Helena to Billings

Today was our eighth day of riding and after a good night's rest (KC said it was his best night sleep in years...lights out at 9PM and never moved until 6AM) we were on the road by 9AM.  Last night we laid out our plan to Denver and did so conservatively.  The plan is Helena-Billings-Riverton-Laramie-Denver which is four days riding, averaging 200-250 per day.  I'm comfortable with that and would rather do four easy days than three longer days.  Remember, we are senior citizens.

The weather forecast called for a cool start and an 80 degree finish under partially cloudy skies with zero rain.  What we didn't catch was the wind...maybe they never forecast it here since it is so common.  But by day's end the wind was howling.

We headed out of Helena on Hwy 12 South to Townsend, MT and rode along Canyon Ferry Lake.  Turning on Hwy 12 we passed Deep Creek and within ten miles or so we were in a beautiful canyon.  We passed signs announcing "Motorcycle Advisory-Select Alternate Route".   Alternate Route?  We ain't choosing no stinkin' alternate route.  We're burly men on GS's.  Push on KC...I'm right behind you.

AKA, the gravel sections were easy and the views made the slight inconvenience worthwhile.

At Hwy 89 we took a brief jog south and then went east on Hwy 294 along side the Musselshell River...another very nice route that ran through a valley in the Lewis and Clark National Forest.  Through the intercom KC mentioned a singer named Tom Russell who sings about the Musselshell River...he later played the song on the truck's stereo system.

Midway we entered the "town" of Lennep, MT and both of us noticed a pretty church off to our side.  Since it was Sunday morning, we turned in for a closer look and found Trinity Lutheran Church, founded in 1908, that must have been built originally for the ranchers and miners working nearby.  The church still holds services on alternate Sundays....apparently this was an "off" Sunday.

We stopped to take some pictures and to sign the guest book.  I was struck with how the brilliant blue trim and white clapboard siding echoed the Montana sky.  I wonder if they hold services in the winter.  I'd love to sit through a blowing snow storm listening to an old organ play Amazing Grace.

     

Highway 12 continued eastward through cattle ranches and wheat farms.  At Harlowton, MT we stopped for gas and some food.  KC and I are both pretty tolerant of bad gas station food, but this place set a new low water mark for gas station cuisine.  KC took two bites from his cheeseburger (I guess the second bite was simply to confirm what his first bite had told him...PUT ME IN THE TRASH).  I'm embarrassed to admit that I ate my entire personal size pizza...just shows that I will stoop lower, much lower,  than KC.  Or that my nutritional needs were simply greater than his...that sounds better doesn't it?

The gas station sold some basic grocery items and rented videos; I saw people buying both.  The people who live here are so isolated from what we take for granted that I guess grocery shopping at the gas station makes sense.  Still....

We left Harlowton with our sights set on Billings, about 100 miles to the southeast.   The ride should have been a relaxing tour through ranch country along the pretty Musselshell River, but I hadn't counted on the wind.  It blew hard and gusty.  My helmet took a beating and I was conflicted between trying to relax my arms and neck and fighting for control of my bike and my noggin.  I discovered the disadvantage of being 6'3" on a motorcycle.  Passing a Winnebago at 85 MPH in a gusty crosswind is such an exhilarating experience.  KC says I need a taller windshield.  Probably do.

At one point KC announced that he was going to speed up.  I heard him say, "That's 90".  He then said, " 100...110...120...uh, the wind is getting to be a problem....think I'll back it down a bit".  He then said, "A man ought to spit in the devil's eye every day...and I just did".   

I'm not a big fan of Billings (refineries in Montana...who knew?) but I was thrilled to finally see the city limits.

That night we decided to take a cab to a local steak house.  The place was standing room only...always a good sign.  Our steaks were big, hot, juicy and delicious...the baked potatoes were the biggest I've ever seen.  Although I tried, I did not get a "Clean Plate Award."  We called a cab to take us to the hotel and the driver revealed that we had to share the cab with another "family".  Aw nuts.

The second pickup was a short drive to a micro brewery.  He said that they really just do tastings.  Tastings my ass. After a five minute wait, a couple began approaching the cab...a tall man and a short woman who leaned into each other as they walked towards the cab.  A young girl followed a few steps behind.  The woman, named Ridon (pron: ree-don) entered the cab first, sitting next to me in the back seat of the van.  She was heavily tattooed and was a sloppy, slurring, giggling, confused drunken mess. Her nine year old daughter, Raelin (pron:  ray-lin) quietly went to the third row seat.  The tall man told us he was riding his Harley home.  Oh, this is going to be rich.

The ride back to the hotel with Ridon was a case for child welfare services if I've ever seen one.  Ridon said, slurring and hiccupping, that she was a nurse.  Since it was Sunday night, I asked about work tomorrow and she said she didn't have to work.  Raelin corrected her saying, "Mom, tomorrow's Monday."

Oh, I'll bet that wake up call was a doosey.