Jim Warner's Big Glacier Ride

Full Circle and Thanks_Day 7

2008-07-31T13:58:00.000-07:00

We arose, had our breakfast, chatted over coffee about what a good ride this had been and what a good crew of riders and staff we had been blessed with and how each of us was glad to have helped out the ‘Lung’ as we came to refer to the American Lung Association. There was a small unspoken sadness that our adventure was coming to an end, as usually happens on these events; especially when they are as enjoyable as ours has been with the closeness that we had established. There were only 15 of us, riders and crew in total. Our route for the day had us riding Montana Highway 2 straight back to Whitefish with a single detour to the Hungry Horse Reservoir. As we got underway we rode a few miles to the turn to the reservoir; spread out as usual. I had been to the reservoir before on a previous trip and had no interest in riding the steep hill to see it again so I continued straight on to Whitefish with a couple of stops thrown in along the way.

The speed demons, Lance and Ryan still caught up to and passed me before I got back to Whitefish. The route is along a busy local highway; no longer a scenic country ride. It was back to paying attention to the rumble strip, the gravel and glass on the shoulder and the sound of on coming trucks. I arrived at our destination in Whitefish, a local gym, checked in and then rode to the Glacier Cyclery where I dropped off my bike to be packed and shipped. The Glacier Cyclery is a great locally owned bike shop and I highly recommend them: knowledgeable, accommodating, good service and friendly. That task completed, I walked back to the Whitefish middle school and pickup my other two wheel machine and motored back to the gym. Lance, Ryan and I had just settled into watching TV in the locker room's small lounge when the gear truck arrived with our bags. Sharon found us and we had a small closing ceremony when everyone arrived at the gym, a few minutes later.

First Sharon and Nick thanked us all for our participation and service to the ‘Lung’; followed by presentation of glass Glacier National Park tumblers to everyone. Tony Sleva received a special award for his heroism and Lance and Ryan each got the “Lost Boys” award for their wayward journey after we left Waterton Lakes Park; smiles and laughs abounded. We finished with a ceremonial meal of Huckleberry pie and then we got a change of clothes and bath kits for our luggage and showered up and then repacked the truck and returned to the Whitefish Middle School where we did the final off load of truck.

I loaded my gear on to my moto and rode over to the Bulldog Saloon where I had lunch with the Williamson. The Bulldog Saloon is one part sports bar with multiple TVs showing various sporting events, one part museum with old photographs of area schools championship sports teams, and one part Old West collection of railroad lore and memorabilia. Oh yeah, they had a lot of girlie pictures in the men’s john, very NC-17. Burgers were the house specialty and we all ordered one and we shared a pitcher of ‘Moose Drool’ beer, a local favorite and not a bad amber brew to boot. Obviously a sophisticated establishment...cheers!
So there you have it: The good, the bad and the ulgy of The Big Ride Glacier, 2008. I hope you enjoyed being my travel companion as much I enjoyed sharing the the story.

I want to thank all 58 of my friends and family members who pledged their donations to the American Lung Association of Washington, in my name or who made personal donations to offset the expenses involved in participation. Big or small, your donations and gifts are helping us all to better heart and lung health. Thank you very much for your generosity and for all of the personal support that was offered to me throughout this endeavor.

With Deep Gratitude,

Jim Warner

PS: If you are interested in seeing more pictures please visit Tony Sleva's photo gallery site; he has some great photos and funny captions: http://picasaweb.google.com/tsleva/BigRideGlacier2008 .

Finding a Hero While Going To The Sun_Day 6

2008-07-31T09:25:00.000-07:00

I was one of the first to awaken on this next to last day of the Big Ride Glacier. It was the coldest morning of the ride and icy frost was on the ground and on my gear bag left outside my tent overnight. I rose in the darkness with nary a faint glimmer of sunlight on the Eastern horizon and the moon only now setting over the mountains in the near distance. It was a breath taking beginning for what was to be a day of great beauty, good riding and high drama as a life was nearly lost and a rider injured.

The water for the coffee was on the boil before fist light and I took the unusual preparation of taking a morning shower before riding to ensure I would be limber and ready to ride at a brisk pace right from the start. Today we would ride the famous “Going-To-The-Sun-Road”.

For those of you who have been to Glacier you know how magnificent the landscape is on this road and how steep it is in places. For those of you who have not, it is a road with views on par with the drive in to Yosemite Valley. The most impressive part of the road itself is the section called the “Garden Wall.” Imagine you wanted to drive out of Yosemite and the only way you could do it would be to blast a pathway diagonally across the face of El Capitan. The Garden Wall is not so high as El Cap but road travels across an open rock face for several miles and the overall size of the geographic feature is much larger than El Capitan. The Going-To-The-Sun-Road (GTTSR), named after one of the peaks close to Logan Pass, was the section that I had been looking forward to. It was the “Hollywood” part of our ride: A breath taking vista around every corner, a challenge worth preparing for and a genuine sense of reaching out and ‘touching creation’ the whole way.

Today would be a demanding day: We had to ride a thirteen mile approach to a 7 mile long, 6% grade to attain a 2,125’ elevation gain to summit Logan Pass. Followed quickly by a miles long descent down the steep, narrow and heavily trafficked Garden Wall section and then ride another15 miles, supposedly all before 11:00 AM. So an early rise was essential. The part that did not make sense was that time for departure was slated for 7 AM. No one in our group except Lance and Ryan had a hope for making that distance in the time allotted. The time constraint came from a Glacier NP rule that no bicycles were allowed on the GTTSR along McDonald Lake from 11AM to 4PM, as this was the prime time for RVs to travel along the narrow, winding road and the Park Service had learned that keeping bicycles off the road in that time slot avoided accidents.

After breakfast and a couple of cups of my extra strong French Roast coffee my engine was running and I was the second person out of the gate. It was clear, cold and crisp with the sun’s early morning light making everything brilliantly colored to the eye. I barely felt the cool as I rode across the St. Mary’s River on to the GTTSR.

The Rider's Eye Point of View

A few pictures for my album and a few hoots of excitement for good measure and I was on my way. We all quickly fell into our usual order, except for me. As I had expected by the end of the ride my fitness and hill climbing in particular had improved. My legs which had been sore and achy had now strengthened and I no longer was waddling from stiffness as I had been in the early part of the ride. (Back at Waterton Park I could have been mistaken for a giant penguin in bad light) Now I was riding in the front third of the pack as we rode along St. Mary Lake. Everyone was snapping pictures as the lake was sheet glass and the reflections were amazing.

St. Mary Lake (photo courtesy Google)
With our brisk pace our group quickly reached Rising Sun Campground and the road started to steepen some. One last overlook of the lake, a few more pictures and then I set about the business of trying to complete this assigned ride in the time allotted. At mile 13 we had a water stop and I was feeling good, riding well, keeping up with the middle of the group. It was here that the road took on the grade that it would keep for the rest of the way to Logan Pass, abut 6% and with the last 2-3 miles steeping further to about 8%. At this point I did fall back and rode the remainder of the ascent by myself for the most part. I passed by Jackson Glacier, Siyeh Bend with its Glacier melt water pouring off Siyeh Peak. Siyeh Bend was the last big Switch back before the final pull of two miles or so up to Logan Pass. Here is a link to view a map of the day's ride, start to finish.
http://home.nps.gov/applications/glac/roadstatus/roadstatus.cfm

The snow capped peaks and glaciers, some so pointed that the landscape suddenly reminded me of watching “When The Grinch Stole Christmas” as a kid with its exaggerated mountain peaks that were pointed enough to pop a balloon. At And then I was there…the visitor’s center to my left, people wandering all over and the sign: Logan Pass, Continental Divide, 6646 Feet - 2025 meters. I joined my ride colleagues in having my picture taken in front of the sign for prosperity.

Logan Pass Local, Right (Tony Sleva)

After a quick check in with Sharon, who was parked at the visitor's center to let her know that I had summitted, I started my descent down the Garden Wall. The ride from Logan Pass to Lake McDonald was almost twenty one miles and the Garden Wall portion was easily half of it. The road was built as a WPA project during Depression. Completed in 1933, the Going-To-The-Sun-Road had just recently celebrated its 75 years. The road is narrow as the cars of the day were much smaller. The ‘guard rail’ is a two foot high stone barrier on the cliff side and the road has diagonal drains crossing it about every 500’. A close look at the pictures will detail that the Garden Wall is what is know as in German a Are'te or rock spine, caused when to paralellel glacier carve the rock on either side of a high ridge, leaving the knife like edge which can be seen at the peak on the Garden Walls Ridge line; WPA stone work, foreground, R.

Two Views of The Garden Wall (Tony Sleva, L; Google, R)

As I started down, the cooler air of the valley combined with the wind chill very quickly made me cold so I stopped put on my wind breaker. Being as big as I am I very quickly accelerated to 25 mph and could have gone as fast as I wanted, perhaps as much as 40 mph. I was applying my breaks though as the road had a lot of traffic and people out of their cars taking pictures. I did my best to stay off the brakes as riding the brakes on a ‘road’ bicycle can result in heat being transferred to the inner tube and heating it to the point that it ruptures causing an immediate and potentially catastrophic flat tire resulting in a crash: fortunately that did not happen.

Looking Towards West Glacier and The Road Yet to be Ridden
(Photo R, Tony Sleva)

Our Que notes advised us of road construction and around mile 6 of the descent there it was. A complete road resurfacing and stone guardrail replacement was being done in some sections.

Narrow Road

The road was now unpaved and with a lot of large road base creating an uneven, coarse surface to ride on. We were stopped at a control point and traffic was being shuttled through by a pilot vehicle. By the time our turn came after about 10 minutes everyone from our ride had caught up and we went down as caravan. The road was so rough and we were moving so fast that I chose to stop at one point to let the motor vehicles go by me as I was feeling like I might lose traction and slight out. After the vehicles had passed I continue on and in about two miles I was back on the pavement.

Having traversed the Garden Wall and now down in the Lake McDonald region of the park we road in with myself bring up the rear a half mile back. It was now past 11 o’clock; we rode on and as I got to the Lake McDonald Rd., Jim Williamson was waiting at the turn. He advised me that the group had ridden ahead and come to the traffic sign advising th at bicyclist would be fined $300.00 for riding being on the road way for the next 7 miles between 11AM-4PM, and that everyone returned and had gone in to the Lake McDonald village.

I found most of the group in a small grassy park beneath some large trees. Lance, Ryan, Tony and Nick-the-Wrench, our Eastern contingent had gone and gotten some pizza for lunch and the rest of us were debating about lunch. A few of us went into the Lodge for lunch. The food and service were only OK. One of the interesting things that I had started to notice was that there were many foreign nationals working seasonally in the Park, especially from Eastern Bloc countries such as Serbia, Moldova and the Ukraine to name a few. (I learned soon thereafter this was common in many of the National Parks and to the Rocky Mountain and Northwestern states in particular.)

After lunch we returned back to our little park which was actually a small grassy island formed the center of the approach to the lodge. It was comfortable and most of us chose to hang out there for the remaining two and a half hours we had to kill before we could get moving again. We talk, some napped, bicyclist named Keith who had been taking the same path as our group since way back in Whitefish and with whom we had become friendly with showed up and he and Mike Williamson had a long discussion.

The Lake McDonad Lodge; we spent the afternoon on the grassy "park" located to the right side of the photograph. It is half again as large as you can see. (Google)

After about an hour Lance came riding up on his bike kind of fast and without stopping he road straight over the curb, banging his wheels rather hard and came right in to the park and hurriedly announced that a woman had fallen in to the river and that Tony had jumped in after her! Both had safely been recovered after a short and difficult passage through some rapids and they were pretty banged up and freezing. Lance was looking for Sharon to get Tony some dry clothes.

Lance found Sharon, grabbed some clothes for Tony and they drove up to Avalanche Creek with Jim Williamson coming along in case a bicycle needed to be ridden back to our location. Those of us who remained behind were of course concerned and somewhat nervously waited to learn more. The time was now 4 o’clock and we were free to ride on. Around 4:15 or so our beleaguered friends returned: I saw fom the distance that Tony was walking, but with obvious difficulty and discomfort. Several of our riders rushed up to him. Seeing that he was both OK and now overwhelmed I complied with Sharon’s request that the rest of us now continue on to today’s destination of West Glacier Campgrounds. So back on the bike and on onward to West Glacier.

I had learned in the minutes prior to my departure that a very sizable woman from Ohio had been attempting to walk down to the river’s edge, ostensibly to soak her feet Tony later said, and had slipped on the mossy rocks and had bounced in to the rapidly moving water. The following is a photo sequence of the river bank where the entire event occurred. The distance is less than 100 yards from entry to extraction.

The photo order is from right to left.

Extraction Point..................................................Rapid........................................................ Entry Point

As I rode the remaining miles to West Glacier, parallelling Lake McDonald, I did note that the road was fairly narrow and that bicycles on the road did cause some cars to hold back and wait for a straight section of road before passing. In fact, at one point a large pickup truck passed by and the passenger stuck his arm out the window and gave me a ‘thumbs down’ gesture; Welcome to Glacier National Park I thought! I learned later from other of our riders that other incidents, more aggressive in there demeanor had occurred as well. Clearly the locals did not like bicyclists on ‘their’ road. It was the only time it happened on the entire journey. Go figure.
Lake McDonald (Google)

I arrived in West Glacier Village, located just outside of the park and stopped for a breather. I saw Al, Lloyd and Susan’s bikes parked and I searched around for them and found them in a gift shop. They had decided to get our heroes a commemorative award honoring their actions. So we looked at what were mostly a bunch of the usual tourist knick-knacks’ and finally settled on the idea that we would buy them some Glacier NP Shot glasses and a bottle of Crown Royal, know to be a preferred beverage among some of our new hero’s. So we all pitched in and decided to present them these tokens to them at a spontaneous presentation at dinner that night.

Our Final Camp Site at West Glacier Campgrounds

We rode a couple more miles to the campground, set up camp and got showered up and of course continued to chat about the day’s ride and all of the excitement of the day. Tony was driven in to camp since while in the river his knees had struck several rocks as he hung on to ‘Brenda’ from Columbus and his knees were stiff and swollen. For Tony, the ride was over; he would ride the last day with Nick-the-Wrench in the mechanic’s car for the final stretch back to Whitefish, a drive of less than 30 miles and later he will see a doctor to determine if any lasting injury has occurred.

So at Dinner that night Al Knopik chimed on his water glass, gathering in our attention and paid honor to Tony in particular and to Ryan, Lance and Nick for their roles that they played in the rescue; it was a proud moment for all of us. Looking back, if the road had not been closed to bicyclist for the afternoon, Brenda may not have survived her ordeal; hopefully she appreciates her good fortune. So aside from fighting lung disease the American Lung Association of Washington can take credit for a life saved in the immediate moment, on a journey intended to save lives in the future.

Whodda thunk it?!

Big Hills to Climb_Day 5

2008-07-29T21:39:00.000-07:00

Once again we arose early to pack and prepare for a day of riding. Today’s ride would include the greatest amount of climbing. Our starting elevation from Waterton Lakes Park on the valley floor was about 4300 feet. The ride guide stated we would ride up and over Chief Mountain Pass at 9080 feet; a net gain of almost 4800 feet…gulp. So with breakfast in our belly’s and our luggage in the truck we set off. Our procession very quickly organized itself into the usual order with Lance and Ryan immediately out in the lead and quickly lost from sight. I would not see them again for almost eight hours…more on that in a bit.

The ride out of Waterton Park

For me and many riders, the first ten miles or so are the hardest of the day. Tight muscles need to slowly loosen up; blood flow from your gut has to shift to your legs, back and arms. Your body temperature rises with the exertion and eventually the beads of sweat to rolling off all over. As I mentioned before this moment may seems undesirable but for me this is the point that I know I am ready to do the real work. So after reaching this point at about six miles, as it was a bit warmer this day, I was ready to climb the hills. Just after leaving the park I crossed the Waterton River; the view of the mountains and their reflection in the river demanded I stop and take a picture.

Picture Perfect

As I got going again I noticed that my back tire seemed a bit low on air and as our group was just beginning our first ascent I thought it wise to air up my tire as it would roll with less friction being fuller and harder. So for the first time on the ride I stopped to use my brand new personal hand pump, I pumped up my tire a few more pounds. The pump was a very tight fit going over the Presta style tire valve. A Presta valve is a skinnier style value than the common shrader value found on many bicycles and automobiles. It has a valve core that sticks up above the top of the valve stem. The core is opened and closed by turning a tiny roller that is similar to a champagne cork in its bottle…wide roller wheel on top that is rotated to open the valve/bottle, but skinner where it goes in to the valve/bottle. The value top is not much bigger around than a plastic straw you get in a cocktail and the rotating core is half again as small. I attempted to pull the pump off the valve, but the fit was so tight it would not budge. I pulled again and still to no avail. (A few dark and unfriendly words passed between myself and the pump at this point.) So I then gave a very forceful tug on the pump head and it pulled free from the valve…immediately followed by the high pitched sound of air rapidly flowing from the valve. In my determined effort to pull the pump off I had yanked the valve core out of its body and the tire went totally flat and the tube was ruined. (Several more choice dark words).

Well, this was my first flat out on the road on this ride and I set about to change the tube. I won’t bore you with the how to change a tire but it takes 10-15 minutes. So I set about my task in the warming morning sun. Not long thereafter, say 45 seconds or so, I was joined by twenty or thirty mosquitoes. I had no recourse against these blood thirsty arthropods so I swatted as needed and worked as fast as I could. The ride’s mechanic, Nick-the-Wrench showed up just as I finished mounting the wheel back on the bike and he made a couple of adjustments for me and I was back in business. Nick asked what caused the flat, as the road appeared free of hazards where I was. I admitted being the cause of my circumstances and gave-over the details; he smiled and drove on to check on the rest of the riders.

The Rising Path

So I was now 30 minutes behind the pack, welts rising all over me and a big hill to climb in front of me with only myself for company. The road steepened ( to what was later agree to be an 8% grade), I shifted in to granny low gear and I peddled. As I slowly rose up the side of the mountain the view changed with each passing turn. My focus became my breath, finding and keeping the best posture on the bike for this long haul. Turning the cranks over and over again became hypnotic and my mind wandered from

one subject to another: the chemistry class I have signed up for in the fall; did anyone bring anything for the Oneg while I was gone and what was happening with all the fires back in California, and so on. Inevitably, I always returned to the road underneath me, how far had I ascended to and how my body felt. At one point I became aware that my thighs were pumping blood through them at their maximum capacity and they felt much enlarged. My Lycra riding suit felt tight around them and I am guessing my thighs had increased their circumference by at least an inch. My breathing, fast and very deep at the beginning of the hill had moderated and was now a more measured rate and only moderately greater than their normal tidal volume;I was adjusting, my body able to compensate.

See...my thighs really did get bigger!

The ride to this particular hill’s summit took me a whole hour to attain. It was about an 8 mile climb and as I crested it, I spontaneously shouted “Yeah baby, yeah!!” The words seemed to come from some place in me other than my immediate consciousness; a deeper and more profound part of my being had spoken those words. I was not at all surprised for having climbed the hill, only pleased that I felt so good both mentally and physically for having done so. Having this kind of moment is really why I signed up for this ride. Raising money for a worthy cause has really been a bonus for me. Hauling myself up the side of steep mountain; showing myself again what I am capable of. I needed to disciplined myself to this task; it could have been any difficult task, but I needed a challenge to set both my mind and body to...that is why I came here. Thank you to all of you who supported my effort and for that moment.

Being in hill climbing mode and traveling at 8 mph sort of put me in a little trance, as I said. As I descended down the hill I quickly had to snap out of my slow motion awareness into 35 mph alertness. I went from being very warm

Grinding to the Top

and sweating profusely to getting a cool blast of wind chill with all the sweat now evaporating off of me. The sudden change in mental awareness coupled with the rapid cooling effect actually was a bit shocking to my system, so encomassing had my uphill meditations been only minutes before. The downhill lasted about 6 miles and

some 10 minutes. When I reach the bottom a bead of sweat fell into my eye; it burn to intensely that I had to stop and wipe my eye clean. I don’t know if the sudden change of awareness could cause a new chemical to enter my sweat glands but that was the only drop that burned all day. I rode on.

Nick-the-Wrench was waiting at a check point as I started up the next big hill on my way to the U.S. border and the Chief Mountain U.S. Customs station and offered to take some photos of me. In about thirty minutes, in the middle of this hill, I got to the border expecting to be the lone cyclist from our group, assumig the others to have already crossed the border. To my surprise almost everyone was there, just about to enter through the check point. Everyone was there except our fastest riders Lance and Ryan who usually maintained a 20-30 minute lead on the pack. The wait at the border was lasting 45 minutes to get in to the United States; the wait at the Canadian side was less than 5 minutes. We entered the Customs check point as a group, passports at the ready.

The International Border at Chief Mountain Customs Station

We were questioned by a custom officer as to our purposes in Canada and where were we born. We had to remove our sunglasses when questioned…he wanted to see if we blinked or if our pupils dialated when answering his questions. We were allowed to re-enter the country and after a short break in the customs parking lot to refill our water bottles and get a snack, we were on our way again with another 3500’ feet of climbing still in front of us to reach Chief Mountain Pass. Interestingly, the customs officer had told us there were only a couple of minor hills in front of us on our way to the pass. As we rode on the road was alternating between moderate climbs and descents. All the while I expected a massive uphill around the next bend in the road. By now I could see Chief Mountain itself. I feared that road was going to take a dramatic turn and go towards the base of the mountain in a final and terrible ascent. Chief Mountain .

I rode up a long curve and as I came out of the curve I looked up at the crest of the hill with Chief Mountain in the distance. And there alongside the road was a sign stating that Chief Mountain was 9080 feet high, not Chief Mountain Pass! So with a a great sigh of relief I peddled on a few more miles to a lookout point where our ride truck was parked on top of a knoll and as I rode up Sharon, the Ride Director, took my picture and told me that the rest of the day's ride was almost all downhill. We all were please to have finished the hard climbing for the day and the hardest of the entire ride, so we took an extended break and snacked, drank up some Gatorade and took group pictures with the majestic Chief Mountain in the background. We were all there except for Lance and Ryan, our speed demons.

Joy at the Summit with Chief Mountain in Sight

The Day's Final Summit (with friends)

At this point I learned why Lance and Ryan were not with us: they had missed a turn at the beginning of the day. Each morning we all are given ride directions with the day’s route called ‘Que Notes.’ After coming out of the park in the morning Lance and Ryan were doing their usual fast pace ride and had not notice that they missed a turn…the turn up the mountain. Instead, they rode East on less steep course, instead of South-East and rode to the town of Cardston in Alberta, Canada and then had to turn South and enter the U.S. at a different point of entry. Ironically, Lance had a GPS device with him but did not figure out the error for some twenty miles or better. In the end they had to ride an extra twenty-five miles more than the rest of us; some 75 miles altogether. Yet for all of that extra distance and effort they still were the first ones to our camp that afternoon in St. Mary by 20 minutes!

After our rest and photo op, the rest of us continued on and immediately began an intense 6-8 mile down hill run which took us to Montana Highway 89, the same road Lance and Ryan re-entered the U.S. on some 8 miles further North. Another 12 miles of rolling hills and we would be in camp; but not before I got one more flat tire. Fortunately after the last one, I filed open the orifice of the pump so it was not so tight and I did not rip out my valve core this time around. This made me both the one day winner for most flat tires and also the ride's over-all-winner for the same as I had found a tiny thread of wire in my rear tire the night we arrived at Waterton Lakes Park that had pierced the tube, flattening it when I pulled out. I finally rode in to camp some 54 miles from where I stated, drank a cold brew, pitched my tent, had a shower and then went off to a promised piece of pie with dinner.

Happiness at the Park Cafe

Dinner that night was at a local diner ,the Park Café, which is a favorite with both locals and tourist in the St. Mary’s region and it is especially noted for its menu of homemade pies. The Huckleberry pie is particularly good! It was a fine ending to a really satisfying day of cycling in one of the most beautiful regions I have ever been to.

Montana Sunrise, St. Mary

A Rest Day_Day 4

2008-07-28T16:29:00.001-07:00

Rest Day At Waterton Lakes National Park_Day 4

(Sorry for the delay in the blog posting…the remaining 3 installments will follow on in each of the coming 3 days; thank you for your patience.)

As we rode into Waterton Lakes NP we rode past the Prince of Wales Hotel, a Victorian era style architecture chalet, located at the North end of Lower Waterton Lake. It one of hotels built by the railroads as destination locations for the wealthy of the day. We made our camp at the South end of town in the park’s campground. Waterton townsite is unique situation where in the past property was sold to private citizens and then the wisdom of that choice was seen as an error. So the buildings of these properties when sold can be transferred to a new owner but the ground reverts to the Canadian Government. The fact that private residences remain in the park is a source of debate until this day.

Arising in the morning we breakfasted together. I started my day by taking a short swim in Lower Waterton Lake. The lake’s temperature was about 49 degrees and I waded out just far enough to dive in; after which I quickly exited having added another body of water to my list of “Swam there, done that” dips around the world. (Last year I got the Mediterranean Sea, Dead Sea, Red Sea and the Jordan River in addition to all the world’s oceans.) No morning shower was required…I was WIDE awake.
Polar Bear Swim, Lower Waterton Lake, Al, Canada

The day looked to be gorgeous and individual plans varied whether to go hiking, take a boat tour of the lake or to just relax, read, do laundry or wander around town. To that end we were given money for meals by our ride staff. I sought out the launder mat, a good cup of coffee and an internet café and spent my morning sipping java, journaling this trip and folding clothes.

Waterton Lakes Park is much smaller than America’s Glacier National Park yet it also has a very dramatic landscape. The tallest peak in both parks, Mt. Cleveland (10,461), is located in Glacier NP just south of the international border, but is most easily accessed through Waterton NP.

Come to Waterton-Glacier park; it is worth the journey here if you ever get the chance. Here are a few pictures from the park and I will introduce all of my Big Ride colleagues to you.

Stay tuned for the last three installments… Jim

Tony Sleva, Philidelphia, PA (Right, below) Lance Loethen, Philidelphia, PA (Left)

Mike Kelly, Seattle, WA

Al Knopik, Seattle, WA

Susan Kloster, Portland, OR

Lloyd Warms, Seatlle, WA (M.O.T)

Mike & Gail Williamson, Seattle, WA

April Boles, Anchorage, AK (L)

Ryan Reed, Florida

Jim Williamson, North Carolina and Sharon Cowdery, Seattle, Wa,
Nick "The Wrench", Vail, CO

The deer have become tame and habituated to human feeeding.

Waterton Townsite

Waterton Lakes moon rise

The view from my tent: Morning Rainbow.

The our tour boat the : 'International' at the dock.
The View Looking South

The U.S.-Canada border: trees cut to the ground along the entire length of the forrested part of the border. Below, the board as seen from a far.

The approach to Customs at Lower Waterton Lake.

Of Spirits and Giants_Day 3

2008-07-21T22:59:00.000-07:00

Dinner on Day 2, the previous evening was supposed to be delivered by a local restaurant, but due to labor shortages in the rather isolated Crows Nest region, the restaurant was unable to fulfill its order. This order had been placed weeks before by our Ride Director Sharon Cowdery.

Ride Director Sharon Cowdery

The restaurant called and left Sharon a voice mail in her office in Seattle that morning but unfortunately Sharon was with us dealing with the broken haul truck all day. So without missing a beat Sharon went to the store and bought cooked chickens, bratwurst to BBQ and pasta and sauce fixings. Sharon and the other members of our ride crew, David and Nick cooked up a great dinner. An after dinner drink of Jim Beam Sour Mash Whiskey was shared by some of the riders as a night cap; ideal in the cold air of the mountains.

The Lost Lemon Campground is conveniently located within 100 yards of the Canadian-Pacific Railroad and with the rail crossing to get into the campground located just as close by, we were serenaded by the whistle of the train several times in the night, or so I was told; I only heard it once. Liquid sleep aids can work wonders, especially if you are really tired.

The morning, which seemed warm in camp, quickly proved to be chilly once I was on the road so I put on my arm and knee warmers; the day was starting out slightly overcast. Not far outside of Blairmore is the town of Frank. At the turn of the last century Frank was a mining town and on the morning of April 29, 1903. The mine was located at the base of the a mountain. Without warning a massive section of the limestone mountain spontaneously broke off in a giant landslide; over 70 million cubic meters! The slide was over a kilometer wide and came down and leveled the mining operation and more than half of town; more than 70 people were killed. In order to get the railroad working a path was blasted through the slide. (Sorry no pics as camera battery died.) Today the highway goes right through slide which today is the dominant feature of the town, along with the giant scar on the mountain. It is kind of eerily freakish to see the rock slide with giant boulders still were they fell over a hundred years ago and know that the dead still lie under them not far away and it was not even mile ten on the days ride. Who knows what else I might find?

The mountains had been surrounding us in all directions for the last two days. As we continued our ride and we moved away from the Crows Nest region. It became clear that we were on the east side of the continental divide. This far north snow is still on many of the mountains peaks and it had snowed as recently as three weeks ago. The early morning light, combined with wind swept clouds and the distant mountains made for an incredibly lonesome and beautiful view-scape. The mountains in the West were giving way to an elevated, rolling plateau. These were the lands that the Blackfeet, Salish and Kootenai and Blood Indians lived and hunted in. These mountains were and are home to the crow, bear and wolf; spirit guides and power animals to these people. Looking at these mountains in the distance, as I listened to the single sound of my tires rolling over the cold pavement, I could feel the power that this land emanates as clearly as I feel the heat from the sun that had only just finally broken through the mists of the morning. I rode on.

Leaving The Crows Nest

The ridding terrain for the morning had been relatively flat and it went by quickly. As we continue to ride, an entire range of new peaks came into view. Unlike the mountains that have been on all sides of us in the past days, the peaks arising in the distance are all lined up on a common axis running from the South-East to the North-West. The Blackfeet people say that the mountains in Glacier are “The backbone of the world” and it is easy to see why.

With the plateau came planted fields of hay and alfalfa. Tractors pulling combining rigs were cutting down the grass; large bailing units rolled the grass in to large rolls for winter storage. The ferocity of the weather in this part of the world is famous: the open, high plateau is subject to a great deal of wind. So it was not surprising that wind power is becoming a choice source of electrical generation here in the Great White North. Tri-bladed wind mills stood some 100 feet high. Massive blades, each 35 feet long spinning almost silently and the central hub of the propeller assembly looking like a Cyclops of some kind; an army of these technological giants, seemingly marching on the great green pastures. What kind of spirit animals might the Blackfoot people made of these imposing white creatures. All the while the ancient Backbone of the World towered above in the near distance. The dichotomy of what was on this rolling plane was overwhelming: The new, the old and the ancient all within sight of each other and in apparent cohabitation. I rode on.

Western Silhouettes with windmills in background; The New, the Old and The Ancient; Giants on the high plateau.

We came to the town of Pincher Creek as we turned on to Canada Highway 6 and we came upon another behemoth: Wal Mart. Finding a Wal Mart was good news because the battery in my camera had died and one of my ride colleagues needed a new camera altogether. Some of us stopped and had lunch at an A&W, which was a treat for the Seattle folks who do not have A&Ws; sweet A&W Root Beer and a burger, not exactly the best energy food for cycling but mighty tasty none-the-less.

From Pincher Creek we turned West and began an ascent of some 2000 feet over 25 miles on our way to Waterton Lakes Park, the Canadian Half of the Waterton-Glacier International Peace Park which celebrates the over 3000 miles of border between Canada and the United States; the longest undefended border in the world. As we turned towards the Back Bone of the World the individual peaks became larger and more distinct. With each rise we ascended, another taller one would take its place until at last we came to the town of Twin Buttes. Barely more than a few houses, a post office and most importantly, the Twin Buttes General Store and Restaurant: It was one of the funnest lunch stops on our ride (yes, another lunch stop, same day). The restaurant is a surprisingly authentic in its feeling and apperance as a ‘South of the Border’ eatery. I was so impressed by its menu, its atmosphere, the food and the outdoor courtyard seating made of desert construction materials seating, that I came to call it the “Furthest North, South of the Border Café” that I had ever been in. We drank beer, had great entrees, laughed, met another bicyclist who also happened to be a viola player for Hollywood sound tracks, and generally relaxed for an hour or more. Had we not be riding our bikes the margaritas no doubt would have flowed… Ai Carumba!

Left: Enjoying Mexican food in Twin Buttes, Canada are Tony Sleva, Mike Kelly, myself, Jim Williamson Lloyd Warms and others. Right: Mike and Gail Williamson, Lloyd Warms and Susan Kloster.

Back on the road I came to our last check point for the day; a place where we touch bases with the ride staff to ensure our safety and progress. It was at an over look to the approach to Waterton Lakes Park. The view here, like most of the views today was breath taking and I paused to celebrate being in such a beautiful place.

Celebrating the Day

Some of you have inquired about my bicycle:I am riding a Fuji Professional 3.0 road bike, 27" rims, 53 cm all carbon frame with with a triple front chain rings, 9 speed cassette. The entire drive is Shimano Ultegra, except the ATI shifters which are Shimano Tiagra. I have a Velocity 'Deep-V' wheel set with 32 spokes, in a triple cross weave pattern for high strength. Oh yeah, I have single pinger brass bell to let the world know I'm coming.

We stopped refilled our water bottles and took some pictures of our now not so distant destination…or so we thought. As we rode down a large sweeping curve we were met with THE most obnoxious head wind of the ride and for most of us, in our entire riding experience. It felt like I was floating on a parachute slowly to the ground instead of flying down the hill at 25 miles an hour. The wind in fact turned out to be the front edge of a thunder storm that was passing over the park. We rode through it for 10 miles and an hour and half. The wind must have been 20 mph+ and cold too. It rained, hailed on our camp and threw lightening at the top of the peaks in the park and in an hour it was clear.

Finally, we arrived at our campground in the Waterton townsite, an area of private homes located on public lands in a National Park. Ask me later if you are curious how that came to be. We would spend a rest day here to relax, enjoy the park, and recuperate for a short while.

The Long Ride_Day 2

2008-07-20T19:47:00.001-07:00

The Road to Canada

Off and Riding_Day2
Day 2 of our ride will be the longest day at a planned 93 miles, almost a century ride and the decision was made to depart at 7AM. Once again we arose, packed and loaded our gear and breakfasted. Everyone was anxious to get on the road. The morning was cool and clear. Riding up the Tobacco Valley we found ourselves falling in to a riding order based primarily on our speed. I am a very steady paced rider, but usually slow so I brought up the rear. Upon approaching the USA/Canada border, the Port of Roosville, each of us had to have our passports to enter. However, the Canadian officials were more interested in the details of how our trip had been thus far and of learning about our group than of seriously examining our identities and our purpose for coming to Canada.

Montana Lumber Jack Welcome to Canada

After getting across the border, we entered British Columbia and we started on a long, gradual incline of some twenty miles to the Junction of Highway 93 and Canada 3. The final part of this section was a long straight run with a steepening grade over some 10 miles. I was keeping an eye on the road surface in front of me, an eye in my rear view mirror for what was coming from behind, all the while, listening to the ramblings of my mind; a long internal dialog with myself as I slowly ascend to a point miles distant kept my immediate life simple and focused. I enjoyed the feeling of my body heating up as I exerted myself; the tightness in my legs dissipating and giving way to supple strength as I repeatedly demanded my legs turn the cranks, making the bike carry me further towards the day’s destination. The feeling of sweat falling off my head and down my back, keeping me cool as I struggled up the hill. The taste of salt in my mouth as the beads of perspiration came down my face. It probably sounds like misery to some, but to those who have experienced this kind of journey these sensations are part and parcel of the journey; the physical manifestations of your effort carrying you onward.

After arriving at the Canada 3/Highway 93 Junction by the little town of Elko, I head down a twenty mile downhill; the road surface to this point had been pretty smooth and made for easy rolling resistance for the tires of my bike. As we turned on to Canada 3 the road surface became much coarser and the rolling resistance increased quite a bit. Of greater impact, Canada Highway 3 had a rumble strip and a very gravely shoulder. Consequently, riding on the shoulder became VERY difficult and bone jarring, while at the same time the many diesel trucks made it very risky to ride the primary road way which was smoother.
So I ended up developing a system which was one part reasoned calculation and one part playing Chicken. I would ride on the right side of the road as much as possible and keep a sharp eye on my rear view mirror and listen for approaching vehicles. If a truck or car came from behind me and there was no oncoming traffic I would stay in the lane and passively encourage the truck or car to go around me by not giving way. This was a reasonable approach as Canadian drivers are much more courteous to cyclist than Americans. When oncoming traffic was present I would be forced to turn across the rumble strip and into the gravely shoulder. This continued for some two hours and my teeth felt like they were ready to fall out of my head by the time this section was passed!

River and Rock: Elk River Near Elko, British Columbia

Arriving in the mountain community of Fernie , in British Columbia, I stopped at a locally owned restaurant called “Rip and Richards”, where I had lunch with Mike and Gail Williamson of Seattle; the only couple on our trip. Fernie is the town where in 1987 the Steve Martin Movie “Roxanne” was filmed, a modern day telling of the Cyrano De Bergerac story. It is a beautiful community perched up in the Canadian Rockies at about 3,500 elevation. In winter it is a skiing destination and in summer it is a hiking, camping, etc. destination, but its mountain biking is hailed as some of the best to be had and Fernie boast two very well equipped bicycle shops that specialize, almost exclusively in mountain bikes.

Fernie, British Columbia, Canada

The Williamsons:
I quickly made friends with several of my Big Ride Colleagues, among them Mike and Gail Williamson and Mike’s brother Jim. Mike and Jim had been on the Big Ride America in 2006. For Mike it had been a life changing experience; 48 days of peddling meditation and getting touch with what is important in his life. For both Jim and Mike it 48 days of being with their brother; the longest time spent together since childhood. But for both of them, their decision to make the ride was the fulfillment of their mutual promise to do something as brothers to honor the memory of their father who had instilled in both of them a love for the outdoors and for traveling. Their father had been a forester for the US Forest Service. Latter the senior Williamson became engaged as an agricultural attaché to the United Nations and family accompanied him to his posting to Pakistan and for a time Afghanistan when India and Pakistan engaged in one of their two wars following the two country’s partition from one another in 1948. Jim has a Kentucky accent as a result of living in that state when he was learning to talk; Mike does not. Mike had the unique ‘luck’ of being on Mt. Rainier in 1980 when Mt. St. Helens erupted. He took many photographs which were studied by volcanologists after the eruption and several of these photographs were widely published.

Mike Williamson and Jim Williamson

While the all the riders were negotiating Canada 3’s rumble strip, our ride’s luggage hauling vehicle, a rental truck from Seattle, broke down with all of our personal belongs as well as our water and snacks. As a result all riders were on their own for the afternoon while the staff sorted out the truck issue. As it turns out the truck’s left front wheel bearing had failed, causing the wheel to lock up. A new truck was acquired and the old one repaired and rejoined our ride two days later.

Tonka Toy Dreams

After lunch and a short nap I continued on towards the day’s destination, Blairmore. Enroute to Blairmore I passed through Sparwood and by one of its attractions: one of those really giant mining trucks, the kind where the wheels stand about 9 feet tall. I continued on towards the Continental Divide located in the Crows Nest region of Alberta. Being in the mountains weather is always changing. Riding through a series of canyon’s and passes the wind always seemed to be coming from a new direction…sometimes working for you as a tail wind and other ahead or cross wind. At this point in the day I was tired. It was about 3:30-4:30 in the PM and my legs were starting to remind me that Sacramento is a really flat place to train for ride in the mountains. None-the-less the many days that I rode up to Beal’s Point did serve me in preparation: I have been able to climb at a very steady, if slow pace, up every incline presented to me. Each time I summit I have the satisfaction of accomplishing that climb.

After summiting Crow’s Nest Pass, I road on for another 15 miles on a high mountain plateau that is generally referred to as the Crow’s Nest region, as the name dominates almost every locale along the Crow’s Nest River. Finally I saw the sign for Blairmore and the Lost Lemon Campground, our group's destination for the day. My odometer said I had ridden 95 miles, almost a century ride and some members of our group who had not yet ridden a century went for a short ride around the small town to rack up the final miles.

An ice chest full of cold Canadian beer was waiting and excited talk of the day’s events was exchanged among the riders. 155 miles down and 200+ to go… Ride On!!

Big Ride Glacier: Off and Riding

2008-07-16T12:12:00.000-07:00

The riders and crew for the Big Ride Glacier (BRG) met on Saturday evening on July 12 and made introductions, conducted an orientation and went out for dinner to do some bonding. The riders, 12 in all, range in age from early thirties to sixty-two. Most are from the Seattle area with 2 rides from Philadelphia, one from Anchorage, Alaska and another from Ft. Meyers, Florida. Our crew of three comes from Seattle, Michigan and Colorado. Several of the group has completed the American Lung Association’s Big Ride Across America, a 48 day ride across the country and most every had done organized rides before so we have a good level of experience. Whitefish, Montana is located South-West of Glacier National Park and mountains are visible in almost every direction. The scenery is really beyond words so I will let the pictures speak for themselves.

After spending restless night in the Whitefish Middle School gymnasium along with the rest of the ride’s members, I arose at six, packed up my gear and loaded in to our rented truck which will be the mule for our trip. After the load-in we made a breakfast. I brought some of the coffee from the Ugandan Coffee Cooperative that Congregation Beth Shalom has embraced, the Mirembe, Kawomera, aka, Delicious Peace Coffee, and it was well received by the group (http://mirembekawomera.com/cooperative.) On an adventure like this routines prove to be important to the group cohesiveness and the breakfast ritual is the one that brings the riders and crew together before setting out on the road. Following the completion of breakfast, we made our lunches of PB&J on tortillas and then took some group photographs.

Finally, the ride got underway; I peddled out at 8:40 AM. We rode through town heading North on Highway 93, a narrow highway with almost no shoulder and after five miles turned off on to a secondary road that was lightly trafficked and provided beautiful vistas in every direction. The smell of fresh pine, cut hay and morning dew filled the air and the sound of my peddles and tires rolling over pavement became like a mantra of meditation for the many miles as they past one after the next.

The far North of Montana is sparely populated and except for a few towns, farms and ranches, you are mostly beyond civilization. I needed to make a pit stop and turned of the highway into the tiny hamlet of Olney. About ¾ of a mile of the road, Olney is a town that has been there for awhile: The post office is made from hand cut logs and the community obviously is poor. I found the general store near the rail line, The Biggs Mercantile. Two women, clearly mother and daughter wear sitting on the edge of the elevated porch of the store; both were enjoying a cigarette together. A sign in the window declared: “This Business Supported by Logging Dollars.” Another sign lower down in the window offered the business for sale. The appearance and feeling were that of the stereo type of Appalachia, but it is one that I have seen in Oregon and else where and is not uncommon is parts of remote rural America that have not kept pace with the rest of the country. As I headed back out to the highway to continue to Eureka, I passed a fenced yard with two large Golden Retrievers. When they saw me coming by they both began barking furiously and as I rode to the end of the fence line, the larger of the two dogs dove into the corner of the fence and popped out the other side and charged straight towards me. I turned to face him with my front wheel and he stopped dead in his tracks and turned away. He most definitely could have taken a bite out of me if he wanted! I rode on.

After another forty miles I arrived in the small town of Eureka, Montana, located in the Tobacco Valley, a mere eight miles from the Canadian border.
( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eureka,_Montana ). We were slated to stay at the Lincoln County High School but found it locked. After a trip to the local police department, where the dispatcher contacted the principle who had the school opened and we settled in for a quiet afternoon of relaxing, reading and hanging out getting to know each other some more. Our first day had been one of cycling through beautiful country side, a few moments of excitement and of getting our daily routine established as we all got more acquainted with each other.

Departing for The Big Ride Glacier

2008-07-14T20:37:00.000-07:00

With my bicycle already having been shipped to Montana, less the wheels, I loaded my Suzuki 1000cc V-Strom motorcycle with camping gear, clothing, motorcycling equipment and my two 27" bicycle wheels and hit the road at 6:30AM on Monday, July 7. As I headed East on I-80 up to Auburn and with the sun still low in the sky the smoke from all the fires was everywhere. As I crested the summit of the ridge East of Auburn and looked out into the distance, the smoke was laying thick like fog in the many distant gulches and valleys. It seemed more like the Lost World than 30 miles from the state capital of California. As I rode on across Nevada and in to Idaho it became apparent that the smoke from the fires in Northern California had drifted all the way into Idaho. My first day's ride took me through the deserts of the Great Basin and then North to Twin Falls, Idaho. Arriving about 8:30 in the evening, I ended my day’s journey as I started it… with smoke thick in the air, the sun low in the sky… it was a blazing smoky sphere with lines of color stratifying its appearance: A dark blood red on the bottom, and lightening in color until at last the top edge was a piercing orange, almost white in color at the very top. My second day began with the spectacle of crossing the Snake River. A beautiful half mile wide gorge, whose walls showed the canyon’s volcanic origin with the distinctive mosaic appearance of flowing lava that has cooled and shattered in the pattern of irregular block and the azure blue river twisting along the lush green shore. Riding on, I rose up in to the Salmon River Mountains traveling on U.S. 93, the road that I would follow all the way through Montana and in to Canada once the Big Ride Glacier got underway. The Salmon River’s head waters start up in the Saw Tooth Mountains and flow north and the highway parallels’ the river for some 60 miles. I proceeded on a long ascent which took me over the continental divide and down in to the Bitterroot Valley and North to Missoula Montana; famous for its U.S. Forest Service Smoke Jumper School and for being the boyhood home of author Norman Maclean, who is best known for his book and subsequent movie, A River Runs Through It. I arose early the next morning and headed out of Missoula and rode up in to the Flathead Valley, home of Flathead Lake, Montana’s version of Lake Tahoe and just as beautiful in every way. I arrived at last in Whitefish Montana at 1PM and set about getting settled in for four days of training at the 3000’ altitude which would be the minimum altitude for Big Ride. The Big Ride Glacier will depart Sunday, July 13, 2008 and head North to Eureka, Montana, a 60 mile ride as planned.