july 24, 2023 gdmbr day 19

the first 23.9 miles this morning were perfect. the rest? not so much.

we bid goodbye to our rustic accommodations at elkhorn hot springs, and by rustic i mean beds in a box.

there was no water, there was no toilet, and the double-hung windows were sealed shut with a quarter-inch of sherwin williams’ finest cold war, lead-based paint.

our gulag for the evening was named “moose” and when we opened it, a rush of hot air escaped and the outside temperature crept up a couple of degrees.

sensing the sweat box and my complete inability to sleep when warm, without white noise, or while entertaining impure thoughts, i asked the lodge for a fan and received no fan.

the calling card for elkhorn hot springs, however, isn’t their sweat box lodging, it is the hot springs themselves. when i heard about them, i envisioned geologic plateaus sporting small, steaming pools with therapeutic minerals and thick white towels to wrap its visitors.

what we got was a couple of old concrete pools with crumbling steps and a couple of under inflated, physically abused floaties to help those prone to drowning hold their head above the water.

that truly is more than a metaphor at elkhorn.

the users were a multiple-sized blend of guests and locals, with a nice pool representation of good and bad tats. skulls and flowers seemed to be the most popular theme. i think that’s what they were, but didn’t want to get caught staring at tattoos so perilously close to cleavage.

creepers.

the hot springs were like a liquid walmart.

i got in and got out, and am now waiting for the brain amoebas to asexually propagate and turn me into a vegetable. if nothing else, i’ll be a perfect bikepacker.

there were some highlights at the lodge though. the food was good, the people were nice, and the food was good.

ten miles out of elkhorn, after a screaming, fully loaded 37 mph descent, i turned left and saw a scenic byways kiosk. it included a picture of the hot springs, maybe taken in the 70’s. it was bright and cheery.

i told myself “i’ll have to visit that place some day.

today’s ride brought us 58-miles to “dad’s creek cabin”. our traveling party has swelled to five and tonight, everyone has a bed and the windows here actually open.

the 23.9 perfect miles morphed into a cross wind and then a head wind and into smoke and a freshly graded stretch that brought every 2-3” rock in western montana to the road surface.

the last 5 miles were punishing, but soon forgotten with another day on the divide.