A Different Kind of Pretty

Two days have now past and we are kicking it in the genuine Metropolitan Hub of the West. Yup. Malta, Montana. Today was the third solid day of riding on nothing but Highway 2 and we are all slowly developing an odd love for this straight, boring, hot, windy, dusty, miserable excuse for a two lane highway. But here we are and in this territory we don't have too many choices for other roads. Luckily, we are in constant awe, be it a bit forced, of this "different kind of pretty" as Kelly claims. At least its flat.

The first of four days of this "different kind of pretty" (?) started out in East Glacier as we made our way over to Shelby. East Glacier was amazing and the view of the mountains was visible for two days worth of riding. Every time we looked over our shoulder we saw the mountains looming in the distance. Plus, we had a sweet backwind and 60 degree sunshine. In an effort to curb Liz's moaning, Kelly proclaimed, "The eastern side of Montana is a different kind of pretty." Sure the land east of East Glacier is flat and barren, but the Meadow Larks are singing in full force, the hill sides growing green, and the cactus flowering. That was four days ago.

The past three days have been hot. Windy. Ugly. And most definitely a "different kind of pretty." Good thing we only have 14 more days of this little slice of heaven to ride.

After departing from Gus, we ultimately landed in Gildford -- a town of 180 people. The local park was maintained by the neighbors and a mail box acted as the donation bin for campers passing through. The sweetest part of it all was the self-proclaimed keeper of the peace; a 70 year-old codger driving around in his ancient Ford half-ton with a rifle barrel resting out the diver side window, the butt resting in his lap. That evening our buddy from MSU made a six hour pilgrimage and met us along the highway into town. We made dinner and chatted into the evening before he turned around a drove all the way back to Bozeman. Luke Shorty, you are the man.

Last night was a blissful evening camping just outside the town pool in Harlem. The bugs were bad, but the city pool was open and filled with a record number of kids. After riding through a 95 degree day, the cool water was sweeter than most things in this world. Caleb and Kelly jumped right in wearing biking shorts, much to the delight and derision of the young Harlemites (We got made fun of!).

Today we have landed in Malta, Montana. For sure the heat is getting on our nerves. Good thing it is only getting hotter... We called it quits at noon after riding for just shy of five hours, into the wind, fifty miles and then read on the bank that it was again 95 degrees. Hott.

Up here in Malta, a mere 60 miles from the 49th parallel, the days are longer than one would expect. It is only completely dark at 10:30 pm and then bright again by 4:45 am. Tomorrow, in an effort to beat the heat, we'll try to leave by 5:30 or 6:00. We'll see how well that one works out...

Sorry for the lack of pictures this time folks, but Liz accidentally sent the camera cable home with Gus. Shmeh. We'll pick it up general delivery in Minot, ND and then we'll be back in the picture posting bidness. Besides, just imagine the most boring stretch ever of a "different kind of pretty" and then take out anything interesting from that image and you'll know what's going on in Northern Montana.

Over and out, and most surely pedaling along,

Kelly, Liz, Caleb and Mark

QED