Whitefish, Montana - If I had to venture a guess, I'd say that 30 to 50 percent of the residents of northern Montana, Washington and Idaho live in either trailers or prefab housing. I mean, I've seen more than my share of trailers in Alaska, and I even grew up next to a (neat n' tidy) trailer park in Mass., but I've never seen anything like this. And some of them are kind of what you'd expect, a beat-up square of off-white alumninum with a mangy dog and maybe a rusting car by the chain-link fence. But some of them are really elaborate and extremely well-kept up, to the point where it becomes clear that the owner probably spent more on the landscaping and trim than the home itself.

But enough of the architectural commentary (well, almost enough - I just stumbled upon the only Frank Lloyd Wright-designed building in Montana. How cool is that?) This bike trip has really started to pick up steam: Since my last post in Twisp I have pulled off two 100-plus mile days and a 99-mile day (that was yesterday), crossed one time zone and moved through three states. Granted, there wasn't much of Idaho to plow through, but I still crossed it, dammit.

I made one of those 100-mile days despite having to make it over the highest point thus far in the trip, Sherman Pass, which is something like 5,500 feet tall. Now contrary to what many might believe, the hardest part of getting over a pass like that is not getting up it; it's getting down. Granted, the ascent is tiresome and time-consuming, but it's impossible to go down these long, steep descents without having to ride the brakes for miles on end. And that hurts. By the time I've been cruising at 25-30 mph for about 15 minutes I can barely feel my fingers anymore, and after I finally stop they'lll generally be buzzing for several minutes. And even more than that, it gets cold. I've gotten into the habit at the top of these passes of throwing on every scrap of clothing I have, and I still end up shivering on the way down. Not 'Fairbanks in January' shivering, but shivering nonetheless.

Anyway, my days of passes will soon be over; tomorrow or the next day I head over the higghest point in the trip, Logan Pass in the middle of Glacier National Park - which also happens to be the continental divide. After that it's a lot of downhill and then the eternal flatness of the Great Plains, which I expect to be a lot less scenic but a heck of a lot easier.

Speaking of scenery, it's died down a little since the high peaks of the Cascades, but northern Idaho and Montana are still gorgeous. The bike route mainly follows rivers, streams and lakes, and some of the vistas of jagged, pine-clad mountains ringing expanses of shimmering water are simply breathtaking. At least, they are when the sun's out, which has been the case around half the time.

For every moment of sublime peace and beauty on this sort of trip, unfortunately, there are one or two of abject despair. I think I first hit that point in the tiny hamlet of Ione, Wash., where I paid $5 to pitch my tent on a small promontory behind a mobile home park. It was a beautiful spot beneath a giant tree (all the better to keep rain off my tent) and looking out over the still waters of Lake Pend Orielle.

Then the bar across the water turned its jukebox on. I found myself assaulted by every classic rock cliche in the book, from "Born to be Wild" to "Black Magic Woman." I knew it was way too loud for me to ever fall asleep with it in the background, and I didn't want to stay up until 2 a.m. when it would stop.

Then it got dark and started to rain. Oh, and thunder and lightning too. I found myself faced with a choice: leave my tent under the tree and let it stay drier, or move it behind the RV Park office, where it would have no protection from the rain but where I couldn't hear the damn music.

See what I mean about despair?

Eventually I just sucked it up and left the tent where it is, shoved some t.p. in my ears, wrapped a shirt around my head, stuck my head into my sleeping bag and went to sleep. The next morning was sunny and warm. With a 15 mph headwind.

But I made it past that, past Idaho, past my first few nights in Montana. I just arrived here in Whitefish and am finding it a rather appealing place - attractive downtown, free internet, Frank Lloyd Wright building - so I may spend the night here or just down the road.

For anyone who tried to post comments and couldn't, the comments are now functioning. And this library doesn't have any USB ports handy (nobody's perfect), so still no photos. Someday soon I will hopefully find a library/cafe where I can download them and unleash a barrage of images for all to enjoy.