Day 61. (despite what the photo says - it is day 61)
Our third to last rest day.
Slept in till seven thirty which in itself was a wonderful. Had a little breakfast here at camp of egg, bacon and potato. Then walked with Norm into the downtown till I found a coffee place to sit and write.
Lunch today at the marvelously kitschy Buckaroo Bill's BBQ which has a back section of "covered wagon" booths surrounding a taxidermy display comprised of a coyote, a bison, and a duck by a faux-fire pit.
Buckaroo Bills is Montana Western charm at it's best. The menu and the front of the store just blasts you with messages. In the menu they offer a 50% discount for all active duty military. When warning guests of cooking times, the menu says, "Be patient as You Can't unsay a cruel word spoken in haste."
The headline over the drinks section reads, "Always Drink Upstream from the Herd."
At the end of the menu, it closes with, "Live a good honorable life. That way when you are older and think back, you'll enjoy it a second time."
Up front Buckaroo Bill's individualistic, gun loving, God fearing, patriotic advice is on full display. The restaurants special is the Montana Mountain Man T-Bone Special for #5.95.
Huckleberry Ice Cream for a treat and then we walked back to camp and I took in a wonderful two hour nap.
Fellow cyclist Bill Foreman, being a retired Park Ranger, airplane mechanic and other manly occupations is full of stories which he readily admits are sometimes true, kind of.
At lunch today, and I'm not sure how this came up, Bill told us about a time he spent in a rustic cabin in the Alaska wilderness that did not have electricity.
There was, of course, an outhouse a few paces away from the door.
“But it was minus fifty then,” Bill explained, “and I was the only one there, so after a while of using the outhouse a sort of fecal stalagmite, a shitcicle, started to form at the base of the outhouse's pit.” Sheets old toilet paper would mark each addition.
After enough time at the cabin, Bill worried that he might accidentally make contact, or worse, be impaled by his creation. He figured he might need a two by four to break it up, or shift it. But then the weather broke for a while, sending the temperatures briefly to a balmy 44°. The shitcicle then tilted forty five degrees to the wall and rested there. The sub-zero temperatures resumed, and Bill began adding to his scatalogical creation off the side.
“That's a true story,” Bill says.
Dinner with the Group
Dinner tonight with the group at the Madison Crossing. Very nice little restaurant. I ordered a caprese salad and a huckleberry hamburger - but after eating the salad and one PICKLED deviled egg - I just didn't have room for the burger so I had them wrap it up so I can eat it on the ride tomorrow.
Tomorrow we'll do about 71 miles but it's mostly if not all downhill so it should be an easy day. (Hopefully those aren't famous last words.)