Last year Alex Steadman bit off more than he could chew on a long (for him) bike tour. A week consisting of physical, emotional, and literal highs and lows led six riders from the top of Montana all the way to the bottom. And not especially fast.
Big Miles For a Small Miles Rider
I’m not the fastest rider around and I’m not the best endurance rider around, yet I ended up riding 340 miles across Montana in 6 days with a bunch of hotdoggers and grandstanders. I’ve only been getting slower over the past few years, partially thanks to becoming an enduro bro but also because of increasing joint pain. Getting slower happens to many people as they get older and ride less, but it’s tough when outside factors are partially to blame and when everyone you ride with is seemingly still at the same level. I knew I wasn’t operating at peak performance, so I was concerned going into this trip. But after insistence of chill pace with lots of stops, I figured I would survive.
I have already realized that the best way to minimize pain while cycling is to put in as little effort as possible while at a high cadence. I now get dropped very often, like rarely being able to hold onto friends crossing the Golden Gate Bridge at the very start of rides or at the slightest rise in the road. I thought I had made peace with that, as a regroup usually isn’t too far off and I can often catch up on descents. I knew my body would be tested by a few big, fully-loaded days, back to back, but I wasn’t prepared for how my mind would be tested.
The Lowdown
The plan all started with Ivy, who grew up in Missoula and does a Montana bike tour every year. She designed a route based off of the Montana portion of the Tour Divide with some added amenities like restaurants, bars, and lodging. The confirmed riders were Ivy, her partner John, my partner Nikki, Steffie, and Terry, all of whom are very strong riders. We all made it to Missoula in the day or two before the ride, some driving, some flying. The airline lost Terry’s bike for a day or so before it arrived the night before our scheduled departure of 9:00am Saturday.
Starting Off Okayish
Ivy’s mom and step dad shuttled us the 3 hours north to Eureka, just shy of Canada. The forecast had shown a hot, dry week with some triple-digit highs, so we were surprised as we got rain on the drive up and rolled out to some cool temperatures and cloud cover. 21 hours of driving over the past three days made me slow to warm up, while the hype of the crew and a “shorter” 46 mile day made everyone else start ripping right away. A few miles in, I was by myself and already sinking into a negative mindset. I reminded myself that I’m never annoyed with slower people on group rides but still wasn’t fully convinced that I wasn’t holding my friends back.
A good amount of climbing saw the top and then a rolling descent, which I also lagged on while trying to minimize pedaling. By the time we got to the Polebridge Mercantile, I was properly smoked; meanwhile, Ivy apologized for making such short days. Next door we got food and drink at the Northern Lights Saloon where some kind of weird country rave was going on. We were offered the option to camp on their property but opted out of camping with the party animals and rolled to a dispersed camp area maybe two minutes out of town. We washed off in the river to a 360-degree sunset and hung our food up in a tree to keep the bears away.
A Short and Wet Day
The next morning we restocked at the Mercantile with some great breakfast sandwiches and free pastries. If you hike or bike more than 5 miles into Polebridge, you get a free pastry! Having the biggest sweet tooth in the group, people kept giving up on their pastries and giving them to me, so I had the same pastry and instant coffee for breakfast almost every day of the whole trip. We rolled out of town across the eponymous pole bridge (really more of a stick or log bridge, if you ask me) and into Glacier National Park. Being the Lord’s Day, we gained free entry into the park, even though we’re a buncha heathens! This is when we got the first bit of rain as we rolled alongside the North Fork Flathead River. We were promised by Ivy that it wouldn’t rain so with every drop that fell there was a symphony of people crying out, “Ivyyyyy, you said it wasn’t going to rain!” like a bunch of children. This soon expanded to any complaint or slight deviance from the plan. We made quick work of the relatively easy 30 miles into Apgar, where we settled into Eddie’s Cafe to wait out the rain before heading to camp.
Waiting turned to reevaluating as the rain got worse and gear got even more soaked. Ivy scored the staff wifi from a friendly busboy and booked us the last available cabin just across the street. After settling up our overpriced and underwhelming round of shots, we made a break for the cabin and started drying all our gear via a network of paracord crisscrossing our two beds and some questionable heating techniques. The cabin was our first return to wifi, so we were happy to show each other all the videos and songs we’d been referencing including “Dur Dur D’etre Baby” by Jordy, “No Tengo Dinero” by Righeira, and “Balla Mozzarella” by Giovanni T. (potentially the top hit of the trip). A break in the weather let us take a dip in the lake to get even more cold and wet, then we returned to Eddie’s for more burgers.
Big Roadie Vibes
Day 3 was our big day: 80 miles of rolling road punctuated by a big dirt climb. John gave me his Garmin so that I wouldn’t miss any of the countless turns on the endless farm roads the group was pacelining down, but the open views let me keep a good line of sight on them. We didn’t have a ton of resupplies before the final climb, so we took a slight detour to a gas station that turned into a slightly bigger detour to a bar. We had plenty of deep fried stuff, and then we stopped by the gas station for even more sweet and salty snacks. The climb went on and on up a densely tree-lined fire road, so I was in my own world for a while there, wondering why I didn’t take the road bailout and singing aloud to warn any bears of my presence. John had given me his bear spray at this point since I was alone in the woods again. Once again I was getting down on myself about being slow and barely even being able to ride with the crew, but I had nowhere else to go, so I slowly pushed on.
The descent raised my spirits with plenty of aero tucks and loose fire road corners and dropped us only a couple miles from the Swan Lake Trading Post and cabins. We got a variety of weird stuff to consume before they closed and got our second(!) shower of the trip and did laundry. We had two cabins with bunk beds which was good because this was the first real show of mosquitoes for the trip. I’ve heard a lot about Glacier and Montana having tons of mosquitoes, but it really wasn’t too bad – and that’s coming from someone who’s only lived in low mosquito areas like Phoenix and San Francisco.
Not as Big, but Gravel Vibes
Our next day was another big one: 61 miles and a comparable 4300’ of climbing, but primarily dirt. After making it through the 80 mile day, slow but in relatively good physical shape, I started trying to make up time on descents and rollers by pedaling more downhill to catch up and make it further up the subsequent climbs. I still wasn’t keeping up, but the gaps weren’t quite as big and I didn’t feel like I was dragging everyone down quite as much. There were enough resupplies and rolling hills and cool weather to make it manageable. Condon was an important midway point because there were no resupplies afterward, and camp was still 20 miles away. More climbing, surprise single track, and rolling downhill sprints landed us at Holland Lake Campground with just enough time to set up our tents before the rain started.
As I mentioned, we weren’t expecting wet or cold weather. Terry only had sandals and no socks, Ivy and John only had a rain fly instead of a full tent, and only Nikki and I had rain jackets so after swimming in a thunderstorm and putting up with the rain and mosquitoes for as long as possible we had the earliest night of the trip. This led to an almost too well rested crew. Terry had 14 hours of sleep and was absolutely on one, bringing up another song, “One Margarita” by That Chick Angel, CasaDi Music, and Steve Terrell, and trying to sing it to the kids at camp like if the Pied Piper partied.
Our Most Activity Filled Day
The morning sun didn’t last long as we climbed double track and a tiny bit of overgrown single track and got drenched on a descent before the main climb. My playing catchup the day before put my joints even deeper in the red, so I kept my pedaling in check and watched the fog wrap around the mountain peaks across the valley. Once the sun came out, we tried to do a bit of gear tanning and discovered that Cannondale Lefty forks make for great spin dryers. At the top we had even more single track, this time a few miles’ worth! This was a fire road that had narrowed down nicely so after a short climb we got to absolutely blast down nearly straight-line and get my hype going again.
The remaining dirt roads into Seeley Lake brought rain turned to hail, so we found shelter at our lunch spot where we got even more fried stuff and meat and ice cream. Our plan was to have a luxurious dinner at Lindey’s Prime Steak House, so we killed some time at a local bar playing pool and scaring away the locals with the pride playlist on the jukebox. I’ve never listened to so much Chappell Roan, Sabrina Carpenter, Billie Eilish, and Charli XCX in my life than on this trip. The steak house was not especially excited to have a bunch of stinky bikers, but despite the smell and the giggling we were great patrons. Everyone was drinking and eating to their hearts’ content since we only had 4 miles to go from town to the fire lookout we were staying at.
Those 4 miles were pretty much straight up though, and after consuming so much and bringing extra supplies, people were hurting. As the days had gone on everyone’s speed had slightly tapered while my slowness had stayed consistent. This was the climb to make it worth it. The steep, loose climb catered to my skills and slowed everyone down enough that I didn’t get DFL for the first and last time! We got up right as sunset was peaking and it was lovely. Climbing the 30-some steps to the fire lookout was exhausting, but the views were worth it. A cool breeze dried our clothes all night and we took refuge inside with a couple people sleeping on the deck to escape the snoring (for the record, only all three men were snoring).
Homeward Bound
The next morning we blasted into town and Terry and I sampled a quarter-mile of tech single track off the fire lookout. We got to our breakfast spot with just enough time to order before the menu switched to lunch. The overwhelmed waitress barely held it together. It was the final day! Another big gas station resupply for the next 50 miles got our bikes real heavy again as we started more climbing. Up until then the fire roads we’d been on were pretty smooth and fast rolling, but the next 14 miles of double track, which Ride with GPS described as “unknown surface”, were slow going. The rough roads again catered to my hardtail and recklessness, so I was able to catch Nikki on descents after she passed me on climbs in a never-ending back and forth. We were finally able to open it up on a big descent to a break in the creek, then onto the road for 10 miles to another big truck stop. I tried my best to keep up on the road for a mile or two, but knew I was going to blow myself up. I felt bad as Nikki dropped back again to pull me and I used as much of her tiny draft as I could.
The next few mixed-terrain miles into town cruised right by until we learned that we had another 5 miles to Ivy’s grandpa’s house where we were staying. “Ivyyyyyy, you said we were done riding!” Some ice cream soothed our spirits and the final few miles riding into the sunset were a victory lap for the trip. We had an extra bit of wind beneath our wings, thanks to camaraderie and a nearly-finished trip, but also from the actual tailwind that pushed us west across Missoula.
Slowly Growing and Learning
Despite beating myself up about riding solo for much of the trip, it was a good time. I had plenty of fun hanging out with everyone off the bike and getting to know them better. Heck, even in peak form it would have been a big trip. I more fully accepted my cycling fate; that at best I’ll be able to keep pedaling at my current pace after some joint tune ups, or at worst I’ll keep slowing down until I have to get an e-bike. I also came to the now-obvious realization that I could have just asked for help. If I needed someone to carry some of my gear, or even just asked people to slow down a bit and ride with me, my spirits would have lifted, but I was too scared of being a burden. They’re all fast, but we spent more than enough time goofing off mid-ride that the days wouldn’t have taken any longer if someone had, if I’d asked, slow down to my pace. I would have needed to set my ego aside, but the only reputation I was upholding was that of an old version of me that’s been gone for a long time.
So ask your friends for help. Whether it’s to slow down for you or to talk about feelings, they’re there for you. After telling some of the crew how I didn’t have 100% good times, they were bummed out for me but also didn’t even know since I had done all I could to keep it from them. My trying to be strong, or self-sufficient, or whatever it was, hurt both myself and them to some extent. If I had sucked it up, been a little embarrassed, and asked for help, I would have had a better time and it wouldn’t have negatively affected their experience. Friends stick around because they want to help their friends, and now I know that when I need some support, I can just ask.