Lake McDonald in the evening light in Glacier National Park two weeks ago.

Hikers board a shuttle at Logan Pass along the Going-to-the-Sun Road heading back to West Glacier in Glacier National Park recently. Notice that the shuttle is equipped to carry bicycles for those not wishing to ride the steep mountain road.

Lake McDonald in the evening light in Glacier National Park two weeks ago.

Hikers board a shuttle at Logan Pass along the Going-to-the-Sun Road heading back to West Glacier in Glacier National Park recently. Notice that the shuttle is equipped to carry bicycles for those not wishing to ride the steep mountain road.

I had just tucked into my sleeping bag and tiny tent for the night and was dozing off when I heard the sprinkler fire up on the far side of Belt, Montana’s city park.

The lush green park was available for camping, but no signs pointed to where to set up, so I picked a spot next to a picnic table under some huge cottonwood trees. A minute later another set of sprinklers came on, this time a little closer. It was not a good trend.

By the time I jumped out of my tent, the giant sprinklers had come on next to me. One blasted me like a firehose right in the back, another hit me in the front. I was instantly soaked and the water kept coming. I grabbed my tent, pulled up the stakes and rushed out to the nearby dry mostly dirt lot safe from blasting fountains. I left my poor bicycle locked to a picnic table to get a two-hour wash.

Getting soaked at night in the small central Montana town of Belt just added to the adventure of bicycle touring from Sandpoint, Idaho to Dickinson, North Dakota.

My original goal was to keep on riding all the way to the East Coast of Maine or perhaps New Brunswick, but life and other obligations jumped in the way. I picked Dickinson to stop at because it had a regional airport to zip me back home.

Each night of the 17-day solo trip, I’d find a campground, hopefully on the cheap, and try to rise early to beat the heat. I was totally self-supported except for daily calls to my sweetheart to let her know what mischief I was up to.

Four days into the trip, I arrived at Glacier National Park. Similar to Yellowstone or Grand Teton National Parks, Glacier is a people magnet.

Bicyclists are not required to have a reservation to ride the most popular park route, the Going-to-the-Sun Road. While I expected stunning scenery in the park, I didn’t know what to expect with the wildlife. The first day, riding along a bike path toward Lake McDonald, a black bear casually crossed in front of me. “Just keep on walking if you don’t mind,” I said.

The bear paused and looked at me, then continued on its way.

While chatting with a fellow tour cyclist from Duluth, Minnesota, at a biker campsite, a small bird landed on my shoe and pecked at my laces hoping for a handout. I also saw dozens of deer, weasels, rabbits, raptors and porcupines.

The big event at Glacier was to ride up and over the Going-to-the-Sun Road from the Lake McDonald area to Saint Mary. Bikes are not allowed on the road between 11 a.m. and 4 p.m. That gave me a deadline. I left my campsite at about 6:45 a.m. and began riding the 21-mile section to the top of Logan Pass. The first 8 miles are mostly flat, meaning that most of the 3,500 feet of climbing come in the last 12 miles. The road becomes a narrow, winding mountain road with no shoulder. Vehicles are restricted to 21 feet in length or less. I found it was a steady 5% grade most of the way up. I stopped about four times to take photos and eat snacks or to let cars pass. I arrived at Logan Pass just before 10 a.m. There is a huge parking lot at the pass with restrooms, a visitor center and trailheads. Shuttle buses are there to take people (and cyclists) up and down the road. A few people came up to me and congratulated me for riding up. “Nice work, dude.” “I could never do that.” I was happy they didn’t run me over.

I sat around for a few minutes and ate a snack bar, then blasted down the east side to the tiny community of Saint Mary. It took less than an hour to ride the 18 miles. At times I was catching up with the cars in front of me. I checked into the Saint Mary campground and took a nap, hiked along the river and went grocery shopping.

Later in the evening as the sun was setting, several park rangers were gathered alongside the road not far from the campground. I stopped to see what the commotion was about and saw a ranger shouting, “Hey bear!”

Rangers were trying to haze a mature, silver-haired grizzly bear away from the road and back into the nearby woods. The bear ambled along in no particular hurry. Rangers were also directing stopped cars to move along. I rode my bike back to the campground and realized I didn’t have a car to retreat to in case the bear wandered over my way. I carefully packed everything away in a campsite bear box, and I went to bed thinking surely the bear would visit the campers making s’mores before visiting a lowly tour biker eating noodles and canned soup.

Next week, I’ll report on riding out of western Montana’s mountains into the prairie lands heading east.

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