With an easy 35-mile ride on the schedule today we took our time this morning stocking up on groceries, uploading blog entries at the Macks Inn library and just taking it easy in general.  Before officially leaving this little slice of Idaho we had one more stop on the agenda – Johnny Sack’s Cabin at Big Springs. 

We left camp early today to set out towards Macks Inn (or Macks In, according to some). Along the way we stopped to check out the trumpeter swans at the Red Rock Lakes National Wildlife Refuge. Once down to only 73 swans due to over-hunting, there are now 16,000 swans in North America.

Our decision to ride over the pass last evening was justified this morning. For most of the night our tents were bombarded by a heavy rain. Poking our heads out this morning we awoke to see snow covering the pass (now behind us) and storm clouds still lingering at higher elevations. We cleaned up camp and cruised down the 26 miles to Interstate 15.

Today’s highlight was our visit to the town of Bannack, MT. Contrary to what you might believe, a ghost town is not the best place to stock up on groceries. That disppointment aside, we had a fun time exploring the frozen-in-time remnants of Montana’s first territorial capital.  In 1862, gold was discovered here for the first time in Montana, prompting 3,000 people to move here and then quickly leave once gold was discovered the following year in Virginia City. The town hung on for the next century with a dwindling population until the last residents finally died or left in the 1970s.  While in Bannack we also met our first Great Divide thru-rider companions, Deborah and Ralph of Yakima, WA.

While most regions of the country are still enjoying the last weeks of summer, southwest Montana is already several weeks into fall. And winter is definitely on its mind. This became apparent when we awoke to the sight of falling snow and a very winter-ish landscape this morning. With a layer of snow on the ground, temperatures in the low 30s and more snow in the forecast, we opted to wait out the storm at Montana’s Elkhorn Hot Springs.

The Great Divide Route consists mostly of fire/forest service and old logging roads which make riding relatively easy. Things rarely get too technical. But today was different. Today we had to tackle the fabled Fleecer Ridge.

Today got off to an inauspicious start. After spending the morning running some errands in the “big city” including a Wal-Mart stop for Brett, we hit the road with plans to eat before getting out of Butte. We rode a few miles southeast before realizing that we were almost completely out of town. After some advice from a local, we looped back to the west for lunch. 

The ride from Helena to Butte today spanned all varieties of trails. We rode some fun, semi-technical singletrack up to a divide crossing and finished up the day with 6 miles of the only interstate riding we’ll see on the trip, including exiting I-15 on to I-90. Not only is Butte reminiscent of Gary, IN (Butte has seen its own population decline from 115K to around 30K over the past century), it is the only city in the U.S. where possession and consumption of open containers of alcoholic beverages is allowed city-wide.  The city gets worse from there.

At the bike shop yesterday, Kelly bounded ahead in the competition for most bike maintenance with a “****ed up” rear shock, in the words of the the bike mechanic. Luckily, the Great Divide Cyclery shop in Helena really came through for us and got a warranty replacement shock from Specialized shipped overnight and fit the repair into their busy schedule. Thanks, Steve! This gave us the day to hang out and explore Helena, catch up on our blog posts and take a little recovery time…

We hit the trail early in anticipation of the two divide crossings on our way into Helena, at 25K, the biggest town we have visited thus far. Our efforts, however, we rewarded only with unrelenting wind and rain, the latter turning the dirt road into inches of tire-sucking mud.  It became so thick on our frames and drivetrains, that at times our wheels remained motionless as we skidded downhill and our chains and derailleurs were not even visible beneath the mud.