7/17
Things further north seem to be getting easier and easier. Today we knocked off 97 miles without too much of a problem, and with less moving time that yesterday’s 79. Either we are getting stronger or the ride is getting easier. I think it is a little bit of both.
We got a very slow start after an all you can eat breakfast at the hotel where I ate 4 huge belgian waffles with fresh strawberrys and whipped cream. Also partaken were hash browns, scrambled eggs, a cinnamon roll and several glasses of OJ. I think this breakfast was key to the day seeming fairly easy.
We visited the exxon station at the hotel for some PB&J refill action, messed around trying to get things packed then were finally on the road (dirt, leaving from the back of the cabins area of the lodge) at about 9:30.
The dirt was mostly downhill, somewhat muddy and quite beautiful. I tried to enjoy it as best I could, but to be honest my thoughts were dwelling on the road through Grand Teton park, and I was cursing our late start. It was already warm (though we were descending) and I knew the traffic was only getting worse. It took quite a while before we reached Moran junction to turn into the road of death through the park.
First up was a nice little pleasantry: paying $20 to enter the park. If you do the GDMBR N to S you do not have to pay this fee. Fie, I say. We paid as much as a car ($10 per person), but we did complain about it to the (unsympathetic) money taker woman. Since the national park system is designed solely around automobiles with absolutely no facilites or access for bikes, we should not have to pay to support the park. What we paid $20 for was to ride a horribly congested, smelly, but scenic road.
I tried not to let the entrance fee bother me, and it worked. The road went by the lake, was mostly flat and not altogether too hot. The cars would come in waves, usually spearheaded by a truck pulling a camper. Oh how we sang the praises of the RVs and campers. Is there any other way to experience nature?
The traffic was unbelievable at times. We had a tiny shoulder so it made for very stressful riding. There was some kind of animal off on the side of the road at one point, because everyone was stopping to take a look. Later on down the road we spotted a moose in the lake that no one else had seen. There are benefits to being on a bike on this park, however they are few. The main event, of course, is to drive this ‘beautiful’ road and perhaps stop at a pull out or two in order to take a photograph or admire the view–for 2 minutes. It actually became comedic after a while. The rented RVs, people stopping on the road to grab views without getting out of the car and sheer numbers of tourists was just a sight to behold. I couldn’t wait to get out of there.
We did get some nice views of the Teton mountains across Jackson lake. Dramatic, but the traffic certainly detracted from them. We stopped in at Colter Bay which had a good grocery store. Here we met two southbound riders–young guys who were doing 50 or so miles a day. We chatted a bit, but kept it brief.
The worst part was the climb at the end of the road. We were going so slow, in the sun, and being passed as if standing still. It was enough to drive me mad.
The top did come, though, where we saw 2 Trans-America riders. The guy’s bob bag was so yellow it was nearly flourescent. Mine’s covered it dirt and filth. They were nice to talk to a bit, and didn’t seem to mind all the traffic. Wow. I don’t think I could ever handle a tour on only pavement.
We coasted downhill through a one of many 1988 burn sites. I was happy to see new trees already growing to moderate heights inbetween burned toothpicks of old trees.
We turned west at Flagg Ranch past a full campground which reportedly costs $26 to stay at. A few miles later we passed into the national forest to find campsites #1 through #8–all free with bear lockers, toilets and picnic tables. We were surprised to find an empty site at #2, so we pulled in to eat a PB&J.
As we were leaving more N to S riders–a couple who had started in Helena. They were very fun to talk to, though they encouraged us to detour around Fleecer Ridge. We have been hearing the horror stories about this section of the ride, but nothing will deter us from attempting it. He said we’d regret it. We’ll see about that.
We climbed and rolled through burned and non-burned areas and through rollers. We crossed a dam, got rained on for a half hour or so and dodged mud puddles. It was too much fun.
We eventually popped out of the rained area and into the wide dusty FR 267 road. Ugh, no one bothered to slow down so as not to dust the crap out of us. We did see Mike (www.mikelikebike.com) on his way south on the GDMBR. He had some great stories (perhaps embellished), and works as a teacher for homeless kids. We could have talked to him for some time, but I eventually got us out rolling on the road again. It’s too bad these cool people aren’t going the same way as us.
The miles poured on as we hit pavement (finally no more dust) through huge tracts of farmland. Things are green–and now we’re in Idaho! Easy, easy miles followed before we dropped to the Warm River and into the mega campground. It was of course full to the brim with RVs, kids, bikes–you name it, they had it. We passed through after filling up on water to head out on the old railroad bed and now bike trail. 2 or 3 miles up the way we found a nice flat spot to pitch the tent. The food is hanging in the tree (though I don’t think there are many bears here) and now we’re ready for some sleep. There is big talk about riding all the way to Lima, MT tomorrow (115 miles), but we will just see how the day plays out tomorrow.
97 miles, 4440 feet of climbing
7/18
The day didn’t play out very well, so we are camping only halfway to Lima instead of moteling in Lima. So it goes, but we are actually quite happy as this is one of the best camp sites of the trip.
Everything started well. As expected we were on a beautiful rail to trail conversion that paralled the warm springs river. We were high above it staring at huge views of trees and winding river. Then we went through a tunnel that was dark enough to remove our sunglasses. Things were looking great. The trail was a bit soft but we had no chance of being passed by a car, which was a stark contrast to yesterday’s fight for freedom against RVs.
However, the opening of the trail to ATV traffic around mile 4 or 5 soon changed all that. We didn’t get any traffic but we were the beneficiaries of their handy work: washboard city. At first it wasn’t so bad. Then it was so bad. Then it was worse, and worse still.
We’ve climbed huge mountains, endured hot deserts, braved wind/thunder storms, et cetera, and ridden over 1800 miles. But what was it that finally brought us to our knees? That’s right, a rail trail. A flat, boring and straight rail trail. I found myself for the first time on the entire trip wishing that I was not on the great divide, or not even riding a bike at all. It just never ended. It was just so slow. My butt and right leg were killing me. It was impossible to relax. And it was all because of someone else–motorized recreation. The exhaustion was not just physical, it was mental and emotional. It drove us into the deepest depths of the pain cave; we were suffering because a bunch of ATV riders were gas’ing it or slamming on their brakes on a trail that should not, under any circumstances, be open to them.
Soon we saw why it is open: Island Park is a mecca for motorized recreation. You name it, they’ve got it. As long as it uses internal combustion (preferably 2 stroke polluters), it’s OK in Island Park. ATVs, motorcycles, snow-mobiles, jet skis, motor boats, and on and on. It was amazing, but we were in no mood for these idiots.
We were rewarded with one thing: a subway. Good cheap food. But I was exhausted–almost to the point of breaking. I almost thought I was done for the day–after 32 miles. We sat out on the table in front of subway, barely alive, watching fat ATV riders go in to order Atkins friendly subs. It was bad, real bad.
But slowly the food kicked in and we lurched into a form of life. Kiddie corner was a grocery store where we stocked up on candy and oatmeal for the next couple of days. We knew we were not going to make it anywhere near Lima. We staked out Red Rock campground as a good place to stop. It was on a lake, but in a wildlife refuge, so hopefully void of motored recreation. Yet it didn’t seem possible in this “Island” of motors.
We climbed over Red Rock Pass (7100 feet) where we crossed the continental divide and into Montana. We spent less than 24 hours in Idaho, which was more than enough. Immediately, which shouldn’t have happened, we met the friendliest drivers of the entire trip. People were slowing down to the likes of 2mph to pass us. It was absolutely amazing, refreshing actually. It’s funny how there is a direct correlation between how destructive your activity is (example rancher or ATV rider) and how respectful you are of other people. Or so it seems to me. We were now being passed by bird watchers and people with canoes, who were coming from a wilderness area, and they had enough brain cells in their head to realize that a couple of tired, hot and dusty cyclists do NOT want to be passed at 40mph on a narrow dirt road–both for the dust cloud and for safety.
As we approached we could see that indeed we were near a wilderness area. No atvs, no jet skis, no nothing. It was too good to be true. Signs were everywhere stating “No snowmobiles.” The campground was free, had a flowing spring and was very quiet. The lake was beautiful and in the distance we could hear a loud bird calling–the trumpeter swan (or so we surmised). These are the very birds this refuge was designed to protect. Some ranchers lost out on prime ranch land. Too bad for them, it’s about time we rode through an area not designated for ranching.
I sat for a while next to the lake watching a huge white swan dive and swoop around the lake, then finally land. The clouds were swirling with rays of sunshine peeking through to illuminate the calm lake. I was still just happy that I couldn’t hear a motor.
A few people were there, and later 4 GDMBR bikers pulled in. They were a family: the dad, two brothers and a nephew. The youngest of the brothers and the nephew were both 14 years old. Incredible. They are 650 or 700 miles into the trail and pulling their own loads. They hope to make it to Steamboat Springs this summer, then continue with the second half of the journey next summer. Sounds like a good plan to me.
This was a rare opportunity–we could actually sit and talk with some southbound riders (usually we just pass them on the trail). I think if we could have chatted with any of the southbounders we’ve seen so far, these would be the ones. They were a hoot, to say the least, and just great people. They have a really good group going, it is obvious. Bruce, Dave, Scott and Brayden from Olympia, WA.
We exchanged some ideas about the upcoming miles. We told them to cut out some of the rail trail and to look forward to the subway but not the motor vehicles in Island Park. They tipped us off to the Mountain View Motel and RV in Lima, where they had spent a day resting. The new management has decided to be very friendly to hikers and cyclists, even driving 12 miles up the Red Rock river to bring Brayden’s sunglasses to him (left in a room). We decided to stay at the motel for that reason alone.
62 miles, 3300 feet of climbing
7/19
We got some rain overnight–just enough to wake us up, but not soak everything. The air was clear and fresh making for a beautiful morning. Above on the high cliffs to the south the clouds were flying low, obscuring portions of the mountain while leaving others crystal clear.
We were ready to roll around 8, but spent quite a bit of time talking to the Bruce clan again in the morning. Around 9 we headed out, feeling good.
The mental exhaustion from yesterday’s rail trail had not lifted, unfortunately. Today’s road was awesome through the remainder of the wildlife refuge, but soon we were on a no-name, bumpy dirt road through endless ranch lands. On one hand it was awesome because there was nothing in the valley, which generally meant no traffic and buildings, but we were back in ranch country. This means fences on both sides, huge herds of stinky cattle and our favorite: cattle guards. The valley was wide open: no trees and flat. The road wandered around but never really did anything interesting. A few rollers were steep enough to get me on my toes, but mostly I was just bored. Thus, the mental frustration. I can’t wait to get back in the mountains for some real climbs. These flats are killing me.
Before we turned off to the no-name ranch road we were on a bit of a busy one: logging trucks passed us on their way to a mill site just outside the refuge. I think they did make a small effort to slow down when they saw us, but the road was simply not wide enough for those trucks. As we were about to crest a roller I saw a truck cresting the other side. I gave him a wave and a look of amazement (at his speed), barely having enough room to stay on the road as he passed with a big dust cloud. I pedaled maybe 200 feet before I heard Paula yell. I turned around to see her on the ground with the dust cloud of the logging truck continuing down the road. I dropped my bike and ran back, thinking she had been hit since she wasn’t getting up.
The truck had not hit her, but neither had he stopped to see if she was alright. She had been standing up while pedaling and was forced off into the soft gravel on the side of the road. Because she was standing and pedaling and not expecting gravel her bike slid out from under her. She got a handlebar to the chest and a bit of a bump on her knee, but was otherwise OK. The best part was how the logging truck just kept driving. Important business, I’m sure.
The next truck by (not logging, with an ATV in the bed) did stop to ask if we were ok. He asked if the logging truck had hit her and when I said, “no he was just driving too fast and too close” he shrugged and drove off. My love of motor vehicles and their senseless drivers continues to increase daily, whether I’m riding the divide or through the streets of Tucson. Automobiles–is there anything they can’t do? They sure can kill people, and I am just grateful that we both got out OK.
The road with the logging trucks did not last long, fortunately, and for the rest of today’s ride we maybe saw 3 vehicles (who slowed for us). Some days the miles fly by unnoticed, other days you count them off. I was definitely counting them off today. And they only totaled 57, but that was more than enough for me.
The Mountain View motel and RV was super as expected. The manager, Will, was very nice to us. We got a good, clean room, and a how shower. The cafe across the street served us up some quality food. We were missing only two things: headphones for Paula’s mp3 player (I broke them picking up her bike, not knowing she had the player in her handlebar bag) and a book for Paula to read. Will helped us out on both counts: trading Paula for her book and giving her some very old but working headphones. We’re all set to go.
57 miles, 2600 feet of climbing
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