Montana part I: Snow terror & Great Divide hotspots

Our first camp spot in the US is in a little park right in the middle of a town called “Eureka”. The sign says that it’s allowed to camp and we even see other bike tourists pitch their tents.

A great first impression of American camping culture. At night we have a bunch of deer strolling around the grass as well.

The next morning we are full-on WiFi-pirates snatching the signal of the restaurant that we had a beer at yesterday. A guy approaches me and asks where my travels will take me. After the ritual explanation and some small talk he says: “Since you didn’t ask for it: here’s 40 dollars to support your trip”. Of course I refuse to take it but he insists. A bit flabbergasted, he leaves me behind. It seems like the American hospitality is trying to beat the Canadian!

We set off for two days in the wilderness following the Great Divide trail. At some point the road becomes bumpy again and sometimes we have to walk through snow, but never longer than a minute.

We pass gorgeous canyons and thick forests with pine trees. Sometimes we pass fields of trees that got burned down, their white bodies got blackened by the fire, only their stems remain and it makes for a very post-apocalyptic setting.

We sleep at a river and I immediately get attacked by a bunch of mosquitos. Before the sun sets, rain is ruining our campfire and night. It won’t stop raining and their is no shelter but our tents so we decide to call it an early night.

The next morning we pack up the wet tents and set out to conquer another mountain pass, Red Meadows. After an hour we pass a car going the opposite way and rolling down the window: “guys, there’s a lot of snow up the pass, we couldn’t get through with the car”. The car disappears. We hesitate. Is this “a lot of snow” like yesterday (which would be totally fine) or is this “a lot of snow” like really a lot of snow? We decide to push through and see for ourselves. The first patches of snow are doable and resemble yesterday’s. However the snow becomes more and thicker. At some point there is no other way than pushing our bikes through the 30-40cm of snow. Very quickly I make peace in my mind with the fact that my feet are totally wet and cold and won’t be dry until maybe tomorrow. We literally push through, the gradients become steeper and steeper and we get exhausted, our arms are shaking from fatigue.

The worst thing of all is the fact that we have no clue how long this will take to overcome, one hour, two, three hours? Luckily we carry everything we need on the bike so I put my mind to rest thinking that we could always camp in the snow and continue the next day. Eventually we do a three hour hike-a-bike through thick snow. We are exhausted. Luckily the remainder of the day is mostly downhill. We see two black bears on our way down and end with a beautiful ride along Whitefish Lake. We are welcomed by Chuck and Rita, our Warmshowers hosts for the coming two nights. After a delicious shower they take us to a really nice lakeside restaurant and talk about cycling and life. Strange how a harsh and cruel day in the wild can turn into such a relaxing and cozy evening.

We pitch our tent in the backyard at Chuck and Rita’s and they make us feel very at home. In the morning there is coffee and breakfast, we clean our bikes with Chuck’s tools and we have dinner together.

Our rest day in Whitefish gets easily filled with chores and some relaxation. We decide to stay another day.

With fully charged batteries we set off for another piece of the Great Divide. Through green farm lands we cycle down to Columbia Falls. The sun is shining. We do groceries and Jacko is fixing a flat that he got just before entering the town. A Mormon family is approaching us and after we tell where were from the eldest bearded man responds with a typical: “boy, you’re a long way from home”. Gotta love it. Just before we reach our intended end goal of today we see another black bear running away from us. The Fatty Creek campground seems to be completely washed out by floods and the water pools are still covering the grass fields.

Probably caused by the same floods that washed away Yellowstone’s north entrance. This is mosquito-heaven and we decide to check out what’s further up the road. We see some kind of campground that has a lot of nice freshly cut grass and we decide to cycle up the entrance road. Turns out to be a paid campground that is for and by veterans, but since they didn’t officially open yet we are allowed to pitch our tent. They make pictures of us to post on their website and we enjoy the campfire with Bruce, a very enthusiastic ex-military guy that loves the outdoors.

The next day we ride a beautiful hilly gravel road through thick pine forests and end the day in Seeley Lake. It’s a sunny afternoon and we enjoy a beer on a grassy field that belongs to a restaurant next to the lake. We did see some campgrounds a few kilometers back up the road but the alcohol is quickly making its way through our bodies making us lazy. Since the grass here seems so nice, we ask the restaurant if we can pitch our tents on their field. No. But we do get a free beer from the bartender to make up for his rejection. Awesome. Since we definitely have trained ourselves lately to just ask for things (“nee heb je, ja kun je krijgen”) we decide to walk over to the many lakeside houses that all have a nice green garden facing the lake and just ask. “Hi! Would it be possible to pitch our tent in your garden for one night?”.

It’s the first time in Northern America that we get so many rejections. Our last try is at a house not directly on the lake surrounded by RVs. There is a big “Trump 2024” flag hanging outside. The guy we talk to wears a shirt that indicates he loves his second amendment to carry a gun. We ask if you we can stay and without a doubt he says “yes no problem”. Score. We tell him we’ll be back in an hour or so. I have a nice discussion with Jacko about the prejudice that we form about him, because of the flag and the shirt. My opinion is that you cannot judge a person on his political view. We pitch our tent in his and his wife’s garden, they cook for us and we cook for them, they treat us to desert and beer. It’s a very nice stay with very friendly people. Luckily for us the political conversation doesn’t come to the table that night.

The funny thing about being outdoors all the time is to handle “a number two” (💩). The first days in Portugal when camping I had a hard time doing the number two, because there is not always a toilet around. Now, two months later I have no problems anymore. If available a toilet is the nicest (there are a lot of so called outhouses at campgrounds and day-use areas in Canada and the US), or go to a bar/restaurant when possible. Otherwise we do it the primal way in the bushes (the reason we always carry wet wipes with us). Anyways! Probably that was too much information, but the reason I’m telling this is that Jacko went to a chicken restaurant to do his number two. He came back telling it was full of people and we realized it’s Sunday morning and probably brunch time for the people here. We decide to indulge in a very American experience and order all the goodies. The food turns out not to be great and a little bit nauseous and way too late (it’s already 2pm) we finally set off. On the top of our first mountain pass we come across another Great Divide-rider: Trent. Very funny guy and we quickly set out together for the descent because we are being attacked by flies and mosquitos that really like our sweaty bodies.

Trent of course has the proper setup for this terrain and with his big mountain bike tires flies down the descent. Humpy-bumpy we follow him, but we cannot keep up. At lunch we enter a very small town called Ovando. Apparently this is a Great Divide hotspot and the little town (population: 71) has many facilities especially created for all the bikers that come across. There’s a shower in the back of the little grocery store, you can do laundry and there are three little cabins (a teepee, sheep wagon and a little jail(?)) that can be used by bikers for a $5 donation. And apparantly every Great Divide rider knows about this little hotspot! We are welcomed by Matt and Rene, a couple from Minnesota and later also a German and French couple join us at the biker-gathering. Although it’s still early and we only did 51km we decide to stay here. We all buy beer at the little store, make dinner together, exchange cycling stories and make a campfire with wood that a guy from the village brought us. We sleep in the teepee. Oh and just before we go to bed Matt comes with a story that this town became notorious because last year a woman got killed in her tent by a grizzly in this town. That makes falling asleep a bit harder.

The next morning we say goodbye to all those nice cyclists. The German and French couple go north. Trent, Matt and Rene and we go south but we all take off separately. Everybody in Ovando told us to go to “the alpaca farm” the next day. We totally don’t know all these little cycling hotspots because we don’t have the official GDMBR maps, but we’re happy with the crowd knowledge. We cheat a little bit because otherwise we cannot make it in one go to the alpaca farm therefore skipping the first horrifying mountain pass of the day and take the highway instead. After Lincoln we meet the gravel again. We face another terribly steep climb over a path with loose rocks on them. Our back wheels slip when loosing friction with the road. There are many holes and grooves in the road and the road gets so steep that one steering mistake means that you come to a standstill. For the first time we have to push our bikes partly up the hill. The sun is burning in our neck, sweat gushes out of our bodies. We make it to the top. There is a viewing platform but it is another 100m climb so we skip it. We begin descending. It’s still a bumpy ride but men it’s great to have the wind blowing freshness into your face and covering distance without using your legs.

Our hands fatigue from squeezing our brake levers. Meanwhile the surrounding is heavenly beautiful. Lush green hillsides, flowers and babbling creeks left and right from us. We came across some cows that refuse to move away from the road so we do a staring contest and eventually I win. We arrive at the Alpaca farm and all the cyclists in Ovando that recommended this place to us did not lie. There is a note welcoming cyclists, recommending us to grab a beer and a sandwich from the fridge and to pick ourselves one of the cabins that are behind the house in the meadow. Wow! We obey, and packed with a beer and a sandwich we meet Matt and Rene again. There is another cyclist as well and later on Trent will also join us (he didn’t cheat). Together with Matt and Rene we cook dinner and enjoy the setting sun. Of course we’ve picked a cabin which is called “Den Schuur” (the owners tried to find different words in different language for “cabin”) and are amazed by all the food that is stocked up in every cabin. They even have two bottles of wine at every cabin! It’s hard to believe that somebody would do this out of generosity without having a profit in mind.

Another tough climb over rock beds take us over another mountain pass. At the top we pass a beautiful meadow with green grass and flowers. At the bottom of the descent we come across a handcart next to the road with a sign saying “free water for cyclists!”. Gotta love the people living next to the Great Divide trail. We haste a little bit because we promised to be at our Warmshowers-host in Helena at 4pm.

Jacko has another flat, but still we make it on time. Helena is the capitol of Montano but it absolutely does not feel like we’re cycling into a capitol city. We see deer in the middle of the city eating grass from the backyards. We pitch our tents in the backyard of our Warmshowers host Linda. We enjoy a nice shower and do laundry.

We take a rest day in Helena and go to the barber, clean our bikes and go to a bakery.

We meet our new friends Matt and Rene at a small festival in a park in the city and have a few too many beers.