The day had already been a long one. I was tired – A reflection of the continual riding, only six weeks earlier we had started our journey up the USA and now we were less than a week away from the Canadian border. I could tell Ted was flagging too by the gentle, understanding glances between us, as we rode side-by-side, no words needed. I rattled down the second loose, rocky pass of the day, my legs and mind were struggling to find the elasticity and flow needed to glide over the boulder field. I was eager to reach the bottom, it had been a fictional milestone in my mind all day. I knew that from there onwards we only had 20km of flat-ish riding left until we reached the cyclist friendly village of Ovando (Northern Montana) a safe place to sleep for the night. I knew that if we could reach the bottom of the pass, we’d do it, we’d find the energy to get all the way there. I could feel the anticipation of reaching the landmark rising, at the same rate the sun was setting, adding to the feeling of urgency.

As we met the flat gravel road marking the end of the freewheeling descent down Huckleberry Pass,  I allowed myself a moment to glance back over my shoulder. I looked up at the wall of green. The lush tree covered mountains we had just made our way over looked so majestic and glowing in the light of the golden hour, the last one before sunset. Just 20kms more, I reminded myself.  But the smooth gravel quickly turned to corrugation and started sapping what little enthusiasm and energy I had left.

A couple of young guys drove by in a jeep, their laughter and music could be heard above the noise of the engine and the rattling wheels, the dust creating an orange glow that filled the sky. Their exuberance and joy being the antithesis of how I was feeling in that moment. As they slowed to pass us, an outstretched arm, and then chest, leant out of the window, seemingly defying gravity, clutching a huge bag of Cheetos, ‘Trail snacks’ the guy shouted as he offered them to me. I couldn’t help but be cheered by the grinning face and unkempt hair that spilled out from underneath his cap. The smile that spread over my face grew to match the size of his, as I graciously declined I thanked him anyway – for the smile he’d passed to me, as much as the offered snacks. But I did then suddenly noticed how hungry I was. Ted obviously had the same thought as he pulled to a stop at the next junction. He rifled through his bag and pulled out a bunch of bananas, perfectly smooshed and bruised by the rocky descents of the day, the outers blackened, sticky juice pouring through the cracks in the skin. Just the smell of the overripe bananas was enough to turn my stomach, let alone the anticipation of the texture that I knew would accompany it as I took a bite. Forcing it down, trying to ignore the retching sensation by acknowledging that this smoosh was much needed sustenance was something I was now accustomed to, but it never became any more pleasant.

At that moment, an electric pickup truck pulled into the junction and wound down it’s window. We tried to shuffle the bikes backwards, carefully balancing the remaining mooshy bananas, conscious that an open window can either indicate a friend or foe to a weary cyclist with wheels jutting out into the middle of the road. But the beaming smile and warm eyes that greeted us instantly put us at ease as we chatted away and told our story, of where we had come from and how long we’d been on the road. We were immediately offered a bed for the night only a kilometre away – true trail magic.

Gary and Dona lived in a spectacular log cabin, in amongst the trees and alongside the river on their land. They had spent a lifetime building it. The love and life embedded in every part of their home was clear to see – curiosities from around the world adorned the walls, along with beautiful paintings of birds and creatures, an eclectic library of books kept them company and the huge logs that created the walls of the cabin created textures that told a thousand tales. A true reflection of a life well lived.

We enjoyed a wonderful evening with Gary and Dona, sharing tales over a delicious meal, full of veggies from the garden. It was inspiring to hear about their time teaching in Africa and some weeks spent with the Hadza tribe. Ted could have spent a week just asking questions about building the cabin, let alone the electric pickup truck.

Sometimes it’s all too easy to fall into the societal trap of thinking that aging is a decline, a negative inevitability, of things not being quite as good as they once were but spending time with Dona and Gary filled us with inspiration. A reminder that life is a book that each one of us writes for ourselves, right until the final word – how exciting is that!

Later that evening, as I lay in the first warm bath I had had in over 10 months, with bubbles gently fizzing against my chin, and the tension in my muscles slowly melting away in the heat of the water, I thought back to the day we’d had.  We had experienced such incredible kindness it’s was overwhelming.

We had started the day at the Lost Llama Ranch. It’s infamous amongst cyclists on the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route (GDMBR). On paper, as the name suggests, it’s a ranch that is home to a few llamas (actually alpacas, but what’s in a name!),  run by fellow cyclists Barbara and John, who selflessly offer cabins and camping space along with food. Barbara and John have the warmest hearts. They welcome everyone cycling or walking the GDMBR. There are no questions asked about how far you’ve come or what your daily mileage is, there is no expectation that you have had an epic and ‘deserve’ the comfort of a bed and a warm shower. Everyone is genuinely welcomed. When Barbara came out to greet us she simply said, ‘We are so pleased you’ve come to stay with us’, as though they were the beneficiaries of our stay. The incredible thing is that Barbara and John do not ask for any money or donation to pay back their kindness, instead they ask that everyone who stays with them pays it forward i.e. passes that same kindness on to someone else in the future. They also ask that everyone who stays takes a quick photo of themselves and pins it to the ceiling of the cabin they stay in, meaning that each of the cabins ceilings is covered in Polaroids of those who’ve stayed before. Standing and looking at all those smiling faces, thinking about each one of those cyclists passing on the kindness to others was pretty poignant. Like ripples in a pond. Rather than money being paid to Barbara and John and staying with them in Montana, instead, each one of those smiling Polaroid faces is the start of a ripple of kindness that they hope will spread across the pond, and no doubt across the world. You can’t help but be inspired and moved by it.

But it wasn’t even just the start of the day at the Llama Ranch, or the end of the day at Gary and Dona’s, throughout the day we had also been cheered on my truck drivers who passed as we tackled the first rough, rocky pass of the day, we had been bought lunch by a group of Harley Davidson riders and we had been recharged by the enthusiasm and energy of a young family picking huckleberries at the top of the second rocky pass of the day.

All of this unbelievable altruism, all in one day.

This is a reflection of our time generally across the USA as a whole. I could honestly list about one hundred similar friendly interactions, kind people and altruistic acts along our journey across the USA.  Now, I’m not naive enough to think that everyone in every part of the USA is like this – we experienced enough abuse shouted out of truck windows to know that this is not the case – but it just shows how much the media and stereotypes are not to be believed, how they can get into your psyche and skew your perspectives of a place, of people. The only way of truly knowing is to get out there, be open minded, be curious, listen to others and experience things for ourselves, because the USA shown in the media, is nothing like the friendly, warm hearted and selfless USA we have experienced. And it really is the people and their energy that make a place what it is. So maybe we all need to be more like Barbara and John, like Gary and Dona, like so so many others we’ve met and pay it forward with random acts of kindness, the more ripples the better. 

“I alone cannot change the world, but I can cast a stone across the waters to create many ripples” Mother Teresa