First Communion

Billy cows clinging to a slope goats shouldn't.

Saturday's ride to Missoula was 86 miles downhill with no headwind, so easier that Friday's 50+ miles, and about the same travel time. Under those conditions the scenery is much better, for we're able to keep our heads up and take it all in. Arduous rides result in too much time looking at the white line in the draft of another rider.

We are the guests of the local Missoula Catholic Schools, being housed in the Sister Rita Mudd Activities Center. Upon arriving Tom Stergios of Advanced Technology Group had a couple cases of local beer and plenty of food waiting. ATG is a strong supporter of the Fuller Center and associate of one of our riders, Molly. Another treat of the area is huckleberry pie. (Side note: a great word, "huckleberry", with slang applications I hope to employ soon.)

Gerry, flattered by the imitation Celts.

After enjoying what Tom had provided some of us went out for dinner (hey, we eat a lot, okay?) and then visited the local Celt Festival. Our token Celt, Gerry, kept me from buying a kilt, for his authority gave me the impression these were not fitting for proper representation of my ancestral Clan Stewart. (I don't know; I may go shopping for a skirt anyway.) Upon returning to our gymnasium floor I set up my camp in an obscure corner and overslept into today.

Melissa researched a number of churches for us to attend. God knows I'm lazy, so I chose the closest. It was the First Presbyterian of Missoula where Pastor Dan Cravy said something that moved me. Nobody noticed, but I took Communion for the first time in my life. The act is something this sinner hasn't been able to reconcile until today, the reasoning now behind me and the subject for another treatment.

My church family in Missoula

After services they had a social time, where I met Hal and June. I was able to share a bit of what the Fuller Center for Housing doing, and they offered to take me to breakfast. There I met other members of their group. It just so happens one of the couples knew Millard Fuller, founder of our organization, through an expedition they accompanied him on in Glacier National Park in the early '90's. Afterward my hosts returned me to our current home.

Sorcerer of quilts.

With plenty of day left I decided to go out and find a source of kilts. It just so happened they removed the Celt Festival and replaced it with the March of Dimes, and the sorcerer of quilts. They didn't have the Stewart tartan. Oh well, the world is a better place without me in a skirt, and with the money I saved I was able to buy a pair of mittens, locally made from recycled materials. Mittens in July? Yeah, come the top of the Rockies some morning they will come in handy. Already, at 4,000 feet we've had mornings of 45 degrees when starting out, and my lower temperature limit for riding in Florida is 48 degrees.

Tomorrow we ride just over 61 miles to Superior, MT. It will have a net elevation loss of 500 feet (despite some challenging hills) as we travel along the Clark Fork River. We have picked up a number of riders and this will be the largest group of the trip. More family!