I'm making hemoglobin as fast as I can!

Saturday: During my cold and wet ride to Glacier, I met another woman touring cyclist. She is from Minnesota, and she talked her friend into sharing her dream of riding from coast to coast. They took the train to Seattle, then rode out on 2. That was the first route I considered. She said it was brutal, but beautiful, and she felt it prepared her for the bigger mountains. They're going to ride to Portland, Maine, then take the train home.

I got to the Sprague Creek campground, which is one of the smaller campgrounds that is accessible by car. All of these main campgrounds have special sites for hikers and bikers that are only $5 per person. I set up my tent in the cold rain, then dressed up in almost all of my clothes and walked a mile up the road to have a celebratory hot meal that I didn't have to cook in the rain.

It is so cold and wet. I think it is snowing a little higher up, but I'm not sure. They are not yet done clearing the Going to the Sun Road, so you cannot drive through the park from the west side to the east. This is actually good for me, because while the road is closed, hikers and bikers are allowed to go up as far as they are able. When the road is open, there are restrictions on the times bikers are allowed to use the road, because of congestion and safety issues. For some reason, even though I knew about all of the snow that was still up higher in the mountains, this didn't translate in my brain into "all of the hikes you are interested in doing are snowed in. You will not be able to climb a mountain for the view." Oh well...

Sunday: This morning I met some nice people from New Jersey, so now I have a bed and a shower if I'm near Hoboken.

I rode up going to the Sun Road today. They don't plow or do road construction on weekends, and I was told by several people that I can ride up "as far as you can," which I take to mean as far as the snow is plowed. A scant six miles past the road closure barrier, an estimated six miles from where the snow ends, and after only a few hints at the scenery to come, there is a sign that says no one may continue past this sign, under penalty of fines and/or prosecution. I stopped to have a snack and think about whether or not to break the rules. After only a few minutes a mountain biker from Kalispell showed up, and we discussed the likelihood of getting caught if we rode past the sign. He said he had ridden this road just three weeks ago, and it was open then, so he didn't see why it should be closed now. He reasoned that if we put the road closure sign away, then kept riding, we could shrug and say "what sign?" if caught. This seemed like perfect logic to me, so we put the sign away and agreed we had never seen each other. As I continued riding, I couldn't help but think of a section in that book "The Tipping Point" that talked about how people who would normally never break any rules would be more likely to break the smaller rules-- jaywalking, subway turnstyle jumping-- if other people were already doing it. After another two and a half miles and some fantastic views I came to a hike called "the loop," and decided to have a wander. There were a lot of blowdowns, and I didn't get very far before I came to a bridge whose railing had been broken by a blowdown. The bridge looked like its structural integrity was intact, but I decided not to test it, and went back to my bike. I continued a little further on the road, but I had passed the place where the road construction crew was working, and the road was pretty bad, and kinda gravelly. I decided not to take any risks with my not-a-mountain bike, and turned back. The ride back down was pretty fun, but I got super cold going downhill. Did I mention that it is still cold and rainy? When I got down to the Avalanche Creek area, I stashed my bike and hiked up to Avalanche Lake. It is one of the few hikes open right now, and is not super difficult, so there were a lot of people on it. Since it is so wet, this meant a ton of mud. I booked uphill until I finally started to warm up, then slowed down a bit and enjoyed the drippy wet forest. It reminded me of home. I expected to see a banana slug at any moment. The lake was beautiful, and the weather cleared up enough so I could see the surrounding snowy mountains. I walked to the other end of the lake, where the trail ended, then headed back down. It seems to be clearing up a bit this afternoon, but I don't expect it to last, as this same weather is expected for another ten days at least. Oh well... I will have to come back here sometime in July or August and spend some time doing backcountry hikes with at least one other person to help chat and ward off bears. When I was all alone up at the loop hike, I had to make noise to let any bears know I was in the area, so I sang a song I made up about hoping bears don't eat me, and I felt a little silly.

Monday: This morning I awoke to the sounds of birds chirping, rather than rain on the roof of my tent. It was only partially cloudy, and raining sporadically. This was my chance! I got ready as quickly as I could, then hopped on my bike and rode down to the Apgar Lookout Trail, hoping to make it to the top before the weather changed on me. I was a bit hesitant to do this hike, as Apgar is the super-touristy part of the park, and pretty much everyone I talked to recommended this trail to me. I was expecting it to be as crowded as the Avalanche Lake hike. But since there aren't a ton of options this time of year, and I had a chance of some pretty great views, I went for it. The last two miles to the trailhead were on a dirt road, but I managed to ride most of the way. It occurred to me that this road was worse than the one that turned me back yesterday. I guess I just wanted this more. Also, the weather was nicer, and I had remembered to bring my multitool and a spare tube. That made me braver.

I got to the trailhead and was pleasantly surprised to see only a handful of vehicles in the parking lot. The entire hike, I don't think I saw more than eight groups of people. This one is a bit steeper and longer than Avalanche, so I guess it's less popular. And it's Monday now, no weekend hikers out. While I was stripping off layers of clothing and marvelling at how much sun there was, I realized that in my haste to leave I have forgotten my sunblock. You'd think I hadn't been all pearly white for 31 years. Just then, a nice couple from Wisconsin drove into the parking lot and began prepping for the hike. I begged some sunblock off them and hit the trail. About halfway up, I began to get some amazing views of... Somewhere. There was a huge river, the Flathead, perhaps? And mountains and whatnot. I think I was looking south out of the park. I still haven't been able to figure out which direction I'm facing, now that I'm disconnected from my usual landmarks. As I neared the top, the clouds began to gather and a few raindrops fell. I reached the top just in time to see the view of Lake McDonald and the surrounding mountains just as the clouds closed in more and completely obscured the view. I'm bummed I didn't get out of my sleeping bag sooner. I was awake, but it was cold out there. At least I mostly got to see it, for a minute or two. I also had cell reception for a few minutes, so I got to chat with Newscat and hear a familiar voice. After a snack, I tried to make another call, but my reception seemed to have gone the way of the view. It got really cold up there, and I swear there was a snowflake or two. I put all of my layers back on and began jogging back down the trail, until I warmed up a little. I made it back down in just over an hour (it took almost two hours to reach the top), hopped on my bike, and came back to my tent. My feet are killing me. I miss my hiking boots. I hope you are going to put them to good use, Mom! My shoes have been wet since Saturday.

Tuesday: I think my shoes are almost dry. I took the day off. I was hoping to do one more hike today, but as this was the first hiking I've done this year, I'm pretty sore. I'm okay with doing nothing. There is a super cold wind outside, and I'd rather not be out in it. Not only because of the cold, but for the skin on my face. There's such a thing as sunblock, but windblock is harder to come by. I've been smearing a protective (I hope?) layer of aloe on my face when I will be out riding in the cold, but I am still pretty red and chapped. Maybe I should wear one of those ski mask thingies when I ride in the cold.

It got too cold in my tent, so I walked up to the lodge for an afternoon of sipping hot cocoa and reading in front of the fire. During my walk, the rain turned to snow. Okay, it was somewhere between sleet and snow, but still. Brrr.

I spent the whole day surrounded by people, yet talked to almost no one. I am tired of having the same getting-to-know-you conversation over and over. I think that is part of why my three days with Susan and her daughter's family was so nice. We got past all of that the first day, and the next two days were much more interesting. In our brief conversation yesterday, Newscat, who was on a business trip, asked how I dealt with the soul-crushing loneliness of travel. The truth is, it's only just now kicking in. I think I have a higher tolerance for alone-time than most people, and have enjoyed practicing my social skills on people I will never see again. I've been pretty introverted for most of my life, and this is something I have really been working hard on lately. It's a lot easier when there's really no chance of social consequences, beyond the immediate. But after 35 days without seeing a familiar face, and of only communicating through phone calls-- which help, but are no match for the real thing, and are getting more difficult with my recent reception problems-- I'm starting to fantasize about randomly seeing friends, or even people I've only met a few times before, on the road. How's that for a run-on sentence? Yeesh.

In case anyone is wondering, northwestern Montana is a Verizon kind of place.

While I was hanging at the lodge, the snow set in for reals, and it looks like I will not be leaving tomorrow, like I had planned.

Wednesday: there are worse places to be snowed in than Glacier.

I managed to pick-- no exaggeration-- the most exposed, snowiest tent site in the whole campground. When I arrived, I chose the smaller of the two available tent sites in the hiker/biker spot, wanting to leave the larger free in case someone with a bigger tent showed up while I was here. Since it was raining at the time, everything was uniformly drippy and wet, and it didn't occur to me that the other site might get less SNOW. When I woke up this morning, there was so much snow weighing down my little tent, I wasn't getting good ventilation, and it was starting to get a little drippy inside the tent. At least, I *hope* that's why it was drippy in there... I dug myself out with my poo shovel, wearing the $4 gloves I bought at the general store yesterday. For some reason, all of the better gloves only came in size large.

Last night at the campground I met someone who worked in the kitchen at the lodge, and he told me to come on by for breakfast on him. I took him up on his offer, and found the holy grail: buffet breakfast. After three plates of breakfast (the plates are bigger here than at that other place), I wandered out into the lobby and chatted with some employees about the weather. As I was settling in to read, I heard a familiar voice say "she's right there!" Susan was worried about me camping in the snow, and managed, through the power of a mother's worrying, to convince her daughter to come up and check on me. They brought me some of the most delicious hot chocolate I have ever had (from Mike's convenience store, go figure) and a doughnut. We had a nice chat, and Susan's mind was set at ease. I gave her my mom's number so she could tell her I was okay, because she was worried that my mom would worry. She's so thoughtful!

It looks like I may not leave here until Friday or Saturday. The campground host told me I didn't have to pay for tonight, since I'm trapped, and the campground probably won't fill up any time soon. There's only two or three others there. Here's to free stuff! I wonder if I can scam some dinner somehow... But it wasn't necessary, since breakfast, hot chocolate, and the doughnut kept me full all day.

While I was reading in the lodge, some guy had a seizure. His companion responded calmly and acted like it was the most natural thing in the world, so I assumed he was epileptic or something, and went back to my reading. Not so with the rest of the people here. They all crowded around, gawking. Not only does this poor bastard have regular seizures, but they must usually be a spectator sport. I bet he is also tired of answering the same questions over and over... It made me want to hang out with him and discuss anything but seizures and travelling.

One of the bartenders brought me a free hot chocolate.

I was literally four pages from the end of my book when this couple from California sat down near me to play cards, and started chatting. They were talking about how nice the decor is in the lodge, with the exception of the tacky fake flower arrangements. The woman went off on a spectacular rant about how they were ugly, and didn't fit with the decor, and what should be there instead, and how she complained to the manager about them. I was rolling. She was so right. They were getting some hot chocolate, and offered me some, and I said something I never thought I would say: "Thank you, but I think I've had enough hot chocolate today." I had a good time chatting with them, and then we were all getting ready to leave at the same time. They were driving down past my campground, and offered me a ride. That was nice, since the snow had turned back to cold, wet rain. The rain is making short work of the snow on the ground, but there is more snow on the pass and on the east side of the park, so I'm still gonna stick around for a while longer.

Thursday: It's kinda sunny and nice. I tried to hike up to Snyder Lake, but there was still too much snow on the ground as I got higher, and I didn't make it. My shoes got wet again pretty fast, so for a while I was pushing myself along on sheer cantankerousness, because I figured my feet couldn't get any wetter, so why not go all the way? But then the snow got deeper, and more slippery, and I was spending the majority of the hike just maintaining my balance, and I was like "Why do I care? It's just another lake surrounded by more trees and mountains. I saw some nice views like that on my way up here." I turned around and headed back. That's when I realized I am completely done with Glacier. Even though I still had the whole afternon, I didn't even try to do a less snowy hike. I just headed back to camp, changed, and messed around with my bike in the sunshine.

My original plan was to ride around to Two Medicine, which is a campground in the Southeast corner of the park, and spend two more nights there, but the direct road to it is now closed indefinitely because of the snow. I had been assessing my options of how to see the east side of the park, but I realized they all would cost more time, energy and money than I am willing to spend at this point. If I try to hang around any longer, I will end up resenting the entire park. I need to be moving again!

Friday: I finally left Glacier. I thought I would get reception in West Glacier, since I did before, but I only got it for about thirty seconds. Just long enough for my phone to tell me I had six voicemail messages, not enough time to actually call. I tried it in a couple different places, then gave up and rode on. This monstrous post will have to wait.

Glacier summary: it was beautiful, despite the early June weather. I saw tons of deer and little chipmunks and squirrels and whatnot, but no bears or moose or elk. I didn't get eaten or freeze to death. I will definitely be back for a better-planned trip in nicer weather.

I made it to a National Park campground on 2. They wanted $10 per site for pit toilets. I decided it wasn't worth it, and paid $5. I can justify it a million ways in my head, but really, being out of touch and the dirtiest I've ever been in my life is making me cranky. Also, everything I own is damp. I only managed to take one spongebath the entire time I was at Glacier (it was like 40 degrees!), and after hanging for three days, my quick dry washcloth is still not dry. Tomorrow night I'm getting a hotel near a laundromat in a town with cell reception, and I'm going to unpack everything, spread it all over my room, and crank the heat while I talk on the phone. I get all happy just thinking about it.

At least the weather has turned. It is mostly sunny and nearly warm.

Saturday: who has two thumbs and crossed the continental divide this morning? This girl.

Heck. Yeah.