West. Day 23.
- patti brehler
- Apr 28, 2021
- 4 min read
July 1, 2016
Circle to Jordan, Montana
Slow getting up and going. Yesterday I wanted to ride home; today, drained legs squawked “the train!” Andy’s voice in my ear brought a smile that cracked. My lower lip was a massive scab. Maybe that was good, maybe I was healing.
Abruptly, the all-night wind stopped and it turned eerily quiet. Rumbling from the north prompted me to check the weather app. Radar showed a storm moving away, with a warning: the next five days might bring quick and severe thunderstorms, sometimes with hail. Goodbye to good luck with the weather.
Original Facebook post:
POSTCARD FROM THE ROAD July 1, 2016
The wind is a trickster. It was still from the east, but no longer did I feel a helping hand on my back coaxing me up the hills. It felt like no wind at all.
I eagerly rolled into the rest stop 30 miles out of Circle, MT, an oasis in a vast other-worldly landscape. I needed rest, cold water, and food.
Then, this man strolled up wearing an Adventure Cycling t-shirt. “Hello fellow cyclist,” he said.
Michael rode Bikecentennial ’76 too, east to west, but stopped in Carbondale, IL. He wasn’t done, so in ’78 he returned to Carbondale and finished his trans-continental ride to the west coast. He’s done lots of touring over the last 40 years and just completed a goal of riding his bike in all 50 states – he was driving home to PA after pedaling in the state of Washington.
Instant comrades, we shared stories and reminisced about days gone by riding in cut-off blue jeans, no helmets, and Converse All-Star tennis shoes.
I didn’t mind at all that my break stretched into two hours.
Talking with Michael gave me energy to continue. I “rolled” the smaller hills between steeper ones. I wished I was on the tandem with Lou—we sure could stomp the pedals. Rolling a hill meant getting over it in the big chainring without downshifting. Today I called it a roll if I stayed out of the granny gear.
Without speaking a word, Lou and I knew just when to synch our bodies into a stand for maximum power. I recalled spending miles and miles on a training ride trying to figure out what we did together without thinking.
It was all feel. No matter what Lou was looking at, or daydreaming or chatting about, she felt my body coil against the bike just as my right pedal reached its apex. At that precise moment, we rose as one, shifting weight onto our right pedals, then shifting weight to our left, pulling against our handlebars. Sometimes a quick shift into a slightly harder gear first gave notice, but she never moved until she felt my coil.
Our tight coordination amazed me. We were so in synch I swore we had conversations without speaking out loud. On a ride somewhere in Illinois, I think, cruising through rolling farmlands in a double paceline, Lou and I were chatting it up as usual; everyone else was concentrating on riding. Until I spoke.
The other rides looked over at us, startled. My comment had no context. To them, it came out of the blue. But Lou and I had been talking for quite a while. Just not out loud.
Bunny visited again. Met him in the alley walking to the laundromat (that ended up a bust—no change machines or soap dispensers). Met him again on the way back.
Another excerpt from my book, Facing Sunset:
I turn and there’s Bunny. Facing away, he sits on his white puff of
a tail, mottled gray fur blending with the gravel of the hospital parking
lot. Evening sun glows pink through his ears. His dark eye, circled in
white, keeps watch. He suffers me to approach, close enough that I see
his whiskers shiver with every nose twitch.
“Hey there Bunny, my tent is this way, come on over!”
Back at camp, I sit on the picnic table to call Andy. Bunny hops over to hang while we talk.
From my B’76 journal:
7/1/76
Well – the first day of July – unbelievable how fast time flies. Sometimes I wish it would fly faster so I could go home and tell everyone everything and see my pics – and then at other times, I don’t want this time to end at all. Which brings me to Mike. He wants to quit at Fairplay because of his knees – I really would hate to see him leave – and it’s weird too because today I was thinking about the end of the trip and him going back to CA. Strange –
Anyway – we’re in Colorado now – I wasn’t too impressed at first but now it’s prettier – I still think Idaho was more beautiful though.
Got a letter from Cathy – weird that Mom didn’t write to tell me how my film came out. Guess I’ll have to call her to find out.
We’re staying in a super Bike-Inn tonight – it’s a boarding house for skiers – we get rooms and home-cooked meals. GREAT. My stomach feels like it’s going to burst!
I bought new tires for my bike and new water bottles.
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