Bleh! - still, breakfast was soon on and dispatched, I'd retrieved my stuff from the room and placed it ready for pickup, and browsing through the multitude of dog-showing books (hmmm, I thought this was a ski lodge?) passed the time.
Hanging around outside, a familiar silver van piled with bikes made its way around the curve of the mountain road toward me - Bicycle Adventures obviously got a good deal on a multitude of these things. Arriving at the entrance, a guide identifying himself as Doug greeted me. After a quick chat, I asked him if he knew Marty (our guide on Tour 1) to which he replied yes. Passing on a message for Marty, I informed Doug he sucked. Doug looked at me and informed me that he didn't know Marty all that well, but Marty did know another guide on this tour, Brandon, very well and he suspected I was meant to tell Brandon he sucked! Bluffing it, I told Doug that he likely sucked anyway, to which he responded with a laugh and a vicious kick to my groin. Well, he did laugh, and from there on in, he and I got on excellently: our Polar Bear Club escapade and his towing me around Alberta for a day will be detailed later. Suffice to say, Doug was a total character and a great guy.
As Doug was sticking my stuff into the van and my bike on top, several people wandered out from Kandahar, two of them wheeling a tandem. They turned out to be Steve and Amy, and their son Jacob, all taking the tour. They'd also stayed the night at the Lodge, but we hadn't seen each other. We made our introductions and they appeared to be well informed about me "the Australian". They asked me where my other head was, to which I replied like all humans I know, Australians only had one! (I jest). I admired their tandem and admired even more the fact they planned to scale mountains with it (which they did, and admirably too).
Piled into the van for the trip to Grouse Mountain Lodge, our official tour start point and the place where the majority of the group were staying. On the way I got the chilling news - Jacob, the teenage son, was to be my roomate. The horror! After my being spoilt on the first tour with my own rooms, the prospect of sharing filled me with dread, and with a teenager what's more! There was no god! As it turned out, Jacob turned out to be a great person, friendly, bright, fun and always eager to tell you you sucked! Steve and Amy were great ppl and excellent parents. I'm sure Amy feared for her son's sanity, being stuck with an Aussie, but I'm sure I put her fears to rest over the tour: I definitely only tweaked his sanity a little!
The entire group coming together at Grouse Mountain Lodge was the usual hectic process of name revealing and forgetting, lots of new faces (it was an 18 person tour), bikes going everywhere, and general mayhem. Alisa, our third and female guide, a real sweety (and a honey - grrrr), must have got asked the same questions about a million times: after witnessing her deal with an oft-repeated one, I cruelly asked it again seconds later just to see the reaction. Her mouth smiled but her eyes glistened with tears of frustration, followed by a flicker of satisfaction as she contemplated revenge further down the track! I also got to meet Brandon and finally was able to tell the correct guide 'you suck!'. Brandon, another great character, appeared unphased - I'm not sure what Marty is in for!
What seemed like eons later, following briefings, ride notes, tour intros etc etc, we were finally liberated and sent on our way for the mornings 34km ride thru' Whitefish central and Northern Montana country to Blankenship Bridge. Once again, I resolved to foresake the handlebar bags and displayed tour notes and rely on my inate powerful sense of direction. At least here it was pretty difficult to get lost - after following a pack of people thru' the winding town route, it was basically one road to the bridge: the only two turns I managed to negotiate in the right direction.
My first tour's cycling was paying dividends: along the rolling roads thru' picturesque and mostly flat farmland and forest I was breezing along, and feeling at one with the bike - a feeling that stayed with me almost the entire trip aside from one diabolical session I will recount later. It was a great day - blue sky, crisp but warming, and perfect for riding. Lovely! I don't recall whom I met/passed on the road very well during this ride - I just remember feeling overwhelmingly glad to be riding right there and right then.
Almost too soon, Blankenship Bridge appeared. Off to its left was our first lunch stop of the tour, a nice little drive-off area overlooking the river. Also, it had a five star toilet - a bonus we would later come to appreciate as most outside conveniences were the classic drop-dunnies: large pits in the ground. The more stars the better, the less look out! Several of these facilities we encountered on tour were real retch inducing!
Arriving before the van, I and several others took the opportunity to wander around taking photos. Jabe, a lean fit looking guy around my age and as I later found out, a superb rider, clambered up to the bridge whilst his partner Julie and I, also an excellent rider and a lovely lady, had a small chat. I later came to really admire and appreciate these two ppl - real gems. I also loved Jabe's bike, a classic older Merlin (which instantly means something to anyone who appreciates bikes).
Then I harnessed my totally lame skills and proceeded to photograph everything around the general area, but in a way which made it look entirely identical and of no intrinsic eyeball value! It's a skill! Below is one of my less inept captures:
I then wandered down over the steepish bank to the water's edge to test out the theory of whether water in rivers originating from snow covered peaks was cold. Strangely enough - it was! However I also found out that no matter how cold, it always felt great on feet liberated from cycle shoes trapped on pedals for hours!
Soon after the van arrived, with food and some unwanted info. One of the group (Ken, a dad touring with his two grown sons Kevin and Scott) had been involved in a bingle, and had done a bit of a face-plant on the road. A short doctors visit and a day later, with some facial scrapes and some dental re-arrangement, Ken hit the tour again and hit the bikes soon after. Wow - whay a guy! He and his sons went on to thoroughly enjoy the rest of the trip, and were a great addition to the party. I was struck particularly at the obvious respect and friendship these three had for each other - a real family group.
Lunch was a replica of those on tour 1; delicious, plentiful and allowing the personal decision of whether to dine on all that is good for you or pig out on masses of 'naughty' food. I'd learned in the first tour that a balance was best, but what I needed to come to realise was that on these tours covering more kms per day, lunch intake shouldn't be excessive i.e. enough to immediately send you into a deep trance.
Post-lunch, we took a trance-deepening van trip to the start of our next ride of the day (the road after the bridge was unpaved for some distance hence the need for vanning). The drive took us back to paved road, and rolling hilly terrain, past blue lakes and dense forests. Which we kept passing. Why the hell weren't we riding these beautiful roads? I was just about to raise this point when all became clear: we stopped, bundled out, and were told we were to ride back along these same roads - excellent! 34kms back to our digs for the night, Lake McDonald Lodge via Agpar on Lake McDonald.
As ppl headed off, I had to answer the call of nature and thus visited the 'Green Door'. Scooting down an embankment to the privacy of bushy cover, I kept scooting and ended up embedded in said bush, in which prickly plants therein proceeded to ravage me. Ow! Luckily this occurred prior to actually 'unpacking'. I deemed privacy to be less of a concern from there on.
The ride back to Agpar was once again a joy - floating above the tarmac at speed and taking in the sites was soothing mentally and physically and the kms flew by. The road dipped and climbed through the forest - nothing too strenuous - and the warm air and sun added to the joy.
Along the way I saw a deer and, even tho' I had seen approximately 5 thousand of them by this stage, I had to stop and take a pic. Carefully stalking nearer down the slight bank I got to within about 3 meters of the unsuspecting creature. The deer was in a conspiracy with nature - as I raised my camera I fell flat on my arse for the second time that day! Hastily rising, I looked around and noted with joy that my drunken-guy fall had gone unnoticed with none of my fellow riders except Jabe in sight, and he'd obviously seen so many deer his visual system merely ignored them and he was looking the other way. Even the deer didn't move a millimeter or even raise it's head! Clearly ppl trying to photograph it fell flat on their arses all the time.
Getting back into the groove, I grooved all the way back to Agpar, our turning-off point, and kept grooving. Missed another turn! It became clear that, at least in this part of Montana and later Canada, road directions didn't generally forewarn you - if a turn sign was there it meant turn then. Back in Australia, drivers are so dumb that we must be told that we will soon be turning, and a pre-turn warning sign warns us about the turn sign coming up. Here you were assumed to be capable.
Arriving at Agpar minutes later (it was a small detour past for me) we slowly congregated as ppl came in from the ride, awaiting final instructions about the last few kms to our place for the night, Lake McDonald Lodge. I took more crappy photos of the lake - well it's just a big lot of water really! Pic below attests to this (Jabe is in there for scale - he is small, it is large):
In the background distance of the pic lurks the land of the Going-to-the-Sun Rd and the pass we must scale tomorrow.
The reason for our congregating became clear - we had to cross a checkpoint into Glacier Park en masse (it costs but it's pre-paid by BA). Having been allowed thru' we continued on the short cycle to Lake McDonald Lodge, dinner, and our rooms for the night.
I don't recall a whole lot about the lodge, but the accommodation was separate little shacks, two units to a shack, lined up and facing, thru' trees, the Lake shore. For some reason it reminded me of the school holiday camp in the episode of the Simpsons, Camp Krusty? Nice enough tho', and there were no occupant riots. After 'squaring things away' (the military theme seems apt) Jacob and I wandered down to the rocky shore of the lake and sat down, me dipping my toes in the somewhat chilly water. Tour guide Brandon soon appeared and talk turned to the Polar Bear Club, the mythical Druid-like ensemble that one could join if one plunged into various bodies of icy water each day (bar one - a rest day) of the tour. So, he and I plunged in. Once in, it was actually very nice - staying close to shore however was preferable as there was a significant temperature gradient which quickly approached frozen at greater depths. Had a nice 15 min swim and then headed back to the cabin for a shower and prep for the evening meal.
Which I am sure was lovely but I don't remember a thing about it! *shrug*. Perhaps the stinging plants I'd encountered earlier had rendered me mindless? And so...
Day 2 approaches: 34kms of the Going-to-the-Sun Rd climb, including 19.5km at 6% gradient, 3840ft of climbing vs my 92kg, plus bike, and a nowhere near low enough gear of 39/23: who will win?
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