Wild Montana Skies

 

Westbound I-90 From Bozeman, MT

June 22, 2013
The all-night-rain quit before daylight. Nevertheless, it was still a world of drip and drizzle outside my door at Motel 6 in Billings, Montana, prompting me to delay departure until near checkout time. Meanwhile, I took the lengthy office-walk for this establishment's token cup of coffee and, as the parking lot dried, continued my futile attempt to "catch up" the blog.

In just a couple of hours blue sky and sunshine resurrected my traveling spirit, although I knew from the weather forecast it wouldn't last the 350 miles to Missoula, my planned destination for today. I knew I'd have to stop somewhere and don rain-gear, so figured I'd get the job at least half done by putting on rain-pants before leaving. Turned out to be a good idea in that they mitigate the wind chill at this 3,000 to 4,000 foot elevation. Higher elevations lay ahead and my cozy leather chaps have been sidelined due to the left-leg zipper continually separating in the wind. I will probably wear the rain-pants all the way home.

Today's ride started out great. I was blessed with nature's morning fragrance wafting off the landscape, the sun at my back, and tolerable temperatures for 146 miles. Then it got colder and started to "sprinkle" as clouds wrestled the sun for control of the sky. I stopped to put on my rain jacket over my leather jacket and replace my gloves with heavier, waterproof ones. At Livingston, I stopped again for fuel and endured the chuckling glance from a barefooted woman fueling her hippie-decorated Subaru bearing Washington plates. "Cold, eh?" Apparently, she considered it a balmy day. Maybe so in her caged world. Not so on my element-exposed ride.

I ascended the near 6,000-foot Bozeman Pass, enjoying its beauty despite the dropping temperature and ever-present threat of rain, which looked downright dangerous from where, later, I was negotiating freeway construction barrels through the city of Bozeman. The distant sky was absolutely black, at least the massive cloud at dead-center. At times, the highway curved away from it only, as if magnetized, to realign with the darkest center on the horizon. Usually, I'd seek refuge at a time like this but this weather is predicted to last into the foreseeable future as far west as home, and beyond. There's no escaping it.

Thankfully, the highway did in fact skirt the cloud when I got to it. I may have escaped thunder and lightening but not the peripheral deluge that plagued me all the way to Whitehall where I enjoyed a brief drying out, only to be blindsided once again by more rain.

The water didn't bead up and roll off my windshield like yesterday. I carry special windshield treatment wipes to roll-away rain but forgot to use one after washing the bugs off the windshield a couple of fuel stops back. Consequently, visibility was greatly compromised. I found looking over the top of the windshield offered slightly better visibility as the rain ricocheted off my face and the yellow-lens, wrap-around shooting glasses I use on dark days. That worked but exposed my face to a newly developed setback .....  SLEET! What's next? Snow? The intermittent sleet pinged off my face for only a few painful miles before it was back to mere face-splattering rain. I'm reminded of the old joke about the guy being asked why he was hitting himself in the head with a hammer. "Because it feels so good when I quit."  ..... And quit was exactly my plan if I ever made it to Butte, 120 miles short of Missoula.

I was nearly hypothermic when I dripped across the lobby and up to the desk of the Quality Inn at Butte where I envisioned soon being in a room and wrapping my cold hands around hot cup of coffee. The desk clerk was more than willing to sign me up but said my room wouldn't be ready until 4 p.m.  For the first time on the entire trip I was denied early afternoon check-in, despite it being 2 p.m., the exact time when every motel I've ever known allows check-in. Besides, it's a big place and Butte doesn't strike me as a tourist mecca. Well, it is a Saturday. Maybe it was a wild and crowded Friday night and everyone slept in? I might have tolerated 2:30 but wasn't about to languish about the lobby for two hours. 

I was surprised my declaration of departure (to find a motel where I could check-in now) prompted the desk clerk to make a call to double-check availability. In less then 30 seconds she said there just happened to be an available room on the 2nd floor. Umm? That's one speedy maid, I thought, but said "that's great" as I unholstered my credit card and signed up for one night, hoping the Montana Skies will be tamer in the morning.


Today's Ride Part One
Today's Ride Part Two

Billings To Butte, MT 228 Miles