The alarm never was set for six o'clock, and in disappointing fashion, we didn't evacuate the motel until eleven. We had our continental breakfast, filled all of our water bottles up, and called the town of Cardson to see if they had tires. Of course they didn't so we ordered them online and they'll be in Babb, MT, 15 miles before the famous Road to the Sun in St. Mary. Josh's tire was flat again and as I'm writing this in Cardson, Alberta, Josh's tire is once again, yeah for nine days straight, flat.
Fresh out of Cut Bank, we actually rode the wind for a quick eight miles to the edge of town and then headed west, twenty-eight miles to the border of Canada in Del Bonita. The wind would blow in our face and come in sideways but it was nowhere as bad as the day before. Mile markers followed us the entire way to the border. The forty miles were just as forecasted; completely desolate. Oh yeah, it's cold.
After a short meal on the side of the road at mile marker twenty-one, we set out again. The landscape steadily got more and more hilly. The Rockies also peaked out in the distance, which was an amazing feeling after the amount of flatness we've covered since Iowa. I also almost got killed by a truck. Unlike other vehicles, I never heard it coming.
I was riding on the center line talking to Josh on the right side.
"Up ahead we'll make a right and the wind should be behind us. About three miles," I said. Josh looked at me and the next events unfolded in less than a second. Time moved very slowly.
I heard the truck, gripped my bike handles, and roared simultaneously with the engine of the big rig. I fully anticipated to be crushed. The truck rushed alongside me and with my eyes half-closed it's tires leaned in to kiss me.
Suddenly, it was gone and my legs turned to jell-o. I looked back at Josh who had the expression of complete horror.
"Dude... I'm so glad you're still here," he said to me.
"That... was not... funny," I said as I began to nervously laugh.
"I'm in shock."
Life seemed a bit more sweet after that incident.
A few miles before the border we passed a post office sign that read "Groceries". Sure enough, an old dilapidated red building in the middle of nowhere housed goods of all sorts. Two young adults, Brendan and his sister Lori, worked it. They were from a nearby town across the border.
They were a delight to converse with and fairly interested in our trip. As always, we basically downplayed it as silly and called ourselves idiots. And as usual, the people denied this and showed genuine respect for us. It kinda falls in line with all the vehicles that don't kill us. We're a tad bit annoying but respected... to a degree, obviously.
At the border, we got our passports ready and streamed ahead to wait behind the first car.
He had grey hair and looked like he could've been any one of our friend's dads back at home. Halfway through the inspection, after taking our passports, he told us to go into the office.
Two bald-headed burly figures sat behind a computer.
"So, which one of you is Josh?" the one man said peeking from behind the screen.
"That's me," Josh said.
"You have a DUI from last year," he stated.
Josh looked back in horror. "What? I've never gotten a DUI!"
I took it jokingly, knowing they had the wrong Josh. "Maybe you were just so drunk you forgot," I laughed. I probably shouldn't have said that.
Nonetheless, a few minutes later, the man approached and said, "Alright, you're good to go. Just as long as you've never been black before like Josh Johnson from Philadelphia."
We laughed nervously. "Oh no! They know about your surgery!"
We were off with about thirty minutes killed in the warmth of the office.
We laughed and joked down the road for a long number of kilometres. We were once again in Canada, this time in the province of Alberta.
Miles faded back and the landscape continued to go up and down while wind swept over the plethora of empty wheat fields. If you closed your eyes, it sounded very much like the ocean and if you opened your eyes, the dancing of the grains looked like waves of water.
Suddenly, the road took a dramatic downhill after one particular corner. We glided down to the Milk River, which now had a fresh glossy appearance from the glacial minerals imbedded within the water. The hills now stood triumphantly above us, twisting and curving over eighty feet up. Cows stood up on the mounds, staring vacantly as we rolled on by. Gone was the wheat. Bright and vivid green grass ruled supreme. It felt as if we had been transported out of North America and into the heart of the picturesque Irish countryside. But... this was Alberta.
Out of the rolling hills, we pinched through an opening back into familiar turf. Here, the vast prairie expanded as far as the eye could see to our left. On our right, the hills forwarning the incoming Rockies looped up and down. Straight ahead, the sun peered through the clouds, magnifying a mist of light over the grand Rocky Mountains. Houses were few and far apart but for the life of me, I could not imagine living out here.
Eventually, the vast expanses disappeared and houses began sprouting about. In a short period of time, we were coasting down a hill into the valley that is Cardston, Alberta. Contrary to our predictions, Matt rolled on through shortly behind us.
After a long, cold evening, we finally succumbed to paying a silly amount of money to camp in the rain. We called the Royal Canadian Mounted Police to see if we could hangout in the park but it was a no go. So, we're still bundled up in the campground here at three in the afternoon and it hasn't stopped raining since this morning. It's a frigid 45* but all is well inside our tents. Until tomorrow, when the sun comes out... we'll be here.
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