9/12/83. Left the hostel around 9:30; went to BikeCentennial headquarters with Rob. Then, by myself, to the post office to send books, film, insect repellant, etc. home and to pick up general delivery mail. Letters from Lee, Dick Stone (adjuster) and a thank you note from Rich and Peggy. Ate at Jilly's Emporium. Got a huge plate of spaghetti, roll, salad, Coke, for $3.00. Boy it's good being out of Fairbanks and its prices. Went to the university library. They have a very poor selection of college catalogs but in the College Bluebook I learned that there are a number of universities that offer various degrees in photography; the Brooks Institute and Washington University are the two that intrigued me. Finally hit the interstate at 2:30. Cloudless skies and warm. Only went 26 miles to Beavertail Hills Park. No charge, but NO WATER, therefore no breakfast the next day. Took some miscellaneous pictures (rose hips, a caterpillar, my bike backlit), read Flashman, ate mac and cheese with sausage and went to bed. I was the only person in the campground until a car with an obnoxious spot light drove around and finally stopped (which worried me a little).
9/13/83. Woke up to cold, heavy fog and a very wet tent. Decided to wait for the sun to dry things before I left. Dewy spiderwebs were everywhere. With no water, I had peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for breakfast. Finally left around noon, after reading more about Flashman. Continued on 90 to Drummond where I bought groceries, ate at a city park and took off on beautiful 10A. Beats the interstate. Toward evening I climbed up beautifully colored rock canyons (took some slanted pictures) and at the top was surprised by lakes with waterfowl and beaver at Echo and especially Georgetown Lakes. Found a campground with water, so filled my bottles and aimed for Spring Hill Forest Service campground, which had turned off the water that day. For fear of running out of stove fuel for breakfast, I built my second campfire of the trip and cooked mac and cheese with sausage on it. Went to bed to the flashing and rumbling of a thunderstorm.
9/14/83. The wind during the night evidently dried my tent so I could leave early. Missed the turnout for 10 at Butte so continued on 90, crossed the continental divide into a wonderful 5 mile downhill with the tailwind I had most of the day. At the bottom, I picked up a staple in my tire and noticed a broken spoke. Fixed both, had lunch, and continued. Got onto 10 at Whitehall. Very beautiful ride following a river in a deep canyon with caves, etc. Got groceries in Three Forks and camped at Missouri Headwaters State Park. Many motorhomes. The Mississippians next door gave me some hot raisin pudding -- very, very good -- and some boring conversation. Nice sunset after riding shirtless all day. About 91 miles.
9/15/83. Rode my bike packless around the park. Lovely day, but since I was only going 30 miles to Bozeman, I took my time. Tried to get some pictures of the merging of the rivers that make the Missouri (Madison and Jefferson Rivers?). Not anything good but used up all my film. Came back, talked with a semi-young Canadian couple who insisted on heating water for tea for me since I don't like coffee. Gave me a Danish. As I was leaving, an older lady I had talked with earlier gave me a slice of cantaloupe and a peach. I left full. Continued on 10A to Bozeman. Ran over a snake -- it was OK, but PISSED. The nine miles between Belgrade and Bozeman were busy truck routes with no shoulder. I thought I was going to be killed so I pulled off the road several times. Thank God for rear-view mirrors. Got to Bozeman. Went straight for the registrars office of Montana State University to try to locate Mike Worswick. Finally got the information I needed but found out Mike was at home in Massachusetts, or was en route to Bozeman (registration was the next week). Stayed at Sunrise Campground one mile outside Bozeman, between I 90 and Highway 10 and a railroad track and a car sales place. The noisiest campground yet.
Oh, I saw a male ring-necked pheasant in the morning, and cactus (prickly pear) in a few places at the Park.
9/16/83. Talked with some of the students of a vo-tech school in Michigan and piddled around because there was a pretty stiff headwind. But it changed direction so I took off. The route from Missoula to Bozeman is 90, then 10A past Philipsburg and Anaconda to 441 to 90 (three miles south of Opportunity). I missed the turnoff to 10 at Butte so kept on 90. Got on 10 at Whitehall, stayed on 10 through Tree Forks and all the way to Bozeman. Continued on 10 frontage roads whenever I could, but had to ride on the interstate quite a bit. It's so much more pleasant on the frontage roads, even though they're not graded or paved as nicely as the interstate. Kept on the frontage road at Reedpoint (where, by the way, I barely made it to a bar's restroom with the runs), but it came to an abrupt end so had to backtrack about a mile against the strong wind. Was hoping to make it to Billings, but didn't feel good, so I stopped in Columbus where I camped in a city park adjacent to the Yellowstone River. Restrooms were closed and there was no water so the first thing I did was walk (hurriedly) to Air Bowling Alley (less that half a mile) where I had the runs again. I don't know what happened to me. Felt fine all day until I ate a big lunch around 4 (although I wasn't hungry then, come to think about it.) I had peanut butter and apple jelly sandwiches, a nectarine and a package of Hostess Snoballs I bought cheap at Livingston. I went back to camp to set up my tent and lock everything inside it, then went back to the bowling alley, ordered a Coke, then two beers at the bar. Small town with ugly, dumb, but nice patrons. The bartender's name was Bruce and his goal in life is to hunt the three types of sheep. Got his bighorn but doubts he'll ever get a dall since it's so expensive to hire a guide, etc., up north. I wish someday I could help him. Maybe arrange for him to go with someone I know who is planning a hunt. Nice guy. I felt much better quickly in the bar. Maybe it was the heat that got to me (83 degrees and sunny). Put in 93 miles.
9/17/83. Felt fine in the morning so I left for Billings (about 44 miles). It threatened to rain all day, but waited until I got to Billings, then non-stop drizzle. Again I was on 90 but took the frontage road from Park City (where I had an unexciting cheeseburger and fries to "reward" myself for fighting the wind). Broken spoke early on. Someone offered me a ride to Sioux City, Iowa, but I declined. I gave him some of my excess fuel in exchange for some packaged dinner. I took a road (don't know name) that goes due north then east. Passed a Boys and Girls Ranch. Pitched my tent in the drizzle at Garden Avenue Campground. I waited in my tent, then walked down 27th Avenue and ended up soaked from the knees down. At the lounge off a fancy hotel nearby (can't remember the name) there was a country band. OK, but not outstanding. The girl had an interesting quality about her singing and played the fiddle well but the microphone really muddied it. I had a couple of beers then went back to the campground. A stray cat came by. I let it in my tent to get out of the rain. It kept bugging me though, so at 2 am I threw it out.
9/18/83. Raining, which made me glad I had decided to take the day off. Got up early and decided to try the Unitarian Church. The map made the distance seem short. I walked 1-1/2 hours and got near there about 1/2 hour late so decided to skip it. Walked back a different route. Got some groceries. Went back to my tent, laid around and finished Flashman. Rain all day. Went to bed early. The cat came by again. I let him sleep in the tent. Real good cat. A pretty gray tiger type. It started snowing around 9 or 10. I woke up during the night to find the tent quite squashed, so I went out and brushed the heavy, wet snow off, put some pegs back in, and pondered the situation. I pushed snow off the tent from the inside a few times before morning.
