Day 22
   
   5/19/01
   Mile 2266
   Shelby, MT
   
   The wind was forecast to be especially bad today, so I got up at 5:45
   to try to get some miles in before they kicked up.  There was a
   particular goal I had in mind today, and it was going to take some
   extra effort.  Cold at that time of morning, but it would be worthwhile.
   Farmland takes over as I move north towards Chester.  The terrain is
   much flatter, with only low-relief hills no doubt worn down by ancient
   glaciers. In general, most of the houses I'd seen in Montana were of
   more humble stature than I'd seen in other states; this state had been
   economically depressed for a long time, but is doing better now.
   Coincidentally, I'd found the people in Montana to be friendlier and
   more helpful than any other state I'd been in.
   
   The wind was strong but navigable.  I reached Chester about 1pm, ate,
   and turned due west, directly into the wind.  It soon became
   overpowering.  A local radio station was reporting 46mph winds.  The
   panniers (saddlebags) on the bike acted like drag chutes on a car at the
   racetrack.  Within an hour it had become so bad that a bike was no longer
   a useful vehicle.  During times it was impossible to bike, I got off and
   pushed.  One mile is better than zero...one mile is better than zero...
   
   Much of this area is under severe drought condition, and this much
   wind wind meant... dust storm.  Dirt got into every fold of clothes, down
   my gloves, and into my ears.  Road signs wobbled in the blast.
   
   I'd left Chester about 2pm, and at 5pm I checked my odometer.  I'd
   made only 10 miles in 3 hours of grinding effort, sometimes biking as best
   I could, or else pushing.
   
   At 6pm, ears half deaf from the noise of the wind, I was hit by a gust
   so strong I stumbled off the bike, nearly knocked on the ground.  The
   temperature immediately dropped 10 degrees, the wind shifted direction
   to the north, and the smell of rain was in the air.  I'd entered a
   different cell of air.
   
   It rained off and on for the next couple of hours, getting
   progressively colder.  Then after sunset it started sleeting - and I
   still had 10 miles to go.  It was a recipe for misery; cold, wet, windy, 
   tired, hungry.
   
   This was one of the toughest days so far.  But what of that milestone
   I'd been trying for?
   
   I'd gone a farther distance than the Tour de France, in a shorter
   time.
   
   Of course the two types of riding can't really be compared, but
   nonetheless, I wanted to do it as a personal goal.  Whereas the TDF
   riders had ultralight bikes and were fully supported, I'd been carrying
   a heavy load, scrounging my own food and water, doing my own repairs, 
   setting up and breaking down my tent, packing and unpacking, studying 
   the areas I passed through, taking photos, and of course making these 
   log entries.
   
   Bear in mind, I'm a thoroughly average person, and believe me, when
   the genetic dice were rolled, I came out as no athlete.  I'm just out here
   doing what I want to do.  But the key point is this:
   
   You never know what you can do until you try.

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