All good things must come to an end. Today would mark the last leg of my journey to Missoula. As you might guess at this point, I started early to beat the heat and the wind. Cycling was pretty easy today, with high street traffic volume generally mitigated by wide shoulders.
The highlight of the day was a fantastic sixteen mile long bike path running between the towns of Stevensville and Lolo. It was great to see entire families cycling out on the path together, enjoying the safety of being removed from traffic. If I ever become President of the United States, my first act will be to establish 10,000 miles of paved bike paths around the country. It would create jobs, get people off their duffs, improve public health, and of course, it would be a heck of a lot of fun to ride them.
The city of Missoula arrived sooner than expected. In the mind of the bicycle tourist there is always a chance that there is some surprise climb up a 14,000 foot mountain just around the next corner. Well that mountain failed to materialize and the road was pretty flat. Missoula is a great cycling town, with huge bike lanes, and well marked routes for cyclists.
I arrived at Court's house within fifteen minutes of entering city limits. In another gesture of generosity, Court insisted that I stay at his house in Missoula upon completion of the trip. His house was a welcome site, with couch cushions much wider and softer than a bike saddle.
Some delectable fish tacos from a local Mexican joint, and a few pints of tasty microbrew at the Kettlehouse Brewery were savored as a victory feast of sorts. When you bike from Colorado to Montana, there is no parade offered on your behalf. No, you just take a shower (out of sympathy to those other folks who will cross paths with you), put one your fanciest (and only) set of non-cycling town clothes, and quietly begin the process of re-integrating back into modern society.
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