Day 41

Mileage: 88
Total mileage: 3578

The rapidly changing landscape around here never ceases to amaze me.

Last night I went to sleep on the grass in the park. It never occurred to me that in this dry part of the country, grass shouldn't really be growing naturally. Sure enough, around 2a, I suddenly woke up to the feeling of a freezing jet of water being played across my body. Sure enough, the sprinklers had come on and they were generous with their soaking. You wouldn't believe how quickly I got up and ran with my sleeping bag outside the danger zone. My clothes which had been laid out on the picnic table to dry after last night's laundry were also soaked again and so it took a few trips to get all my stuff, by which point I was pretty wet as well. I moved across the park to a large area with wood chips and spent the next half hour trying to shake my quilt dry. The nice thing about down is that it's super warm and light. The bad part is that it's completely useless when it gets wet. I managed to get most of the moisture off it, enough to get me through the night reasonably warm. I felt my dreams of an early start slipping away though.

This morning I had to hang around until 11 o'clock to get the bag completely dry. I didn't want to pack it up with any moisture and run the risk of compressing the down permanently. As it is, I think my sacrifice of time was made worthwhile by getting it back to normal. To still get decent mileage for the day, my afternoon ran pretty low on social interaction and high on riding.

I got to start out by climbing the last few miles over white bird hill where I got a 10 mile descent down the other side into White Bird. I thought that I'd be returning to coniferous forest after my brief teleportation back into Appalachia, but Idaho had something else in mind. I descended down the switchbacks of the old highway, weaving back and forth down the steep hill on banked turns. It was hard to imagine that this drag used to be the main highway, but that's what I've been told. The locals call it rattlesnake road because of all its bends and turns. It was a fun, if trying, descent into what I can only describe as the Wild West. The road was hugged closely by hills covered in dead grass, broken only by the occasional scraggly tree where a small creek flowed down the terrain. I half expected to run over a rattlesnake or get jumped by bandits.

Neither of those things happened though, and I got into White Bird (population 40) where I stopped just long enough to get water. I walked into a bar where about 6 older guys and the bartender were all sitting at a table, watching a western. No one bothered breaking their gaze as I parked outside, walked through to the bathroom for water and walked out.

I got to keep riding through the same hot terrain for most of the rest of the afternoon, following the Salmon river up and up and up. The opposite of what I got to do with the Lochsa yesterday and the day before. I kept passing rafters going the other way down the river and soon got tired of whistling and waving at each group.

At some point the river diverged from the road and I was left in some higher mountain valleys where they raise a lot of cattle. My the scenery does change quickly around here. So does the time zone. I'm completely confused as to which time zone I'm in because apparently it switched each time I crossed the Salmon river and I have no idea which side I'm on now. Oh well, I guess I'll just ride to Oregon and that'll solve it for me .

I took advantage of the Wi-Fi this morning while waiting for my bag to dry and downloaded a bunch of musicals. I found myself singing along quite often today and if you had driven past me you might have heard me rapping along to Alexander Hamilton or belting Defying Gravity at the top of my lungs on a conveniently placed downhill.

Tonight I'm sleeping in the park in New Meadows after a delicious half of a chicken at the local barbeque pit. I'll be checking carefully for sprinklers before sleep tonight. G'night!

Day 40

Mileage: 73
Total mileage: 3490

Felt like I was teleported back into Appalachia briefly today.

There was no rain last night, so I got to pack up all my gear dry and hit the road pretty early. It was cool to see the valley I had ridden in the night before, by the light of the rising sun instead of a setting one. Same exact view, totally different feel.

Along the road into Kooskia today I was doing a little climbing with my head down and noticed berries on the road. To be specific, they were cherries. Sure enough, there was a shrub with the most perfectly ripe cherries on it that I've ever seen, growing wild along the road. I had no clue if there was any danger in eating wild cherries, so I limited myself to only about ten...thousand. In truth I stuffed myself on them and then chugged a water bottle so I could fill it with berries for later as well.

In Kooskia I stopped for water at a little pet shop and spent way too long sitting on the floor, eating my cherries and playing with all the cute little kittens running around. They were super skittish, but as soon as my hand turned into a little spider running around, they couldn't help but chase it. Before I left, the shopkeeper gave me the most hilarious advice ever. I told him I was going down what's apparently a really steep descent into White Bird and he solemnly cautioned me that I should make sure to get my bike in first gear at the top of the hill, otherwise I'd burn up all my brakes.

What was funny wasn't the fact that bikes have a freewheel device in the rear cassette that allows the wheel to turn freely while not pedaling, thus making it irrelevant what gear I'm in going downhill. It's the image which is conjured to mind if you imagine that his advice actually applied. In cars, shifting into lower gear forces the engine to slow down on hills because the pistons can only compress the air in the cylinders so quickly; the motion of the engine becomes the brake. On my bike I am the engine. If I tried to go down a steep hill in first gear without a freewheel, my pedals would become a blender, moving at several hundred rpm. The notion that I could somehow gently dampen that maelstrom with my legs to reduce my coasting speed is absolutely ridiculous, hence the hilarity of his comment. Can you tell I dwealt on this for a good portion of the afternoon?

In Syringa, things started to feel like Appalachia again. I rode into a tiny town and had instructions to follow unmarked roads for unspecified distances, which left me staring at my maps for the first time on this side of the great plains. The other thing I noticed was the heat. Despite how far north I am, I'm back down around 1000 feet and while standing around to read my map my cleats started melting into the pavement. Eventually I found my road, named Lamb's Grade. It should have been called Lion's Grade because it was vicious. In a couple switchbacking miles I gained 1500 feet, cementing the impression of Kentucky firmly back into my mind. Every time I looked down to check what gear I was in, a few drops of sweat would drip from my beard onto my frame, a phenomenon I remember well. When I got to the top I wasn't even surprised to see bales of hay lined up in the fields. The endless fields of wheat were a bit of a surprise but at this point I felt like anything could happen and I would just take it.

In Grangeville I finally got Wi-Fi to post my last two entries. At the cafe where I was posting from I met a guy who rode in the original bikecentennial trip of 1976. He was visiting Missoula for the 40th anniversary bash this weekend and he informed me there was a concert in the park. I went to the concert tonight and enjoyed some country music (are you surprised either?) before getting a shower at the pool. On my way to the other city park (where they let cyclists camp) a lady who was selling raspberries at the concert gave me a couple pounds of them that she had left over! It's been a good day for berries. Showered, I'm back in my comfort zone with freshly laundered clothes drying on a covered picnic table and me lying on the grass tonight. Tomorrow I guess I get to go down that hill in whichever gear I dang well please. G'night!

Day 39

LMileage: 101
Total mileage: 3417

Quiet, serene, beautiful, downhill Idaho.

This morning I woke up around 8 to the sound of other people packing up their gear into panniers. I laughed a little to myself, knowing how long that takes, and went back to sleep for another 45 minutes. Without even realising it, I've got my packing up and moving out routine down to about 6 minutes. Watching the extended process of the fully loaded cyclists made me really grateful for my backpack setup. I wanted to go to breakfast with these guys so I took a nice hot shower while they finished getting their stuff together, realizing with surprise that I hadn't had a proper shower in 6 days.

After we all ate our breakfast crowded around a tiny table in a little cafe we went outside and ran into Allana! She was riding home from the dentist, saw some loaded bikes outside and figured it was us. She ended up riding the 13 miles back into Lolo with us, just for fun. From there everyone was splintering into different directions and we said our goodbyes as I turned off to climb Lolo pass.

Within an hour of making that turn, I was back in pine forests making my way up the gentle grade toward the pass. These Rocky mountain climbs are so much more moderate and gradual than the hills out east, to the point where climbing can be really relaxing and fun. For about two and a half hours I ascended through the wildflowers and conifers to the top of Lolo pass where I entered Idaho!

Since coming into Idaho, the road has been a very gradual downhill grade for over 60 miles now. You've got to love a state where you can ride the whole afternoon and not have to go up at all yet. I've been following the gentle slope of the Lochsa river through narrow valleys, one after another. What this place lacks in epic sweeping views, it makes up for in smells and sounds. The peaceful rumble of the river and the chirping birds, coupled with the heady scent of pine makes for pleasant riding that makes the hours quickly slip away.

In the late afternoon, I rode by a bridge that promised hot springs, only a mile and a half of hiking away. With no real destination in mind for tonight, I decided to take a couple of hours to explore, and boy am I glad I did! The trail followed a creek back until it dissolved into a boulder field with water flowing laterally down the hillside between the rocks to meet the river. In places, there were small pools where the water was collected. I tried my foot in one and sure enough, it was hot!

About that time, an Australian shepherd ran up to me and started begging for attention. As I reached down to pet him, I looked around and noticed that the pools weren't empty. I had the choice between finding my own pool, joining a couple of girls in a large pool fairly close or hanging out with some naked men spread across the other pools. I opted for clothing and to meet the girls, whom the dog belonged to.

Enter the sisters Ashley, Shelby, Paige and their honorary sister Brandy. They're from Missoula (further confirming my impression that Montana has the prettiest girls in the country) where Ashley and Brandy are nurses while Paige and Shelby were just home for the summer from college where they both play basketball. It was hilarious and fun hanging out around siblings again. Ashley and I apparently wandered into medical territory with our conversation, prompting both Paige and Shelby to dramatically feign sleep and start snoring. What sisterly love! We enjoyed the springs for a while and then we hiked back out to the road, trying ineffectively to keep their dog out of the mud as we went.

Back at the road the generosity didn't stop. Without my asking, they topped off my water bottles and Ashley even gave me a pair of beers for camp tonight. It's hard to believe how lucky I keep getting as far as meeting people. Running into these ladies was hands down the highlight of my day!

When I got back on the bike, the sun was starting to set over the mountains. I was able to put 30 more miles on before it was too dark to continue and I had to pull over. I found a little turnoff and followed it a few hundred yards to a small clearing, pitching my tarp between a couple of trees with the last of the light as insurance against rain. Under the stars in the clearing I laid out my bedroll and lay down. 'Dinner' was a 3000 calorie snack of cookies from a convenience store up the road, washed down with Ashley's beer. It's cold out, but my legs are toasty warm inside the sleeping bag and my arms are begging to follow suit, so I'm going to turn in for the night. The stars are beautiful once again and I'm looking forward to falling asleep with this view. G'night!

Day 38

Mileage: 51
Total mileage: 3316

Today I got sucked into the beautiful vortex of kindness that is Missoula!

Last night, after I typed my blog post, I went to a McDonald's to grab Wi-Fi and publish it around 10pm. As I was sitting there, waiting for it to upload, a guy in his mid twenties came up and asked if I needed a place to stay for the night. I replied that I hadn't find one yet and he invited me to go camping up in the mountains with a bunch of his buddies. I had nothing better to do so I readily obliged. We waited for a little bit while a bunch of people assembled in the parking lot and then cruised off about 7 miles outside of town into the mountains. They brought a bunch of pallets so we broke them up, had a campfire, enjoyed some beer and just generally had a great time. When we were all going to sleep, the sky was clear, so I elected to camp out under the magnificent stars that I could see through a gap in the trees. If it rained, I was ready to jump into the back seat of one of the cars, but the rain never came.

As a result, this morning started understandably late. I woke up around 8 while the others were still sleeping. I was stuck at the campsite until the others woke up, so I passed the next two hours playing with the chipmunks. They were fairly skittish at first, but I finally got them to the point where they were eating chip crumbs out of my hand. One particularly fat one was a big fan of my skittles and he was willing to stick his body halfway into the bag to get them.

Around 10, the guy with the truck woke up and we drove my bike back into Hamilton. From there I got to ride 40 miles of bike trail (!) through the Bitterroot valley into Lolo. Out of Lolo, the trail went into Missoula, but it was a 10 mile spur, I would have to ride back again to continue the route into Idaho. The big draw of Missoula was the Adventure Cycling Association and the potential to pick up a package at the post office. Since it's officially part of the route, I decided to go visit, with the firm expectation to get in and get out quickly.

At the ACA headquarters the whole plan broke down. When I walked in I was greeted enthusiastically by the staff. They took a Polaroid picture of me, had me sign my name and stuck it up on the wall with all the other cyclists. I guess they scan them as well so it's probably on their website too. One of the rituals there is to weigh your bike, but since my bike is empty, I got my pack weighed instead. 13 pounds, 15 ounces fully loaded. From that point, everyone I got introduced to on the tour of the building was informed by my guide that I was only carrying 14 pounds. I met the founder of the organization, Greg Siples and he ended up taking me out back to shoot a picture of me and my bag for their magazine.

The fun didn't stop there! While I was sitting in the cyclist lounge eating their free ice cream and reading their huge book about the TransAm, three cyclists that I had met in Jackson came in, Christina, Lael and Timothy. When I had talked to them there, they had just said that they were riding from Bozeman to Missoula, nothing more. What Lael neglected to mention was that she was in fact the legendary Lael, women's record holder for the great divide trail and this year's winner of the trans American bike race which I followed closely. (Absolutely insane, no woman has ever finished close to the top before and she WON). I totally fanboyed out when I learned who she was and got to talk to her for a while. She was super nice and in the end she took a picture with me.

The whole experience from tour to ice cream, photo shoot and meeting Lael Wilcox took a couple hours and by then a storm had rolled into Missoula. It was early evening and I could theoretically have kept going, but the folks at HQ told me about a free hostel in town where I could meet some other cyclists and stay the night. I've got a bit of time to play with, and quite honestly I'm eager to extend the trip by a little, so I opted to stay.

I showed up to Bruce's place (the hostel) which turned out to be his huge house with a bunch of folks living in it. The door was open which pretty much set the tone for my stay. Go in, go out, use the kitchen, take a shower, literally make yourself at home. I met a couple of other guys there, three of them going on the trail the other direction. One of them knew a girl in town and said we were invited over to go cook dinner. So the three of us hopped on our bikes, rode over to meet Allana at her house and then went to the grocery story for spaghetti supplies. When we came back we cooked an incredible meal of garlic bread, salad with strawberries and almonds and spaghetti. Towards the end of dinner two girls who were doing their own tour across Idaho and knew some of the guys stopped by. It was a big party and we sat, chatted and ate for a long time before we all ended up getting on bikes and riding convoy style back to the first house for the night.

It's a crowded living room floor here but I'm extremely glad I ended up sticking around and hanging out with these guys. I wonder what tomorrow will hold. G'night!

Day 37

Mileage: 91
Total mileage: 3265

If there's a counterpart to yesterday, it was today, and it was glorious! !

Last night I stayed nice and dry underneath my cafe porch while storm after storm swept through until about 4 in the morning. My sleeping bag (technically a quilt) has been performing marvelously this whole trip and I've been warm even on the coldest nights. This morning, however, I decided to put my windbreaker on over my Tshirt because little gusts of cold wind kept slipping in around the collar. I found out when I got up that the temperature dropped below 30 early this morning, which only elevated the bag even more in my standings.

Let me paint a cold picture for you. The puddles by the side of the road were all frozen and the tips of the grass were covered in frost. Up on the foothills outside of town there was a fresh covering of snow from last night. My jersey, shorts, socks and shoes understandably never dried out last night and there was no convenient laundromat, so I put them on wet and cold  which woke me up rather quickly. I suppose I'm in the mountains now and pretty far north as well, I should expect the cold despite the fact that it's July.

The restaurant in town was closed on Mondays, so I put on 20 miles to Wisdom before breakfast. My gloves kept my fingers nice and warm, but the combination of wet socks and cold wind quickly froze my toes back into numbness. It didn't last long. In Wisdom, while waiting for my eggs and pancakes, the waitress invited me to hang up my socks and shoes in front of the merry fire cracking in their stove. I sat myself right next to the fire and warmed up my feet while the socks dried out. After breakfast, I got to put on toasty stockings and nearly dry shoes; my feet stayed dry and warm for the rest of the day!

My day only got better from there! For 30 miles I gently climbed up to Chief Joseph pass and crossed the continental divide for the 9th and final time. It looks like I'm in the Pacific watershed to stay! The ride up there was two hours of perfect bliss. I climbed out of the Big Hole valley and into the mountains proper, passing through coniferous forests and past countless mountain streams. The sun started to warm up the air and the atmosphere was absolutely still, no traffic. I was listening to a recording of John Muir's wilderness journals being read aloud, but after a while I just turned it off and listened to the insects whirring, songbirds chirping and the soft babble of mountain streams. Crossing one little river, I got off the bike and just sat on the rocky bank for a while, enjoying the pine scent and the soothing sounds while eating my skittles.

On the other side of the pass I enjoyed a whole different kind of fun. I passed within viewing distance of Idaho, but I don't get to go in yet. Then within 10 miles I got to descend 2000 feet through the sweeping mountain landscape. My mouth always gets dry on descents like these because I cruise along over 35mph with my mouth wide open, grinning like an idiot the entire time. The rest of the day was spent cruising through forests, across rivers and just generally enjoying the Montana scenery. I think I'm falling in love with this state.

Tonight I'm in Hamilton. There used to be a lady here who let cyclists stay at her place, but when I texted her number off my maps she replied that she had moved to Virginia, so that's a nonstarter. I think I might just ride out of town for a while until I get somewhere that looks good and drop my sleeping bag. I'll have to keep my tarp handy though, those Montana storms creep up really quickly. G'night!

Day 36

Mileage: 50
Total mileage: 3174

Montana must have read my blog post from last night and decided that it was going to alter the definition of extreme, because that's what I got today.

I'm very happy I elected to find a covered porch last night because while I was sleeping, an enormous storm rolled in. Thunder, lightning, pouring rain, the whole 9 yards. I stayed quite dry through the whole thing on the church porch and was up and gone before the congregation started arriving this morning.

The plan for today was a hundred mile ride over three mountain passes and back down to 5000 feet tonight. That didn't work out so well. I started my climb out of Dillon and rode about 20 miles, to the top of the first pass, without incident. The whole way up, I could see the mountains ahead of me covered in clouds and could hear the thunder echoing down in warning.

I realized that I was going to get a bit wet and resigned myself to a watery slog, but as I was coming to the top of the pass, I saw a piece of grape sized hail go skipping down the pavement, bouncing about 5 feet high on its first impact and continuing down the hill like a bouncy ball. I groaned, not this again. On one side of the road there was a fairly steep drop off of about 6 feet into a ditch and on the other side was a grove of trees. The hail was large, but there wasn't the force of any wind behind it, so it didn't really hurt even when I got hit. Regardless, I knew that hail is a pretty good predictor of a dangerous hail storm, so I tucked myself in under a large pine to wait things out.

The wind started to pick up, but the sound was different. Instead of the gusty howling I've been listening to for a week, it was like a constant roar. About the same time, I noticed the wind change directions abruptly like it shouldn't be able to. It suddenly clicked and my stomach dropped out from under me. Tornado. I was on the wrong side of the road. I picked up my bike and sprinted to the other side where I dropped my bike in the ditch, ran 50 feet back down the road and jumped in myself, lying face down. I started to think I was being silly when I heard the sound of trees cracking in the grove where I had just been hiding. It was ripping through the trees and sending big branches flying everywhere. I stayed down in my ditch for a few minutes, but besides a 30 second window where the air filled up with dirt, I was untouched. My bike was right where I left it and the tornado continued along across the countryside. I finally got my wits about me and managed to snap a picture before it disappeared over the hill.

Rattled, I did the only thing a sane person would do, I got back on the bike. I had run a little bit down off the pass so I rode back up to it and stopped. The valley in front of me was filled with formidable looking storm clouds and the wind was now blowing towards me. I had 20 miles to go until I was over the next pass, so I flagged down a car coming the opposite direction to ask if it was passable. He laughed in my face and said that he had just driven through a huge storm, hail, wind, rain, no visibility, the works. I believe his exact quote was 'if you try to ride through that, you'll be drowned.' It was already cold, so drowning didn't sound particularly fun, which left me either hitchhiking back to Dillon or hunkering down while the storm passed.

I've been carrying a tarp in my bag this whole trip for this exact situation, so I opted to hunker. I quickly found two trees and pitched my tarp between then, staking deeply into the ground and rigging it with some really well tensioned truckers hitches. Not a minute too soon, I got under it as the hail started coming down. The bigger stuff was about marble sized while the majority was about pea sized. For 10 minutes, I sat under the tarp, cold but dry, while the hail piled up around me. Then it turned into a really windy thunderstorm. During a lull, I went outside and peeked around to see nothing but black clouds in every direction. Since this was going to take a while, I decided to get comfortable and got out my sleeping bag. I ended up taking a two hour nap during that vicious storm and finally getting up when it was over, packing everything back up and getting on my bike again.

In the wake of the storm, the wind had shifted and not in my favor. I'll spare you the details because you've heard this complaint before, but headwind, slow progress and frustrating all apply. While I was making minimal progress up the second pass with the wind in my face, yet another storm blew in over the mountains and I was caught out in the open. This one wasn't packing hail, it was more of a slush with ice that stuck to my jersey and arm warmers. I guess you'd call it sleet or freezing rain, but it was the first time I'd encountered it on this trip. Wet, cold and icy, I finally got up to the top of Big Hole pass around 7500 feet where the wind stopped and I cruised downhill the remaining 11 miles into Jackson. I was done for the day. I couldn't feel my fingers and toes and I just felt battered. It was already 6 o'clock and I had no interest in riding 20 more miles to Wisdom in the rain.

In Jackson, things started looking up. I ate an enormous roast beef dinner at the local cafe and it only cost 12 dollars now that I'm out of tourist country. Still, I was having trouble getting warm even though I was changed out of my wet clothes and sitting in a warm room. Miraculously, Jackson (population 38) happens to have a hot springs! It's channeled into a nice pool at the resort right across the street and only cost 8 dollars for entry.

Man it was amazing! There was a huge lounge with couches and a television playing the Olympic trials next to a crackling fireplace. I went outside into the spring and spent probably two solid hours just hanging out in the 106 degree water with a couple from Butte Montana. We got to talking and I learned that the fellow was a copper miner who worked sorting the 'moly' (molybdenum) from the processed copper. Later, in the bar, I met a cattleman who raised black Angus beef cows, so between last night and today I've met pretty much all the big Montana professions.

At the bar, I showed my picture of the tornado to a few people and learned that those are extraordinarily rare here, to the tune of 3 in the last 40 years. I suppose I'm just really lucky!

When everything closed down I went back across the street to the cafe where I ate earlier. I got permission from one of the owners at dinner to sleep on their porch tonight, so I'm out here getting ready to go to sleep. Hopefully tomorrow has more cooperative weather! G'night!

Day 35

Mileage: 108
Total mileage: 3124

Today had been an amazing day of extremes!

I was woken up this morning a little before 7 when the rest stop management crew came by to empty the trash and clean the bathrooms. One of the guys asked why I slept outside last night (it was cold and windy). I said that I didn't think I'd be allowed to sleep inside the building, to which he replied, 'Dude, it's a Montana rest stop. Pretty much anything is allowed.'

So I didn't get in trouble, which apparently gave me the peace of mind to go back to sleep for two more hours. When I woke up, there was a bitter wind whipping out of the south. It was the kind of relentless, gusty straight-line wind that you hope you never have to ride into. I was heading due north for 35 miles, and it was at my back!

I eagerly hopped on the bike and sped off toward the little town if Ennis. I was riding in this huge valley between two enormous mountain ranges and the scenery was breathtaking as I cruised along close to 30mph. There's an incredible feeling of release that comes from riding down a straight, flat road, trying to gear up and realizing you're already in the highest gear. It took just over an hour and 20 minutes to ride into Ennis, which is probably the fastest average speed I've pulled for a leg of this trip.

Ennis was absolutely delightful! It's a little tourist town that focuses primarily on fly fishing. There were anglers standing in the rivers outside of town, people grilling in the park and even an instructor teaching a couple how to cast on the lawn of the park. The pharmacy in town had a nice little breakfast diner (weird right?) And I took a minute to look at my maps. To my horror, I was doing a u turn maneuver and heading south into the wind while climbing a 6 mile, 2000 foot hill. It took me just as long to climb that hill as it did to do the whole ride into Ennis.

So with two extremes down, the best part was coming up. There was a steep 4 mile descent into Virginia city where I quickly lost almost all the elevation I had just gained. It was through a narrow canyon and the wind was finicky, whipping through at odd angles, changing directions at every turn. It was the most fun descent I've ever done. No brakes, zipping around corners, leaning hard into the turn and then getting rocked back the other direction by a huge gust. It was like riding an incredible roller coaster that required super focus to stay on the rail. When I finally came shooting down into Virginia city with my heart racing, the radar by the side of the road measured me at 37 miles an hour. I was sad that it was over.

The rest of the day was quintessential Montana, cranking out 50 more miles across the huge landscape studded with mountains and dotted with cattle. This is beautiful country and I could ride through it for weeks without ever getting tired of it.

Tonight I'm in Dillon. I stopped into a random bar quickly to ask directions to city park and ended up chatting with the bartender and the only other patrons which happened to be two ladies from rural Montana. One was a cowgirl who trained colts for a living and the other was a lumberjack. The bartender got out a coil of rope at one point and the girls taught me how to throw a lariat. It was a far more interesting night than I expected it to be.

I stopped by the park, but there was no cover and I'm always afraid it's going to randomly rain here despite clear skies. I stumbled across a church that had a covered front porch and it looks pretty secluded. Church doesn't start until 10 tomorrow so I'll be up and out before people start arriving. G'night!