Day 2 was the day that gave me the most apprehension before this trip. There was an easier option. From the Holmestead near Frenchtown, I could have worked my way over to Interstate 90 and followed the interstate corridor west toward St. Regis. But...why? The I-90 route would have been easier. It would have meant pavement, considerably less climbing, more services, easier bailout options, and a much more predictable day. It also would have meant spending most of the day riding beside interstate traffic, trucks, noise, shoulder debris, and interchanges. I didn’t ride from Hamilton, Montana, toward Sandpoint, Idaho, to spend a day riding the shoulder of I-90 if there was a mountain route available. So I went over the mountain. The route heads into the Ninemile Creek drainage and follows the West Side Ninemile Road system into Lolo National Forest before climbing onto the Ninemile Divide. Much of the mountain portion is Forest Service gravel and dirt road, including the Pardee Creek–Ninemile Road/Forest Road 97 corridor. This is not technical mountain biking. It is a backcountry road. Expect gravel, dirt, loose rock, dust, sharp corners, steep embankments, and changing road conditions. Much of it is wide enough for vehicles, although there are narrower sections. Traffic was certainly not the problem it would have been on I-90. Water is available from creeks along portions of the route, particularly lower in the Ninemile drainage, although it becomes less dependable as you climb toward the divide. Anyone relying on those sources should carry a filter or another means of treating surface water. And then comes the climb. Over roughly 16 miles, the route gains around 3,000 feet before reaching the high country. The elevation profile is a little cruel. The first major ridge crest is also the high point of the ride at approximately 6,300 feet. You finally get there, start descending, and think, “Okay. That’s done.” Not quite. The road drops and then climbs again to a second ridge crest around 5,900 feet. Another descent. Then another climb to a third crest around 5,700 feet. I have not found individual names for those three high points, so I think of them simply as the three major crests of the Ninemile Divide portion of the ride. After that third climb? Glorious. The road finally commits to going downhill, and for miles I descended toward St. Regis knowing that the climbing I had worried about for weeks was behind me. Almost. At about mile 59, somewhere around 2,966 feet in elevation, I reached a substantial gate across the road. It was double locked. The sign said ROAD CLOSED. There was also signage directed toward hunters. I stopped. My first thought was that I was going to have to backtrack. The most obvious alternate was several miles behind me, where USFS Road 18524, also called Burr Saddle Road, offered another possible way toward St. Regis. Unfortunately, reaching that turn meant climbing back uphill and then immediately taking on more climbing, including grades around 7.5 percent. Friends, I didn’t have that in me. Not after Ninemile Divide. I started back anyway, then stopped and reconsidered the gate. What bothered me was what I could see around it. There was no Private Property or No Trespassing sign. To the left was a section of looped barbed wire that could be temporarily moved. Beyond the gate, the road appeared to continue directly toward the rural residential area outside St. Regis. So I went back. I removed the loop of wire, carefully negotiated the loaded bicycle around the gate, replaced the wire behind me, and continued. Almost immediately I was riding through a rural residential area and then onto the normal public-road network into St. Regis. I encountered no second gate and no obvious private-property boundary. I have since found evidence that public-road and Forest Service road easements exist throughout the Four Mile Road corridor, but I have not been able to determine why that particular gate was closed or exactly what restrictions applied to it. For that reason, I am not recommending that another rider simply do what I did. Check current Forest Service and Mineral County access information before depending on this route. Road conditions, closures, and access rules can change. But on my ride, that was how Day 2 ended. The recorded ride came in at roughly 62 miles (100 km) with about 4,700 feet of total climbing. I rolled into St. Regis after completing the mountain crossing I had worried about more than any other portion of the trip. And I had made it. I sure did. There are camping options around St. Regis, but I chose the Super 8 for the night. Normally I use motel nights on longer bikepacking trips as a cleanup and reboot stop. Did I desperately need a full reboot after only two days? Probably not. Did I want one after that climb? Doggone right I did. A shower, clean clothes, laundry, a bed, and then dinner and a beer at the Talking Bird Saloon sounded considerably better than pitching a tent. The Talking Bird has become one of those places I simply like stopping when I’m in St. Regis: good food, good beer, and good company. Day 2 was the day I had worried about. The climb was real. The three ridge crests were real. The gate at the bottom added one final bit of confusion that I certainly hadn’t ordered. But I made it over Ninemile Divide and into St. Regis. For me, this was the day the trip really became an adventure. There's more at GravelGrindingBoys.com - Video.