Lethbridge Viaduct, First Attempt, Sep 2022

Last year, studying the bridges in England that we might visit on our Graduation Tour, my interest was renewed in visiting the Lethbridge Viaduct, which spans the Old Man River [no kidding] Valley near Lethbridge AB.

That was the impetus for the trip which I took last Labor Day weekend, but it turned out that I never got to see the bridge. By the time I made plans, the train outbound to Glacier Park was booked solid on Friday, so I delayed my plans one day and booked a ticket leaving Saturday the 3rd and returning Monday the 5th. 

The plan was to ride my bicycle from East Glacier Park via the shortest route north to Lethbridge, stay the night there and return the following day by the same route. The route via MT 444 and 213 to Del Bonita and points north is around 120 miles, but nearly flat. Certainly an achievable goal, I thought.

At the time, COVID restrictions were still in effect. It was necessary to register in advance and give proof of vaccination to cross into Canada. I went to the Canadian Border Services website, noted that the Del Bonita crossing was open from 9am to 5pm, and dutifully registered to cross at 1:30p on Sunday. Reservation in-hand, I felt no need to obtain further confirmation that I could cross the border at that time. I made a reservation at a B&B in Lethbridge and tuned up my bike for the trip.

Saturday afternoon, I stopped at Island Books and found some reading material for the trip: 1776. It was fascinating reading, but I didn't get to read much of it on the way out. The train was packed leaving Seattle, so I did not get a window seat. I had hoped to dine on the train, but it was announced that the dining car was open only to people with sleeping car accommodations. The mini cafe offerings were unattractive, so I had cookie instead. 

After the trained was joined with its other half in Spokane, I left my snoring seatmate and moved up to the lounge car. Almost as soon as I had cracked the cover on my book, a very talkative letter carrier sat at my table and proceeded to bend my ear for close to 3 hours. It was fairly clear that he did not want to or could not sleep, and this was his method for passing the time.

Somewhere past Sandpoint, he retreated, I read a bit and then slept student-style: head down on my crossed arms, sitting at the table. A bit later, I managed to wedge myself into one of the lounge seats, and awoke at down as we were hurtling downgrade toward Whitefish.

The train arrived on time at East Glacier Park. After filling my water bottles, I stashed the book on top of the display case at the station. I didn't want to carry the extra weight, and didn't anticipate needing it. Then I headed east on a section of Highway 2 I had not previously explored.

The segment of US 2 that goes around the south end of Glacier National Park has a shoulder that is only a foot or two wide for most of the way. That makes it very unpleasant for a cyclist as vehicles with trailers are whizzing by at 70mph. East of Glacier Park, the highway has a 6' to 8' should, so it is much more pleasant riding. 

That morning (the 4th) there was a stiff breeze out of the west, so I covered the distance from the Amtrak station to the junction with MT 444 in a little over an hour. There, it became crosswind. It would have been more pleasant with no wind, but the side wind did not much impede my progress. What it certainly did was to dehydrate me rapidly. It was very pleasant weather -- sunny and between 70F and 80F, and very dry.

My first disappointment came as a crested a hill and found that the road which appeared paved on Google Maps was in fact a gravel road. Although a recommended bicycle route, there's an 8 mile section with no asphalt. I gritted my teeth against the possibility of striking a large stone and giving myself a pinch flat, and continued north. I tried to hitch a ride from the one vehicle that passed me on that section, but the driver of the pickup declined.

So I made it to the junction with MT 213 without losing any tubes. Back on the pavement, I went another 4 miles and then stopped in the shade of an irrigation shed for lunch. I used the last of my water, but figured I could refill when I reached the border.

At the top of the next rise, I could see the border crossing in the distance. There was very little traffic on the road, and two of the vehicles that had passed me going north, had also passed going the other way. I did not think much about that until later. 

When I got to the border on the US side, I was surprised to find that the gates were closed. I went up to the customs house to inquire (and also to fill my water bottles) and found it locked and vacant. At least there was a cellphone signal there, so I checked on Google and found that the border station is open from 9 to 5 indeed, but on weekdays only. I would say it thwarts the imagination that one can hold a reservation to cross the border at a time when the border is not open, but I work enough with software that not much imagination is required.

At that point, there wasn't much to be done about it: I had to turn around. I texted ahead to the B&B, to let them know I would not be showing up. The border was closed and it was out of the question for me to make the 80 mile detour and show up the same day.

My water bottles were empty and I needed to solve that before heading back. I couldn't find a person to talk to. I rang the bell at a nearby residence and noone answered. I went to what I thought was the Lion's Club Lodge, and rang the bell there, too. After a minute had passed, I filled my bottles at the hose bib, whereupon someone appeared and groused at me for taking water without permission. (It wasn't the Lion's Club Lodge after all -- only the placement of the Lion's sign was somewhat misleading.)

I stopped again at a large farm 10 miles down the road, to hydro-load and refill my water bottles. The farmer was in good spirits, being able to take advantage of the dry weather to harvest his barley, peas and soybeans. (I had passed two combines while heading north, and was passed by several semis laden with grain -- probably all part of his operation covering some 8 to 10 square miles at the headwaters of the Milk River.) I was in good spirits too, since I had enough water to get me back to Cut Bank (my next goal).

I pushed myself pretty hard, so that I could get to Cut Bank before the next westbound train. I didn't know the exact time it came through, but I wanted enough time to change my ticket and persuade the folks there to take my bike on board even though Cut Bank is not a normal baggage stop.

The breeze from the west continued throughout the day. It was somewhat behind me as I rode east on MT 213, but when that road turned directly south, it was more in my face. It was pretty tough going on that north-south section. Along that section, grasshoppers were bouncing off of my legs and tires the whole way. I was amused to note that the road to Cut Bank was paved with four parallel yellowish-green stripes on top of the black asphalt.

Because I was pushing hard, my left knee started to hurt. I also ran out of water again, about 10 miles north of Cut Bank. I was close to tears when I pulled up to a house in the outskirts and rang the bell. When I explained my need for water, the fellow inside brought out two quart bottles offered me seltzer as well. As I rested and rehydrated, I found that he worked in the shops for BNSF. He had lived in Monroe until it got too expensive to live there. He'd recently moved to Cut Bank with his family. I gave him $20 for the water and rode on.

When I got to the Cut Bank station, I could barely walk let alone ride. My left knee hurt a great deal. I sat on the bench in the station and that did not improve matters. After a bit, I called up Amtrak and finally got to talk to an agent. I explained that for medical reasons (as in, hardly being able to walk) I wished to load my bike on the train at Cut Bank rather than at East Glacier. My petition was declined.

I got back on the bike to look around for some food. Riding around Cut Bank, I found that my knee felt better on the bike than off. Failing to find any open restaurants, I returned to the station. I called Amtrak back and found that the train was running 5 hours late. It would reach East Glacier Park some time after midnight. So I thought: 6 hours? 60 miles? I might just make it.

I pointed the bike west on Highway 2, and headed toward East Glacier. I passed a mini mart as I headed west, and immediately regretted that. I might have stopped there to buy some food. But I did have a train to catch.

An hour later, I tried to turn on my headlamp and found further cause to regret not having stopped at the mini-mart. Although I had checked its function before leaving home, the headlamp now refused to turn on. I would be riding in the dark in another hour. So I kept on. 

Before I left Cut Bank, the wind had dropped to near zero, so I made good time heading west. I stopped to record the sunset at the end of that late summer day.

After the sun set, I noticed there was a waxing moon. It would provide some light as I went along. I was worried about debris on the shoulder, and in some places the moonlight let me see large items before running over them.

Just before reaching Browning, however, I ran over some large piece of metal and got a flat in my front tire. After replacing the tube and rolling into Browning, it was after 11. I checked and found that the train had been delayed again. I still had at least 1 1/2 hours to get to East Glacier.

I was hungry, but the grocery stores and cafes were closed. There was a gas station with a mini mart that was doing a brisk business. But there were street people hanging around so I did not feel comfortable leaving my bike in front (unlocked) while I went inside. I hadn't yet decided whether to stay the night or press on. But looking at the choices for lodgings, it was pretty much down to staying at the casino or not at all.

When I found that the casino wanted $285 for a room for one night, that made up my mind. I would proceed to East Glacier, and sleep under the stars there if necessary. At that point, there was no question that I could cover the last 10 miles to East Glacier before the train arrived. But the question remained whether they would honor my ticket one day early. I was willing to leave that question open. 

But after very little sleep and 130 bicycle miles, I was ill-equipped to press my suit. Contrary to my wishes, I was harassed into staying. It wasn't worth it. There was no way I could eat $100 worth of breakfast. Not that breakfast anyway. And then I had the whole day to blow before the train came along at 8pm.

That did, however, give me the opportunity to go up to Two Medicine Lake -- which I had not previously seen. I stopped at the general store in East Glacier and bought cheese and crackers for my picnic lunch.

It was too windy to go up to Marias Pass, so after returning to East Glacier, I just hung around until the train arrived.