After about 1,000 miles of The Great Plains (or as Raphael and I took to calling them, “the great pains” because of the strong west winds), we arrived at the Rocky Mountains. From 100 miles away we could see at first a thin blue line. As the day wore on, the blue line on the horizon became snowbound peaks. and as the definition increased, they reared up suddenly.
Raphael and I climbed thousands of feet of vertical as we crossed Blackfeet Nation. A reservation that we learned through experience is known for it’s feral dogs. Four different times, we had dogs come bolting into the road after us and snap at our heels. Raphael and I went hoarse yelling at them to back off. We made it through unscathed, but exhausted. Climbing elevation into a 15 mph headwind while peddling away furiously from wild dogs did the trick.
Yet as we descended into St. Mary, we bumped into a group of young people heading off to a wedding after party. We ended up going with them to a campground fully rented out for the wedding and celebrating with them until 3 am. They had leftover food and beer that needed finishing. We were happy to oblige.
We got up fairly early the next day regardless. We had the day of a lifetime ahead of us. The mood as we packed up was electric.
I found these two signs within a few miles of eachother. Loring is our grandfathers name, and Bowdoin is the name of his Alma Mater. A funny coincidence!