West. Day 33.

July 11, 2016

Augusta to Lincoln, Montana

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Raindrops spanked my tent before light. I dived deeper into my sleeping bag. I've never minded riding in the rain, in fact, I call myself a "mudder." Rain cleans the air of pollen and makes it easier for me to breathe. The ride of my life with Dad at the Michigan National 24-Hour Challenge was in 16 hours of rain.

But I hate starting out in rain. I was prepared to wait it out. I slept. I read. I surfed the net. I called Andy--we chatted about his progress on Gus's fence and the visit by his son, Chris, who drove over from Green Bay, Wisconsin.

How I love that man.

Andy in our "patch" on June 9, the morning he drove me over the Mighty Mac.

Part of my original Facebook post on that rainy morning:

POSTCARD FROM THE ROAD. July 11, 2016

By nine or so the dripping stopped; it was time to move.

"Hello!" A man's voice again, greeting me from outside my tent. I crawled out to meet JP, who offered me a ziplock bag full of cherries. A big lick on my nose from his dog was a bonus.

JP and his wife Jane are living in the RV park in Augusta until their house is built on property across the mountains. "Living the dream," JP said.

Turns out JP grew up in Clare, MI and was in the same class as me when we lived there for a year and a half! Neither of us remembered the other, but we knew some of the same people and we're definitely classmates.

Hot coffee, a nutty, banana-filled bowl of cereal, and some deep conversation in their warm RV gave my tent time to dry before I finally hit the road at eleven.

What are the chances?

Jane and Joe in Augusta, Montana. So grateful to meet you!

From Augusta, US 287 angled slightly southeast. A west-northwest wind helped me average 14.2 mph for the first 18 miles.

And then I turned southwest. Headwind. Three good climbs, and then, Rogers Pass. Twenty-six hundred steps pushing. There were times I could barely make headway against the wind. I longed for an oxen yoke to lean into and pull my load instead.

As the road switchbacked up to the Continental Divide, slopes closed in on both sides. Tall pines soared, the now partly cloudy sky was smaller. I was leaving the prairie. Finally.

Up. Up. Up. The road was a narrow ribbon perched on the mountainside, the tops of trees were below as well as above. The side of the mountain on my right turned craggy and rose sharply where road builders blasted a path. Would my helmet protect me from falling rock?

Rogers Pass selfie. I made it!

And now the reward!