Hello, everyone! Thank you for joining me on this thrilling cross-country adventure fueled by "easy revolutions." Ha, ha.
So! Today is the 3rd day of the bike trip for me (something like day 11 or 12 for Ben) and I'm sitting in the public library in Helena, Montana. Which means, for those of you without a super savvy sense of the Montana map, we've already biked something like 140 miles, and we just made it over the Continental Divide.
This morning found Ben and I waking up in our super sneaky "stealth camping" spot...some random field, definitely owned by somebody, where we waded through hip-high marshy grassland until we found a small grove of bushes (and thistles) to make camp in. This morning we woke up, biked a few miles to the impossibly quaint village of Avon, Montana, where we ate our first diner meal of the trip: omelettes, biscuits and gravy, eggs, sausage, all washed down with an everflowing mug of diner coffee.
As we started to gain elevation a few miles out of Avon, Ben announced cheerfully that we were in for "the ol' up and over." And that's just what we did. As the temperatures climbed through the 90s, we climbed a few thousand feet on a skinny highway shoulder. Ben let me set the pace (seeing as how I'm not quite the seasoned ciclist he is) and I definitely elected to take a few breaks on the way up. But we made it! The Continental Divide proved to be fairly disappointing. We biked up a dirt road that advertised a "scenic viewpoint." We managed to see a bit of the dry rolling mountains all around through the wildfire-infused haze, and got a bored looking motorciclist to take our picture. Then we proceeded to head downhill for 6 miles plus a few more into the lovely city of Helena, Montana.
I only have a few more minutes on this public computer, so let me share a few observations with you. The trip so far has been wonderful. It's Day 3 for the adventure duo, and we're still getting along. We joked the first night about how it was like we were moving into together...except instead of an apartment we have a tiny 2 person tent (plus all of the American countryside) and instead of jobs all we have to do is bike all day. The scenery is outstanding. Montana is very dry right now, and the only lush green we see is a sure indicator that someone is sacrificing a significant portion of water on their manicured lawn. There's lots of fields of hay, cows, and some horses. The cows all seem to be the most curious about us, looking up sharply all in unison and giving us a good long stare until we bike past. The truckers seem to be our most kindred spirits so far (for whatever reason), giving us a good solid wave of a hanky, wink and a nod as we pass each other on the highway. People have for the most part been incredibly sweet. Several people have told me to "call our mothers frequently" and "be safe out there, pretty girl." The asphalt is littered with broken glass and butterfly wings. And I don't know that I've ever been so sore in my life.
I was anticipating the sore legs, but what nobody told me about was that my body would have to completely readjust to the bizarre position of bike riding before I felt normal again. My feet go numb about 15 minutes after every break. My hands are pretty consistently numb as well. I have definitely located my Sitz bones, as they are throbbing nobs located somewhere within my glutimus maximus (I have so much padding that doesn't seem to do me a shred of good!). But still, I'm trying not to complain. It's just too good. I've decided that I'll give it a week, and any weird pains that still exist I'll investigate further.
Well, I'm out of time. Here's to some more easy revolutions, everyone.
So! Today is the 3rd day of the bike trip for me (something like day 11 or 12 for Ben) and I'm sitting in the public library in Helena, Montana. Which means, for those of you without a super savvy sense of the Montana map, we've already biked something like 140 miles, and we just made it over the Continental Divide.
This morning found Ben and I waking up in our super sneaky "stealth camping" spot...some random field, definitely owned by somebody, where we waded through hip-high marshy grassland until we found a small grove of bushes (and thistles) to make camp in. This morning we woke up, biked a few miles to the impossibly quaint village of Avon, Montana, where we ate our first diner meal of the trip: omelettes, biscuits and gravy, eggs, sausage, all washed down with an everflowing mug of diner coffee.
As we started to gain elevation a few miles out of Avon, Ben announced cheerfully that we were in for "the ol' up and over." And that's just what we did. As the temperatures climbed through the 90s, we climbed a few thousand feet on a skinny highway shoulder. Ben let me set the pace (seeing as how I'm not quite the seasoned ciclist he is) and I definitely elected to take a few breaks on the way up. But we made it! The Continental Divide proved to be fairly disappointing. We biked up a dirt road that advertised a "scenic viewpoint." We managed to see a bit of the dry rolling mountains all around through the wildfire-infused haze, and got a bored looking motorciclist to take our picture. Then we proceeded to head downhill for 6 miles plus a few more into the lovely city of Helena, Montana.
I only have a few more minutes on this public computer, so let me share a few observations with you. The trip so far has been wonderful. It's Day 3 for the adventure duo, and we're still getting along. We joked the first night about how it was like we were moving into together...except instead of an apartment we have a tiny 2 person tent (plus all of the American countryside) and instead of jobs all we have to do is bike all day. The scenery is outstanding. Montana is very dry right now, and the only lush green we see is a sure indicator that someone is sacrificing a significant portion of water on their manicured lawn. There's lots of fields of hay, cows, and some horses. The cows all seem to be the most curious about us, looking up sharply all in unison and giving us a good long stare until we bike past. The truckers seem to be our most kindred spirits so far (for whatever reason), giving us a good solid wave of a hanky, wink and a nod as we pass each other on the highway. People have for the most part been incredibly sweet. Several people have told me to "call our mothers frequently" and "be safe out there, pretty girl." The asphalt is littered with broken glass and butterfly wings. And I don't know that I've ever been so sore in my life.
I was anticipating the sore legs, but what nobody told me about was that my body would have to completely readjust to the bizarre position of bike riding before I felt normal again. My feet go numb about 15 minutes after every break. My hands are pretty consistently numb as well. I have definitely located my Sitz bones, as they are throbbing nobs located somewhere within my glutimus maximus (I have so much padding that doesn't seem to do me a shred of good!). But still, I'm trying not to complain. It's just too good. I've decided that I'll give it a week, and any weird pains that still exist I'll investigate further.
Well, I'm out of time. Here's to some more easy revolutions, everyone.
Yes! Call your mother, frequently! So wonderful to hear from you!
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