West. Day 31.
- patti brehler
- May 6, 2021
- 4 min read
July 9, 2016
Great Falls to Simms, Montana
The night brought rain, but the seam sealing I did back in Wisconsin kept me dry. Small pleasures.
In the morning, I almost tripped over Bunny when I came back from the shower room. He didn't move from his comfy spot on the grass, just inside the park's tent area. I smiled, thinking of my friend Debbie's suggestion to find a bunny talisman as a souvenir. I never found one, but afterward, my artist friend Tammy from the UP sent me a drawing of hers, framed and all.
All touring cyclists have morning routines. Mine were rituals.
Wake up, dress, pack sleeping bag and pad, stuff clothes into Ziplock bags and into my "dresser" pannier, empty tent, check rims, tires, and air, visually inspect bolts, physically check fairing bolts, lube chain if necessary (that morning it was after the rain), start breakfast.
If the tent was dry, take it down before eating, otherwise after. Clean up and pack "kitchen" pannier, secure panniers to the rack. Secure tent on longwise, sleeping bag on top, attach pad to seat rail. Strap food bag on top of everything.
Lather with sunblock and bug spray. Secure front bag and map holder to the handlebar. Clip glasses case to the left shift housing and tuck it against the fairing. Fill water bottles. FaceTime Mom. Zero out cycle computer as I mounted to leave.
The German couple set about their routine: she stuffed one bag into another bag her husband held; they loaded front and rear panniers and strapped what looked like suitcases on their rear racks; he aired tires with a full-sized pump and hung it off the back of his bike.
On their way out of the park, the woman tossed a nylon bag into the dumpster. "Zipper broke," she said. "We got this tent in 2001, it went through the other tours with us." She sobbed and rubbed her eyes with her fist. "It's like part of the family. We got a new tent at Walmart here in Great Falls. We'll see." She shook her head, clearly not impressed with its quality. Last night they draped a large tarp over the "new" tent.
A mostly level interstate access road out of Great Falls treated me gently with only a moderate headwind. I lifted my fingers to return a hearty wave from a rider cruising east on a Tour Easy recumbent like mine (only not loaded down).
At a turn over the highway, two bikes leaned against a telephone pole in front of a Conoco station. Like a connect-the-dots puzzle, my eyes followed a colorful, lycra-clad cyclist who walked stiff-legged toward a parked RV surrounded by other riders and their bicycles. Maybe, or maybe not, it was the food table that lured me; I swung over to greet them. The group of 20 were riding with a touring company from Seattle to Washington D.C.
"My wife and I have been running tours for 28 years," owner Jim said. "Help yourself to a sandwich."
Yippee! I snatched a turkey and cheese sandwich. "Thanks. How did you get into the touring business?"
"My wife likes to ride. If I wanted to see her I needed to ride too," he said. We shared a laugh. Andy suggested we buy the bike store because he knew of my love for bikes. I resisted because I suspected, rightly so, that my riding would be seriously curtailed. Ah, well, live and learn. We tried buying a bicycle touring company to add to the business, but the sale didn't work out. I took to providing technical support on big organized Michigan tours instead.
The group left Seattle on June 20 and planned to arrive in D.C. by August 28 or 29. We traded stories and business cards. One fellow rode B'76 too. A woman from D.C. kept a blog, like so many I've met. When another rider read my Leader Dog puppy counselor card he said, "My wife raise 18 puppies for service organizations!"
Synchronicity.
Donned in DALMAC (Dick Allen Lansing to Mackinaw) jerseys, a couple from Lansing, Michigan were members of the Tri-County Bicycle Association, the club that sponsors the popular Labor Day weekend tour. I wrenched on DALMAC for many years.
"I rode it the first time in 2009 and every year since," the woman said. She whispered, "All these other riders are older than you. The oldest is 78."
"You'll finish this ride just in time for DALMAC," I said.
"Not this year!" she said.
Did I sense she was not having a great ride? "Try to enjoy," I said as they mounted up.
"I have been." And rode off.
Ah, well, Bunny, assumptions again. I got paid back with a kick-up of wind.
My original Facebook post:
POSTCARD FROM THE ROAD July 9, 2016
"Hello!" a man's voice said. I was busted.
The place to camp as indicated on my ACA map (behind the Curtiss Service Center in Simms, MT) didn't work out and the couple running the place suggested I head on to Augusta or the Simms city park. I wasn't up to fighting headwinds for another 20-something miles, so I found the park. Shady, with green grass and a porta-potty. It would do.
I soon found out why the grass was so green - the sprinklers came on just as I was setting up my tent. I hustled everything to dry land at the high school across the street. A couple of local residents happened by and I asked if anyone would mind me setting up my tent by the school. They said no one would care.
There I was, resting in my tent tucked away between two buildings (on not-so-green grass) when I got caught.
I poked my head out and returned a greeting. "I'm Dave, the school superintendent," the man said, reaching out for a handshake.
Before I could get my whole story out, Dave offered me a shower and a way to get into the building if tonight's storm got crazy.
"I'm an honest person; you look like an honest person," he said. "You're not going to steal anything."
"Wouldn't want to carry anything more on my bike," I said.
Angels come in many guises. Tonight it was Dave Marzolf, superintendent of Sun River Valley Schools. Anything I needed (Verizon hotspot!), he would make it so.
Believe in people, people!
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