I woke up late (surprise) and packed up the bike. When I hit the road, I discovered a chalk message left by Sue. Isn't she funny?
I checked out my maps over breakfast and decided to ride to Butte rather than Dillon. It means that today's ride will be harder than I had planned for, but after the initial climbs, I'll enjoy a fairly east downhill run.
I got out on the road and pedaled through rolling hills, then crossed an alluvial fan. I had forgotten to refill my water bottles before setting out, and I quickly ran low on water. One negative aspect of the ride to Butte is that there aren't any towns along the route, which involves a lot of climbing. Cursing myself for my carelessness, and regretting the last few drinks I had ordered the night before, I started to ration my water.
By the time I reached the 10-mile climb over Pipestone Pass, I was down to my last water bottle. I steeled myself for an afternoon of dehydration and began the long climb over the pass -- a measly pass, but formidable nonetheless. I almost teared up when I finally saw the sign warning of a steep downhill -- the usual indicator that you've reached the top of a pass.
Once I crested the pass, my day's work was mostly done, but even the 15-mile downhill that led to Butte was challenging to my dehydrated body. I had finished my last bit of water about nine miles into the climb, so the rest of the day became something of a blur. This was the first time since Kansas that I'd let myself get dehydrated, and the effects were equally unpleasant.
I pedaled the last few miles into town with a friendly dog running alongside my bike. An impressive array of thunderstorms blanketed the city, offering an impressive backdrop for the ride.
Butte itself was pretty craptacular, with about 90 degrees of the view from town taken up by a butt-ugly mining operation. I got some Gatorade and found a motel, where I crashed out.