrise tomorrow morning. Logan Pass is the highest elevation pass of our trip and coincidentally the Continental Divide. Hopefully, it won't snow and we won't see any bears. We received numerous warnings when entering the park about the bear population.
Part II.
We left Apgar around 1AM to begin our ascent of the “Going to the Sun” highway. We had our small headlamps, of which David’s didn’t work for the first ten miles—nothing like biking in the middle of the night with only one small Mag-lite attached to your head for two cyclists. The first twenty miles we moved at a moderate pace. We only stopped twice to use the restroom alongside the road for fear that bears would jump out of the woods. Then we came upon the sign that said no passing for the next twelve miles—this was when it became really fun, and incredibly scary. We were wearing every piece of clothing we owned, which isn't to say that was a lot. Our outer jackets were worn with the zippers down for the time being until the snow flurries started. We could see the stars really well for a while and then clouds rolled in. About ten to twenty times along the route we would hear huge waterfalls over the very small ledge that was the only thing separating us from absolutely nothing on the other side except hundreds, perhaps thousands, of feet drop off. David rode on the outside and I took the oncoming traffic lane. We only saw five cars during the entire evening so we deemed this arrangement pretty safe. It's a very strange sensation riding your bike in the dark with a small headlamp lighting your way, knowing that you could be swept right off the cliff at any moment if snow or rocks break loose.
Whenever we would faintly see or hear something we'd say, “I bet that's really beautiful!” We faintly saw a 500-foot waterfall, the “Three Bridges,” the “Weeping Wall” and many more above-the-clouds scenic views of the surrounding mountains. (Postcards will have to suffice as our tour guide for this journey through the West Side of the park.) As we neared the top and could barely see the Pass as we made our push for the finish; however, the finish was still five miles away. My flashlight had gone out completely for a second time; the first time I swapped the batteries out of my camera. We finally got to where we crossed from West to East and, wow, was the wind blowing. (Later we found out there were gusts of 50 to 60 miles per hour.) It was hard to maneuver our bikes with such a wind, but I think the excitement helped a lot.
When we got to the top, the Logan Pass was barely visible; although, the end of the road looked like we were biking right into Heaven. The clouds hung low and the sun was just starting to come up, so it looked like this blue cloud was just waiting for us at the end of the road. By this time the wind was really moving, and we struggled to get out a couple of pictures with the Continental Divide sign. Afterwards, we ran for the bathroom, hoping to find some hand blowers that would help us warm up a bit, but when we got there they were locked. So, we got out the sleep sacks (that didn't provide a great deal of protection from the wind and 30 degree non-wind chill cold) and balled up by the door of the visitor’s center. I fell asleep, but David kept kicking my numb feet to make sure 1 was still alive. When I woke up, I remember David getting the rainfly from our tent, at which point we curled up in both the rainfly and sleep sacks—absolutely no use.
Finally, a grounds keeper came by and opened up the restroom so we could sit inside; however, it wasn’t much better since they didn’t have heat. While David kept eating and running around to stay warm; all I wanted to do was sleep. We got to the top at 5AM (a four-hour ascent as planned and now it was about 8AM). The groundskeepers, even though they weren't supposed to, let us into their room that had a nice fire burning. After about five minutes we decided to make a break down the mountain. We hurried to reload our bikes and shove newspaper up our shirts to block a bit of the piercing cold wind as we descended. And then, still half frozen, we made our descent.
The descent was incredibly cold for the first five or so miles and the wind was horrible. I rode in the oncoming traffic lane and was prepared to hit the pavement at any moment if it looked like the insanely powerful wind blowing down the mountain was going to sweep me off the side of the mountain. We both had similar experiences with coasting down the mountain at 15-20 mph and being stopped dead in our tracks by the powerful wind, unable to continue until it died down. It whipped right over the mountains handing up terrible crosswinds. The only part of our bodies not well covered was our fingertips, and I still can't believe they weren't frostbitten! After a few miles the sun livened up the harsh landscape, and we began to thaw as well. More cars were ascending the road, and David and I were beginning to open the breaks up to coast faster. Near the bottom we were being blown forward, uphill at 20 mph. Once, on level ground with no straight drop-offs as before, we started taking pictures of this incredible landscape. We made a pit stop at the border visitor's center and then ate at the first, and only, restaurant we came upon. Now we're camping early (1PM) at a Kampground of America (K.O.A.). It's a bit pricey, but I made up for it by taking a 45-minute hot shower. The wind is still gusting really hard outside.
(Photo: Tim on the Continental Divide … freezing.)
