So I decided to take a short day and throw in a hike to break it up. Decided on Berray Mountain, not per the advice of the ranger but more for my own devices. It's not in the Wilderness Area, meaning less people, and it is a retired Forest Service Lookout, guaranteeing a solid 360 degree view. Sounded like a pretty good way to see the Cabinets in one hike.
I rode 10 miles south on 56 and found the turn off, where I was warned of sheep.
Right on cue, a big bunch of them were milling around on the road as I turned onto the gravel.
Bighorn sheep, that is. And not very timid. I walked my bike right around them.
Snooped out the trailhead. Didn't look like a popular one.
Locked breezey under a shady cedar and got ready to go. 5 miles one way to the lookout and 3700 vertical feet. I was feeling up to it.
Trail was overgrown, but luckily, overgrown with all kinds of fruiting berry bushes. Juneberries lower down, then tons of thimbleberry, and finally up high, huckleberries bigger than blueberries, leaning out into the trail, saying, "pick me! Pick me!" An outright breadcrumb trail of tasty treats leading me along. Just look at those suckers!
The one sign on the trail was covered in moss. I have a feeling more sheep used this route than people.
Higher up the underbrush lessened and was replaced with tall grasses amongst loose rock. Got covered in grass seed. You got to hand it to those grasses. Respect for evolving to the point where they can cover my entire lower half with thier seed just by my walking past.
Lightening-strike burn high up on the ridge. Must have been recent, within a year or two, only bright pink lupine had grown back.
Finally the lookout appeared.
On rickety stilts like a tall clown at the circus. I climbed gingerly up the creaky steps to take in the full view.
Made it to the bottom pretty quick. Did the whole 10 miles in 4 and a half hours. Feeling a little superhuman but I'm not gonna let it get to my head.
On the bike again, I was aiming to ride another 8 miles down to the Clark Gorge, and camp. On the way, a lady in a subaru pulled up beside me, and told me out of the window, "This isn't a good road to bike on!" I thought about all the worse roads I've been on. This one actually seemed pretty ok. Then she said "If I had to choose to veer and hit a semi or you, it would be you, ya know!?" At this point, her young son who was in the front seat became embarrassed by the exchange, and put his face in his palm. Not knowing what to make of it myself, I said "Thanks for the tip," and she sped off. I guess she was trying to be helpful, but her phrasing could use work.
Camp was good. Bathed in the outlet of the Bull River, and later talked to the camp host who had a mountain bike he had added a battery power motor on to. Pretty nifty.
Hot night. Last one in Montana. These mountains may have even made up for the torture of the rest of the state.
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