73 miles from Cut Bank, Montana, to Cardston, Alberta
Throughout the summer Rob has had a couple of treats he wants every day, ice cream and beer. The ice cream urge is generally easy to satisfy. If we can't find an ice cream shop, then every convenience store has a freezer with a reasonable selection. We are both especially fond of Magnum bars, but in a pinch just about anything will do.
Finding beer can be a challenge when we are camping. But Rob discovered back in Ontario that fellow campers, if they are also fellow beer drinkers, are understanding and willing to share.
At first Rob needed a little encouragement to get up the courage to ask. We had ridden 62 miles to Pintery Point Provincial Park on Lake Huron, both so hungry that immediately upon arriving at our campsite we set up our chairs and devoured all our snack food. Then Rob said, "How about we ask our neighbors if they'll sell us some beer?"
At first Rob needed a little encouragement to get up the courage to ask. We had ridden 62 miles to Pintery Point Provincial Park on Lake Huron, both so hungry that immediately upon arriving at our campsite we set up our chairs and devoured all our snack food. Then Rob said, "How about we ask our neighbors if they'll sell us some beer?"
I said, "Go ahead."
Rob said, "No."
I called Rob's bluff. "You can't just talk about it. Go do it."
"Okay."
"Bring some money," I added.
He walked over to a neighboring campsite and I could hear him chatting with the couple over there. Then he walked back with a smile on his face and two organic lagers from Toronto, one in each hand.
"They wouldn't take any money," he said. I knew they wouldn't. He added, "They said they only brought six bottles."
Several nights later, a woman from the campsite next to ours came over and said, "You probably would like a beer. I have Bud Light Lime or regular Bud Light."
Then, when we were camped on Manitoulin Island, I approached our next-door neighbors, a German couple in a camper. The husband apologized and said he only had two that were cold. But later, as we were getting ready to go to bed, he brought over two chilled beers. Of course we had to drink them.
One of the best stories is when we were camping in St. Ignace. That was a day when we rode 50 miles from Sault Ste. Marie passing only one convenience store. We arrived at the campground with nothiing for dinner and figured we'd have to ride into town to find a restaurant because we were out of fuel. Then the woman who checked us in told us we could have pizza delivered. We called in our order but we still needed beer. I approached the couple camped next door. They apologized saying they had no beer but were going into town for dinner and would be happy to pick some up for us. I said, thank you but we needed it to go with our pizza and we'd be okay. Our pizza came and as we were sitting down to eat, a car pulled up and the woman handed me two beers. They'd stopped at the corner store a couple miles down the road and came back with the beer just for us before heading out for their own dinner.
Then, in Alberta, we met Marlene.
We were on the Adventure Cycling Northern Tier Route, heading northwest towards Waterton Lakes National Park in Canada. We were warned: "very limited services next 72.5 miles." Just after crossing the U.S.-Canadian border, in the town of Del Bonita, we might find a convenience store open. Maybe.
We expected headwinds, hills, and heat. A beer at the end of the day was not an option. It was a necessity.
We started early - 7:15 - which gave us 18 miles before the headwinds began. Then we struggled for seven, eight, and nine miles per with no trees to give us any relief from the sun beating down with the temperature in the eighties.
Our route took us on very quiet roads through arid agricultural land where the farms are thousands of acres. We could see the Rockies in the distance and we passed wheat and hay fields and cattle grazing.
Several nights later, a woman from the campsite next to ours came over and said, "You probably would like a beer. I have Bud Light Lime or regular Bud Light."
Then, when we were camped on Manitoulin Island, I approached our next-door neighbors, a German couple in a camper. The husband apologized and said he only had two that were cold. But later, as we were getting ready to go to bed, he brought over two chilled beers. Of course we had to drink them.
One of the best stories is when we were camping in St. Ignace. That was a day when we rode 50 miles from Sault Ste. Marie passing only one convenience store. We arrived at the campground with nothiing for dinner and figured we'd have to ride into town to find a restaurant because we were out of fuel. Then the woman who checked us in told us we could have pizza delivered. We called in our order but we still needed beer. I approached the couple camped next door. They apologized saying they had no beer but were going into town for dinner and would be happy to pick some up for us. I said, thank you but we needed it to go with our pizza and we'd be okay. Our pizza came and as we were sitting down to eat, a car pulled up and the woman handed me two beers. They'd stopped at the corner store a couple miles down the road and came back with the beer just for us before heading out for their own dinner.
Then, in Alberta, we met Marlene.
We were on the Adventure Cycling Northern Tier Route, heading northwest towards Waterton Lakes National Park in Canada. We were warned: "very limited services next 72.5 miles." Just after crossing the U.S.-Canadian border, in the town of Del Bonita, we might find a convenience store open. Maybe.
We expected headwinds, hills, and heat. A beer at the end of the day was not an option. It was a necessity.
We started early - 7:15 - which gave us 18 miles before the headwinds began. Then we struggled for seven, eight, and nine miles per with no trees to give us any relief from the sun beating down with the temperature in the eighties.
Our route took us on very quiet roads through arid agricultural land where the farms are thousands of acres. We could see the Rockies in the distance and we passed wheat and hay fields and cattle grazing.
We passed not a single place to sit and rest and when we stopped for a break we just stood at the side of the road and ate a snack. Bathroom stops for me were a prayer that no cars or trucks would pass by for a few minutes.
We crossed the border into Canada,
and shortly after arrived in Del Bonita, home of the convenience store with limited hours.
It was open. There was no place to sit outside so we asked Margaret, the owner and postmaster, if we might sit inside and eat our lunch. We sat by the window and talked with Marlene who had come by with her dog to pick up her mail.
Rob asked, "How many people live in Del Bonita?"
Marlene said, "Four." She and her husband and Margaret and Margaret's husband made up the entire population of the tiny town. Marlene said she and her husband came when her husband got a job working on a farm. Then after their children were born they both worked as janitors for the school which at one time had 80 students. Then the high school students were sent to a neighboring school and eventually the local school closed as farmers sold their land to corporations.
Marlene and Margaret were interested in learning about our trip and Rob shared our beer stories.
"I'm going to need a beer after today," he said.
"Well, you won't get one in Cardston," said Marlene.
"What do you mean, no beer?" Rob asked.
"The entire county is dry. You can get one in Waterton Lake because that's national park."
Rob looked crestfallen.
I pondered life without beer. "How do you get beer?"
"You have to drive 30 miles."
Several other local folks came in to collect their mail, which is delivered three days a week. Although only four people live in town, the post office serves the people who live in the outlying areas, about 40 in all. Not only a post office and general store, it is also a place for the community to gather.
Marlene left and we continued chatting with an older gentleman, a farmer who told us about the challenges of raising cattle in that arid land. The phone rang and Margaret went to answer it. Rob went to the bathroom to fill our water bottles and Margaret said to me, "That was Marlene. She said not to let you leave until she came back."
We packed our lunch bag and used the restroom, preparing for 30 more miles of headwinds, heat, and fields of cattle. And no beer to look forward to.
Then Marlene came in carrying a plastic grocery bag packed with something wrapped in newspaper. She handed it to me. It was heavy. I reached inside, picked up something hard and unwrapped it - a can of cold beer. There were three more in the bag. Marlene said, "My husband told me to take a six-pack but I told him four was enough. They have to carry them."
She was right. I wasn't sure about four beers since I would be the one carrying them. But I graciously accepted. How could I refuse such generosity?
The rest of the day was rough. I had been wanting a challenging day and, as they say, "Watch what you ask for."
We stopped often. I needed a break just to get off my bike, give my butt a break, give my hands a break from their tingling. I kept drinking water, but that meant I had to pee and that meant squatting behind a shrub when there was no traffic. It was too hot to even sit down by the side of the road. We stopped, took out a snack bar or a piece of dried fruit, and got back on our bikes.
We crossed the border into Canada,
and shortly after arrived in Del Bonita, home of the convenience store with limited hours.
It was open. There was no place to sit outside so we asked Margaret, the owner and postmaster, if we might sit inside and eat our lunch. We sat by the window and talked with Marlene who had come by with her dog to pick up her mail.
Rob asked, "How many people live in Del Bonita?"
Marlene said, "Four." She and her husband and Margaret and Margaret's husband made up the entire population of the tiny town. Marlene said she and her husband came when her husband got a job working on a farm. Then after their children were born they both worked as janitors for the school which at one time had 80 students. Then the high school students were sent to a neighboring school and eventually the local school closed as farmers sold their land to corporations.
Marlene and Margaret were interested in learning about our trip and Rob shared our beer stories.
"I'm going to need a beer after today," he said.
"Well, you won't get one in Cardston," said Marlene.
"What do you mean, no beer?" Rob asked.
"The entire county is dry. You can get one in Waterton Lake because that's national park."
Rob looked crestfallen.
I pondered life without beer. "How do you get beer?"
"You have to drive 30 miles."
Several other local folks came in to collect their mail, which is delivered three days a week. Although only four people live in town, the post office serves the people who live in the outlying areas, about 40 in all. Not only a post office and general store, it is also a place for the community to gather.
 |
| We ate our lunch in the alcove. Marlene is on the left, Margaret on the right. The gentleman in the middle is a farmer who grew up in the area, went to school when Del Bonita had its own school. |
Marlene left and we continued chatting with an older gentleman, a farmer who told us about the challenges of raising cattle in that arid land. The phone rang and Margaret went to answer it. Rob went to the bathroom to fill our water bottles and Margaret said to me, "That was Marlene. She said not to let you leave until she came back."
We packed our lunch bag and used the restroom, preparing for 30 more miles of headwinds, heat, and fields of cattle. And no beer to look forward to.
Then Marlene came in carrying a plastic grocery bag packed with something wrapped in newspaper. She handed it to me. It was heavy. I reached inside, picked up something hard and unwrapped it - a can of cold beer. There were three more in the bag. Marlene said, "My husband told me to take a six-pack but I told him four was enough. They have to carry them."
She was right. I wasn't sure about four beers since I would be the one carrying them. But I graciously accepted. How could I refuse such generosity?
 |
| Marlene took a picture of each of us as we left but Rob's didn't turn out. I look a lot happier here than I will after a few miles pushing through the heat and headwinds. At least I had a beer to look forward to. |
The rest of the day was rough. I had been wanting a challenging day and, as they say, "Watch what you ask for."
We stopped often. I needed a break just to get off my bike, give my butt a break, give my hands a break from their tingling. I kept drinking water, but that meant I had to pee and that meant squatting behind a shrub when there was no traffic. It was too hot to even sit down by the side of the road. We stopped, took out a snack bar or a piece of dried fruit, and got back on our bikes.
We were both exhausted when we fiinally got to Cardston at 5:30. I knew what Rob was thinking; we didn't even need to discuss it. Neither of us could face setting up a tent in the wind and heat, finding a grocery store, and cooking dinner. We stopped at the first motel we came to, The Pink Flamingo. We checked in, unloaded our panniers, and Rob said, as always, "You can get your shower first." I didn't argue. And I didn't wait for Rob to finish his shower before opening my beer. I poured it into my camping mug, and added an ice cube. It was smooth and light, delicious. Rob came out of his shower and did the same.
"I can't believe Marlene gave us these," he said.
"Thank you, Marlene."
We walked down the street for a Chinese buffet dinner, the only choice in town that wasn't fast food. The food had been sitting out for a while. It looked tired, but so were we. We didn't care. We'd made it, our toughest day. And we'd had our beer.
"I can't believe Marlene gave us these," he said.
"Thank you, Marlene."
We walked down the street for a Chinese buffet dinner, the only choice in town that wasn't fast food. The food had been sitting out for a while. It looked tired, but so were we. We didn't care. We'd made it, our toughest day. And we'd had our beer.
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