Lesson learned: no Wi-Fi + 2 bars of cell service = don’t try to upload pictures or it will freeze the system and trash your whole post.
Don’t look for any photos today. Back to what we tried to say yesterday.
The rhythm of the road is affected by the obvious extrinsic factors: wind, heat, cold, rain, traffic, road conditions; bike-related factors (like my fifth flat tire Tuesday despite a new sturdier tire); but the big factors are intrinsic: B&B.
We think of hydration as a process of putting stuff in – water, maybe electrolytes. On a short ride, it’s sort of like a savings account – you make regular deposits, and later you make a big withdrawal for a special occasion.
On a long ride, it’s more like a checking account – fluids are constantly going in and out throughout the day. As nurses know, I’s and O’s need to be equal (for your shift, or for the day) or something is wrong.
We really just borrow fluids when we hydrate – they have to be returned. (Okay, I know the metaphor just switched from saving to borrowing. I could rework the previous paragraphs, but it would get ugly.)
Returning them – aye, there’s the rub. In the great expanses of Big Sky Country, there isn’t a bathroom whenever you need one. Gas stations may be dozens, scores, or hundreds of miles apart. Towns don’t appear every ten miles.
Add an unfamiliar diet and hours in the saddle each day, and the other B comes into play. For those not medically inclined, I should now point out, if it hasn’t become obvious, that B&B refers to “Bowel and Bladder” in my world.
Add aging into the mix and it becomes more interesting. Sometimes we must prostrate ourselves before the great god prostate. Here, on another day, I might insert a link to Tom Lehrer’s “The Vatican Rag”: “First you get down on your knees/Fiddle with your rosaries/Bow your head with great respect and/genuflect, genuflect, genuflect.”
I would also be remiss if I failed to mention that our stopover Monday night into Tuesday – Lincoln, MT – was the home of Ted Kaczynski, the Unabomber. I’m not even trying links today – I‘m a little gunshy, and hitting “save” all the time.
We rode out of Lincoln with a ten mile easy warm up, then started up toward the pass.
The road turned steep and, in a bit of cruelty, our first switchback led us into the teeth of a 20 mph wind. There was a great lookout point a mile short of the summit – here, imagine a picture of a road far below you with a tiny dot that represents a rider. Squint and maybe you can make it out.
The summit came sooner than anticipated, and we were blown up the last stretch by what was now a tailwind. Imagine here a picture of me before a sign reading “Continental Divide”.
There was a long, fast, and chilly descent to a great little country store with his and hers outhouses in back. Now, I’ve seen (and dug) two-holers in my day, but I’ve never seen separate men’s and women’s outhouses.
Insert here photos of a bunch of riders in front of a country store and a close-up of Victor Allen’s Keurig coffee pods. (If you’re not from Madison you may not get the significance of Victor Allen’s coffee way out here.) After a cup of coffee, an Almond Joy, and a visit to the outhouse, I was on my way.
We crossed the Missouri River into Townsend, MT, propelled at 24 mph by a strong tailwind. Keep that in mind for tomorrow’s post.
We arrived at the school where we were staying, only to find that an impromptu football camp was about to start. We were told to kill some time, so I went to a town park and dictated the previous incarnation of this post, since my keyboard was inaccessible. There were some great dictation anomalies that you won’t get to read.
After a dinner that couldn’t be beat, I went to sleep before dark, and that’s where I’ll leave you. This will go online immediately and today’s post will follow at midnight per the usual routine.