June 26 Day 26 Augusta Montana 57 miles 5:20 riding

Eighteen fairly easy miles to Rogers Pass and the Continental Divide! We celebrated at the top, took photos. Rash statements were made about "Downhill to Boston!" I have come to regret that since. Montana is a very wrinkled state. The road undulates straight ahead, crossing ridge after ridge. Any kind of steady road is okay, even uphill. You get into a rhythm and pedal steady and after a while you're at the top. The short uphill and downhill of the ridges destroys any rhythm. You're spinning the cranks on the downhill, shifting way down and groaning the cranks on the uphill. It's especially hard on Michele because she's having some shifter problems.

Michele wants a few words said about crosswinds. We often have a substantial crosswind blowing perpendicular to the line of travel. The front panniers and handlebar bag provide a big sail to catch the wind. With a steady crosswind, you lean into the wind a little and the pressure of the wind balances the lean; it's a little more work but everything's fine. On the steep uphills and downhills, things are a little more exciting. On the steep uphill, we may be making 3.5 mph, wobbling widely to keep the bike up. On the downhill, we may be doing 35 mph. In either case, when a logging truck passes you at 70 and suddenly cuts off the crosswind, you jerk toward either the truck or the ditch, depending on the wind direction. When two trucks pass in quick succession, I grip the handlebars so tightly that my fingerprints are in the metal!

We crawled over a succession of ridges, buoyed by the thought of lunch at Bowman's roadhouse at the intersection of 200 and 287. The roadhouse was closed. While we moped, the Schwan's ice cream delivery truck showed up - we made a deal to buy a box of ice cream sandwiches from the driver.

The road crew was resurfacing #287. The flagperson radioed ahead to say that she was sending through four "turtleheads" (helmet-wearers).

Augusta has a stated population of about 300. The RV park/campground proprietor had decided she needed to go fishin' for the day, so she went fishin'. We met John Badnares while we lounged around waiting for the proprietor. John went into the Army Air Force in 1944. He was stationed near Augusta at one point. One day he found a gold nugget while fishing in the Sun River - it ruined his life. He's been looking for more ever since. He uses a device of his own design. He plunges a length of pipe into the river muck behind a boulder where gold dust might swirl and settle out. Then he pans the pipe contents. I asked if he objected to my taking his picture. He explained that he didn't want his picture taken because he's in the "witness protection program" since testifying at a trial nine years ago!