Dealing with the Wind
On Saturday the riding group I had been with was splitting up. Anja from Belgium was biking north to Bozeman to visit a friend. Ede from Wales was ready to get back to her early starts and high miles by cycling 73 miles to West Yellowstone, a town in Montana next to the border of Wyoming and Yellowstone National Park. I had considered taking a rest day but then decided to hit the road and see where I’d get to.
After packing up the tent and gear it was warming up and getting late. It was going to be a day of gradual uphill climbing, but in thinking about yesterday’s day of virtually no wind, I didn’t think the day would be difficult.
But then you learn that the state of Montana, at least from what I’ve seen, is unpredictable with the weather. Soon after starting I noticed a fairly stiff crosswind. Then it seemed like it became more of a headwind. Then is was gusting heavily. And if you ever thought for a moment “Oh, it’s calmed down” the winds immediately picked up again.
By the time I reached the 12 mile mark I rode by a restaurant/campground. I stopped in, primarily to look at the map and acess things, because it was becoming obvious that the 73 miles to West Yellowstone was not going to happen. The girl in the restaurant mentioned tent sites. They had an NFL game on the TV and it was so relaxing there I had thoughts of calling it a day and spending an evening watching the night game. But it made no sense to have packed up all the gear that morning for a 12 mile trip so I started pedaling again, and almost immediately regretted it.
Even if I had something that looked like a fairly steep downhill, it wasn’t easy. As a test, I stopped pedaling on one of them… and came to a complete stop. If riding into the wind doesn’t sound fun, it’s because it’s not. There are some people who love to climb hills, for some reason, but I don’t know of any who love headwinds.
Several things were in my favor though. It wasn’t hot, it wasn’t going to rain, and there were times when it was more of a crosswind. And there were a few downhills later in the day where I gained some speed.
Camping facilities are limited from Ennis to West Yellowstone and while I had chosen as an option one at the 50 mile mark, even that wasn’t going to work. At 39 miles I passed the Driftwaters campground, which is not near any town. It was like an oasis in the desert and it was time to call it a day. The woman who runs it, Rachel, was very nice and she also operates a small, comfortable Montana style restaurant/bar– complete with the football game on. Nothing beats getting cleaned up after a pretty grueling ride and then having a good dinner.
Even at just 39 miles, this day was in the top three for most demanding of the trip, but I have a feeling it’s just the beginning of problems with winds.
