Total Elevation Gain (ft): 5146.
Weather: Sunny, Warm
Hillbilly Insults: 2
Roadkill: 4 (3 Birds, 1 Ground Squirrel) Bugs Swallowed: 1
Mean Dogs Chasing: 0
Highway 12 through the Clearwater National forest offers up exquisite views of the Bitteroot Mountains with the rapid whitewater of the Clearwater River winding through for seemingly endless miles. Hey look! Over there. I can see Brad Pitt flyfishing!
Of course, the Indians should have staved off their inevitable holocaust by eating the entire expedition like their brethren had been doing elsewhere, but it was a happier, friendlier time. It wasn't until 1866 when the Nez Perce and the Feds were in a full blown war as far East as middle Montana. Uncle Cracker and Christian missionaries emerged victorious. That's why I get to pedal through this scenery on pavement. PTL and God Bless America. I hear a Brad Paisley song coming in in my head.
We made camp in Clearwater National Park, lit a fire and chummed one of my freeze dried dinners. Beef stew with instant Idaho brand mashed potatoes. We shoveled down our bounty out of the same gruel cup. It was delicious.
We had just one sleeping bag, a polyester blanket and pad between the both of us. After playing "Gift of the Magi" and splitting the supplies, Katy and I were freezing and damp. So, we set up a nice arrangement for her and I roughed it with the car heater, a Camelbak for a blanket and my Kraft "portable toilet" invention. Slept fine.