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.
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.
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