Day 17: Dillon to middle of nowhere - 32 miles

The morning was quite cool when we left the motel at 9 a.m. Since we wanted to make good time we went up the road to McDonalds for breakfast. We each had hotcakes which tasted the same as in NZ, although Sean said the coffee was better in the USA. So much for standardisation. Some Americans were chatting with Sean and one commented that when he tried cycling from Butte to Dillon he got so frustrated he chucked his bike in the ditch and hitch hiked. I've had that sentiment more than once, but have yet to act on it.

After breakfast we cycled out of town. We had been advised to take the back route to Lima Reservoir since it was about 30 miles shorter than taking the interstate (we needed to rejoin our route after the side trip to Dillon to fix my bicycle). As we passed the high school I was surprised to see a teacher taking baseball caps off the students as they walked between buildings. Sean was unsympathetic saying that they needed to learn manners and not wear their hats indoors; I was more forgiving since the baseball hat is the national uniform here, although in Montana the cowboy hat comes in a close second.

We found the turnoff to Lima Reservoir without any problems and after a stop to put on sunscreen we continued on our way. They were putting down a thin overlay on the pavement and the signman let us through; unfortunately we got asphalt mix on our bikes and clothes so I picked it off at the next stop.

The road was paved for the first 8 miles and we made good time. We could see how the road took us up from the plain around Dillon in between two ranges of mountains. The area was comprised of farms, lots of horses, but suburbia was also encroaching; there was one place where they had built HUGE mansions. Obviously there is some money around Dillon.

The photo below gives an idea of what the area was like.

 

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The skies ahead of us were dark and forboding. Just after we had a stop the road became unsealed and then, suddenly, we were presented with an awesome headwind. Our speed dropped from a comfortable 12-15 mph to a laboured 6-8 mph. It was mighty hard work.

Just to add to the pleasure of the cycling, there were a number of large trucks using the road which zoomed past us, enveloping us in a lung clogging cloud of dust and more than a few stones. One of the drivers was considerate, he always slowed down, but the others were absolute cretins.

We laboured on into the headwind, cursing our luck. Sean commented that it was worse than Wellington. I proposed a rest stop where we sheltered down an embankment. While it was slightly refreshing, the wind hadn't abated one bit after our break. Later on we stopped for lunch at a corral where I sheltered behind my bicycle and had a tin of cheese tortellini. We were both cold and miserable.

At least as the afternoon progressed it got a bit warmer and that gave me cause for hope. However, Sean was flagging and at 32 miles he announced that he couldn't go any further. There was a farmyard nearby so we pitched our tents next to the stock gates. It was a shame since the sun came out and, although the wind continued, it was a fine afternoon.

We were in an area with little water and lots of scrub. It is typical of the type of arid, desert like conditions found on the east side of the divide. The photo below gives an example.

 

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Sean went to bed early and I wandered around a bit, listening to my radio in the warmth of the setting sun. I then retired to read more about Lewis & Clark before crashing.

On to the next day ...

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