Day 54

Sunny morning on the rocky beach. It's gotten to that point of summer when you never even have to think of rain, and the very idea of it seems like a long lost memory; a preposterous notion.  

Rode Southwest towards Columbia Falls and a little farther to Whitefish. I had been here once before to ski, but that was winter and some time ago, so I didn't remember much. Touristy western downtown, with wooden covered sidewalks, lined with gift shops, art galleries, and the like.

That said, it doesn't seem unlivable. In fact, it felt pretty cozy and laid back. Stopped into a bike store for some degreaser and was treated like a usual though I had never been there before. Guess I look like I know what I'm doing?

Outside Whitefish I crossed the Stillwater river and followed it up a fertile valley, scattered with small farms and ranches. Nothing too commercial, many of them looked like pleasure ranches.

Luck came my way in the form of a Juneberry bush.

After the valley excursion, I returned to highway 93 for another 40 miles. Mostly narrow valleys thick with pines, granite outcroppings here and there, and a tall ridge line of relatively modest mountains above. They had brown splotches from pine bark beetle kill.  This land hardly feels like it should be in the same state as the rest of Montana,  it hardly feels like the same country. I suppose that's America for ya.

Stopped in Olney for a break. Pop. 139 and deep in the Stillwater National Forest. It has two stores: the gas station/general store, and the bait shop. Gas was $3.49 a gallon, and it came from one dented stainless steel dispenser that only the store owner knew how to operate. She was born and raised in Olney,  I overheard her say. 

A sign out front of the store read, "These premises protected by a sharp - shooting 10mm." Maybe soon she'll buy out the bait shop and then she'll really be the 'olney' store in town.

Another 20 miles of winding mountain highway and I rode past Stryker: A town without a paved road to its name, but a mountain named after it towering above. Or maybe, the other way around...

Not far after was Dickey Lake, a seemingly popular spot for boaters and the like. Found mother already at a spot in the campground. Had a bath in the lake, and spent the evening cleaning and fixing some things that needed it. Always maintenance. Can't be 50 miles from Canada here, by my best guess. Tomorrow, West and South, to lake Koocanusa. And it goes on...