Don just text messaged me that he took a 20+ MPH fall and broke 7 ribs and separated one end of his clavicle from the sternum. After a careful ride downhill from the Divide, he hit loose gravel in a bad washboard and lost control.  He thinks all the smoke in the air caused congestion which exacerbates his Meniere’s disease, which affects his balance.   He’s in Helena and his wife Jann is flying in to help him.  They should be flying home Sunday, where Don will be evaluated to determine if surgery is necessary or not to repair the clavicle.

Real sorry to get the news, I was looking forward to hooking back up and finishing the ride together.

Not a good start for a 65-mile three-pass day, when you don’t realize you’ve camped past the turn off for the next leg of the route. Using false logic and no help from the considerable resources, I turned left out of the high school football field I’d been invited to pitch my tent in, and started looking for the first crossroad mentioned on the map. After 4 miles I was suspicious and at the six-mile curve that turned north convinced I’d missed the road described. About half way back I realized it could have been something I passed the day before, prior to the hosted camping. Oh well, a 12-mile warmup on a cool morning.

Backing up a bit, we’d caught up with the ACA touring cyclists (mentioned in the prior blog post), and they offered once again to let us camp with them in Lincoln if we planned to stay there as well. Don and I hadn’t been committing to any daily destinations, primarily because we’d had a number of diversions that slowed our progress already. (Ends up Don did have still more problems – bent derailleur hanger again [from a single track fall] and a loose cassette.)

Anyway, we camped at the high school football field and enjoyed all the amenities the group did this time, including hot showers in the locker room (didn’t remember the nozzles were so low) and even better the farewell BBQ. The intentionally-delayed dessert after the evening debriefing was Bananas Foster with all the trimmings. I made more trips back to the table than I’ll put in print. “Plenty”connotes plural doesn’t it?

Don was uncertain how to tackle the next portion of the route (3 passes and almost 4,000′ climbing in 67 miles) so we agreed that he’d get himself to Helena in an easier or more leisurely fashion and I’d carry on. He’s hoping to shuttle himself down route and meet up again after he’s recovered, the bike is dependable and maybe even a new pair of riding shorts.

Photos for this leg of the trip are all masked with fairly dense smoke-filled skies. Lovely vistas and greenery just hazy from all the forest fires to the west.