August 2: Rising Sun Campground

     Three hours up and 1/2 hour down.  That pretty much sums up my 16-mile ascent and 12-mile descent over Logan Pass.  As for the mountain scenery that is considered to be among the most spectacular in the world, the scenery that draws hundreds of thousands of visitors every year, the scenery the Native Americans consider sacred, the scenery that has been known to render grown men speechless, the scenery that evokes thoughts of paradise, the scenery that really puts into perspective man's tiny place in the world--well, I saw very little of it.  The upper elevations were fog-bound.
     Several times I came across rocks in the road.  The steady rainfall loosened rocks on the cliffs and sent them tumbling down.  Some of them were pretty large--about the size of a car tire--and automobiles had to be pretty careful maneuvering around them.  At one point, I heard a loud scraping sound coming from around the bend.  It turned out to be a snowplow removing the debris.
     On the west side of the pass there were thick clouds and fog most of the way.  (Riding up to the clouds and then into them by itself provided some interesting scenery.)  It rained most of the time and my hands and feet were wet and cold.  The pedaling itself wasn't as hard as I expected it to be.
     Across the Continental Divide, there was no fog but I STILL didn't see anything because I was scared shitless.  It was pouring rain and I was riding my brakes, yet I was speeding down the mountainside almost uncontrollably.  It took all the focus I had just to keep from flying off the edge of the 2,000 ft. cliffs.  There was certainly no time for sight-seeing.
     Then I saw a sign that said, "Rough Road Next Nine Miles."  Son-of-a-YIKES, I just barreled through it all.  When the road leveled off a bit, I was the most grateful man on earth.
     On a nice day, I would have savored the entire ride and I would have been especially thrilled by the downhill.  But in these hypothermic conditions and with the wet pavement it was a different story.

     At the Rising Sun Campground, I set up my tent in the rain as fast as I could, changed into dry clothes, crawled into my sleeping bag, and was able to save my fingers and toes from having to be amputated. 
     It continued to rain all afternoon.  A backpacker's freeze-dried meal was my supper.  Those things are mighty tasty in the right circumstances.