72 Hour Tour

“If you can get to Missoula by Wednesday, we have a tour planned. Everything is booked and covered, just need to show up.”

I feel like I’ve made the right type of friends when these are the types of text messages I receive. There’s nothing like having someone plan a trip in a place they grew up in; especially when you just show up and get guided around to some local gems. It’s my favorite way to travel, and an opportunity Ginger and I couldn’t pass up. With some arrangements made and after deleting some airline miles, we arrived in Missoula with bikes, camping gear and if I remember correctly, no idea what we were riding. I had been to Montana before to race The Last Best Ride in 2022 and was stunned by how beautiful it was , and I was excited to see what Ivy had cooked up for us this time around.

Arriving at Ivy’s parents’ home, we built bikes and stuffed camping gear (& bear spray) into bags as John went over the game plan with us. We would drive to Whitefish, and ride cutty gavel back roads into Glacier National Park to camp for the night. The kicker? Wake up at 4am the next day to ride The Road to the Sun. I’m used to an early alarm from Ultra-racing but leaving a perfectly comfy tent at beautiful campsite so early seem strange when we could of ridden it any time the next day. In the spirit of going with the flow and Ivy and John were the masterminds behind the plan, Ginger and I obliged.

Guided by the red beam of head lamps, we made camp coffee and oatmeal in our kits as we got ready to the 20 mile road to the base of the climb. The energy varied, Ivy excited to share this with us, John his usual stoic and quiet self, with ginger and myself still unsure why we had to start at 4:30am. After a couple groggy miles and the first rays of light hitting us, Ivy explained The Road to the Sun and reason for the wakeup call. No shoulder, the potential for bumper-to-bumper traffic and angry distracted tourists fighting for parking at the top was the primary reason to start early, and it was such a bucket list climb that you wouldn’t that to ruin the experience. “Say less”. The 4:00am alarm was worth it. I would wax poetic forever about how beautiful and chill the climb was, but it wouldn’t do it any justice. You just have to go and see it for yourself, but I will add that Ivy’s mom gave us 4 Fireball shooters before we left, and we definitely shot them at the top of Logans Pass before the descent.

Summer weather is in Montana is temperamental, and we knew that there was a potential that we would get rained on, but we didn’t think we would get rained out. Upon returning to the campsite to collect the gear we left, the rain began to fall. We didn’t have service most of the day, so we rolled into the small town to think of a game plan for our next camp in Polebridge. The klaxon of a weather alert hit all our phones as we entered the vicinity of cell service, alerting us of a serious summer storm that would drop several inches of rain and snow at higher elevations. Over lunch which consisted of RamenBombs(instant ramen noodles with instant mash potatoes inside) and warm drinks, we rallied and made the called to return to the truck in Whitefish instead of continuing to Polebridge. There was no need to put ourselves into a dangerous situation, and no one wants to pack away a bunch of wet and muddy clothes. Good tours always consist of a good bail out, and this while this was a solid plan we still had to ride 50 miles in pissing rain back to the truck.

Everyone chugged a Redbull, but in this scenario a little extra motivation was required, so me and John-boy opted for the original energy drink, a shot of tequila. Long rides in the rain are complicated and simple; you put on all your clothes knowing you’ll eventually still get wet, and you fight the idea of being soaked as long as you can even though IT WILL HAPPEN. It’s also kind of fun at first and everyone’s laughing, then everyone stops talking but that could also be the tequila wearing off. We opted for a slightly longer, road dominate route back to the truck so we wouldn’t get completely covered in mud, which we traded for road grime all faces.

Parking a vehicle in a random location is one of the logistical challenges of any bike tour; you obviously don’t want to get towed, broken into and worst case get it stolen. But its part of the game; and after a few tense moments of holding your breath as you turn the corner before you can finally see it, warm, dry clothes awaited us. Ivy had pre-booked a Cabin in Polebridge, famous in our realm of bikes for being one of the first resupplies on The Tour Divide after crossing the Canadian border. The town consists of the Polebridge Mercantile, and The Northern Lights Saloon, which we b-line to the latter before heading to our cabin. As frequent tourers of this area, Ivy and John had a friend working behind the bar, Natalie who treated us graciously after our big day out.

Seldom do bike tours that actually go fully according to plan. Route is bad, shit is too hard, something breaks on a bike or maybe there’s just a better way to go about the trip. The key is to surround yourself with people that understand this and can go with the wind when these occasions occur. This crew was that and more, and the fact that it came together in 72 hours was a feat in-itself. Things don’t always go to plan, but I know I can count on these three to make the best of it. I know I made the right group of friends when talks of another tour were blooming as soon as this one was over. It’s probably my turn to send that awaited text message with a plan, but maybe I’ll give them a little more of a heads up next time .

- Alvin