I rode from our camp outside Babb into St. Mary and along St. Mary Lake towards the daunting skyline. In the still morning air, the lake reflected their stature.
The road began to rise slowly, hugging the hillside above the lake.
Truth be told, the climbing wasn't bad. I just dropped into a low gear early and chugalugged all the way up, enjoying the scenery as I went (which wasn't hard).
I made it to the top at 10. Not bad. Had to do the obligatory photo.
Now, the inter-mountain West. Feels good. And downhill! (At least for now).
Spied a mountain goat on the hillside before starting down the slope.
I tore it up down that hill. My breaks were squealing, but I checked them this morning and they looked fine, so I rode on them without much worry. The road was just as stunning on the other side, perhaps more. Felt like a mountain-themed Disneyland ride, with grand views and attractions at either side, and well signed.
If you look closely, you can see the road, (the diagonal slash in the hillside on the left):
Went through several tunnels at wonderfully high speeds.
Had a momentary freak-out when a bee got caught in my hair right next to my ear. I came to a sudden stop and swatted him away before he stung me that bad. Crisis averted.
Soon I was at the bottom. Lovely dense pines and flowing river.
The section of the road alongside Lake MacDonald that leads out of the park is closed to cyclists from 11 to 4 (too busy and narrow for passing) so I had some time to kill. What else to do? Go for a hike!
Found a short trail to avalanche lake. 5 miles round trip. The scenery was outdone only by the people watching. Very popular due to its length and proximity to a campground. So interesting to see how Americans of all shapes and sizes interact with nature; what they wear, how they walk, how they complain, what they talk about.
I took a nap on the shore and then hiked out and rode the last 10 miles to West Glacier without event. Goodbye Glacier. Thanks for the good times.
On a tip from Cody with the van back at Nelson Resovoir, I found camp on the middle fork of the Flathead River just downstream of the Blankenship Bridge. A big rocky sandbar with lots of locals camping out, having fires, or loading up rafts from the day. I jumped in the icy water, and ooOOoo was it cold, but it did me right.
Made a rockpile offering to the river gods for harboring me and retired to the trailer to cook up something tasty.
Looked at the elevation profile from the day and felt satisfied.
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