Today was a tough day of riding, but despite the hurdles we managed to log an even 100 miles for our third century in a row. Three centuries are usually reserved for old growth forest and elite cricket batsmen, so we’re in good company as we pitch our tents in the public park of Circle, MT, right by the baseball diamond, because the sheriff said it was okay.
23 miles of unpaved roads and hills lumpier than a pocket watch salesperson’s trenchcoat set our bellies rumbling like packed stadium bleachers, but the embers of gastrointestinal discontent were quenched with an impromptu ice cream party to commemorate Lela’s last night with us. We will miss her, but marshmallows and caramel toppings made for a sweet final memory of one of our strongest riders.
Tomorrow we shoot for 87 miles as we prepare to bid adieu to the dino bones and raw landscape of the Big Sky State. But now, we circle downward into the depths of well-earned slumber.
