Day 27 - Overmountain to Bozeman
Let’s just start here with Frog Rock. It’s a formation that from this direction looks nothing like a frog. However later in my day I would see it from the Bozeman side and it kind of looks like a frog laying on the side of the mountain. But I had to cross that mountain fully to see it…
In conferring with Mari and Walt the night before it seemed best to have a late start. I only had 25 miles to accomplish, and only the first 10 of those would seemingly be in any way difficult, as they were up to the summit of the pass at around 5,600ft. Also prior to 10am the temperature had not risen above 50 degrees.
Mari, Walt and I shared a breakfast at their kitchen table and talked for a bit longer before I did my final packing and they saw me off. The photo you saw of them yesterday was actually taken in the morning as I was leaving. I wished I could stay and give Livingston a bit more time, because on the way in it genuinely seemed like an interesting little town and the gateway to the Gallatin valley beyond through the Bozeman pass. Effectively it was the end of the line for many early tourists riding trains to Yellowstone national park.
Leaving the town meant slipping past the many mountains and buttes that surrounded Livingston, and as the structures of the town slowly faded behind me the way ahead opened up and made the pass more visible.
Livingston is at the confluence of three different valley systems:
Paradise Valley which wanders away south towards the headwaters of the Yellowstone in the park
Shields valley, formed by the Shields river that comes down from the north.
Big Timber Canyon from the east, my path to Livingston.
Additionally it is situated at the base of the Bozeman pass into the Gallitin valley beyond. As a result it makes a perfect geographical location for a railway hub, which you heard about last post.
A roadside view back into the Paradise valley and towards the headwaters of the Yellowstone.
A glance back towards the Big Timber Canyon, with the Crazy mountains on the right.
I took the frontage road that followed adjacent to the Interstate. Because of construction it was extremely busy with local traffic and bypass traffic. It made the climb up less than comfortable because the frontage road had essentially no shoulder, and people were not using good sense.
Frequently I was passed while mounting a blind hill, or going around a blind corner, all with clear signs indicating no passing, and a double yellow. I just don’t think people generally think about how dangerous it is to pass on a blind hill or corner. There were at least two close calls because people were wildly impatient and swung wide.
Eventually I got fed up with this and decided to take the middle of the lane in these danger spots about half way up. Still I had a few people try to pass in dangerous areas. Others waited patiently and so when I could see it was clear I would get over and wave them on.
I had strategically planned to mount the pass with a full battery and did some rough calculations on ChatGPT the night before that let me have confidence I wouldn’t use more than 20% of the battery power if I only used moderate boost. So I stuck to PAS 2 for the most part, and made exceptional time up the low slung 1 - 3% grade of the pass.
It was only at the top where the grade hit 8% I threw everything at the motor and dragged up the final two to three hundred feet.
The view from the top wasn't just a clear view down the mountain to the base, rather it branched off into relatively flat but rolling farms on either side. Honestly it felt quite a bit like the high country in appalachia.
As I stopped to take a picture down the mountain a plane flew through the gap of the pass as well, likely from Bozeman, perhaps headed towards Yellowstone.
The first part of the ride down was on the frontage road, and here you can see frog rock ahead to the left, with a more understandable form.
After passing by the flatter area at the summit the pass closed in and the frontage road ended. As a result I had to mount the Interstate.
In the past this wasn’t a huge issue. In the relative flatlands of Montana and North Dakota there had been a wide shoulder beyond rumble strips that gave a healthy enough margin that both vehicles and I could proceed without any fear of interaction. This was not the case in the pass. There was a shoulder, but it was often half or less as wide, and frequently with a guardrail. Paired with rumble strips and frequent crumbling parts, fallen rocks, and general debris… It was a harrowing ride down.
I found myself pedalling with maximal effort through some sections, hitting 40-45mph just to try to get past them faster. Eight miles. It doesn't sound like much but it amounted to 20 minutes of white knuckle riding. There simply was no other way down.
Eventually though, I did make it down, and looking back the pass itself seemed gentle.
From here there was a 10 mile jaunt across a descending grade towards Bozeman, and the full majesty of the front range could be seen from behind.
The Gallitin valley, carved by the Gallitin river seemed to march away infinitely to the north and south as I headed westward towards Bozeman. The entire way a 10mph tailwind pushed me along at nearly 22mph.
Earlier in the day Mari from Livingston had hooked me up with Fred and Patricia, UMC congregants in Bozeman who had agreed to host me. I called Patricia after having lunch in Bozeman — well deserved Sushi and a beer.
Patricia answered and let me know she was out for a walk, and would meet me at the coffee shop I was headed to to blog.
As I was locking up the bike I heard “You must be Rob.” From behind, and I turned to greet her and we headed into the coffee shop and conversed for a brief time. I let her know I would hook up with her and Fred around 4:30 after blogging for a few hours.
After blogging I did indeed text Patricia and let her know I was on the way. She met me by the moose statue outside of their condo complex. We ushered my bike and trailer into their gated parking garage and their storage area where it would charge. From there we hooked up with Fred and went up to their condo where they had a room and a bathroom for me to use.
Shortly after a shower we all went back into the city on foot. Bozeman is quite walkable and reminds me of Asheville in the NC mountains — a mix of Rural roots, college town fusion, artsy, and affluence. At this point leaning heavily towards the affluence. Fred would later indicate a considerable amount of their housing volume in Bozeman is empty for a considerable part of the year because they are second or third homes for the extremely wealthy. Fred and Patricia were only able to participate in the insane housing market that is Bozeman of today because they bought in twenty years ago after retiring from teaching in California and selling their property in LA.
The systemic and economic disparities were a big theme in our long conversations over dinner and rest back at their condo. Fred being gifted with a love of history and an easy conversant nature in discussing it, and with no shyness about the dark spots on our own American story. He related that even at the elementary level with his nine year old students he strived to give them difficult readings and conversations — like the assassination of Martin Luther King — and get them to discuss these topics and surrounding ideas in a deep sense.
For me it is always a pleasure to learn from masters of their craft, especially master teachers. So much of the work is artfully balancing safety, flow, and information all at once. It was clear to me that both Fred and Patricia must have been excellent educators who loved their craft. Fred continues in that vein by being a docent at the local museum where he runs shows at the planetarium — and by that I don’t mean scripted videos — I mean an actual one off experience.
Conversation gradually changed to their extensive travels and how they came to be in Bozeman from LA. I was treated to a slideshow of winter across the region. For some of you, this might seem like torture, but I was genuinely enthralled by seeing the heart of Yellowstone covered in the hoarfrost and their travels. There is a sort of deep comradarie that comes from sharing these sorts of travel stories with other travellers, and seeing the places was wonderful.
As the sun got low Fred invited me onto the balcony to take some photos of their astonishing view:
Throughout my travels I’ve met a cadre of different people who are world travellers in their various ways. For Fred and Patricia their way is mostly in camper vans and through hiking. In all cases I’ve found that for people who travel it broadens their fundamental love of humanity — not just people who look and think like them, the broad swath of all human culture, and moreso a deep desire to stand in the gap for those on the fringes.
As so many other have become part of what I consider my people, Fred and Patricia are certainly my people, and my time with them was a blessing.
Before bed we discussed possible routes forwards — for me it’s the road towards Butte. My plan is to make it to Whitehall in the morning, as the base of the pass into Butte.
But that story is for tomorrow.