We awoke having slept very well for two bedraggled bikers sleeping on a porch in a rainstorm.... Packing up and leaving some money in the mailbox, we reveled in the sunshine and happily pedaled through more neighborhood roads into Whitefish. After hopping on the bike path, which temporarily turned into some pretty wild singletrack with overgrown roots, trees, and a crazy slope to exit off into a suburban neighborhood, we located a sporting goods store and a Starbucks right next to each other. I waited with our bikes while Ziven located some much needed chain lube and we headed over to Starbucks for a meal of coffee and breakfast sandwiches. As we ate outside, a man approached, complimenting our bikes and pausing to tell us about having done a section of the route himself. He asked our destination and laughed when we said we wanted to be in Eureka by sundown, saying “Oh you’ll never make it, that's hilarious.” Taken aback by this, we finished our breakfast and headed over to the grocery store on the other side of the sporting goods store. Again, I waited outside with the bikes and chatted with a southbounder who had come from Jasper and told us we had good things in our future. He said Eureka was a reasonable destination for the night and we figured that, once again, we couldn’t trust the locals too much. Restocked, we headed out of town and started a large climb from the edge of Whitefish, accompanied by many runners carrying bear spray and other bikers going up what appeared to be a famous climb.

The road wound up into the mountains and the smooth asphalt, cool shade from the alpine forest on either side, as well as the friendly bikers and cars made the long climb quite pleasant, though we were jealous as we saw other bikers turn around and speed downhill back into town for their Fourth of July plans. We soon turned off the windy road onto some gravel that continued to climb for a while. A car stopped to ask us for directions to a lake and we discovered they were from Marin, California. As we couldn't offer any good advice, they decided to turn around and try fishing elsewhere and bid us goodbye. The road got steeper and steeper and Ziven occasionally had to stop and push his bike up slopes that his gear ratio was unable to conquer. After more steep climbing, including a stop to chat with a hiker who had to deviate from his route to go into town and heal his injured Achilles and another stop to eat some snacks on a mossy rock, we came across the lake that the couple had been looking for. There were ATVs everywhere and the lake was quite scenic, making us wish we had waited to have our snack break a few minutes later. We again stopped to talk to a southbounder who was well into retirement and had split up the route from Eureka into two days, though he believed we could complete the segment that day. We wished him well and he continued on to find a place to camp by the lake. Climbing more, we stumbled upon another small lake where a family placidly canoed through the pristine water and we zoomed down some lovely gravel, spotting some more southbounders as they trundled up the hill. The descent was long and lovely and we enjoyed the valley and its pleasant shade a pretty mountain views before emerging onto a more busy dirt road that began to feel a little Canadian, though we were still a ways away from our border town. We biked alongside this road for a while, stopping to check out a series of lodges that other bikers had mentioned earlier but were privately owned and, according to the people staying there, did not have any spare water for poor sweaty bikers.

We tramped onwards and were climbing up the side of a mountain when a section of the road ahead emerged, looking like it had been swept out by a landslide. A Subaru crosstrek driven by some hikers carefully traversed the section and so we pushed onward. The smooth road changed temporarily into some very rocky doubletrack and I slowed to steady myself with my feet out on either side, not enjoying the 500 feet of exposure that led from where we were to the floor of the rocky valley below, scree field all the way down. After this obstacle we continued onward, stopping to talk with a southbounder from Colorado Springs who had just started in Eureka that morning. Wishing him well, we continued down the somewhat bumpy but tolerable descent and stopped again to chat with a trio of riders who offered us their paper map of the Great Divide Canada section, happy to shave off weight and spread knowledge to us. The descent continued and we enjoyed it, even more so when the dirt road turned to smooth road and we had the whole road to ourselves, zooming down through the forest in the twilight. The cool, fresh air propelled us towards town and Ziven began to set his sights on something he hadn’t dared hope for until now - making it to the Subway in town before they closed at 8pm. We emerged from the forest and twisted through some flat grass and farmlands, the route unfortunately taking us on the back roads instead of the straight highway that led into town. We again looped around some scenic, farmy neighborhoods, Ziven pushing us faster and faster even as I struggled up the rolling hills with my tired legs. Based on a realistic estimate of our riding abilities, we would arrive at the Subway at precisely 8:03pm. Ziven, heartbroken and in denial pulled ahead and called the Subway as I lagged behind. He eventually pulled over to tell me the amazing news - they were open an hour later than advertised on Google Maps. We were going to make it! Eventually we crested the last hill before town and, scattering some deer in the fields beside us, we descended and crossed a river, passing our campsite in a public park and beelining for the main street. The Subway was, of course, on the edge of the town and not amongst the cute downtown shops so we pushed ourselves up that last seemingly massive hill before pulling into the gas station-Subway combo that was our momentary Mecca. It was 7:58pm and we would have made it without the extra hour. Phew.

We happily ordered our sandwiches and cookies, grabbing some more snacks from the attached convenience store before shoving sandwiches in water bottle holders and anywhere there was space and speeding off down the hill to our campsite. A little scared by the police car that hung behind us all along the main street, Ziven and I behaved ourselves and carefully adhered to all traffic rules (for maybe the first time in our lives). We pulled into the public park that offered free camping, where we learned that they cleared everybody out at 7am with automatic sprinklers. As I set up the tent and spread out our feast, Ziven plugged our devices into the city hall’s outdoor outlets across the parking lot and managed to get a good charge. We dug into our well earned dinner and washed off the dirt from the road and our messy eating in the river a few steps down the sandy bank behind our tent. Conscious that we had not had a shower in days and were marinating in our rain-sodden clothes, we tried to wash ourselves as best we could in the icy river. We then secured our bikes under the rainfly as we were in the middle of town and tucked ourselves into bed.