"It's all downhill from here. Roads are in good condition, just watch out for the cows and cow patties."

Leaving Cardston in the frigid cold, we stumbled upon a Bargain Bin store run by two mentally handicapped friends who worked alongside one gorgeous blonde girl. Perhaps a bit too much eyeshadow, the fluttering of her eyes nonetheless were captivating to a young adolescent on the road too long with his male companion. But we were there primarily for mittens and leggings, not romance. We got what we needed.

We also managed to run into an older couple that we'd met at a Subway earlier that morning; Joyce and Don. They were an interesting couple from Minnesota, and Wisconsin, respectively. Now, they were Canadian citizens. They talked our ears off for a little bit too long but they were kindred folks.

The ride out of Cardston toward the triumphant Rocky Mountains was some of the most exciting miles covered during the entire trip. Despite the cold and wind, the spectacular view dwarfed all negative aspects of the riding. We encountered Matt along the ride, fighting the wind but in positive spirits as well. We walloped and hollered as we went by him undeterred. 

Pressing on toward the town of Mountain View, we realized we might not make it all the way to Babb, MT to pick up our tires. It was already 1:30 and Babb lay another forty miles through mountainous terrain. However, off the beaten path along a 7 mile bike path was the entrance to Canada's 4th national park; Waterton National Park.

We neared the crossroads of our route that turned left toward the border of the US or straight into the heart of the Rockies. The soaring peaks called us into their hearth. The views were unbelievable and the wildlife was prevalent. Depsite the trumping mountains grouped on both sides of the path, the road followed a relatively flat path directly into Waterton Village; a small tourist town that lives and dies on the people who come from all over the world to marvel at the geography. Josh and I followed that wave of humans.

We ran around town, looking at the stores, overpriced everything, and trinkets. Moreso, we just enjoyed the landscape. We had a disaster lunch on the beach. I cooked a large amount of rice that tasted strange after the first bite. Alas, somehow a chunk of deodorant had made its way into the bag. At the same time, Josh melted his plastic knife while attempting to clean it with boiled water and almost exploded his gas stove. It was a mess and come nightfall, we gave in to an expensive pizza joint in town.

We'd spent a good few hours earlier wandering around the outskirts of town looking for a place to stealth camp. At one particular location, a cabin sat toward the front of a closed campground, warm as all hell on the inside. Later that night around 11pm, we ventured back to the small picnic shelter, and laid down on the tables. Within an hour, a car pulled up.

"Oh shit, somebody's here," Josh said.

"What do we do? I guess we're caught," I surmised.

A girl pushed on the door, shifting our bikes that were set-up to block entry.

"Hey!" I said, attempting not to spook them. "Sorry, we'll move the bikes. We were gonna sleep in here."

The girl turned to the boy walking over with a flashnight.

"Oh no worries," the boy said. "Can you just hand me that bucket in there?" he noted ushering to the table my sleeping bag rested on.

"Here you go."

"Thanks man. Hey, you guys have a good night!" he said waving, and they were gone.

One more car passed the shelter the rest of the night but didn't bother us. Besides that, there was no real trouble. Although Josh, being hot in the shelter at the initial beginning of the night, chose not to sleep with his sleeping bag. The boy froze by 3:30 and didn't have a very good evening's rest.

On the other hand, I was up watching the sun come up in the park at 7am, something I've yearned to do for awhile and chose the perfect location to begin doing again. 

We spent another morning at a Subway drinking hot chocolate and warming ourselves up. By 9:30, it was warm enough to get going.

We climbed and climbed for the first few miles, up to a panoramic view of the Rockies that stretched all the way north to Banff National Park. It was well worth the struggle. From there, we went soaring down the mountains only to climb once again. And so the day went. And Josh was almost attacked by cattle. 

Chief Mountain sits at 9,080 ft. above the lower Border Range, completely alone. Lane, a thin expressive man with a bushy moustache and cowboy hat who owned the Subway in Waterton noted, "It sits out like a needle amongst the Rockies." If you look at the mountain very closely, you can see why it is called Chief Mountain. From the left, an eye slit peers toward the heavens followed by a nose, his lips, and an apparent headdress. 

It was a whirlind of a riding day, and after a long time, we were finally leaving Canada and venturing back into the States. To our surprise, the guard was extremely kind and was really interested in our little adventure. We went through the border in record time after climbing all the way up the outpost, still sweating and tired.

Now, we were in Glacier National Park but riding away from the Rockies. At the intersection of 89 and Route 17, we made a right to head toward the town of Babb. 

Completely unbeknownst to me with Josh riding ahead of me, he saw a black bear on the side of the road nibbling on berries. He didn't stop and I passed the fascinating creature without a damn cliue. I'm still pretty sore about that. 

This is where things have gotten a bit dicey. Long story short, the tires did not arrive because I didn't write "General Delivery" on the address. We found the UPS driver set to deliver mail today but he didn't have it. However, he was coming up to Babb to fish Saturday morning so he said he could sign it for us and bring it. We took him up on it. Unfortunately, an hour or so ago he noted he couldn't do it.

So! The tires can get here Monday but it's supposed to snow Tuesday. We're 8 miles from the base of Road-to-the-Sun and quite frankly, I'm not sure about tomorrow for the climb. On Sunday, we have an 80* day and the opportunity to wake up early to avoid traffic. We'll take tomorrow to get our shit together.

We're ridin the stealth camping wave and camped out back behind an abandoned restaurant in Babb. Somebody in town has been listening to Johnny Cash nonstop for four hours.