I started packing up while Ziven made us breakfast, which we then ate at the lakeshore, which was stunning and a lovely way to start the morning.... Once we hit the road, we were alongside a soggy highway for a while and we pulled over at what was once a general store or restaurant. A resident came over to tell us that there was no food or services and was super nice, chatting to us about the Tour Divide documentary and how his friend was in it. We hit the road again and soon turned off onto some gravel in the trees. A short section of singletrack in the deep forest made me want to blow my bear whistle often and I was unabashed until we met a southbound rider also from Boulder who seemed to think my whistling was overkill. I counter with the fact that we never had a close bear encounter the whole trip while many other riders did… I rest my case.

This lasted for a long time before we eventually came upon the small town of Ovando and stopped at their general store, where we bought a Starbucks bottled coffee (which ended up having questionable chunks in it), carrots (which were mushy and moldy), and string cheese (which tasted kind of weird) from the store owner who was in a MAGA hat and said: “Not that you care but I also ride a bike. Mine is 700 pounds and has an electric starter.” Ziven, being a smart aleck, responded “So it’s an electric bike!?” Which definitely displeased the MAGA man. We ate our oh-so-delicious snacks on the porch outside, with my bike leaning against a pole and slightly covering the ramp next to the stairs. A truck pulled up and a morbidly obese hillbilly emerged and asked me to move my bike so he could use the ramp. Assuming he had a delivery, I got up to move it… but not before he grabbed Poppy, causing her back heaviness to fall over. I ran over and saved my dear steed from her fate, glaring at the man who, as it turned out, was not making a delivery but simply could not manage a single 5 inch step due to his girth. Wanting to escape the bad vibes of this town, we jetted off and found ourselves back in the trees.

We started climbing and, near the top, Ziven stopped to pee and I turned towards the sounds of snuffling and grunting to see a black bear lumbering off into the trees. Not sure how long he was watching us, we sped away and I tooted my whistle for a while as the bear was heading the direction our road was about to switch back on. After descending, trading bikes for fun, and descending some more, we hit Ferndale and were able to replenish our dwindling supplies at a gas station a mile off course. There, it started to rain and we ate our burritos under the tarp while trying to find a place for the night in Columbia Falls or Whitefish. Because it was Fourth of July eve and we were at the mouth of Glacier National Park, there was ZERO availability (in our price range) and we were getting restless an hour and a half into our twenty minute stop when Ziven found a bike hostel online that was off course. We called the proprietor who said she was out of town but would let us camp in her front yard for $20. Sold on having a safe haven to aim towards instead of flying blindly, Ziven got cash from the gas station and we packed up and booked it out of town in the now semi-torrential rain, now fighting daylight due to our delayed departure. Now freestyling our route with Google Maps, we wound our way on bike paths through Big Fork and farmland before hitting unanticipated windy gravel roads near Echo Lake. It was still raining and I was beginning to panic, not knowing what we were in for and fearing the dark.

We kept plodding on, peeking into RV parks along the way and scouting out potential places to stay if worse came to worst. The rain KEPT coming and coming, and our shoes, jackets, and every nook and cranny of our bodies were soaking wet. Ziven dug out our singular rear bike light for the two of us and we kept close, not enjoying the road riding as much as we anticipated earlier in the day. As it got darker and darker, we grew a little frantic, though thankfully the drivers on the busy road gave us space. Finally, we turned onto a county road that was paved and, mercifully, pretty much empty. We rode side by side because we could see a car approaching from behind a mile out because of its headlights on the trees around.

In a way, it was quite fun, though we couldn’t see obstacles in the road ahead and had to trust that the asphalt was smooth. With much Google Maps consultation, we arrived at our domicile of respite at about 10:30pm and called the hostel owner. She said we could camp on her porch and we were glad for the chance to allow our tent time to dry under the big eaves of her front porch. We plugged in phones, laid our clothes to “dry” in the humid rain soaked air, changed into cozy dry pajamas, set up sleeping pads and bags, and sat eating snacks while processing the insanely long day. As the adrenaline disappeared we settled in and fell asleep almost instantly to the sound of rain all around us.