I rode 11.5 miles out of Missoula before realizing that I had only $65 in my wallet. That was scary, given that the next large city (and thus ATM) was about 2 weeks away. In fact, some of the few First Interstate (my bank) branches didn’t have ATM machines. I could live like Steph and make $65 last, but it would be miserable. I turned around.

On my way out of town, I spotted Alan. He confirmed that Debbie, Brian, Peter, and Diane had rented a car and gone up to Glacier. They were supposed to be back soon, but I wasn’t going to wait on the outside chance that I might see them. Instead, I sucked Alan’s wheel for the next few hours.

I related to Alan the story of how Stewart broke away from Stephanie because he was starting to like her. Alan told me that Stewart had expressed his sentiments more bluntly.

We stopped at the Tipi hostel in Darby, Montana. It was Saturday. The proprietress of the hostel was Jenny Sweet, who was 13 years old. She had started the hostel on their family’s farm when she was nine.

Due to the turnaround at the beginning, I had logged 86 miles that day.

Alan gave me tons of advice on the road ahead, which I eagerly took down in my journal.

Sunday, July 10, 1988

The next morning, Jenny took Alan and me to milk the goat. Jenny made it look easy. Actually, it was quite difficult to do. She must have had strong hands.

Alan left, but it being Sunday, I stayed over for a day of rest. There were no churches to my liking in town, only the Mormons and Jehovah’s Witnesses. There was a Seventh-day Adventist church in the next town, but it would have been too much work to get there. After all, I was resting.

In the shade of a pavilion at the city park, I met Norton Bell. Small world! He was a Western Wheeler.

After he left, I had a great time talking with the local children, showing them my bike and camera. The children outside of the big cities were fearless; no one ever told them not to talk to strangers.