The Secret of Hills - Part 2: Finding the Way Up

People often ask me what I do to entertain myself during long days in the saddle. The answer is really quite simple - the trip is its own form of entertainment.  Mostly, it is about looking at a new scene, the detail at 12 miles per hour, or even 4 to 6 miles per hour climbing.  There is so much time to fill, my mind is never silent.

And nothing occupies the mind more than climbing hills.

I have already written about Logan Pass in Glacier, the king of climbs on this trip in terms of magnitude, all brainwaves taken together.  Or the "minor", unmarked pass of Old Woman's Grave road, minor as in "routine", but had the power to mystify - on this already written.

When will this end?   

Will the summit approach be abrupt or only a gentle saddle?

Will there be a view?  A sign? A welcoming committee?

That light of horizon through the trees, silhouetting the ridge above, is getting lower, dropping as I rise

Oh those thighs are starting to burn, ease up a bit, can I switchback across the lane?

Ten up!  Stand,  Oh there, a bit better for a fleeting moment.

But of the other climbs?  There is much challenge surveying the landscapes ahead and to "read" them, predicting where the pass might cross. Or, as one climbs, to read the geometry of pitch, traverse, and elevation, sensing the optimal way to power through this rising terrain. There were some remarkable climbs, and many unremarkable ones born of necessity, merely to get to ones destination, not the anticipated "prize". One truth is herein spoken - that climb at the end of a long day is the hardest physically and mentally.  The long climb first thing in the morning is fresh and energizing (though many would disagree on that point).

What's that new squeak?

How can flowers grow in such tiny crevasses of rock?

Cool striations in that rock!

What's with these flies circling like satellites?

Scooch little yellow butterfly, flying so seemingly uncontrollably.

Those shifting clouds, occasionally masking the intense sun

Consider the minor passes, unmarked and otherwise unremarkable between Helena and Three Rivers. Or between Norris and Ennis over the Bozeman Trail: wide open range lands, wide views of the valley behind and mountain ranges astride, extreme sunshine and often fickle winds.  Or the unmarked Stemple Pass (6,376'), a gravel climb, very steep, less than fully "engineered".

Granny*, you still there?  Ah yes - haven't sung your praises yet. You're in reserve in case I need you!

Wish I knew Mom's mom - I remember Oma.

What would Dad think of this trip?

 God it's hot

Wish there was a tailwind - would it make a difference?

Looking at the shadow of me grinding, creeping slowly past the gravel.

Or the morning climb over an unmarked pass between Ennis and the historic old town of Virginia City (first capital of Montana), itself situated on the west facing slope of the Greenhorn Range - a steady rise out of the Madison River valley through dry scrub, the road up ahead fully visible, switching back and forth to an unseen pass, the passage through which can only be speculated upon, with every mile higher the coniferous forest cover starting to appear, in full form at the physical pass.

There goes the coyote - slipped slyly right under that fence.

What was that bird?  Oh, an oriole!  Becky would know!

How did this underwear get to the side of the road?

Does anyone in a car see these delicate flowers?

There goes the deer - be careful

From Dillon, the climb over Badger Pass (6780'), though anticipated on the map, was a steady, beautiful climb through mostly wooded forest over a broad pass, revealing the Grasshopper Valley ahead, a dry, scrubby expanse leading to Bannack (the first territorial capital).  This followed the next day by a steep climb out of the Grasshopper Valley along the PioneerScenic Byway, a wondrous, mountain environment with a fresh morning forest smell, wide open alpine meadows with snow capped mountains of several ranges all around.  The Chief Joseph Pass (7,264') climb from the open Big Hole valley out of Wisdom followed this pattern of an evolving landscape, rising gently at first, steeply toward the end.

I can hear you, but can't see you Mr. Screech Owl

Why is there so much cowshit on the road?**

Sound of rushing water - climbing, rising and fading away

That ditch has water flowing - what collects there? Oh, there is not much shoulder - have to hold the line.

Car coming - I spy you in my tiny mirror.  staaaaay wide - righto!

A bit of a blind inside curve - need to pedal harder to get around to be visible. Oh, but . . .

Have I really climbed this high already?

And perhaps the most daunting climb was the final major climb, the Skalkaho Pass (7,260'), following the Skalkaho River to its source - a waterfall - high up a winding steeply sided canyon road, itself largely unpaved and single lane with no guardrails, stunning for the evolving views, and its ability to hug the steep canyonsides.

The light - the light is perfect, casting a bright spot on the forest floor

Look at those wildflowers.

Awww, look at that fawn staring me down.

Should I stop to get a picture?

Whoa, steep ravine off the side - watch your line, no railing

Doppler effect of a small spring cascading down the mountain side.

Wind in the pines, whisper as soft as the bed of needles

Creaky trees - catch that fragrance!

Oh, the reward is now given!  How quickly will we fall back down the hill?  The next valley opens up before me. Feel that speed rising with no effort, the wind washing my face faster and faster, my legs ceasing to pedal, just coasting to enjoy.

Oh, look at that view, had I climbed that high?

Nicccceeeeee!  Grip tighter.  Glance at speedometer, approaching 40

Hold it steady - cars coming down behind.

I do trust my bike at this speed, don't I?  It is rolling nicely . . .

Miles are clicking by -  long descent. Crouch for a few miles per hour more! Stay off the aerobars!

Wow, what a hairpin, lean in - see that road laying out in front of me.

Glide and ride all the way down, slowing now as the road flattens out. Have I shifted gears?

Only to do it again . . .

*Granny refers to the lowest gear available to ease climbing, after which there are none lower, literally and painfully obvious!
** The reason? The roads and shoulders are used to drive cattle to different ranges, witnessed several times.  The result is, well, obvious!