The first sort of weirdness was the weather; I had so looked forward to this ride, because it was supposed to be a good day, the first really good day this spring. 70 degrees, no wind. And it looked the part in the morning.
Our garden had a vibration from bees. I counted four distinct types. But I had to put off leaving because the wind, it just wouldn't stop. Forget about zero wind, I was waiting for it to drop down to 10 mph or so.
Finally, around noon, it did. I left, but from Absarokee to Reed Point, it was solid, steady, bludgeoning 10 mph headwinds. All the way.
This is what the wind does out here. Over the course of a century or so, you can see it blowing down these houses.
Then, on East Jack Stone Creek, I saw a real trippy scene:
Three dead adult porcupines. Lined up next to the road. Not a soul around for at least two miles in any direction. Three dead porkers.
WTF?
Why?
So, you kill them, because you're a rancher and they eat your sheep feed or whatever the hell, but then why stack them next to the road? Or you shoot them for fun, but, again, why stack them there? Just effing weird. Crazy creatures too.
Then, I get looking at them, up close, and one of them is covered in weed seeds, those nasty ones, and I mean covered.
Which just adds another weird level to this thing. It looks like it happened when the poor guy was alive, and he just couldn't get them off. But why only him? Why so bad? Was he running scared from a car or a wolf or something, and dove into the wrong bush, and wriggled in deeper? Was he already sick somehow? How come he couldn't clean them off? Not a single burr on the other two.
Crazy.
Puts an average training ride into perspective. I always think of it as a dangerous place in terms of crashing my bike, or having a mechanical late in the evening. But I forget, it really is, in a very visceral and wild sense of the world, a dangerous place. It's a goddamned wilderness, and the only people around are some hard core local 4th generation redneck ranchers. It's as close to the wild west as you can get in the lower 48 probably.
In fact, I was eating about halfway to Reed Point, talking to two new horses I had just met, one of whom had the worst case of equine burps I've ever encountered. A local ranch lady came up, in a classic MT truck, with a heeler / collie mix in the flatbed. We talked a bit. It took her a while to understand that I wasn't lost. Seeing a biker out here, her only possible scenario was one involving rescue. When I told her I was going from Absarokee to Reed Point, she didn't believe me; when I told her it was round trip. she was straight up incredulous. Drove off a bit miffed frankly, I think she thought I was lying.
Trippy encounter.
The horse burped again. An avalanche-inducing mega burp.
When I finally crested the divide, around the Cow Face Hill / Jack Stone Creek / Hump Creek junction, I got the most amazing view: the Crazy Mts, from Stillwater, with the Yellowstone valley spread out in between. Classic Montana:
After a long, fast downhill, I pulled into Reed Point. It's always kind of a strange, sleepy town. It's like an old western ghost town, pinned in between a busy interstate and a great, peaceful stretch of the Yellowstone. Only thing open was a gas station. I went to the river, and admired the view:
Went back to the gas station, grab a sandwich or something. And I ran into an old friend, one I hadn't seen in years, a good family friend from Cooke City. I catered this girl's wedding. Went to the hubby's bachelor party, were pretty good friends for a while. Then I hadn't seen her in years. Didn't think she traveled to work either, figured she was in Butte.
Then all of the sudden there we are, in shock, staring at each other. WTF!!!? Another trippy turn in the day's events.
Then, the cruelest turn of all. After hours of fighting the headwind, it just died down. No tailwind on the way back. I hate it when that happens.
At least it was stunning scenery:
