All Fall Down – Day 14

Date: Friday 20th August  

Route: Jackson, Montana – Twin Bridges, Montana 

Distance: 69 miles 

Total climb: -1826ft

The evening spent in Jackson had been fun, chatting with Aidan and Team Heagney, polishing off a couple of medicinal beverages and indulging in the habitual round of Golden Tee.  All of this after a swim in a natural hot springs pool.  Team spirit was consequently high as we rolled out of the campsite the following morning. 

Our ride took us through the high plains of Montana and over the Big Hole and Badger Passes, before we free-wheeled down into Dillon for lunch.  A quick rendezvous with Team Heagney in the town was followed by an excellent (and astonishingly healthy by our recent standards) lunch of pasta, homemade lemonade and cookies in the Sweetwater Cafe.

After lunch we decided to really crack on and get the next 28 miles out of the way quickly in order to leave ourselves a shortish late afternoon section into our proposed destination of Virginia City.  We flew.  Riding at an average speed of about 20mph we raced along State Highway 41 and towards the town of Twin Bridges with the prospect of diner-made milkshakes dominating our thoughts. 

We barely spoke, save to remark that very little of note had happened during the day.  What would we write about in the blog?  At which point, as if on queue, a fly or a piece of gravel struck me just above my sunglasses.  I twitched, and the front wheel of Diana caught the gravel which ran along the side of the narrow hard-shoulder.  Diana slid, and although I tried to right her course I couldn’t hold the back wheel. In an instant I was down and sliding along the hard shoulder.  I felt my helmet bang onto the tarmac as I rolled over and then heard Fred and Rosie come a cropper behind me.  Fred’s recollection is that he piled over the top of me and then travelled, by means of his shoulder, a few metres further up the road.

We had made a quite a mess.  Our bodies were bloodied and bruised and Rosie and Diana had certainly looked better.  We established that there were no broken bones and then I proceeded to go into a minor state of shock, apologising for what had happened at least 20 times in the next 10 minutes.  Fred, conversely, managed to stay almost preternaturally calm; digging out the first aid kit, checking the bikes and conducting the majority of the maintenance that needed to be performed.   It was during this time that the first random acts of kindness occurred.  In the space of 10 minutes three cars stopped on the highway to offer us lifts.  The parable of the good Samaritan has clearly been taken to heart by the people of Montana; more was to follow.

Through our two contrasting methods of calm practicality and apologetic shock we managed to get ourselves and the bikes in a fit state to ride the final 5 miles into Twin Bridges.  It was slow progress, in part because I had no inclination to cycle at over 6 miles an hour in the foreseeable future and also because my rear wheel had buckled in the crash (something we could not fix on the roadside).

We made it into town and after a few enquiries confirmed our suspicion that there was no bike shop.  It was the end of our ride for the day, so we set ourselves down in the diner and left a message with Team Heagney that we would wait for them there.  We did not know whether the message would be received.

Our entrance into the diner, limping and with knees covered in blood, made something of a stir; but despite our less than formal attire we were treated very well indeed.  After our pies and milkshakes had arrived we began to talk to a group of people on the table next to us, one of whom, Steve Batchelor, was a keen cyclist.  Steve, his wife Marilyn and their two friends asked about our trip, our crash and where we were planning on staying for the evening.  After we had to turn down the Batchelors’ very kind offer to stay at their home, in Dillon, because Team Heagney were waiting for us at the campsite they went far above and beyond the call of duty.  Putting our battered bikes into the boot of their truck, the Batchelor’s drove us the 29 miles to our campsite (thus making a 58 mile round trip, out of their way) in order to drop us off with a relieved, if somewhat shocked and bemused Team Heagney.  It is difficult to express how grateful we were and are to the Batchelors’ and friends for their kindness to us.  On a personal note, my affection for this country and its people has never been greater.

The rest of our evening was spent dusting ourselves off and trying to work out the extent of the damage to the bikes.  This was followed by some barbequed steaks – just the tonic that was needed after a pretty difficult day.  Afterwards we headed off to bed for an early night and, in my case, a recurring dream about an ever narrowing hard shoulder.

JBS