Our Last Day on the Great Divide

Yesterday we made two more crossings of the divide, then a long descent down nearly 2000 feet into Helena.

Helena started as a gold rush town in the 1860’s. Instead of becoming a ghost town when the boom ended, it became a regional centre and a state capital as the mining of gold gave way to the mining of hard-rock quartz lodes.

We found a motel and had a quiet evening. My body was aching. I lay on my bed for a long while, going over our ride in my mind.

Throughout this trip I had pictured the two of us in a long shot, two small figures in the middle distance, making their way up a long sandy incline with dark woods on either side.

Woods where your footfall is the only sound in a directionless space.

As Jamie said one evening, a man on a bicycle in a wilderness has to pay good attention both to his body and its companion machine.

I was never caught by the drama of the gold-rush. Nor apparently was Jamie, as I found on our rather cursory visit to the town museum.

In fact Jamie seemed preoccupied. He had made some long phone calls in the evening.

He said over dinner: “I am glad you are in good shape.”

Last night was the night of the supermoon. I  stood outside my room on the walkway at about 3am and watched for 20 minutes.

It was as if the yard of the motel had been floodlit with a soft, cold, white light.

Others were watching too, talking softly, down the walkway.

The news was telling us that the outbreak of the ebola virus in Africa is more serious than they had realised. Over 1000 people have now died.

Later this morning we will pickup a rental car, remove the bicycle wheels, stow the bikes in the trunk and drive to Whitefish, 208 miles away, a three-and-a-half hour drive.

We will stay a few more days in Whitefish  and then take an early morning flight to Los Angeles.