Big Sky Country

I enjoyed a rest day in Missoula. I picked up new tubes after my flats in Idaho and I also found a good bookstore, recently having finished Master and Commander, I picked up the second book in Patrick O'Brian's Aubrey Maturin Series, Post Captain.

I also stopped by Adventure Cycling's offices in Missoula (they make the excellent cycling maps that I'm using). They have a wall of shame, photos of all of the bicyclists who stopped in their offices during various tours. They were telling me stories of various riders, including describing one particular rider as a bit of a "nut-cake." I corrected him, pointing out that anyone cycling across the country had a few nuts loose: Anyway, my picture is now up on the wall with the rest of the loons.

While at Adventure Cycling's offices, I picked up a few of their Northern Tier maps. Given how much time I spent going up the California coast, I'm a little behind schedule, and I may cut across North Dakota, Minnesota, and into Wisconsin, bypassing the rest of the Lewis and Clark route. This has the disadvantage that I won't be able to ride the route taken by my great grandfather, but it will probably get me home a week or two earlier. I can save that Mount Carmel, IL to Chicago route for another day.

At Adventure Cycling, I met Joseph, who is riding across the country with his adorable, chocolate-brown lab puppy (going with the dog theme, see picture of Meriwether Lewis' dog, Seaman, to the right ... Seaman made the entire round trip with Lewis and Clark). Joseph has been towing a trailer behind his bike, which houses the puppy. While I was envious of his riding partner (as many of you know, Rach and I are getting a dog when I return to New York), I had to believe that the hours on the hot roads, bouncing in the trailer, might be less than enjoyable for the puppy. Having said that, he looked happy, healthy, and well taken care of.

After my rest day (including an evening of thunderstorms that knocked out electricity for much of the town and the first rain they've seen "for months"), I rode from Missoula, Montana, to Ovando. Ovando is a charming town in the middle of nowhere, and it's tiny, sporting only a B&B, general store, and a restaurant. While I was cycling in the sun, just north of me I could see the ominous storms that hit Missoula the night before, and I could see the lines of heavy rain streaming from the dark clouds. While the storms never hit me, it was a pleasure to take shelter in a charming little town.