we just went over WHAT?! (extended version)

That's right, boys and girls, the Rockies have officially been conquered. Lewis and Clark, I don't know who all y'all hooligans think you are, but don't all y'all go stealin my thunder.

[Sorry, no concise version available. Here we go.]

And by conquer, I mean we probably went over the slimmest and quite possibly shortest part of the Rockies, in a single day. We had one major climb, about 12 miles from 4,500 ft up to 6,646 ft and the Continental Divide, and a steeper 12 miles back down to about 3,200 ft. But hey, while we were doing that, other people in this world (most likely in the US somewhere) were sitting on their couches getting fat, while still others were starving, and even others were fighting not to freeze to death. Woah, that's some guilt-ridden rhetoric there, Sean, better keep that stuff zipped-up.

Oh wait, those people fighting not to freeze to death were the members of the 2008 Bike and Build Northern United States tour. Funny, I know them. And I was fighting to stave off hunger at every (frequent) opportunity.

Yesterday, we left in two groups at two very distinct times. One group wanted to get through Glacier before the 11-4 bicycle restriction, which was actually only on a very short section of the road toward the other end. They left probably around 6AM, sped past all the amazing mountains and stuff, and got into Whitefish by about 1:30PM. I'm not going to lament their decision, because it was theirs, however I hope they got to at least enjoy the ride and not feel like they had to rush themselves. I, on the other hand, thought it would be a nice take my time through the park. So, along with about two-thirds of the group, slept in until about 6:45 (yes, I said "slept in"), had to take down the tents of the speed-demons, because they were apparently in too big a rush to take them down themselves, and had everything packed in the trailer and ready to go at our usual departure time of 8AM. Oh, and it was cold...like REALLY REALLY COLD. We left our campsite soon after, wearing as many layers as humanly possible, and made our way one mile to a cafe for breakfast. I got a huge pancake (about half the size of the largest one I've had on this trip...details to come in a future entry) , an egg, and some sausage links.

Pleasantly full, we hit the road and immediately ran into strong, gusty winds, which made the already 40-degree morning feel like winter. And it didn't get any better as we climbed. I had my cycling shorts on, with leg warmers (so basically thick tights), and 4 layers on top, including arm warmers, a long-sleeved jersey, and a hooded sweatshirt. I wore the hood underneath my helmet, of course. Others wore street clothes, because all the cycling clothing we had was not going to suffice. We entered the park sometime around 10AM, and had a blustery ride along Lake St. Mary. I really think there were two things keeping us going: first was the fact that if we stopped, we all would freeze. Second, of course, was the distraction (and overwhelmingly so) of the amazing mountain range we were entering into. As I already mention, this range has been carved out by many glaciers in recent millenia, so the terrain is a bit different, and a bit more amazingly unpredictable than other ranges. But we were surrounded on both sides by steep walls of rock, towering probably about four or five thousand feet over our heads, descending straight into this lake. I haven't seen anything this spectacular since Milford Sound in New Zealand, but we were BIKING through this, which made it even more amazing. There were plenty of stops along the way up...an overlook here, a waterfall there, a gorge just a short hike away, enough to make our first 12 miles last about two or three hours. There were still about six miles left until Logan Pass, at which time I decided to book it. And it was worth it. Of course, in those six miles, I still stopped several times, so as not to pass out. I mean, the climb was not as steep as other climbs we've had, but it was loooong. So I would ride about a mile or two, find a pull-out, and stare about 1,000 feet down at the stretch of road I had just conquered, and across the landscape that I was increasingly towering over (though the mountain peaks would remain over my head).

There was a point, about a mile from the top where I could both see my destination and see how far I had come, and I completely freaked out. I just did THAT?! The final stretch seemed to get steeper, but I had so much adrenaline rushing through me, I didn't even notice it. Now I know how some athletes feel during competition: you see the end, you see your potentially stunning accomplishment, and the mere potential pushes you to go faster, to work harder, and to nearly kill yourself for it. So, needless to say, I was exhausted, but thrilled when I made it to the Continental Divide. But of course, as I had just booked it far ahead of the people I had originally been riding with, the sense of victory could not be immediately shared with anyone but the guy in a white SUV who gave me a thumbs up. Others followed behind about 10 minutes or so later, during which time I tried desperately not to freeze, but the adrenaline was rushing enough, and I had just worked myself hard enough, that the real cold had yet to come.

Once all the excitement had worn down, I started to shiver. There was an unheated visitor center at the top, which didn't do much but to block the still nasty wind. It was about 1:15 at this time, and what was supposed to be a triumphant lunch break turned into a fight not to freeze. It was probably in the low 40's at the top, but the wind made it feel at least 10 degrees colder, if not more. So I at a peanut butter sandwich outside (no food allowed inside), huddled up next to an unlit fireplace, then got back on the road....downhill, against the wind. I have never been more cold on this trip than I was going down that hill for about the first 5 miles. The wind eventually died down, the sun came out, and as we descended, it started getting warm. From Logan Pass, we had a downhill that was steeper than the uphill, and a long stretch of road that was under construction (and not paved), so the new brake pads I had just installed were put to good use. So downhill can sometimes be fun, but this downhill was not. It was long, steep, lots of turns, and so impossible to go fast. My hands were gripping the brakes for my life for 12 miles, and hurt so much (the cold didn't help, of course) when attempting to move them from anything other than gripping position. Any big bumps in the road were insanely painful.

At one point, with a huge cliff directly to my left, near arthritic joints, and a dirt road under my feet, a water truck came upon us, spraying water to wet the dirt. This was probably to prevent the dirt from being kicked up, and to keep it well-packed or something. Anyway, he was spraying water across the entire road, and not just a light mist, but a huge, powerful wall. As we came upon these walls, I think most of us saw our lives flash in front of our eyes. I mean, this water was going to blow us over the cliff. The girl in front of me stopped her bike and shuttered as he came by, and about one foot from blasting her, the driver turned off the water, then turned it back on upon passing her. He did the same for another person in front of me, but when my turn came, I was still certain I was going to get blasted over the edge. The water wall got closer, I clenched my handlebars (and my teeth), bracing for impact, the adrenaline rushing yet again, it was inevitable. And again, literally one foot from my front tire, the water stopped and I was saved. We had conquered yet another unanticipated obstacle. The road eventually leveled out, and it was more of a gradual downhill to Lake MacDonald, where we stopped for more lunch, some really good breadsticks and personal pizza. It was 4:00 at this time (perfect timing for the end of the biking restriction). We haven't been in a touristy area in a while, so this day, we were a little surprised at the price of food. $7.95 for a pizza only big enough to satisfy half my appetite? This has been unfamiliar territory, but of course these days, it takes about two or three times the effort to fill my stomach.

Ah, this entry is getting too long. I'm not being very concise. Well, the rest of the way, it was basically rolling hills and more food. About 15 miles after pizza, we left the park (at about 5:30), and had a lunch/early dinner stop. I at half a peanut butter sandwich, and still could not satisfy my stomach. Another 15 miles to Hungry Horse, Montana, where it figures I would still be hungry as a horse. We stopped into this amazing homemade ice cream shop, and tried our taste buds at huckleberry ice cream. Of course, I had to get the largest size (which was huge), and it had to come with half huckleberry and half mint chocolate chip. On this trip, I've jumped at every chance I can get at mint chocolate chip ice cream. Speaking of which, I kind of want some now.

The end of the ride was obnoxious. The roads were busier than they'd ever been since entering Montana, and the shoulder was totally inconsistent. There was one point where the road was very narrow, only two lanes along a river and no shoulder, and literally in an instant, the road widened probably 40 feet and there were 4 lanes, with a turn lane in the middle, and a wide shoulder.

Okay, Sean, let's wrap it up.

I made it to Whitefish at 8:15, and nearly immediately sat down to eat dinner (pasta, fried chicken, potato salad, bread, and really good brownies). Anyone want to count my calories for the day? 8,000? 10,000? The final person made it in around 9PM, just as it was getting too dark to ride. One of the sweeps had to stay back with the van, which broke down immediately upon leaving the lunch stop outside the park. She didn't get to ride the last 25 miles, because she wouldn't have made it before dark, and I think she was a little upset. Actually, really upset. I mean, she just swept on the longest day of the trip, which is difficult enough, and she was the only one who didn't make it the whole way in. I would have been upset.

Speaking of upset, it's a damn good thing we have a day off. We had eleven days without a break, a total of eight weeks away from anything we'd probably call familiar, and we're all inevitably wearing on each other. Interpersonal tensions are building, personality conflicts are manifesting themselves in new and different ways, and people are just getting belligerent and often overbearing. There are moments when I really feel connected to these people, like when we all are sharing the same breathtaking experience of climbing the Rockies, but then there are moments when I just want to throw rocks at everyone, well at specific people. There are several Bike and Builders (I guess they probably know who they are) who really test me in negative ways, try my patience, and push me to the limits of my sanity. These are the people I need a break from, an extended break would be more desirable than just one day, but alas, we all still need to make it to Vancouver.

And for now, at 1:30, I need to put Bike and Build behind me for as much of the rest of the day as I can, and enjoy Whitefish. Woke up around 8:00, walked over to a really nice health club for a shower, then came to this coffee shop, Montana Coffee Traders, had some really good quiche, and started writing this blog. Next, I need lunch, so it's over to the Red Caboose Diner for something good. This town is really great, a little rustic, a bit more haughty, and a lot of outdoorsy...I think my wallet might suffer a little bit before the day is over. Happy coping.

On a final note, I watched TV for the first time today, basically since starting the trip. It was the Olympics, of course, a water polo battle between foes Serbia and Croatia, but I want to speak for a second about the commercials. Specifically, the slew of ridiculous ads I saw from the John McCain campaign. So I've heard about the other opportunities he's taken to attack Barack Obama, like the one made to equate Obama with Brittney Spears. Sounds like a lowball. I haven't followed it much since leaving the real world, but I'm pretty certain this campaign has become unnecessarily nasty. In that spirit, I then have a few words for Mr. McCain, just to vent some of my frustrations. Please sir, why don't you act your age and go retire to Florida...oh wait, you're from Arizona...in any case, I hear they have great assisted living facilities there. Why not give it up and spend the remaining years of your life reconciling what little dignity you have remaining. Thanks.