Montana’s High Country
Majestic green sloped hills roil by and of course I have to climb up each one. Far off to the south east snow capped peaks of the higher Colorado Rockies flicker as clouds dart in and out of the watchful glare of the sun. I peek through road canyons protected, shaded and narrowed by huge granite cliffs. I don’t see any rock climbers but sense they must be around taking advantage of the silky sheer faces of the obstacle of their dreams.
A team of 50 bicyclists shutters past in the early morning. It is then I realize t is the week-end freeing these high country adventurers for a long day of peddling across their magnificent state. The group is spread far apart – best riders on sleek machines in front, the heavier set crowd far to the rear. I guess this must be a 50 mile event when in the late afternoon the same group passes me going in the return direction. “Where are you headed? someone shouts as they wiz by. “To Florida”, I triumphantly reply as the riders look back at me in respectful disbelief. I wobble in fighting nausea and fatigue.
