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On Route 212 just south of Laurel I briefly glimpse the snow-mantled peaks of Absarokas for the first time. I only stopped briefly for gas in Miles City and Billings because the heat was just simply more than I could bear. At my Billing stop, I overheard the radio in the station saying it was 97 dgrees. A fellow motorcyclist, noting my distant home on the license plate, stopped to chat me up about my trip. Normally, I am eager to engage at length with anyone who is interested but we both were sweating so intensely that we mutually, agreed it was time to get movin'. I could feel the pull of Red Lodge and my impending assault of the Bear Tooth. |
