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As noted previously, I stayed a second night in Pincher Creek.
I decided to change motels--to the Stardust: clean, comfortable and well-managed
for only $39/night. The Stardust had no vacancies when I arrived in Pincher
Creek.
It is not without sadness that I am about to depart Canada. In recent days,
I've had several Canadians ask me what part of Canada I was from. They said
I didn't have an American accent (I thought I always said "ay"
at the end of sentences, ay). I enjoyed my month in Canada immensely. As
always, I was treated well in Canada. I think I've been to Canada almost
every year of my life and I've always felt at home among Canadians. It is
a wonderful country of great beauty and diversity. I will most certainly
be back--and the more the better.
The wind didn't subside during my day of rest. I found out that this area
is known for wind. I saw signs for a kite festival. Even some of the local
farms sport wind turbines:
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As I headed out after breakfast in Pincher Creek (2 orders of
french toast), a huge weather front loomed over the mountains to the west,
but the weather apparently stayed there--it never caught up with me.
I had decided NOT to follow the Adventure Cycling route to Del Bonita via
Magrath. The AC route goes through some hilly country near Waterton National
Park and follows the two sides of a triangle; I decided to take some shortcuts
and the hypotenuse (oh, I wish I had a spelling checker or even a dictionary).
Asking around at the visitor information center in Pincher Creek, the folks
at the 2 motels I stayed at and my waitresses (one of whom said she lived
near Del Bonita) convinced me that my shortcuts would work. They did.
Instead of taking Hwy 6 south to the Waterton Park Gate, then Hwy 5 through
Cardston to Magrath and south from there to Del Bonita, I headed east from
Pincher Creek on Secondary Rd 507, to Secondary Rd 810, south to the town
of Glenwood, then east on Secondary Rd 505 to Hwy 2 and south to Cardston.
From Cardston, I decided to go directly to Del Bonita on newly paved Secondary
Rd 501. [When I get home, I'll put a map here]
As I left Pincher Creek, I headed east, but within blocks turned south into
buffeting sidewinds. I only averaged 7 mph for the first 1.7 miles. Then
I turned east and jumped into my big chainring and moved up to 17 mph.
These secondary roads are a lot like the farm roads around Williamston,
Michigan; but, I can see more than 100 miles and instead of corn, its all
wheat/grain. I'd guess the average farm/ranch is something like 5,000 acres,
because the houses are miles apart.
In the first 23 miles only 16 cars passed me. The riding conditions
were great. Oh, the shoulders were only about 18", but it doesn't matter
much when there is no traffic. And, the drivers were wonderful; all but
one went all the way over in the other lane when passing me and the one
gave me about 8 feet, so I enjoyed my ride. I felt good about riding today.
It was one of those days where I just wanted to charge ahead. I guess I
was glad to be out of the mountains and to be confronted only by small hills.
I found myself standing while bounding uphill at 20 mph. I rode over 16
miles in the first hour--pretty good for a fully loaded touring bike. It
took me only 1 hour, 20 minutes to ride the 23 miles of #507.
As it did when I left Pincher Creek, when I turned south, the southwest
wind slowed me to a crawl, around 7 mph.
I realized that I was leaving the mountains behind me. I stopped for one
last look back and this photo.
It took me 2 hours to get to Glenwood (it was about 1/2 mile
to the west of the intersection with #505, so I skipped it).
I rode through the Blood Reservation.
Indian reservations tend typically to look like third-world villages.
The only notable exception to the appearance of poverty was an occasional
satellite dish. I saw quite a few Indians around Pincher Creek, but never
had an opportunity to talk to any and there were no public services or craft
shops of any kind on this reservation.
I was really flying. At a point I envisioned myself to be Genghis Kahn charging
across the Gobi Desert. There is an incredible thrill to be zooming along
under your own power through vast expanses of far away lands. Sometimes,
only sometimes (like today) I develop a pace, a cadence, that applies all
my physical strength continuously for hours on end. I perspire heavily and
have to stop from time to time to wipe the sweat from my brow, lest drips
force my eyes closed, but those are the moments that make this sport worthwhile
(as I suppose with any other sport).
There were houses in the middle of nowhere.
I saw some large buildings several miles off to the west of Hwy
2 that seemed to be out in the middle of nothing. There was no noticeable
town, just some modern looking buildings. A road sign then informed me that
to the west was Red Crow College and St Mary Kainai High School. It is hard
to imagine why they built them miles from the nearest community.
I could also see some sort of town straight south down the road. A sign
then informed me that Cardston was 16 km down the road. I could actually
see Cardston 10 miles away. I wasn't on a hilltop--I could see 10 miles
down the road--it was that straight and that clear.
I came across a horse on my side of the fence.
Since I came down from the mountains to the range, there have
been signs warning me about livestock in the road. There are fences, but
no gates at driveways and at times I've seen cows going through holes in
the fences.
Horses, cows and the wild animals all react differently when I go by than
they do when folks go by in cars. I suppose that I'm seen as an animal and
that the cars are merely seen as inanimate metal boxes.
Cardston is a relatively large small town (about the size of Charlotte,
Michigan). I visited the house that was built by Mr. Card, for whom the
town was named.
I then went to Dairy Queen for a grilled chicken sandwich, a
milkshake and some fries. It was a pleasant day, so I decided to eat outside.
As I walked from the dark interior of DQ out into the bright sun (wearing
my Oakley sunglasses), I didn't see a hole in the paving and stepped right
into it.
Talk about embarassing moments in life--I fell head first into
my milkshake--luckily I had my helmet on; it got the chocolate shake all
over it--and the rest of my food went flying across the pavers. I was embarrassed
and angry with DQ for leaving such a gaping hole unrepaired (it looks like
they took a planter out). A DQ employee who witnessed my header brought
me new food, but nobody inquired about my physical condition. My back was
wrenched pretty good and my knees were bashed hard in the fall, but my newly
developed physical fitness seems to have enabled me to handle it like a
football player.
Cardston's primary tourist attraction is the Remington Carriage Museum.
I got there pretty late (around 3:00). The wind being with me, I was chomping
at the bit to get moving east and I didn't want to pay the $6.50 admission
fee only to rush through to museum, so I decided to skip it. It does look
to be a first-class facility. I left Cardston at 3:15 PM to pedal about
100 km (62 miles) to Cut Bank, Montana.
I took a major shortcut from Cardston to the border crossing at Del Bonita
by going on the newly paved Secondary Rd 501. A few miles south of Cardston,
I stopped at a convenience store for some ice tea, and then blasted off
for a long service-free ride through the open range.
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I know nothing about the range--not even what the yellow grain
is (or is it "amber" as in "waves of grain"?). I did
see a lot of cattle, horses and even goats along the road. I didn't see
many people and none within talking distance, so I remain unenlightened.
There was an interesting historical marker for Whiskey Gap.
During Alberta's 1916-1924 prohibition, whiskey was smuggled
through Whiskey Gap into Alberta from the US, and then when we had our prohibition,
smuggling flowed the other way. The entire town and all evidence of the
place is completely gone now--it is merely part of the cattle range.
I got to Del Bonita at around 6:00, but there was nothing there.
The only commercial structure, the Del Bonita General Store,
was closed at around 6:00 on a week night.
There was no campground or motel. There was nobody in sight around
the five or six Del Bonita houses. Adventure Cycling's map warned me, but
locals I'd talked to along the way, suggested I stop at the store and talk
to the proprietor about camping there. The store was closed and if the flower
pots weren't well tended, I'd have concluded the store was out of business.
I was getting pretty tired by then but felt forced to go on, so I headed
1-1/2 miles south to the US border, hoping there would be some sort of services
or lodging there. Wrong!
Looking past my bike, there was nothing there but open space
(I didn't see any buffalo roaming or deer and antelope playing).
Oh my! It was now around 6:20 PM. A sign said Cut Bank, the nearest town of any kind, was 40 miles away and riding to Cut Bank required heading into the buffeting side winds where I was only going only 7-10 mph. I was in trouble. I used the customs building restroom, then sat in the US Customs office collecting myself and asking questions of the agent there. If I started out now, I wouldn't be likely to reach Cut Bank until after dark and I would set a personal distance record. I'd already ridden 85 miles (my fully-loaded record to that point). 125 miles was beyond me then. I begged and based on the seriousness of my predicament, arrangements were made for me to camp on private land at the border--but not to set any precedent, or open a can of worms. I wasn't allowed to bother the customs folks, or have a fire, etc. I was told to be self-sufficient and out of there before the border crossing was opened at 7:00 AM. I went into my tent by 7:00 and was asleep by 8:00, eating only snack food for dinner: jerky, a banana, an apple, trail mix, a couple of granola bars and water.
85 miles.
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