Day 15-Whitefish

The last time I visited Whitefish I was a senior at the University of Montana. My friends took me for the first time alpine skiing at the Big Mountain. Our first and my last run, was to the very top of the bowl that overlooked Glacier NP. Impressive views!  But getting down through the mogel black Diamond run soured me on skiing for many years. But I always wanted to return. 

We awoke early in Eureka. After breakfast the route took us off the highway on an old back roads. We saw more deer than vehicles. Joyous. We rejoined Hwy 93 at Fortine. There was a quaint diner at the crossroads. The owners were sitting outside sipping coffee waiting to open for the church crowd. Not quite open they invited to relax, use the facilities and they filled our water bottles. Back on 93 the shoulders were wide and traffic light…for now.

The temps rose, traffic increased and shoulders decreased. I’d like to stay positive. Most vehicles are polite, kind and courteous. However it only takes one. He was driving a diesel pickup pulling a camper. His sense of humor is lost on me as he crowed us off the road into the gravel and the “rolled coal”. Rhonda was soon covered in a black cloud of soot and I soon followed. 

About 15 miles from Whitefish the route left 93 and we traveling through serene farm country on a road aptly named Farm To Market. Hay fields were being harvested as deer and turkey played. 
Five miles from town we rejoined the shoulderless US HWY 93. Let’s just say we were relieved when we entered the city limits and a sidewalk bike path emerged. It led us straight into the state park with a hiker biker  camp. The highlight of this hot in so many ways day was the park attendant. He was so welcoming. Even though most hiker biker camps now require prior reservations he said MT state parks would never turn away a biker or hiker away. Camp reservation and shower tokens in hand we found our site next to the beach and only a small walk to the shower. We were first in camp…
Only to be joined by a collection of wanderers, sojourners, seekers and explorers. One couple on the great divide route came in in the back of pickup with heavy laden packs and one ripped out rear tire. These two were equipped with every bit of gear a survivalist or prepper would ever want or need, except a spare tire. 
Dave, a hiker wandered in. He is taking the summer off, from Missouri found his way on the WA coast walking the coastline. Flying to Kalispell and Uber to Whitefish he left early this morning for Glacier NP to hike the Continental Divide Trail. 
Our immediate neighbor rolled in on a motorbike. The kind that you could travel around the world in. He was just wandering, seeing what he could see before he headed back to CO. 
If I haven’t mentioned, it was hot. We rode early and got to camp by 1pm. But it was still hot, and no breeze. We needed to ride a couple miles into town to find a restaurant. Whitefish isn’t what I remembered from 40 years ago. It’s quite the resort town, pretending to be a Sun Valley. So, yep, I returned. Check that off my list. 
It sorta cooled down as we entered the tent. Sleep didn’t come. But the trains sure did. Every hour throughout the day and night the railroad track less than 100 yards away, screeched and screamed as they rolled one direction, then another. 
We got another early start this morning. It was cool, traffic is light and the route is taking us once again on back roads. 
And I found internet service…