*week of July 10-July 16
Week 7 Complete. Here it is in numbers 638 miles. 48 hrs 11 mins. 27,533 ft of elevation gain. In Idaho on the Lochsa River I am camped between 2 enormous cedar trees. Even though I had a long day the day before, 112 miles, I was ready to get up. Mostly because I could hear thunder off in the distance echoing of the tangle of mountains around me. It was about 5:00, there was light out, summer days start early this far north. It wasn't long after getting rolling that some drops started to come down. I wasn't too worried about the rain because I saw clear skies in the direction I was going. Kooskia was the next town, 40 miles. It had been 80 or so mikes since the last town and I was ready for something other than beef jerky and pop tarts. I could live longer on that stuff, but it is tough to bike on junk food. Take care of your body and it will take care of you. So I ate huge breakfast at Backroads Diner in Kooskia. I eat at a lot of Diners. It was a climb after that to Grangeville, an Idaho farming community on a plateau. On the way there I had a wreck. My first accident. As I was flinging around a corner I could hear a logging truck coming, I had been seeing the all day. The shoulder on this road was abysmal. As the truck past I slipped on some loose gravel, tucked and rolled, as I watched my phone skid across the road. I quickly got up, patted myself, and grabbed the phone. A car then comes around the corner and beeps at me, how rude. The phone screen was cracked, but I was okay. I. Had to recover mentally from the fall, but it wasn't the truck driver fault, not do I think it was careless of me. It was just bad timing. From Grangeville, I had a big climb. Made a wrong turn and quickly realized why the route is on the roads it is on. When traffic got heavy and the shoulder dissappeared, I knew I was off route. So I cut back over and continued to climb the wall of Hell’s Canyon. On the way down, let me tell you, it was a blast. Decending the sharp switchbacks, sometimes exceeding 45 mph was exhilarating. Really wish I brought a GoPro for these moments. In White Bird, ID, I had a reminder of why it was called Hell’s Canyon. I rested and cooled down in the little cafe and gift shop. Then it was off to Riggins to finish my day. On the way I ran into some other tourist. They were off to the side of the hot road next to the Snake River, fixing a flat. Apparently, this guy, Lincoln, had been plagued with 22 flats. His buddies, 4 other riders to be exact, invited me to finish off the day with them. Lincoln, Jordan, Jay and I got some food from the Grocery Store and headed out to a campsite on the banks of the Salmon River. At Scott's Bar I step up camp and took an evening dip into the Salmon River to clean off the salt and road grime. This was the second 100+ mile day in a row. Before the other guys could finish their breakfast, I was ready to go. We said our farewells and I road off to the next town. To be honest with you I don't remember much of that day, Tuesday. I do remember a long stretch them rough sagebrush deserts and being very thirsty. Two stretches like that, the last one enduring the day. The last stretch was mostly uphill and no water. But the persistent rider is rewarded with and exceedingly steep decent back into another Canyon. This river being the Snake River and the Oregon/Idaho border. I camped one more night in a campground on the Idaho side of the Snake River. The view…incredible. Wonder what the Oregon Trail travelers must have thought through that area.this was the third 100 mile day in a row for me. The spill I had on Monday caused a buckle to break on my seatbag. Ortlieb offered to ship a new one at no cost to a location of my choosing. I picked Dayville, OR because I thought i would be there in 3 days to pick it up. We'll see how that one works out. On Wednesday I crossed the Snake River and into Oregon, the final state, around 7:00am. Obviously it was a great feeling. Exuberance for getting this far, sadness knowing it will all be over soon, and nervousness about going back to reality. This inevitable for every traveler, in my experience anyway. I picked blackberries for breakfast that morning and supplemented with poptarts. Right as I am eating one going down the road, I saw a black object in the middle of the road, about, 150 yards away. It was a black bear. I let him, or her, wonder off the road for a sec then I attempted to pass by. I didn't make too much noise but wanted to be sure the bear knew I was there. As I rode by, it turned and scurried off into the bushes near the shore of the Snake. After a water refill and snack at the next town, which was little more than a touristy gas station, I make a big leap, 50ish miles to the next resupply. Not so bad in the morning. It was the next long leap that got me. It was through more sagebrush desert stuff in eastern Oregon. For some reason i thought it was going to magically change to wet, lush forests as soon as I got into Oregon. You know the image just saying the Pacific Northwest conjures. This was not it. It was hot, dry, and desolate. The next town was Baker City, a large town about the size of Gray. I always try to compare town size to city's back home in TN. It's not easy, the towns are just layed out…differently. I like it. I also liked it because it was time to switch maps. The maps are numbered 1-12, I was on #3 going to #2. Since I am going east to west the numbers are in reverse order. It's always a good feeling to switch maps. I had to get to the post office before 5 because I was racing the post office hours. I got to Baker City Post Office in the nick of time. Got my resupply of goodies from home and got a 12” burrito from the taco stand next to the PO. Feeling full and ready I finished the day off to a campground on Phillips Lake. I saw a bald eagle there. It was the fourth day in a row I had done over 100 miles. I can feel myself approaching the final legs of the journey. It was off to pick up the package the next morning. Through the amazing conifer forests of Umatilla National Forest and Malheur NF as I climbed the first pass of the day. Down into Praire City for a snack when I met Malcolm. A fresh college grad with glasses and a spirit for adventure. He was doing what I did when I graduated college. Going to a sabbatical. In my case I hiked the AT. Malcolm was here doing the TransAm. It was in Prairie City that I learned a valuable lesson. Never use the front wheel racks with a touring setup. When standing by the front wheel, the rear load can easy joy be tipped over. The front wheel is stuck in the rack and can warp the wheel as the rear falls. That's exactly what happened to me. I fixed what I could and got it rolling. The only problem was the front wheel was slightly out of true. Luckily there was a bike shop in Daville. I rode with him for the remained of the day through John Day and to Mt Vernon, to the Bike Inn, where I planned to stay. It was a really cool garage converted into a cyclist paradise. Shower, kitchen, bed. Perfect place to stay and the host was so friendly. The eastern Oregon heat didn't let up the next day. I rode into Dayville to the general store. It just so happened to be the bike shop as well, and also where my replacement buckle was shipped. There was a lady there and I asked if they could fix my wheel. She went to the back and got her son Simon. He was a tall guy wearing a white muscle shirt. He assured me he could fix the wheel. After some beating on the ground and a little truing I was good to go. Except for the package. It was 9:30am and the UPS man hadn't arrived yet. Simon did me a solid and offered to drop it off in the next town, Mitchell, at the hostel. This hostel wasn't in the guide, because it had just opened last year. Ran my a couple that has true determine and insight, the Spoke’N is a treasure in the desolate country out there. Mitchell, also called Tiger Town because of the mid 1800 brawling scene, is right next to the beautiful Painted Hills and fossil site. Though it is a small struggling town, couple diners, an up coming brewery and a dying grocery store. The people at Spoke ‘N want to change that. They restored an old church into a hostel for many types of people. It's donation based. Everything is already thought of, from loaner flip flops to a bucket to do laundry in. From bike stands to a knee pad to help cushion you next bike work session. Everything was labeled everything had its place. And yet it wasn't too overbearing. The host shuttled us to the Painted Hills that evening. The car ride felt extremely fast. This was my first time in a car in over a month. I didn't plan on waking around or doing anything other than look. But when I got there I was compelled to get a different angle, to see the light on the hills in a different way. I ended up walking almost 2 miles just wondering around the site. The volcanic ash laid there in layers took on reds, grays, black speckles, deep burgundy, and orange. I realized it was the same colors as the hostel, it was the inspiration. We came back right as it was getting dark and the owners offered us ice cream. I had a good nights sleep. 75 miles that day. On Saturday, it was just 65 miles to Sisters, OR. In the morning a long climb up Ococho Pass. Then a long decent to Prineville. And finally ups and downs with a head wind to Terrebonne and Sisters. It was decent riding, then I saw then. Out of the earth rose the Cascades. A beautiful mountain range of steep sided peaks still covered in snow, this being late July. The Cascades were the only mountain range between me and Pacific, and I got the honor of taking them on tomorrow. I awoke Sunday with a desire to climb. It was a 2,000+ft climb to McKenzie Pass, though not too steep. I enter red the Deshutes National Forest on the east side of the range. The road went straight through a grove of enormous Pondarosa pines and then began to wind its way up the mountain. The vegetation changed to a mixed conifer forest and the road more narrow. Almost to the pass I approached the edge of the gigantic lava field that covered the top near the pass. It must have been 300 acres or more of jumbled up lava and no vegetation. And poking out, the majestic peaks I had seen as I approached the range, Mt Jefferson, Middle Sister, and Mt Washington. I took my time here. It was a profound moment. There were no more mountains to conquer. The ride down the west side was INCREDIBLE. The landscape had changed dramatically! It reminded me a lot of the Smokies, ferns, which I haven't seen in thousands of miles, mosses, and many deciduous trees thickly coated the mountainsides. The road switch-backed along through and left me tell you, I was flying. It was the best decent so far. Probably because of the return of green, or perhaps because I knew I had defeated the toughest parts of the route. Whatever the reason that euphoria lasted me all the way into Eugene. I met my host, a friend of a friend. A 95 mile day finished the map #2. The next week was my last rest day and the beginning of the final map, #1. The end of the tale next time….. *week of July 3-July 9
Week 6 complete. Here it is In numbers 537.4 miles, 37hr35min in the saddle, 16,972ft of elevation gain. It was what I was waiting for. The most awesome part of the journey. The Grand Teton NP followed by Yellowstone NP. Beside the droves of gawking tourist It lived up to expectations. Monday, from Lizard Creek Campground I rode 70 miles along rivers, up canyons, by water falls. I was beginning to become impatient, I wanted to see thermal activity. It was getting to about midday. Saw a cyclist ahead. Dan, I'll tell you about him later. We rode to Old Faithful. I saw the enormous lodge right beside the gyser and thought to myself sarcastically, “this seems safe”. Not to mention kind of an eyesore. Both national parks are dotted with lodges. I don't agree with it, but I reckon if you are a struggling national parks system because politicians don't want to fund natural resources, you'll take money anywhere you can get it. Even if that means making our parks gaudy. It was the Fourth of July weekend. Cars where passing all day and there was not a shoulder to be had. The park was beautiful, but felt “sold out”. Dan and I rode together for the last few miles of the day. I planned on going farther, but when we got to Madison Campground I knew I had to stay. We took a swim in the Madison River. I ate a dinner of PopTarts and protein mix because I planned on passing through another town. We chatted with a couple of Aussies, Adam and Lindel, who were on the Great Divide Trail and had been cycling around for a few years, yes years. The next day Dan and I set out in the chill of the morning. It was so cold I had to use my cold gloves. Saw a huge bull elk on the way out of the park into Montana and the town of West Yellowstone. Needless to say after the meager dinner of the night before, I had quite the appetite. The food in these touristy places is soooo expensive. I ate a big breakfast and went to the grocery store for resupply because the next town was a good ways off. I always get too much food on a resupply,afraid I will run out. Luckily it was all downhill through the canyon. It was Earthquake Lake area. Crazy story, people died in a landslide, look it up. 78 miles later finally got to Ennis, MT and guess who was sitting on a bench. My old Belgian friend Camille. Also there were 4 other tents. They were at the rodeo championship at the arena, you could hear the roar of the crowd. Little did I know I would be seeing these people for a while. It was July 4th which made the sleeping more difficult due to the fireworks and loud bar goes walking around town. Being camped right in town behind a store does have its benefits, but it also has its drawbacks. As usual I was the last one up and at ‘em. I had a big breakfast and was the last of the group to leave Ennis. Mike, his sister Liz, Dave, Camille, Dan, and Robert (Robert was heading east), all got on the road before me. There really wasn't much options for resupply and camping so we had all planned on staying in Dillon, MT, an easy 70 miles. I can see why Montana was named as such. In Spanish montaña means mountain. There were mountains all around and big valleys in between. The route takes you through these valleys, which makes the riding easier and the views spectacular. Something I have noticed with these western states is that all the valleys must be irrigated in order to sustain the livestock. Unlike the rich soils and wetness of the east, the valleys require more human interference in order to graze cattle. From what I have learned they only get one cutting of hay each season and must get it baled before fall snows cover the cut hay. When we finally got to the town of Dillon a storm blew through. Perfect timing because we had all went out to our separate lodgings for the night. Dan and I decided to team up and I broke down and finally payed for my first motel. It was totally worth it. Not only did I get out of the rain, but the A/C, and shower made my sleep so completely comfortable I slept right through the 5.7 earthquake that occurred during the night. The next day, Thursday, the whole town was taking about the earthquake. Dan said that he felt it, but I had no clue it even happened. There was some climbing to be done getting out of Dillon. Luckily there was also some awesome defending to do to. The huge drop off into Virginia City was exhilarating. Google search Virginia City it's pretty cool. It's like the whole time played along in the old time theme. After the next town there was a big 50 mile stretch with no water. I cameled up, but still ran out before getting to Wisdom, MT. There I found Camille waiting, drinking smoothie after smoothie to beat the heat. The rest eventually showed up. Because the town had promised a free campsite but there was none to be found, we had resolved to go to the National Forest to camp. Last to arrive in town was Dan. He walked in and unknowingly said the funniest thing we had heard all day. “That was a good way to end the day!” We all burst into laughter. We explain the situation. I could see it on his face, he was dead tired. We all had some pizza and got up the strength to head back out. We all said our goodbyes to Dan, thinking we probably wouldn't see him again. At the campsite, May Creek Campground, we found, of course, a creek. A very cold creek which was good to dip the sore muscles in. The following day guess who was the last one out of camp. It was actually cold hat morning by and I had to put in my cold weather gloves to keep riding. I had just one pass to climb. After making it over Chief Joseph Pass, Chief Joseph was part of the Nez Perce tribe, I descended the new Roth side and down into a wide valley. That valley gradually took me down through town after town. Compared to what I was used to this was like a metropolis. Darby, Hamilton, Florence, Lolo, and finally Missoula. It got super hot. I was in a bit of a hurry to meet my host, Eric, before he left for the weekend. Can you believe it? I have. Ever met him, barely know his friend who got us in contact, and he was letting me stay in his house alone for two nights. Wow! Can't thank him enough for trusting me, because this was a much needed break. That night I was even invited to dinner by some of his friends and neighbors. I went to bed on a mattress, fat and sassy. My rest day was awesome! I rode around town, yeah, it was rest co spidering what I usually do. Went to the farmers market. Got some awesome local veggies and beef. Cooked dinner and made myself at home. Just relaxed, cleaned up, and got ready for the next day. I had dinner with Dan, Mike, Dave, Liz, and Camille. This would certainly be the last time I would see Mike, Dave, and Camille for they were continuing north toward Glacier NP, whilst my route took me in a southerly direction toward Idaho. I sure hope they farewell. Back in the road and up to Lolo Pass. The first portion of the day was spent climbing to the pass. I had been reading, well listening to Undaunted Courage, a book on Lewis and Clark and their Corp of Discover. An amazing thing happened as I was approaching Lolo Hot Springs. Lewis and Clark were too. In the story I mean. Right as I was getting to the hot springs they were there too. Now, I know it was inevitably going to happen at some point, it I figured it would be at a place of no mention. They would just pass me somewhere on the road of little consequence. But here was a real place. Anyway, I thought ugly it was cool. Found my riding buddy Dan in the cafe there having a drink and a snack. I did the same and then followed out, again out of sight but I knew I would catch them. I finally did catch them at the Idaho boarder at Lolo Pass. Very cool ranger station there by the way. It was all downhill from there. I was defending into extremely beautiful, but extremely remote wilderness. The pines, spruce, fir, and cedars towered over me. Dense as the hair of a blue healer. I had never seen cedar trees with such height and girth. I got to the lodge and found Dan and another rider, Kyle, sitting and eating. This was the only civilization for 110 miles! They had resolved to stay. I had other plans. Only 60 miles in to the day, I was feeling fresh. I rode out and said goodbye to Dan, for the last time. I have no way of describing the closeness and enormity of those mountains. The Lochsa River grinding through by the middle. And they went on forever. I got to Weir Hot Springs, the planned camp for the night. But after a dip in the cool creek, then in the hot spring, then the cool creek again, I was feeling refreshed and ready to enjoy more of the riding. I went down to another campsite, Knifes Edge, and checked it out. It was clean, fee free, and my camp tight between two huge cedars. I had done 112 miles and felt fresh. I was itching to make that my first (and probably only chance) at a 150 mile day. My love of the river won over male bravado and I stayed at the camp site on the now so called Clearwater Water River. It was my first camp Idaho and boy was it a beautiful place to be. We'll save the rest of Idaho and beyond for the next week….. *week of June 26-July 2nd not edited or proofread in any way
Week 5 complete. Here it is in numbers: 563.7 miles. 42hr 23min in the saddle. 23,294ft of elevation gain. What an amazing week. I had come into this trip with very little knowledge of the west. The furthest I've been westward was the Mississippi River when I visited my sister in Memphis. My preconceive notions of the west were huge mountains with snowcapped peaks from Mexico to Canada. I guess that was a bit unrealistic, but I was not disappointed. From Pueblo I crossed high, sagebrush desert landscapes as I approached the Rockies. It was the first time I had seen that range. I had no idea what I was in for. The climbs were awesome. Steady gradual climbs no more than 6%. Unlike the ups and downs of the east, I could barely tell I was climbing at some points. The vegetation was harsh. A testament of the battle fought for survival over the millennia. You had better watch when you step off the road to take a pic, something is bound to prick you. Over my first “pass”, the landscape started to change. In Appalachia we call a “pass” a “gap”, a low spot between two peaks that is usually the best place to go through. I could see Pikes Peak from the pass and on one side the desertish land, before high country grasslands. Most of the land is used for ranching. I didn't really know what that meant until I came here. A ranch is basically a huge cattle farm. But unlike the fertile soils of Tennessee, the highlands with poor soil and short growing season, support little grass and therefore fewer cattle. So these ranches have to be huge areas of land to sustain modest herd sizes. The intermountain is not all like that, but a lot of it is. That day I landed 100+ miles from Pueblo in a town called Hartsel. Not much of a town really. As I would learn most of these high country towns consist of a post office, convenience store, diner, and a bar. One of my favorite things to do on this trip is to sit at the local diner and watch the natives come in for breakfast or dinner. I listen to them talk about the daily business, town, and other matter. Sometimes I will chat with one of them. They usually ask me questions, but I like to listen. There is only so many times you can explain you journey without getting a bit tired of it. Besides I want to experience the place I am in. The scenery from Hartsel just got better and better. Still I climbed and climbed steadily to Fairplay, then Alma, the highest town in North America, and finally one last push to Hoosiers Pass. Hoosiers Pass is the highest point on the route at 11,500+ ft and it was the first time I crossed the continental divide. I crossed the divide about 5 more times over the course of this week. The decent from Hooosier Pass was steep and curvy. So glad I didn't have to climb for that north side. It only took moments of pure bliss flying by creeks and 13000 ft peaks to get into the town of Breckenridge. Cool town, cool people, too cool. Too expensive. Touristy. Frisco was the next place. A. It more down to earth. My favorite if the 3 up there was Silverthorne. Right on a beautiful lake and what a view of the mountains. I rode on perfect bike paths. It was nice to not have to worry about cars. If you are a cyclist and plan to travel there you have more than 250 miles of paved bike path to roam. I ended the day at a primitive campground on the Blue River Reservoir, Elliot Creek Campground. Finally used my water treatment because they didn't have potable water. I wanted to enjoy the Colorado Rockies as much as possible. Colorado is actually a relatively short state on this route. So I had a short 60 mile day to Denver Creek Campground. I had for the first time really taken my time on the ride. I swam in the creek, dried my clothes, and chatted with my camp neighbor. I am glad I did stay there instead of pressing on. The next day I was out of Colorado and into Wyoming. The push to the border was tough. Wide open lands with strong headwinds. I liked the security from constant winds the mountains provided. You could never predict the winds in the mountains, but at least they were constantly blowing in one direction. It was a tough 109 miles to Saratoga, WY, not exactly scenic. But the reward was a natural hot spring for free in the town center. I also got to stay in a cool camper I found on Warmshowers. If you haven't heard of Warmshowers and plan on doing a bike trip, look it up. The next day was another hellish day of fierce headwinds. Whoever works for the Adventure Cycling Association that claims “it doesn't matter which way you go, east or west, the winds eventually equal out”, I would love to smack. Not that it would change anything for me. I just want people to know, it does not equal out. I will have to have tailwinds for the rest of the trip for it to equal out. It's. I wonder all the TransAm racers start in the west. For me the west is my reward. I earned the mountains views. I earned the crisp air. I earned the most epic ending to my trip for suffering through the humidity, hills, and headwinds of the east. Wouldn't change it if I could. Except if you asked me on this day. From Saratoga to Rawlings winds weren't bad. Picking up headwinds a little when I got close to Rawlings. Pickup a package from the post office. More protein, candy, and notes from home. Switched to TransAm map #5 (Rawlings, WY to West Yellowstone, MT). Set out right into a headwind. It was through the Great Basin of Wyoming. A 45 mile stretch with no water, no stores, no shade or rest from the wind. It nearly drove me mad. I found myself cursing out loud and pitching tantrums like a child, throwing pieces of tire and breaking sticks. The one building in the middle of this desolate place I tired to hide behind. A truck pulled up and a women poked her head out and told me “can't stop here, private property” I pleaded for her to let me rest in the shade to no avail. So I did the only thing I could do, I rode on. You know the cartoons of a kid that is swinging punches, but his head is being held by a kid with longer arms so the punches are futile? That's what this headwind felt like. I was pedaling full force, downhill, and barely maintaining 7mph. It took me 6 hours to get through there on only 1.5 liters of water. When I got to muddy gap, the end point and the gas station I planned to camp at, I collapsed. The gas station was in the middle of nowhere, overpriced, the camp spot would be $10, and I had 80 miles planned for the next day. So I ate some rice and tuna I had and contemplated what I wanted to do. Jeffery City was only 22 miles. 22 miles is only 10 miles, then 12 more. So I chugged a Monster, ate 4 pop tarts and rode on, thankfully this time without a headwind. That was my staple, energy drinks and chocolate milk. I made it to Jeffrey in good spirits and had a breakfast at 9pm at the diner. I then went to the church to sleep. It has everything I needed, mattress, pillow, and a shower. I slept great that night. Too well because I slept in. The next day I had another breakfast at the Jeffery diner. I was headed to Lander, an easy 60 miles and to a Warmshowers host. I had some good views on the way and got to Lander in good time. I had afternoon to take care of my fierce appetite. I met up with my hosts Mike and Dannine. They we kind people that shared many of my interests. They had two boys that welcomed my as well. That evening I chatted with Mike about many things, fun and serious, rode to the grocery store, and watched him make a delicious pizza from scratch. The best part? I had a guest room all to myself. Bed, sheets, shower, bathroom! Again I slept like I haven't slept before. I decide I had better wake up on time and Mike was already in the kitchen with coffee ready. It was some darn good coffee. He even fixed me some eggs and Dannine made scones the night before. Its very humbling to have people be so kind to you and ask for nothing in return. I set out and noticed the bike shop was open. I really needed some new shoes because the ones I started with were literally falling apart. After retiring the old kicks I noticed I forgot to get the American flag that Dannine wanted to give me. I rode back and we strapped it on the bike. I was ready for the 4th and a new day. The next day was a wonderful 75 mile day through the Wind River Reservation and along the Wind River to Dubois. I didn't notice that I had climbed the entire day until I went back and look at at the elevation profile. I tried to download an audiobook about the Shoshonin and Arapaho Tribes that lived there but had no luck. When traveling I find it more fun if you have some knowledge about the plane and the people. Wish I could have spent more time there to learn. When I got to the Wind River I was treated to a rainbow of colors in the canyon walls. The sandstone eroded and displayed was like nothing I had ever seen. As I approached Dubois I started to see some big mountains with snowy peaks. They were tight to the road to. I was finally in the good mountains of Wyoming, the mountains that I like anyway. At the St. Thomas Episcopal Church in Dubois, I was greeted by Melinda. It was a well organized setup, second only to Al’s Place in Farmington, MO. She gave me the tour and the piece of paper that had the rules on it, which I liked all of them. I was allowed to use the kitchen and I boy was I gonna use it. It's hard to cook for one person, for one night, in one place. This is the third time I have done so on this trip and I always get too much food. This was no exception. I got eggs, milk, salad, V8, spaghetti, alfredo, onions, peas, chickpeas, and whipped up a huge meal. Obviously I had the leftovers for breakfast. Just before heading out the door I noticed a thank you note written on the board to the church, signed Camille, my Belgian friend from week 4 (if you read it). It was dated the day before. I am gonna catch him I think. I headed out that Sunday before St. Thomas started their services. I had called to check on the deal with camping in the Grand Teton and Yellowstone NP. No one knew anything about cyclist camping. Everything was booked. Of course it was. It was 4th of July weekend and I was heading into the most visited parks in our country and probably the world. I was understandably anxious about not having a place to sleep and getting attacked by bears. I got some, what I am now calling Wyoming sleep aide, bear spray from the store. Didn't think to get s mosquito fumigator. They are everywhere, in droves. The first 15 miles from Dubois was a beautiful warm up. The next 15 up to Togwodee Pass was all up, not steep but just enough toner me out of breath. But the beautiful landscape was breathtaking itself. I finally got up the pass and asked the first person I saw “is that the Tetons?!?” They laughed and said no, “you’ll know it when you see it”. So I defended from the pass along a wide green valley with cool mountain features on both sides. Then, their they were, thrusting upward from the lake like a row of sharp sharks teeth. They are by far the most vertical mountains I have ever seen. Glaciers drop down their sides. They beckon me to climb them. But there is no way a cyclist can ascend those giants. It's gonna have to wait for another trip. That kind another motive of this adventure. A scouting trip. Exploratory to see what we may want to come back to. When I got to the National Park I could see Jackson Lake. It was like the mountains came out of the lake itself. The road goes along the eastern side. The smell of the pines was intoxicating. I felt sorry for all the tourist in the moving little boxes. They didn't experience what I was experiencing. They could smell the pines or the rain coming. They couldn't feel the wind and the sun. I stopped at the pizza place for dinner, which took forever. But because service was slow, the rain came and went, and by the time I was back on the road the sun was out again, only at a better angle toward the Tetons and with clouds crating amazing light effects on them. I doubt anyone has read this far down so I am not afraid to admit it, it's times like these I get emotional. I have cried several times on this trip. Never out of despair or loneliness. The only tears I have ahead on this trip are of happiness, of gratitude and wonder, of amazement at the beauty of the moment and how blessed I am to be in that moment and can share that with people that care about me. So yeah…basically I am a sap. I ended the day at the only place to end such a day, on the shores of Jackson Lake in the Grand Teton National Park with a view of the majestic peaks in the distance. Now on to Yellowstone…..but that's week 6. You’ll have to wait to read it on the next installment. *week of June 19-25. Not proofread at all. Just typed in my iPhone as quickly as possible and posted. There will be airors.
Week 4 completed. Here it is in numbers. 563.2 miles. 43hr 48min in the saddle. 18,907 ft of elevation gain. My first two night is Kansas greeted me with sideways rain and hail. When they say the weather in unpredictable here, they meant it. There are two things you need to know about Kansas. #1 Don't ride through it. #2 If you ride through it go east. The headwinds and heat are brutal if you decide to go west. There is no “crest” in a headwind. No downhill decent to look forward to. Only unrelenting metal torture of putting forth max effort and only going 6 mph. Don't get me wrong, some parts of Kansas are beautiful (mainly in the eastern part of the state). My first day in Kansas I got to hangout with my sister. That was the best part of that week. The next day I was around Tuxedo Lake, the flat was beginning but I still had a lot of green and cool landscapes to enjoy as I rode the 76 miles. That second night I called up a number listed in the guide. I was told to meet him at the green store in Benedict, KS and that there was fried chicken waiting. That was all the motivation I needed. When I pulled in a saw an older man, bent a little in his back waving me in. It was Pastor Joe. Pastor Joe was a very interesting character. He was a very kind man. He welcomed me into his store and immediately gave me ice cream. He then got me a nice fruit drink. As we greeted each other, he began to tell me his story. We went back to his house and he fixed the chicken, salad, greens, beans, and grapes as he continued his story. He was sent to Benedict to rebuild the church and to save the town. He barely had money to fix his own roof and when I storm rolled through that night we scramble to put pots and pans under leaks. He put all his money into the church. From whatever disaster, invasion, or from themselves, he was going to save the people of that town, and I think he will. In the morning he made me date pancakes, eggs, and turkey bacon. He asked for nothing in return. The next day things started to get flatter and more wheatier. That day I did 120ish miles into Newton, KS. I arrived late, around 10:00pm. After being refused a place to sleep at the. Newton Bike Shop because I was not a TransAm “racer”. I decided to sleep in the city park. Good choice. It was a nice night and it was a safe park. In the mornings I gotta have my coffee. That's the first thing I try to find if I am in a town. If I am not in a town, I ride hard to get to town so I can have my coffee. After having my morning brew downtown I was ready to go. Kansas is kinda not much to write home about. It is nice. The people are nice, mostly. And the swimming pools and showers in every town were certainly a highlight for a sweaty cyclist. But the miles and miles of straight roads, wheat fields, heat, and headwinds kinda gets to ya. Not to mention it was harvest time in KS. So there was an constant onslaught of semis filled with wheat passing at 70mph to take the hauls to the silos. Fun fact about Kansas (at least the parts I went through) towns are spaced even every 30ish miles. A silo is usually halfway between towns. So when you get to the between silo, you know you are half way. Larned was my next stop. Small town, huge silos. Got to the city park, the nice police officer let me into the pool after hours to take a shower. That's the cool thing about small town Kansas, very nice people. Went to the pavilion to set up camp and met a Belgian fellow. Tall, thin with a serious cycle tan. Although he was timid and quiet at first we could relate to each other because we were on the same journey. His English was excellent and we quickly became friends. The next morning he was up at the crack of dawn and gone before I slimmed out of my tent. Mornings are always tough for me. Trying to get to the next town you may be dying of heat exhaustion, then get nailed with wind and hail from nowhere. I had to site for 2 hours in a little cafe, watching Jeopardy with locals while a storm passed. When I mentioned maybe waiting the storm out and riding at night when it was cool, I got harassed by a local. “Why don't y'all get a real job? Why do you have to ride at night. You ruined this girl’s life!” He was referring to a cyclist that got hit and killed that week. While riding at night 61 year old man was struck by a 25 woman. Needless to say it did not help the relationship between cyclist and motorists. If you see a cyclist on the road, it is someone's father or mother or son or brother. Please, it doesn't take much out of your day to slow down and move over. Two lives were ruined that week regardless of the fault. After the harassment by the local that was it for me. Storm or not, I was getting out of that town. Dighton. Was about 30 miles away. It looked like I was going right into the storm. Just does things look bleak, the road turned a bit to the south and I have a clear shot to Dayton. With lightning striking to my left and my right, I peddling as fast as I could. while the wind whipped around me. I made it to Dighton around 7 PM without a drop of rain hitting me. Guess who was there, Camille the Belgian. That next day Camille and I were determined to get out of Kansas. It was also the Colorado challenge where donors pledged a monetary amount per mile for the first 100 miles of Colorado. We teamed up and I rode with a partner for the first time since Illinois. The first part of the morning we set out alone. The headwinds were so strong in three hours we only made 14 miles of progress but we made it to Colorado. At the gas station we left together and use drafting to increase our efficiency and speed. Camille is a strong writer perfectly matched to my speed. Knowledgeable about the road and how to ride. He is also a vegetarian so when we saw the subway we knew we had to stop. The weather was taking a turn for the worse and a storm front was coming in. Cold air came in with the storm which brought the temperature down from 110° to a comfortable 80° and completely reversed the wind direction. We now have a strong tailwind. We use that till went to advantage after getting to the designated stop spot for the night about 120 miles from the Dayton we decided to use this tailwind to get us further. That day we did 135 miles and ended up in Fowler, Colorado. Not having much time before sunset we found a diner ordered our food and eight. The plan that we had was to sleep in the city park but after calling the sheriffs office we learned that that was against city ordinance. So we asked the restaurant owner for some tips. He offered us a spot in his camper which we gratefully excepted. you just never know what to expect when you put yourself at the mercy of the kindness of strangers. It's usually good. I can feel the slow climb to Colorado and I couldn't wait to get into the mountains again. Not far after getting into Colorado it was like a invisible barrier was crossed. The vegetation in landscape quickly began to change from wheat fields to dry sage brush type landscapes. From Fowler to Pueblo was not a long ride but it was a nice one. That morning the temperature was about 48° and there was a misty rain falling. It was the first time I really felt cold and I was so happy about that. Employer blow I had planned on taking a zero day. Zero day equals no miles, rest day. A friend of my moms friends work mate’s mom (yeah crazy), accepted the request to let me crash at her apartment for a couple nights. Mamma Bunn, just like the name implies, was like, well a mom. She wasted no time telling me the first rule, make yourself at home, and getting my laundry (which hadn't truly been done since Missouri) down to the machines. She quickly got busy in the kitchen while we chatted about the ride, her family, and the town. It was a whirlwind and that kitchen, in a good way. She whipped up some quinoa and veggies with chicken smothered in green chilies. It was so delicious. Some times it's embarrassing to keep going back for more and more food, I didn't feel that way here. She made me feel welcome, in fact I think it was a compliment to her. The next day, my day off, I woke to Mamma Bunn making breakfast. Bless her heart, she fed me so well. I met her daughter and her friends, spoke with her son. So by the end of the stay I felt like family. She showed me around Pueblo. Getting to actually look around and learn about the town I was passing through was monumental, it changed how I rode for the rest of the trip. Taking your time in the towns is important. So is finishing on time. I have to find that balance. I think that we both learned something from the visit Mamma Bunn and I. The next morning of course, Mamma Bunn was cooking breakfast for my departure. I weighed myself on the scales when I first arrived and when I left thanks to her, and this is no sarcasm, I gained 2.5 pounds over my stay. It was difficult getting back on the road again, especially without my Belgian friend, but I had the beautiful mountains of Colorado to look forward to. And oh was it epic. To be continued in week five *week of July 3-July 9
Week 6 complete. Here it is In numbers 537.4 miles, 37hr35min in the saddle, 16,972ft of elevation gain. It was what I was waiting for. The most awesome part of the journey. The Grand Teton NP followed by Yellowstone NP. Beside the droves of gawking tourist It lived up to expectations. Monday, from Lizard Creek Campground I rode 70 miles along rivers, up canyons, by water falls. I was beginning to become impatient, I wanted to see thermal activity. It was getting to about midday. Saw a cyclist ahead. Dan, I'll tell you about him later. We rode to Old Faithful. I saw the enormous lodge right beside the gyser and thought to myself sarcastically, “this seems safe”. Not to mention kind of an eyesore. Both national parks are dotted with lodges. I don't agree with it, but I reckon if you are a struggling national parks system because politicians don't want to fund natural resources, you'll take money anywhere you can get it. Even if that means making our parks gaudy. It was the Fourth of July weekend. Cars where passing all day and there was not a shoulder to be had. The park was beautiful, but felt “sold out”. Dan and I rode together for the last few miles of the day. I planned on going farther, but when we got to Madison Campground I knew I had to stay. We took a swim in the Madison River. I ate a dinner of PopTarts and protein mix because I planned on passing through another town. We chatted with a couple of Aussies, Adam and Lindel, who were on the Great Divide Trail and had been cycling around for a few years, yes years. The next day Dan and I set out in the chill of the morning. It was so cold I had to use my cold gloves. Saw a huge bull elk on the way out of the park into Montana and the town of West Yellowstone. Needless to say after the meager dinner of the night before, I had quite the appetite. The food in these touristy places is soooo expensive. I ate a big breakfast and went to the grocery store for resupply because the next town was a good ways off. I always get too much food on a resupply,afraid I will run out. Luckily it was all downhill through the canyon. It was Earthquake Lake area. Crazy story, people died in a landslide, look it up. 78 miles later finally got to Ennis, MT and guess who was sitting on a bench. My old Belgian friend Camille. Also there were 4 other tents. They were at the rodeo championship at the arena, you could hear the roar of the crowd. Little did I know I would be seeing these people for a while. It was July 4th which made the sleeping more difficult due to the fireworks and loud bar goes walking around town. Being camped right in town behind a store does have its benefits, but it also has its drawbacks. As usual I was the last one up and at ‘em. I had a big breakfast and was the last of the group to leave Ennis. Mike, his sister Liz, Dave, Camille, Dan, and Robert (Robert was heading east), all got on the road before me. There really wasn't much options for resupply and camping so we had all planned on staying in Dillon, MT, an easy 70 miles. I can see why Montana was named as such. In Spanish montaña means mountain. There were mountains all around and big valleys in between. The route takes you through these valleys, which makes the riding easier and the views spectacular. Something I have noticed with these western states is that all the valleys must be irrigated in order to sustain the livestock. Unlike the rich soils and wetness of the east, the valleys require more human interference in order to graze cattle. From what I have learned they only get one cutting of hay each season and must get it baled before fall snows cover the cut hay. When we finally got to the town of Dillon a storm blew through. Perfect timing because we had all went out to our separate lodgings for the night. Dan and I decided to team up and I broke down and finally payed for my first motel. It was totally worth it. Not only did I get out of the rain, but the A/C, and shower made my sleep so completely comfortable I slept right through the 5.7 earthquake that occurred during the night. The next day, Thursday, the whole town was taking about the earthquake. Dan said that he felt it, but I had no clue it even happened. There was some climbing to be done getting out of Dillon. Luckily there was also some awesome defending to do to. The huge drop off into Virginia City was exhilarating. Google search Virginia City it's pretty cool. It's like the whole time played along in the old time theme. After the next town there was a big 50 mile stretch with no water. I cameled up, but still ran out before getting to Wisdom, MT. There I found Camille waiting, drinking smoothie after smoothie to beat the heat. The rest eventually showed up. Because the town had promised a free campsite but there was none to be found, we had resolved to go to the National Forest to camp. Last to arrive in town was Dan. He walked in and unknowingly said the funniest thing we had heard all day. “That was a good way to end the day!” We all burst into laughter. We explain the situation. I could see it on his face, he was dead tired. We all had some pizza and got up the strength to head back out. We all said our goodbyes to Dan, thinking we probably wouldn't see him again. At the campsite, May Creek Campground, we found, of course, a creek. A very cold creek which was good to dip the sore muscles in. The following day guess who was the last one out of camp. It was actually cold hat morning by and I had to put in my cold weather gloves to keep riding. I had just one pass to climb. After making it over Chief Joseph Pass, Chief Joseph was part of the Nez Perce tribe, I descended the new Roth side and down into a wide valley. That valley gradually took me down through town after town. Compared to what I was used to this was like a metropolis. Darby, Hamilton, Florence, Lolo, and finally Missoula. It got super hot. I was in a bit of a hurry to meet my host, Eric, before he left for the weekend. Can you believe it? I have. Ever met him, barely know his friend who got us in contact, and he was letting me stay in his house alone for two nights. Wow! Can't thank him enough for trusting me, because this was a much needed break. That night I was even invited to dinner by some of his friends and neighbors. I went to bed on a mattress, fat and sassy. My rest day was awesome! I rode around town, yeah, it was rest co spidering what I usually do. Went to the farmers market. Got some awesome local veggies and beef. Cooked dinner and made myself at home. Just relaxed, cleaned up, and got ready for the next day. I had dinner with Dan, Mike, Dave, Liz, and Camille. This would certainly be the last time I would see Mike, Dave, and Camille for they were continuing north toward Glacier NP, whilst my route took me in a southerly direction toward Idaho. I sure hope they farewell. Back in the road and up to Lolo Pass. The first portion of the day was spent climbing to the pass. I had been reading, well listening to Undaunted Courage, a book on Lewis and Clark and their Corp of Discover. An amazing thing happened as I was approaching Lolo Hot Springs. Lewis and Clark were too. In the story I mean. Right as I was getting to the hot springs they were there too. Now, I know it was inevitably going to happen at some point, it I figured it would be at a place of no mention. They would just pass me somewhere on the road of little consequence. But here was a real place. Anyway, I thought ugly it was cool. Found my riding buddy Dan in the cafe there having a drink and a snack. I did the same and then followed out, again out of sight but I knew I would catch them. I finally did catch them at the Idaho boarder at Lolo Pass. Very cool ranger station there by the way. It was all downhill from there. I was defending into extremely beautiful, but extremely remote wilderness. The pines, spruce, fir, and cedars towered over me. Dense as the hair of a blue healer. I had never seen cedar trees with such height and girth. I got to the lodge and found Dan and another rider, Kyle, sitting and eating. This was the only civilization for 110 miles! They had resolved to stay. I had other plans. Only 60 miles in to the day, I was feeling fresh. I rode out and said goodbye to Dan, for the last time. I have no way of describing the closeness and enormity of those mountains. The Lochsa River grinding through by the middle. And they went on forever. I got to Weir Hot Springs, the planned camp for the night. But after a dip in the cool creek, then in the hot spring, then the cool creek again, I was feeling refreshed and ready to enjoy more of the riding. I went down to another campsite, Knifes Edge, and checked it out. It was clean, fee free, and my camp tight between two huge cedars. I had done 112 miles and felt fresh. I was itching to make that my first (and probably only chance) at a 150 mile day. My love of the river won over male bravado and I stayed at the camp site on the now so called Clearwater Water River. It was my first camp Idaho and boy was it a beautiful place to be. We'll save the rest of Idaho and beyond for the next week….. June 12-18
Week 3 complete, Here it is in numbers. 565.7 mi. 43 hours In the saddle 21,480 ft of climbing. There are certain things you would never notice unless you are on a bike. The smell of someone doing laundry as you pass. Or that cardinals and little blue birds are the most common type of bird roadkill. Or spiders do make webs across roads. Or that the cold air likes to hang out in the bottom between hills. Or that people are mostly good-natured. Or that big trucks really do pull a lot of air behind them. Occasionally a car may buzz by really close by you. Or perhaps someone on her horn. But from what I've experienced, most people are really courteous on the road, giving plenty of room at a reasonable speed. This is the experience of cycling on the open road. Eventually this Illinois misery gave way to Missouri and I found myself winding through the hills of the Ozark Mountains. Many people dread this section but I found it to be not too bad. Other than the hot, heavy air. One night after riding until 11:00pm to beat the heat, I found myself camping in a park near a river. It's very strange walking into a place at night to camp. You don't entirely know what is around. After setting up my tent in a covered pavilion I was just lying there and sweating. It was miserably humid. So I moved the tent to outside the pavilion in hope for a breeze. Not much of a breeze there. At 5am I woken by a strong wind threatening to blow me and my tent away, lightening in the distance. So again I packed my tent up and move in under the pavilion in time to beat the torrent that befell the area that morning. Those experiences are not very fun at the time. There are two types of fun, Type 1 Fun: like a roller coaster or a board game with friends. Type 2 Fun: is the kind of fun that isn't fun at the time, but when looking back on those experiences and telling the stories to others, is fun. That experience and many others on the trip is Type 2 Fun. Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of Type 1 moments. Flying down a hill, euphoria of getting that ”runners high”, crushing a section while you have a nice tailwind, meeting new people and hanging out with them. But yeah, Mostly Type 2 Fun. After breakfast, a late start made me feel sluggish. I had to make miles and I didn't know if I could manage. This is a common theme for men in the mornings. Feeling weak and doubting I can do the 80-100 miles to the next destination. But I eventually made it and repeated the next morning. Then the next. Finally, halfway through Missouri I got some wonderful news. My sister had the weekend off from classes and decided to come visit me. I couldn't have been more excited. Not just because I would get some help with chores and someone to take care of me. And not Just because I was homesick and need a pick me up. I don't get to see my sister that often, so this was a true treat. That night we stayed at a friends house. Actually there camper. Which was like a Taj Mahl compared to what I had been used to for the past couple weeks. The next day we visited the bike shop he managed, Sunshine Bike Shop in Springfield, MO. Missouri finally started to flatten out after Springfield and the Kansas border was beckoning me. Finally in a new state, I felt the rush of accomplishment enter my blood. It didn't last long. A couple of days of bliss in Kansas, the flat roads, green grasses, new sights. Quickly gave way to a different kind of monster. To be continued in week 4. *week of June 19-26. This has not been proofread or checked in any way. Just typed on my iPhone and posted. There will be many airors.
Week 4 completed. Here it is in numbers. 563.2 miles. 43hr 48min in the saddle. 18,907 ft of elevation gain. My first two night is Kansas greeted me with sideways rain and hail. When they say the weather in unpredictable here, they meant it. There are two things you need to know about Kansas. #1 Don't ride through it. #2 If you ride through it go east. The headwinds and heat are brutal if you decide to go west. There is no “crest” in a headwind. No downhill decent to look forward to. Only unrelenting metal torture of putting forth max effort and only going 6 mph. Don't get me wrong, some parts of Kansas are beautiful (mainly in the eastern part of the state). My first day in Kansas I got to hangout with my sister. That was the best part of that week. The next day I was around Tuxedo Lake, the flat was beginning but I still had a lot of green and cool landscapes to enjoy as I rode the 76 miles. That second night I called up a number listed in the guide. I was told to meet him at the green store in Benedict, KS and that there was fried chicken waiting. That was all the motivation I needed. When I pulled in a saw an older man, bent a little in his back waving me in. It was Pastor Joe. Pastor Joe was a very interesting character. He was a very kind man. He welcomed me into his store and immediately gave me ice cream. He then got me a nice fruit drink. As we greeted each other, he began to tell me his story. We went back to his house and he fixed the chicken, salad, greens, beans, and grapes as he continued his story. He was sent to Benedict to rebuild the church and to save the town. He barely had money to fix his own roof and when I storm rolled through that night we scramble to put pots and pans under leaks. He put all his money into the church. From whatever disaster, invasion, or from themselves, he was going to save the people of that town, and I think he will. In the morning he made me date pancakes, eggs, and turkey bacon. He asked for nothing in return. The next day things started to get flatter and more wheatier. That day I did 120ish miles into Newton, KS. I arrived late, around 10:00pm. After being refused a place to sleep at the. Newton Bike Shop because I was not a TransAm “racer”. I decided to sleep in the city park. Good choice. It was a nice night and it was a safe park. In the mornings I gotta have my coffee. That's the first thing I try to find if I am in a town. If I am not in a town, I ride hard to get to town so I can have my coffee. After having my morning brew downtown I was ready to go. Kansas is kinda not much to write home about. It is nice. The people are nice, mostly. And the swimming pools and showers in every town were certainly a highlight for a sweaty cyclist. But the miles and miles of straight roads, wheat fields, heat, and headwinds kinda gets to ya. Not to mention it was harvest time in KS. So there was an constant onslaught of semis filled with wheat passing at 70mph to take the hauls to the silos. Fun fact about Kansas (at least the parts I went through) towns are spaced even every 30ish miles. A silo is usually halfway between towns. So when you get to the between silo, you know you are half way. Larned was my next stop. Small town, huge silos. Got to the city park, the nice police officer let me into the pool after hours to take a shower. That's the cool thing about small town Kansas, very nice people. Went to the pavilion to set up camp and met a Belgian fellow. Tall, thin with a serious cycle tan. Although he was timid and quiet at first we could relate to each other because we were on the same journey. His English was excellent and we quickly became friends. The next morning he was up at the crack of dawn and gone before I slimmed out of my tent. Mornings are always tough for me. Trying to get to the next town you may be dying of heat exhaustion, then get nailed with wind and hail from nowhere. I had to site for 2 hours in a little cafe, watching Jeopardy with locals while a storm passed. When I mentioned maybe waiting the storm out and riding at night when it was cool, I got harassed by a local. “Why don't y'all get a real job? Why do you have to ride at night. You ruined this girl’s life!” He was referring to a cyclist that got hit and killed that week. While riding at night 61 year old man was struck by a 25 woman. Needless to say it did not help the relationship between cyclist and motorists. If you see a cyclist on the road, it is someone's father or mother or son or brother. Please, it doesn't take much out of your day to slow down and move over. Two lives were ruined that week regardless of the fault. After the harassment by the local that was it for me. Storm or not, I was getting out of that town. Dighton. Was about 30 miles away. It looked like I was going right into the storm. Just does things look bleak, the road turned a bit to the south and I have a clear shot to Dayton. With lightning striking to my left and my right, I peddling as fast as I could. while the wind whipped around me. I made it to Dighton around 7 PM without a drop of rain hitting me. Guess who was there, Camille the Belgian. That next day Camille and I were determined to get out of Kansas. It was also the Colorado challenge where donors pledged a monetary amount per mile for the first 100 miles of Colorado. We teamed up and I rode with a partner for the first time since Illinois. The first part of the morning we set out alone. The headwinds were so strong in three hours we only made 14 miles of progress but we made it to Colorado. At the gas station we left together and use drafting to increase our efficiency and speed. Camille is a strong writer perfectly matched to my speed. Knowledgeable about the road and how to ride. He is also a vegetarian so when we saw the subway we knew we had to stop. The weather was taking a turn for the worse and a storm front was coming in. Cold air came in with the storm which brought the temperature down from 110° to a comfortable 80° and completely reversed the wind direction. We now have a strong tailwind. We use that till went to advantage after getting to the designated stop spot for the night about 120 miles from the Dayton we decided to use this tailwind to get us further. That day we did 135 miles and ended up in Fowler, Colorado. Not having much time before sunset we found a diner ordered our food and eight. The plan that we had was to sleep in the city park but after calling the sheriffs office we learned that that was against city ordinance. So we asked the restaurant owner for some tips. He offered us a spot in his camper which we gratefully excepted. you just never know what to expect when you put yourself at the mercy of the kindness of strangers. It's usually good. I can feel the slow climb to Colorado and I couldn't wait to get into the mountains again. Not far after getting into Colorado it was like a invisible barrier was crossed. The vegetation in landscape quickly began to change from wheat fields to dry sage brush type landscapes. From Fowler to Pueblo was not a long ride but it was a nice one. That morning the temperature was about 48° and there was a misty rain falling. It was the first time I really felt cold and I was so happy about that. Employer blow I had planned on taking a zero day. Zero day equals no miles, rest day. A friend of my moms friends work mate’s mom (yeah crazy), accepted the request to let me crash at her apartment for a couple nights. Mamma Bunn, just like the name implies, was like, well a mom. She wasted no time telling me the first rule, make yourself at home, and getting my laundry (which hadn't truly been done since Missouri) down to the machines. She quickly got busy in the kitchen while we chatted about the ride, her family, and the town. It was a whirlwind and that kitchen, in a good way. She whipped up some quinoa and veggies with chicken smothered in green chilies. It was so delicious. Some times it's embarrassing to keep going back for more and more food, I didn't feel that way here. She made me feel welcome, in fact I think it was a compliment to her. The next day, my day off, I woke to Mamma Bunn making breakfast. Bless her heart, she fed me so well. I met her daughter and her friends, spoke with her son. So by the end of the stay I felt like family. She showed me around Pueblo. Getting to actually look around and learn about the town I was passing through was monumental, it changed how I rode for the rest of the trip. Taking your time in the towns is important. So is finishing on time. I have to find that balance. I think that we both learned something from the visit Mamma Bunn and I. The next morning of course, Mamma Bunn was cooking breakfast for my departure. I weighed myself on the scales when I first arrived and when I left thanks to her, and this is no sarcasm, I gained 2.5 pounds over my stay. It was difficult getting back on the road again, especially without my Belgian friend, but I had the beautiful mountains of Colorado to look forward to. And oh was it epic. To be continued in week five. *week ofJune 26-July 2 Again, not edited or proofread.
Week five complete. Here it is in numbers: 563.7 miles. 42hr 23min in the saddle. 23,294ft of elevation gain. What an amazing week. I had come into this trip with very little knowledge of the west. The furthest I've been westward was the Mississippi River when I visited my sister in Memphis. My preconceive notions of the west were huge mountains with snowcapped peaks from Mexico to Canada. I guess that was a bit unrealistic, but I was not disappointed. From Pueblo I crossed high, sagebrush desert landscapes as I approached the Rockies. It was the first time I had seen that range. I had no idea what I was in for. The climbs were awesome. Steady gradual climbs no more than 6%. Unlike the ups and downs of the east, I could barely tell I was climbing at some points. The vegetation was harsh. A testament of the battle fought for survival over the millennia. You had better watch when you step off the road to take a pic, something is bound to prick you. Over my first “pass”, the landscape started to change. In Appalachia we call a “pass” a “gap”, a low spot between two peaks that is usually the best place to go through. I could see Pikes Peak from the pass and on one side the desertish land, before high country grasslands. Most of the land is used for ranching. I didn't really know what that meant until I came here. A ranch is basically a huge cattle farm. But unlike the fertile soils of Tennessee, the highlands with poor soil and short growing season, support little grass and therefore fewer cattle. So these ranches have to be huge areas of land to sustain modest herd sizes. The intermountain is not all like that, but a lot of it is. That day I landed 100+ miles from Pueblo in a town called Hartsel. Not much of a town really. As I would learn most of these high country towns consist of a post office, convenience store, diner, and a bar. One of my favorite things to do on this trip is to sit at the local diner and watch the natives come in for breakfast or dinner. I listen to them talk about the daily business, town, and other matter. Sometimes I will chat with one of them. They usually ask me questions, but I like to listen. There is only so many times you can explain you journey without getting a bit tired of it. Besides I want to experience the place I am in. The scenery from Hartsel just got better and better. Still I climbed and climbed steadily to Fairplay, then Alma, the highest town in North America, and finally one last push to Hoosiers Pass. Hoosiers Pass is the highest point on the route at 11,500+ ft and it was the first time I crossed the continental divide. I crossed the divide about 5 more times over the course of this week. The decent from Hooosier Pass was steep and curvy. So glad I didn't have to climb for that north side. It only took moments of pure bliss flying by creeks and 13000 ft peaks to get into the town of Breckenridge. Cool town, cool people, too cool. Too expensive. Touristy. Frisco was the next place. A. It more down to earth. My favorite if the 3 up there was Silverthorne. Right on a beautiful lake and what a view of the mountains. I rode on perfect bike paths. It was nice to not have to worry about cars. If you are a cyclist and plan to travel there you have more than 250 miles of paved bike path to roam. I ended the day at a primitive campground on the Blue River Reservoir, Elliot Creek Campground. Finally used my water treatment because they didn't have potable water. I wanted to enjoy the Colorado Rockies as much as possible. Colorado is actually a relatively short state on this route. So I had a short 60 mile day to Denver Creek Campground. I had for the first time really taken my time on the ride. I swam in the creek, dried my clothes, and chatted with my camp neighbor. I am glad I did stay there instead of pressing on. The next day I was out of Colorado and into Wyoming. The push to the border was tough. Wide open lands with strong headwinds. I liked the security from constant winds the mountains provided. You could never predict the winds in the mountains, but at least they were constantly blowing in one direction. It was a tough 109 miles to Saratoga, WY, not exactly scenic. But the reward was a natural hot spring for free in the town center. I also got to stay in a cool camper I found on Warmshowers. If you haven't heard of Warmshowers and plan on doing a bike trip, look it up. The next day was another hellish day of fierce headwinds. Whoever works for the Adventure Cycling Association that claims “it doesn't matter which way you go, east or west, the winds eventually equal out”, I would love to smack. Not that it would change anything for me. I just want people to know, it does not equal out. I will have to have tailwinds for the rest of the trip for it to equal out. It's. I wonder all the TransAm racers start in the west. For me the west is my reward. I earned the mountains views. I earned the crisp air. I earned the most epic ending to my trip for suffering through the humidity, hills, and headwinds of the east. Wouldn't change it if I could. Except if you asked me on this day. From Saratoga to Rawlings winds weren't bad. Picking up headwinds a little when I got close to Rawlings. Pickup a package from the post office. More protein, candy, and notes from home. Switched to TransAm map #5 (Rawlings, WY to West Yellowstone, MT). Set out right into a headwind. It was through the Great Basin of Wyoming. A 45 mile stretch with no water, no stores, no shade or rest from the wind. It nearly drove me mad. I found myself cursing out loud and pitching tantrums like a child, throwing pieces of tire and breaking sticks. The one building in the middle of this desolate place I tired to hide behind. A truck pulled up and a women poked her head out and told me “can't stop here, private property” I pleaded for her to let me rest in the shade to no avail. So I did the only thing I could do, I rode on. You know the cartoons of a kid that is swinging punches, but his head is being held by a kid with longer arms so the punches are futile? That's what this headwind felt like. I was pedaling full force, downhill, and barely maintaining 7mph. It took me 6 hours to get through there on only 1.5 liters of water. When I got to muddy gap, the end point and the gas station I planned to camp at, I collapsed. The gas station was in the middle of nowhere, overpriced, the camp spot would be $10, and I had 80 miles planned for the next day. So I ate some rice and tuna I had and contemplated what I wanted to do. Jeffery City was only 22 miles. 22 miles is only 10 miles, then 12 more. So I chugged a Monster, ate 4 pop tarts and rode on, thankfully this time without a headwind. That was my staple, energy drinks and chocolate milk. I made it to Jeffrey in good spirits and had a breakfast at 9pm at the diner. I then went to the church to sleep. It has everything I needed, mattress, pillow, and a shower. I slept great that night. Too well because I slept in. The next day I had another breakfast at the Jeffery diner. I was headed to Lander, an easy 60 miles and to a Warmshowers host. I had some good views on the way and got to Lander in good time. I had afternoon to take care of my fierce appetite. I met up with my hosts Mike and Dannine. They we kind people that shared many of my interests. They had two boys that welcomed my as well. That evening I chatted with Mike about many things, fun and serious, rode to the grocery store, and watched him make a delicious pizza from scratch. The best part? I had a guest room all to myself. Bed, sheets, shower, bathroom! Again I slept like I haven't slept before. I decide I had better wake up on time and Mike was already in the kitchen with coffee ready. It was some darn good coffee. He even fixed me some eggs and Dannine made scones the night before. Its very humbling to have people be so kind to you and ask for nothing in return. I set out and noticed the bike shop was open. I really needed some new shoes because the ones I started with were literally falling apart. After retiring the old kicks I noticed I forgot to get the American flag that Dannine wanted to give me. I rode back and we strapped it on the bike. I was ready for the 4th and a new day. The next day was a wonderful 75 mile day through the Wind River Reservation and along the Wind River to Dubois. I didn't notice that I had climbed the entire day until I went back and look at at the elevation profile. I tried to download an audiobook about the Shoshonin and Arapaho Tribes that lived there but had no luck. When traveling I find it more fun if you have some knowledge about the plane and the people. Wish I could have spent more time there to learn. When I got to the Wind River I was treated to a rainbow of colors in the canyon walls. The sandstone eroded and displayed was like nothing I had ever seen. As I approached Dubois I started to see some big mountains with snowy peaks. They were tight to the road to. I was finally in the good mountains of Wyoming, the mountains that I like anyway. At the St. Thomas Episcopal Church in Dubois, I was greeted by Melinda. It was a well organized setup, second only to Al’s Place in Farmington, MO. She gave me the tour and the piece of paper that had the rules on it, which I liked all of them. I was allowed to use the kitchen and I boy was I gonna use it. It's hard to cook for one person, for one night, in one place. This is the third time I have done so on this trip and I always get too much food. This was no exception. I got eggs, milk, salad, V8, spaghetti, alfredo, onions, peas, chickpeas, and whipped up a huge meal. Obviously I had the leftovers for breakfast. Just before heading out the door I noticed a thank you note written on the board to the church, signed Camille, my Belgian friend from week 4 (if you read it). It was dated the day before. I am gonna catch him I think. I headed out that Sunday before St. Thomas started their services. I had called to check on the deal with camping in the Grand Teton and Yellowstone NP. No one knew anything about cyclist camping. Everything was booked. Of course it was. It was 4th of July weekend and I was heading into the most visited parks in our country and probably the world. I was understandably anxious about not having a place to sleep and getting attacked by bears. I got some, what I am now calling Wyoming sleep aide, bear spray from the store. Didn't think to get s mosquito fumigator. They are everywhere, in droves. The first 15 miles from Dubois was a beautiful warm up. The next 15 up to Togwodee Pass was all up, not steep but just enough toner me out of breath. But the beautiful landscape was breathtaking itself. I finally got up the pass and asked the first person I saw “is that the Tetons?!?” They laughed and said no, “you’ll know it when you see it”. So I defended from the pass along a wide green valley with cool mountain features on both sides. Then, their they were, thrusting upward from the lake like a row of sharp sharks teeth. They are by far the most vertical mountains I have ever seen. Glaciers drop down their sides. They beckon me to climb them. But there is no way a cyclist can ascend those giants. It's gonna have to wait for another trip. That kind another motive of this adventure. A scouting trip. Exploratory to see what we may want to come back to. When I got to the National Park I could see Jackson Lake. It was like the mountains came out of the lake itself. The road goes along the eastern side. The smell of the pines was intoxicating. I felt sorry for all the tourist in the moving little boxes. They didn't experience what I was experiencing. They could smell the pines or the rain coming. They couldn't feel the wind and the sun. I stopped at the pizza place for dinner, which took forever. But because service was slow, the rain came and went, and by the time I was back on the road the sun was out again, only at a better angle toward the Tetons and with clouds crating amazing light effects on them. I doubt anyone has read this far down so I am not afraid to admit it, it's times like these I get emotional. I have cried several times on this trip. Never out of despair or loneliness. The only tears I have ahead on this trip are of happiness, of gratitude and wonder, of amazement at the beauty of the moment and how blessed I am to be in that moment and can share that with people that care about me. So yeah…basically I am a sap. I ended the day at the only place to end such a day, on the shores of Jackson Lake in the Grand Teton National Park with a view of the majestic peaks in the distance. Now on to Yellowstone…..but that's week 6. You’ll have to wait to read it on the next installment. *note: this is from June 5 - June 11 I am behind in writing. Next week post coming soon. Sorry for errors. This was written on my phone.
Week 2 complete, here it is in numbers; 646.3 miles, 50h 50m in saddle, 39,718 ft of climbing. I have been so busy riding, eating, sleeping, posting, riding, eating…you get the point. I haven't been able to write a more narrative chronically of the journey. It's hard to put everything in to words. Each day is filled with so many different experiences that I can not easier recapture them all. So let's start from the beginning of this past week, in Damascus. I was nervous to get back on the road. Not to mention I was greeted with rain that day. Luckily that is the only rain that I have seen so far. After changing the bike to the heavier, but more comfortable bike, I expected it to be cumbersome. But I felt strong and my ankle was no longer bothering me. But as the days wore on, I wore out. With front panniers on I could feel every hill, headwind, and huge truck that went by. I had to lighten up. I shipped home everything I could spare. Sleeping bag (too hot), stove and cook set (too busy to cook, usually cooked in fireballs and churches), underwear (never wore them anyway), sandals (didn't want to part with but couldn't justify), and many other items of no use when you are trying to move quickly. Through the mountains and hollers of coal country Eastern Kentucky I got an eye opening glimpse into the poverty of rural Appalachia. Most of the roads the route takes are off the beaten path and go through small towns that outsiders rarely see. This isn't the hollers I am used to in the ridge and valley region near Tennessee. These hollers are smaller mountains, more like what we would call hills, but very close together. Usually a creek runs through the middle. But the feeling of isolation is inescapable. It now makes sense to me as why it would take goods and information to travel across these hollers. It is just a repeated up and down of steep sided mountains set close together. I definitely missed the cool creeks and shade trees of eastern Kentucky as the steep hills gradually gave way to more rolling hills. Rich farm lands for miles with small towns here and there. It was hot and muggy. Most of these roads are pleasant though. Not much traffic. Beautiful scenery. Plentiful little country stores and gas stations. Most of all it was the little pick me ups that helped me so much. Shower, laundry, a place to cook and sleep at the volunteer firehall or local church. It's amazing how you can be transformed from a cycling zombie into a perky rider with those simple things. I would later find out that this would not always be the case. When I was in Kentucky I heard horror stories about the rolling hills of the Ozarks. What I didn't hear about was Illinois. Illinois proved to be a turning point for me. Basically it kicked my but. After crossing the ferry at night to beat the heat I was starting to feel drained. It wasn't just the seemingly pointless ups and downs. It was the heat. It was the feeling that I was alone and far away from home. I had a bit of a mental break down. This was the end of the second week for me. Luckily I have a good support system at home and when I got signal and time to make a call they picked me right up. “You can do it” was all I needed to hear from the people I love. Not to be cliche, but this experience more than any other in my life has reminded me of how blessed I am to have such amazing family and friends. If you are reading this, thank you. You are the only reason I am still going. So…yeah…turning point… Why am I moving quickly instead of stopping and enjoying it all. #1 I have a job and a family to get back to. #2 It's hot and muggy in this part of the county. #3 I have change my plans to complete the entire TansAmerican Route. That's right, I have added 800 miles or so and thousands of feet of climbing to the trip. Why you ask? The desert is not the place to ride a bike in July completely alone. Yes, I am sure some people do it, but I think I have had enough of the heat for one trip. Instead of Utah and Nevada I will be going though Wyoming, Montana, and Oregon, which will hopefully be cool climes. |