With a short day on the cards, it was a leisurely start to the day. But perhaps we just slept in and enjoyed taking time in the beautiful setting. A slight climb took us up to 1700 m and from there it was pretty much all downhill to Whitefish – where we planned to rest, eat and resupply before carrying on to the bike retreat. Whizzing down the lush gravel – what great fun; fun which was interrupted by a wasp taking exception and stinging Megan on the ear. Ow.

Within a couple of hours the metal road and easy descent was over and we joined the seal around Whitefish Lake. Also out of the wilderness, we couldn’t actually get down to the lake due all the private property graced with the most ostentatious houses we’d see all trip. Contenting ourselves with views across the lake to the hills behind, and knowing the general direction of the bike retreat, we wondered where along those hills we would be going – I may have also been watching the busy railroad a bit too. Looking at the map now, I see we weren’t too far from the ski resort for which Whitefish is known now – explains the houses a bit, if the lake views weren’t enough.

The road around the lake turned out to be a roadies’ favourite, we were passed by many as slowly the density of buildings increased. A bridge over a large rail yard put us right in town. Amazing crepes were found and devoured, a hardware store provided rope for hanging food out of reach of bears and much food was bought at the grocery store. Eventually we rolled out of town, it was warm, it started raining and we realised neither of us had eaten enough and were actually quite tired. We returned to refuel and rest out of the rain. Salubrious.

Keeping our break to less than an hour, off we went again. Always keen to take back roads, we had a few hills to get over. So nothing was thought as we climbed steeply in the heat up a residential road. Only when a big gate barred us from more big lots and houses did we have to accept that we may have not quite followed the right route. Not wanting to go all the way down, a small cut-through was spotted on the map even further up the hill. Not knowing if it connected, we took a chance and ground our way further up under the beating sun. It connected, just.

Stopping for more food we cruised down a smooth private road, didn’t really find the trail proper crossing the road, ducked around another gate and found the trailhead. I wasn’t keen on pushing through singletrack when we were tired, hot, heavily loaded and didn’t know how technical it was. What an error – the highway was awful and Megan soon found a side road to put us back where we should have been, on singletrack.

Should have gone down here… Now we’ll likely never know what it’s like – but if the rest of the trail is any indication…

The singletrack was so much fun! It was also a big relief to be away from the traffic and in the trees. Both of us were thrilled to be tackling small pinch climbs on smooth trail and flowing down through the lovely curves; generally having a ball on loaded bikes and quality trail.

Honestly, I was having fun! One of the highlights of all the riding. I’ll just say it’s my concentrating face.

Eventually, we saw this welcome sign – we were close.

Checking-in, it was definitely time for ice cream. We made it to this special little part of the Montana wilderness (admittedly, you can drive there – but we biked in on singletrack, so it felt like backcountry). Set with longer distance trail connecting it, the retreat has a lodge, numerous tent sites, other facilities, its own little network of singletrack, a pump track and a whole lot of bike-themed things.

After the rush of getting to Fernie to start the ride, adapting to life bikepacking again and the heat – a day’s rest was well in order. Much time was spent eating and socialising with friends of Megan’s that had driven down from Alberta & BC. Avoiding wasps every time we ate was also a recurring past-time. Our bikes devoid of luggage there was a bit of fun to be had on the retreat’s trails – but mostly it was eating and resting on Sunday.

Excited to be heading into the wilderness, after a large breakfast we stocked up on food for the next two days and hit gravel soon out of Eureka. Steadily heading up the Tobacco River valley, shortly after crossing the river we were on highway briefly and then off it again heading for the hills. As the climbing began in earnest and farms were left behind for national forest, it was expected that we’d be rolling on gravel. Strangely, the sealed road just got smoother as our elevation climbed.

Traveling far lighter than other cycle tourists (they generally had far larger routes planned), they were hauled in at our steady pace. It turned out that there were so many other cyclists, we couldn’t possible remember all their names – over about two days we met about twenty-five others. Some we chatted with for quite some time, some briefly and others just exchanged greetings. Plenty of interesting folk out riding bikes.

Shortly after meeting some Alaskans, the seal ended and the gravel began – that, I think, was entirely coincidental. A pleasantly warm day, it was nice to be in clearer air than the smoke-stained skies of British Columbia. At least, it meant we could actually see the view in the distance.

There may have been a lot of trees.

The surface was fantastic and the gradient mild. Things opened up a bit where avalanches had long since cleared the slopes.

A feature of the trip was the many different varieties of wild flowers roadside.

You know, a few more trees. Who me? No, I don’t work for a forest products company, not at all.

Eight hundred metres of climbing done, it only seemed fair to stop at the top of the pass and eat. Also, it would be rude not to chat to more passing cyclists. The downhill was long and also mellow – all the better for looking at the views.

The west side of the spectacular Glacier National Park came in to view. It was easy to pick the patches of forest that had long since, or recently in some case, been ravaged by wildfires.

Being in the mountains so much, we were never short of water sources – water treatment drops were used, probably mostly unnecessary but how can one know?

One of the woman from the top of the pass, Sarah, passed us as we stopped to fill bottles. A novice, she was hauling an extraordinary load – worryingly all carried on the rear of the bike. Shortly after, we were confused to come around the corner, see another cyclist standing on the side of the road and some other guy (no vehicle in sight) who must have apparated there . Eventually we recognised Sarah – that was difficult initially as she was covered in an unhealthy amount of blood. She convinced us she wasn’t concussed and the other guy’s family had driven off to fetch her friend – turned out he wasn’t a wizard, disappointing. We couldn’t do any more than had already been done, so carried on – bike helmets really are quite useful.

The road flattened out as we headed for the Flathead Valley.

It became apparent we were out of the national forest as Private Property and Posted – No Trespassing signs started and we noticed increasing numbers of cabins in woods. Riding south along the Flathead, I’m told it was a lot less remote than the Canadian Flathead.

We never quite sure how many of the cabins and houses were holiday homes, permanent homes or properties of survivalists/preppers. Thankfully the road was still quiet and most traffic, except the FedEx pick-up, courteously slowed for us.

Mid-afternoon we turned away from the Flathead River and started towards Red Meadow Lake – the highest and end point for the day. Stopping again for snacks near a small pond, it may have been the first time we partook of one of the most common delicacies of the trip – frozen burritos. Bought frozen at the start of the day, usually from a gas station, these are much mentioned by GDMBR riders – they gradually thaw and then warm over a hot day, ready to eat heated mid-afternoon (depending on how hot the day is). Another one of those things that taste OK, but it pays not to read the list of ingredients.

A mostly gentle climb up more pristine gravel with even less traffic, it kicked a little for the final section before we rolled ever so slightly down to the lake.

What a pristine spot for a campground nestled between lakes and mountains.

We shared a campsite with Johnny, a young Swiss guy riding the GDMBR – well, a large part of it in the time he had. Understandably, he was tiring of all the beautiful mountains – not really traveling to see places just like home, he longed for flat, open lands. He was quite taken with how little we were carrying and determined to shed some of the many kilograms he was carrying.
The dust of the day washed off in the lake, local fisherman met, exuberant young dog pouncing avoided and sick of mosquitoes – it was time to call an end to a fantastic day on bikes in beautiful big country. It was much quieter and cooler than the previous night, far better for sleeping.

Thanks to Megan for the photos of me riding.