time flies when you're having fun!

It's been too long since my last blog, so here I am. I realized how much I enjoy reading others' blogs and yet I haven't updated mine. I was going to post pictures but realized they're in another laptop so I can't. Alan and I have been walking (climbing or hiking) some pretty steep hills. We call them mountains. Our friend Adam, from Missoula, runs them on his lunch hour. He even told us one of these trails climbs, then flattens out, climbs, then flattens out. We told him he isn't allowed to use the word "flat" and "trail" in the same sentence. He doesn't know what FLAT is until he's been to Texas. I've also been sewing. I have quilt top fabric layed out, ready to cut, plus I've been sewing some dresses. I also have cute apron patterns and fabric ready to sew. Can't wait!
But this week I'm in Atlanta. A family friend fell off scaffolding and broke her arm, had surgery and had pins put in. And all her local friends work during the day, so I volunteered to stay with her for a few days and help her dress, do some cooking for her, drive her to the doctor. I have time to help. I'll miss Missoula's wonderful weather, but I'll be able to return to my wonderful husband and grat weather soon. He'll hold down the fort while I'm away.
I don't have much more to write about so until I can get my hands on trail blazing pictures of our hikes, I'll sign off. But we're still alive and kicking!
Mimi

bicycle seat or hatchet?

This is our week to get in shape. Or to start getting in shape. For life. Forever.

Monday we walked through Greenough Park. I forgot the camera, but believe me, we looked good. We were dressed for walking. I carried a small pack with snacks, water. Wore my cool Keen shoes, my On Deck for breast cancer cap. Alan looked like a local walker: nothing he had on matched and he didn't carry anything. We walked for about 3 miles, a pleasant walk, and decided the maps throughout the park are incorrect. We couldn't find a trail that was on the map and continued out of the park, so we walked back to our car through a neighborhood. The only hill was right before making it back to our car, and I thought we were both going to have to rest before we could drive off, but we were fine. And we didn't need snacks! We decided that night to ride the Hiawatha the next day, Tuesday. So I got online and reserved our comfort bikes (not the standard ones), helmets, lights, and shuttle.

We left our MH at 7 am to drive to Lookout pass on the Idaho/Montana border, 100 miles away. We were the first ones there when they opened, and while our car was hooked up with the bike rack and bikes, I got the helmets, a lunch made for each of us, tickets for the trail and shuttle, and directions to the trailhead. We had to drive 5 miles back to park at the trailhead of the Hiawatha Trail.

The Hiawatha is a Rails to Trail that is 15 miles long, is part of the route of the original Hiawatha Olympian train for the Milwaukee Railroad, a section of railroad that ran from Chicago to the Pacific coast. It was completed in 1911, sold many times, and went bankrupt in 1977. The train that traveled the tracks was named the Hiawatha Olympian after a poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow about an Indian named Hiawatha who could run so fast that when he shot an arrow it would land behind him. Now that's fast.

Riding the Hiawatha is a 2 1/2 hour easy ride the brochure says. From our trailhead, it's downhill, a 1.7% grade most of the way. It is a gravel trail that includes 10 tunnels and 7 high steel trestles.

We started at the top elevation and the first tunnel is 1.7 miles long. We knew it was going to be dark, but the small LED lights we were given were like looking at a tiny pinhole light through a black paper bag over your head. Plus it was between 42 and 45 degrees! We were so cold, it was foggy in the tunnel, and ice cold water dripped as we biked through. I peddled and kept peddling, tried to stay in the middle of the trail, but I couldn't see the walls. Just when I thought we were almost through, I realized we were only half way. So I peddled some more and the light starting to show at the end made me so happy.Just as we came out of the tunnel there was a beautiful waterfall to the side. Remember to turn your light off.

We peddled and talked, looking at the beautiful scenery as we rode along. We were the only ones on the trail. It was great, no people, no guides, just the two of us trying to stay on our bikes and peddle in a straight line.

We went through more tunnels, looked out over valleys, beautiful mountains still with snow on them, then came to the first trestle. I have a fear of heights, especially a height of a small road over a gully or valley. Alan said to just look straight ahead, not out, not down, just straight ahead where I was steering. That would work. I started out and kept going, telling myself I could do this. Then not quite halfway across, a little chipmunk comes scurrying out right at my bike. That freaked me out, I almost fell trying to dodge him, my bike veering towards the edge. My worst nightmare. But I got it straight and make it across this trestle and 6 more even higher. The highest trestle is 230 feet. Alan enjoyed looking at the creeks and rivers running under the trestles, and I enjoyed getting across them.

Along the trail are signs that explain the building of the Milwaukee Road, as it was called, and about the men who risked their lives building it. There were signs showing where we were on the trail, what happened at certain sites, and information about the railroad company. At each sign we made a brief stop, only to realize we were getting more and more sore. We were peddling more than the brochure said we needed to or the road was no longer going downhill. We couldn't get comfortable on our bikes. Plus my knees were hurting me. Just before our lunch stop Alan declared, in case I was wondering, he could no longer have children, the seat was killing him. I remarked it didn't matter because I felt like I had just birthed multiple children. He asked if possibly his bicycle seat could be on backwards. He said it felt like his comfort seat was actually a hatchet. He also realized that if in fact the trail went downhill, why couldn't a sofa cushion be attached to his bicycle and he sit on that while riding the trail? After all our whining and complaining, we still saw the beauty in the ride and found a wonderful spot for our lunch.

We were near the end of the trail where our shuttle would take us back to the trailhead, 3 miles below where we started the route. We had to peddle 3 miles uphill and through that 1.7 mile long pitch black tunnel before we could get back to our car. Before entering the tunnel, we stopped and put our long sleeve shirts back on, agreed we wouldn't wait for each other going through the tunnel, we would see each other at the car. I went in first and had to stop for my eyes to get accustomed to the dark, which never happened because fog had rolled in and nothing could be seen anyway. Finally we weren't alone on the trail! There were bike riders coming towards us in a straight line, all having a dim little light in front on their handle bars. They flew by adn again it was so dark and cold, seeming to last forever. It was like having a labor contraction on a printout, nothing good about it, just wanted it to be coming down from that spike. I wanted the tunnel to be over. Alan was just about a minute behind me and we were both sorry the trail ended so quickly. Our first Hiawatha was over. We could hardly walk. We felt great though. We decided if Hiawatha was riding a bicycle he probably wouldn't have beat his arrow. We also decided the brochure doesn't state the tunnel on the return can be tough for out of shape fat people. And I decided the woman who checked out the bikes to us shouldn't be allowed to use the words "comfort" and "bike" in the same sentence together.

Today we stayed at home. Tomorrow we're walking another trail in town. Not sure which one but there's plenty to chose from, and they're all beautiful, along streams, creeks, hills, woods, and have lots of birds and very few people. I love Texas but there's nothing like this in Texas.

Mimi