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Related Photos The Yellowstone to Saratoga, WY Stage (via Highways 287, 30, 76, I-80, and 130) Back

July 28, 2004

Today, Yellowstone National Park awaited us. After finishing breakfast at Madison Campground, we packed up our tent to begin our day of sightseeing. We left at 7:30 AM, hoping to beat some of the park rush. That wasn’t early enough. There were a lot of early bird motorists out as well as they no doubt were heading to Old Faithful. We began our route by ascending the curvy park road. The climbing was necessary as we were leaving the Madison River valley and there were three continental divide crossings ahead of us.

Our first stop was at a cluster of cars. As usual, an animal sighting had created a tourist traffic jam. There were two adult elk and a fawn which was a treat to see. One of the adults had a neck collar on for tracking proposes. Getting a photo of the young elk was quite difficult as it was being very shy. As we continued, we noticed that the climb was getting more difficult in places. We shifted to our second lowest gear which meant that we were now crawling along at 4 mph. We needed to pedal 16 miles up to Old Faithful and the motorists were giving us a wide berth which was nice. At one point, an older, non-touring cyclist passed us.

About ten miles before Old Faithful, we approached Lower Geyser Basin and started seeing areas of steam rising up from the ground. Seeing the earth emit so many pockets of steam was quite a wonderful sight. The steam clouds and the geysers are what distinguishes Yellowstone from the other parks. Entering Yellowstone from the west and exiting to the south, we were seeing just a small portion of what this grand park had to offer. We saw a lone buffalo that was distant from the road. We had been told that the buffalo herds were not in the areas of the park we would be biking across so this was a bonus.

The Old Faithful Geyser was located about a mile off the main road. We arrived at the visitors center to learn that the next eruption was projected to be about 50 minutes away. The park officials predict a time but caution that they can be off by five minutes or more. To fill in the time until the eruption, we walked to the Old Faithful Inn. The Inn was built 100 years ago and survived the 1988 fires because so many people rallied to defend it. This included Idaho farmers who diverted irrigation water specifically for the Inn. The lobby is six stories high and the pillars and railings were built using the the natural twisted shapes of tree branches. The Inn had an elegant yet rustic look.

We walked back to the geyser area and more people were gathering for the anticipated flare-up. As we waited for the big show, we ate some of the food we had with us. While eating, a woman from Missouri walked by and pointedly asked “Are you collecting money for Habitat?” The details of our trip were unimportant to her. She believed in our cause and quickly handed money to us. Almost exactly at 10:47 AM as predicted, Old Faithful erupted for approximately three minutes. There were the usual oohs and ahs and then everyone quickly dispersed. The cycle repeats about every 92 minutes. Randall’s impression was that the whole thing was over hyped. Barb reminded him that what we saw was completely natural and not made in Hollywood for millions of dollars. Imagine the wonder of it all when it was first discovered.

After the geyser show, we biked back to the main road and continued our route towards the south exit. We passed by a number of areas that were affected by the fires of 1988. That must have been quite a wildfire. There were signs which said “Naturally reseeded by wildfire in 1988.” Park officials are trying to change the way people view wildfires. The post-fire landscape may be barren initially, but it is all a part of the life cycle with both plants and animals benefiting from the “rebirth.” Many of the new trees naturally seeded were taller than us.

Not too long after leaving Old Faithful, we arrived at Kepler Cascades where we stopped to view the rushing water. Being in a park setting with lots of tourists, we were certainly getting some looks. A couple of people were curious enough to ask us about our trip so we handed them our Habitat card. Back on the road, our route would take us over the Continental Divide three times within a 20 mile span. Wow, no wonder we have so many of these crossings! These crossings would be our eighth, ninth and tenth and the three highest passes so far. Each pass was well marked with a large sign and had a small area for the photo opportunity.

Craig Pass, at 8,262 feet, came first. This was the most difficult of the three divides that we pedaled to. After Old Faithful, we had to climb nearly 1,000 ft in elevation to reach that first divide crossing. The day was heating up so we rested at a overlook above Shoshone Lake. At the overlook, we met a touring cyclist with a Bike Friday (a folding type of bicycle). Like us, David was biking east on the TransAmerica route. Since he was from Philadelphia and unlikely to return to Yellowstone, he was taking a couple of extra days to see the park. He had left his gear at the campground so that he could tour around the park with a lighter load. He was doing this trip solo but he also had a tandem back home. David had a website documenting his travels and was raising money for a child he knew who had severe birth defects. We had lots to talk about. As we left, he told us to “enjoy the tailwind, it’s on me.” Given that he was headed the opposite direction that we were, his sendoff statement was quite appropriate. You can check out his website at ridingforamanda.com.

We soon reached the second crossing at 8,391 feet. Another divide crossing, another photo op! We then enjoyed a curvy descent as we dropped about 600 ft in elevation. As we coasted downhill, we had some good views of Yellowstone Lake. At the bottom of the descent, the town of Grant Village was a couple of miles off the route. Because we had a goal of reaching the more distant Colter Bay Village, we opted not to go off the route. Our last divide crossing of the day was at a mere 7,988 ft. The climb to this crossing was gradual and no big deal.

We crossed paths with two other cyclists before leaving the park. One was a young teacher who could cycle all summer. He had biked 56 days so far to get to Yellowstone from Virginia via the TransAmerica route. The second was an older man, perhaps around sixty, who was from the Netherlands. He was riding a recumbent with larger size wheels which put him at almost a level position with his feet way out in front. He had to raise his head to see the road in front of him. It didn’t look comfortable but he surely preferred it.

After the divide crossings, we had a few short climbs as we rode by Lewis Lake and the 30 ft high Lewis Falls. As we neared the southern boundary of the park, the Lewis River could be seen far below us in a deep river gorge. The wildfires of 1988 were powerful enough to jump this river and keep going. About two miles north of the park’s exit, we began a long, straight descent. Going down the side of the mountain at 35 mph, we reached the park boundary in just a few minutes.

Awaiting us at the park’s exit was a long line of cars. Hmmm, what was this? The line was long because of road construction ahead. Once we reached the flag woman, she radioed ahead to the pilot truck. The pilot truck driver said her pickup bed was too short for loading a tandem. However, there was another longer, pilot truck that would be available in 45 minutes. So as the cars went through, following the shorter pilot truck in various cycles, we had to wait and wait.

When the longer pickup arrived, we removed the panniers and the trailer from the tandem. We then loaded everything onto the bed of the truck. Randall also rode with the tandem as he used one hand to hang on to the pickup and the other to keep the tandem from falling off. Barb rode in the cab with the driver. For the first time in 3,200 miles, we were required to put our bike and trailer on the bed of a pilot vehicle and be driven through a construction zone. The pickup took us over 4 miles of very rough road with mud and wet gravel. We were very appreciative to not have to bike through that.

Once we hopped back on the bike, we were now traveling down Highway 287 in the Grand Teton National Park. Our route took us by Jackson Lake as we ventured down a hilly, curvy road. After three continental divide crossings, we were OK with the curves but the hills were not how we wanted to end the day. We could see the mountains but they were hazy. Do they have smog in western Wyoming? We later learned that there was a debate as to the source of the haze. Depending on which weatherman you listened to, the smoke from forest fires in either in Alaska, Canada or Washington State was to blame. Even without a clear view, the Teton Mountains were certainly majestic.

When we reached Colter Bay Village, we were very much ready to retire for the day. We had called about hotel availability but the prices were too high (typical for resorts in park areas). We would be camping again tonight, but this time, there was a separate service area with groceries and showers facilities. The hikers/bikers were placed in the furthest section from the entrance to the campground, about a mile from the service area. When we discovered the distant location of the camp sites, we decided to bike back one mile to the service area. We went directly to the shower facilities. Randall had no waiting for the men’s shower but Barb had a line of women to wait on. We washed our bodies and our clothes and then put the wet clothes back on. Our clothes dried faster this way but not fast enough for Barb as she put a jacket on.

At the neighboring grocery store, we bought some sandwiches for dinner and some pop tarts and fruit for breakfast. There were some touring cyclists outside the grocery store who asked us about our trip. They were biking the Great Divide, a mountain bike route which closely follows the Continental Divide from New Mexico to Montana. Their route used forest service roads a lot. Sometimes our route has taken us to isolated areas, but theirs takes them on even more isolated excursions. Perhaps we could have tried this type of ride 20 years ago, but certainly not now!

We biked back to the campground and picked a campsite next to a motorcycle gang. We rushed to set up our tent and eat dinner before nightfall. What a day it was!

Miles cycled – 79.3

July 29-30, 2004

It was a bit chilly in the morning so Randall made some hot tea. After breakfast, Barb called Jack on the satellite phone to discuss our upcoming stop in Saratoga, WY. Jack is a brother to our friend Marian back in Michigan. We broke camp and headed out of the campground. There was no one manning the entrance when we arrived late last night, but the booth was staffed this morning and they were willing to take our money for camping overnight. We asked the park ranger if we could reach the bay and view the mountains. He told us the bay was only about 3/4 of a mile away so we headed west to the bay. We got a good view of the Teton range although it was still a little hazy. We went back to the main road and headed south on Highway 287.

Just a few miles down the highway, there was a scenic turnout with a nice, broad view of the Tetons so we stopped for a picture (one cannot take too many photos of these gorgeous mountains). While at the turnout, we chatted with a couple from New York traveling in a motor home. They had been all around the northwest and had even driven through a snow storm on one mountain pass. Soon, we reached Moran Junction where many vehicles went south to Jackson, WY. We turned east (staying on Highway 287) and there was a cluster of parked vehicles at the next curve we came to. Another animal sighting was creating roadside havoc. This time, a moose was eating leaves off a distant tree. As we continued east, we exited the Grand Teton National Park. After every five mile break, we would look back to the west as the Tetons were visible for quite a distance.

Putting miles between ourselves and the park, the terrain became most arid and there were many ranches beside the road. We were seeing a lot of horses which one would expect to see in Wyoming (even their car tag has a horse). With limited services along our route today, we were sure to stop at a dude ranch resort for lunch. As part of their horse theme, the resort had “Whoa” signs posted on their property. We would soon start some serious climbing, so we had a serious meal with lots of iced tea. We filled up our water bottles and set out for the 18 mile, 2,300 ft climb.

The climb to the 9,658 feet, Togwotee Pass was somewhat tormenting. A 2,300 ft change in elevation isn’t very much when it is spread out over 18 miles. The problem was that for each hard climb we had, we would then go down a hill afterwards which negated much of our effort. The afternoon was a bit warm but we had a gentle tail wind to help keep us cooler. Another thing that made our ascent to Togwotee Pass memorable was the road tar. There were several half mile sections of the highway that had been resurfaced with sticky asphalt or tar. This was an ordeal as the tires became gooey and were sticking to the road. We would get some relief when the resurfaced section ended as the tires would then lose some of their tackiness. Then, another new section of fresh tar would begin. We repeated this pattern at least a dozen times on the uphill. Fortunately, the distance between the sections increased and the tar was less sticky towards the top.

At one rest stop, we noticed the disk brake was dragging and that the rear tire was possibly rubbing against the frame. We didn’t need extra drag going up the mountain! Randall spent some time realigning the wheel before he decided that the rear wheel itself needed to be trued a bit. We pulled out the spoke wrench and Randall made some small adjustments to make the wheel more true. With the wheel adjusted, the disk brake also stopped dragging.

As we climbed higher, the density of trees along the road increased. The trees were appreciated as we were less exposed to the sun. Towards the top, a broad open field emerged as we had a beautiful view. We reached the summit, our eleventh Continental Divide crossing, at 5 PM. At 9,658 ft, it was the highest elevation we had biked to on this tour. Even with the challenges we had on this climb, we felt like this was a fairly easy ascent. The sign for motorists heading down the road we had just climbed up said, “6% grade for 18 miles.” That was hilarious to us as there were probably only 6 total miles that were at 6 percent.

Having to bike 30 miles after 5 PM would normally mean a long day. But now that the climbing was behind us, we could enjoy the downhill to Dubois, WY and our long awaited day of rest. There was little traffic to contend with so we were able to go 30 to 40 mph for the first 10 miles. The next 20 miles, we slowed to 15 to 25 mph. The scenery was spectacular with high buttes. The red and white colors of the nearby hills were quite striking. We came across a fake cattle guard on the highway. Instead of a series of bars with gaps between, it had painted white lines. It was much nicer for a touring tandem to cross, but we still slowed down for it because it looked so real. Apparently, it fools the cattle, too. We got to Dubois by 6:30. There was another couple in the motel lobby as we checked in. Upon learning about our adventure, they said, “So, this is what crazy people look like!” The motel operators were quite receptive to touring cyclists as they had a “Welcome Bikers” on their sign and offered rags for cleaning the bike.

We walked to the nearby grocery store to get some microwavable meals for dinner and tomorrow’s meals. We needed to stay inside our room as much as possible to work on the website. The room was billed as a river view (the Wind River was just south of the motel), but the owners had recently added a deck and storage area so we had a nice shed to look at. The walls of the motel room were covered with wood planks. Wildlife prints and antlers also adorn the walls. This was all very beautiful but the poor lighting made typing on a keyboard difficult. There was only one desk area so Barb sat on the bed and used a upside down drawer on her lap to hold her Palm computer and keyboard. We slowly made some progress, but not as much as desired.

Miles cycled – 66.8

July 31, 2004

We stayed in the motel up to the 10:00 AM checkout time but were unable to get the next stage story ready to publish. Although we were getting a later start, our next stop was projected to be Lander, WY (about 70 miles away) as most of the miles were expected to be downhill. As we departed Dubois, we were amused by some of the marketing props the merchants were using in town and outside of town to attract tourists. One motel had a large, plastic black bear in its yard. The car wash had a life-sized moose on its roof. The store fronts had mostly western themes.

Continuing southeast on Highway 287, there was a short climb just outside of Dubois. Before long, we were flying along at 15 to 20 mph as we followed the Wind River. We saw more of the pretty red buttes along the road, similar to what we had seen west of Dubois. Thunderstorms to the north and west were a nice backdrop to this setting. We were able to avoid getting wet but could not avoid the crosswinds. We came across a stopped motorist who had been heading northwest. A highway patrolman parked behind him was apparently writing up a ticket. The driver said to us, “Better watch your speed or he’ll get you.” At least he could still joke. We were going fast by our standards but not fast enough to get a ticket. After ten miles of riding, we entered the Wind River Indian Reservation. Services during our trek through the reservation were expected to be scarce with only gas station stops at Crowheart, WY and Fort Washakie, WY.

The general store in Crowheart was a welcomed lunch stop. This store was a delightful combination of gas station, groceries, hardware items, auto supplies, sporting goods and the local post office. We heard a faint sound and wondered, where have we heard this sound before? We found the noise source in a side room. A woman was slowly typing on an electric typewriter. Wow! We bought sandwiches, chips, cookies and icy drinks. We sat down on the bench in front of the store to eat and watch the people coming and going. A number of Native Americans stopped to gas up their vehicles. One teenage girl was wearing a red t-shirt which had the name of her reservation on it. Most striking was her footwear, a pair of red and white striped Nikes.

Refreshed from our lunch stop, we continued southeast again. Biking through the reservation, the land look very rugged and could be described as “badlands” as years of wind and water erosion have worn away the hills and buttes. The 15 miles between Crowheart and Fort Washakie looked fairly abandoned with a little sage brush and apparently very little rainfall. After eight miles of this remote setting, we climbed a couple hundred feet in elevation. We were now biking across a high plateau and the view up there seemed even more remote.

We descended the plateau north of Fort Washakie. Arriving in this predominately Native American town, we got some icy drinks and snacks. The convenience store and a neighboring business had bars behind the windows which may have been a indication of the challenge of making a living in the area. Leaving town, it looked like rain was coming from the west, so we were eager to complete the last 15 miles to Lander. Southeast of Fort Washakie, the wind from this front unexpectedly blew in on our right side. The wind speed jumped dramatically from 10 mph to over 40 mph. The effect of the wind was tremendous as it blew our tandem around. We were leaning the tandem about 10 to 15 degrees to the right (into the wind) to stay upright. A piece of trash got caught in the front wheel fender and made quite a racket. Amazingly, we did not get wet from any of this storm blowing through.

After leaving the Wind River Reservation, we saw a few farms along the road, some with sheep, cattle and horses. Just north of Lander, we enjoyed a nice hill going down into town. Lander, a city of nearly 7000 people, had lots of services. However, one hotel listed on our map appeared to be renting rooms by the month. Another hotel that looked well maintained, had a vacancy sign and one car parked in the lot, but no one answered the door bell at the office. We continued through town and got the last nonsmoking room at the Pronghorn, a more upscale motel. Unfortunately, the room was on the second floor so we had to carry our gear up the stairs. The tandem stayed downstairs, locked to a pillar. We ordered in pizza and finished the stage story to Missoula before going to bed.

Miles cycled – 70.5

August 1, 2004

The continental breakfast at the motel did not offer a lot of options, so we walked to the nearby McDonalds for breakfast. There were church services one half mile south at 10 AM so we packed up and biked to church. We put our long pants and sweaters on over our bike shorts and shirts to be more presentable. The day was already warm and the church was not air conditioned, so we sat quietly so as to not get too hot. The readings and sermon talked about the danger of toiling through life while focusing on meaningless things. It reminded us of why we were going on this trip. Afterwards, several people came up to our bike to ask about our trip. We got a couple of donations and were sufficiently warned about the big climb of the day – Beaver Rim.

We stopped for lunch before leaving the outskirts of town as services for the next 120 miles were quite limited. We chatted with the people at the table next to us. One of them owned a business in town in 1976 when the TransAmerica Route (then called the Bikecentennial Route) was first used. He remembered hundreds of bikers coming through. They said that the infamous west wind usually starts at 2 PM. We could see that the flag across the street was perfectly still, but it wouldn’t be for long. As we paid for our meal, the restaurant was closing down because of a gas leak and everyone was rushed out of the building.

Continuing on Highway 287 out of Lander, the road was fairly flat initially. After a while, Barb could feel that the rear tire was behaving oddly. Sure enough, we had a flat. We stopped in a nearby driveway and began to change the tire. To access the rear tire, we have to unhook the trailer. The tools are in a triangular-shaped bag on the bike frame and the tubes are stored in the trailer. As we prepared to repair the flat, a pick-up truck stopped in a turnout across the highway. The driver appeared to be looking at a lake on the opposite side of the highway, but we felt he was keeping an eye on us. Perhaps, he wanted to be sure we would be riding again, yet he just didn’t want to impose if he wasn’t needed. It took us about five minutes to fix the flat and as we were putting the wheel back on the bike, the pick-up truck drove away, the driver apparently confident that we were OK.

We began a gentle climb nine miles out of Lander. The wind started blowing on our right side just before the significant climb up Beaver Rim. We would need to gain a thousand feet in six miles to reach the top of the Rim. There was a climbing lane most of the time which was nice as it gave us more room to maneuver in the wind. As we approach the start of the six mile climb, a crosswind was blasting us at 30 to 40 mph. For one mile of climbing, Randall kept maneuvering the tandem back to the right side of the road as the strong wind was having its way with our tandem. What a workout! After this mile of weaving, the road then bend to the right. We were now going straight into the wind. Oddly, this actually made our climbing easier as we no longer needed to correct for the wind gusts from the side. With much less effort to keep the bike upright, we could now concentrate our energies on just moving forward. About half way up, a pick-up truck slowly pulled up along side of us as we were biking. An older couple asked if we would like a ride to the top. We thanked them for their offer, but said we were doing fine. The climb was long, and the wind added to the challenge, but it was doable. About a mile from the top of the rim, we saw the remains of a large rattle snake. Someone had cut off the head and the rattler. What a creepy sight!

After reaching the top of Beaver Rim, we enjoyed a five mile descent to Sweetwater Station, WY. The town got its name when the mule carrying the sugar supply for a wagon train took an unfortunate tumble into the river. Today, it’s not much more than a gas station and bar. As we stopped for drinks and snacks, a motorist asked how we liked climbing up the Rim. Randall said, “What I like about it was that it kept going up.” He wasn’t trying to be a smart aleck. He meant that we did not climb 200 ft and then lose 100 ft in elevation. The climb was a steady up until it ended.

We had tried earlier in the day to phone the motel in Jeffrey City as it was the only motel between Lander and Rawlins, WY. Our call reached an answering machine with the prerecorded machine voice saying, “Please leave a message.” We were wanting to confirm its existence as some people in Lander said there wasn’t a motel, while others said there was. Camping was an option but the two campsites listed did not provide water or toilets, let alone showers. The clerk at Sweetwater Station said the motel did exist and we later were able to confirm that with a second phone call. Heading on down the road, we just needed to bike the 19 miles to Jeffrey City, which was mostly flat with a gentle decline. With tired legs, we made very good time as we reached our destination within 90 minutes. Along the way, we saw horses, pronghorn and mountains off in the distance. One sign we came across was very noteworthy. It was noting that four historic trails crossed over in this area: Oregon Trail, California Trail, Mormon Pioneer and the Pony Express. When you see how remote and barren this region is, you really begin to appreciate the challenges of the western migration!

Jeffrey City’s population is listed as 106, but it is big enough to have a cafe, bar, motel and post office. We had enough time to stop for grilled ham and cheese sandwiches at the cafe before checking in at the motel. The motel was a small operation with 18 rooms but it appeared that only eight were used regularly. There were only three rooms occupied that night. We heard later that the couple that ran it were in their eighties and were trying to sell the operation. It was a clean, comfortable place with lots of hot water at a price that was not much more than staying at a campground. It was a much appreciated stopping place before our big day ahead.

Miles cycled – 58.5

August 2, 2004

We set our sights on a huge riding day as we hoped to get to Saratoga, WY today despite it being 110 miles away. It was a very lofty goal as we had never intentionally cycle-toured a hundred-plus miles in a day. There were previous rides where the circumstances forced us to exceed the century mark. We had the generous offer of a vacation home in Saratoga and planned to make this an extended stay to get caught up on the website.

This website updating seems to be a reoccurring theme. We have been able to bike the miles we expected if not a bit more each day, but we did not realize how much time it would take to maintain our website. We wanted to document our travels in a timely manner as after a while, the days run together and all the wonderful details can be lost. So this Saratoga stay would be an opportunity to take the extra time needed to catch up.

To cover this distance, we started at 5:30 AM, with just a touch of daylight in the sky. Just four miles into the ride, we passed another milestone: 3,550 miles, which is halfway into our projected total mileage of 7,100. It was still a bit on the dark side for photos so we waited until we got to Split Rock for the photo op (at 3,556 miles). It is hard to believe that having gone through only six states/territories/provinces (while having nine states to go), that we are half way through. This is a testament to the sheer size of the northwestern area of North America. It is enormous and at times, hard to capture in words or photos.

As typical for when we travel early in the morning, we had increased critter sightings. We saw rabbits and a coyote. There were numerous pronghorns as well with some of them actually near the road. Since they are unable to jump over the fence, they ran and slid under the bottom barb wire. What a sight to see them scamper! We realized that for the 22 miles we biked to Muddy Gap, we had seen more critters than cars (seven).

With a nice tailwind and a gradual downhill, we reached the service area of Muddy Gap at 7:40 AM. We stopped for microwaved ham and cheese sandwiches and donuts. Sometimes, breakfast is what you make it. The operator said she saw us biking on the road and at first was not sure if we were wildlife or a biker so she slowed down for us. She also noted that she normally did not open up until 8 AM but that she was unable to sleep so she decided to come in early.

Continuing mostly south on Highway 287, we pedaled through Muddy Gap pass at 6,250 ft without knowing its location; it was not marked. About eight miles later, we reached our first Continental Divide crossing of the day. The climb was fairly gradual but since they added a passing lane, there must have been something to it. We were having difficulty determining where the divide actually was. One interruptive sign we saw in Canada told how surveyors carefully traced streams to their sources to determine where the divide was. Here in arid Wyoming, it must have been even more difficult to determine. Fortunately, there was a sign to identify the Continental Divide (at 6,720 feet). Soon after the crossing we entered the small town of Lamont. We stopped at Grandma’s Cafe for some iced tea and pie, but did not feel the need for a full meal.

Back on the road, we had about 21 miles to go for the second Continental Divide crossing today. We expect this one will have a bit more climbing than the last, but together they shouldn’t equal the challenge of Beaver Rim the day before. At one of our rest stops by the side of the road, a car stopped in front of us and then slowly backed up to meet us. Hmmm, what is this? Two women got out and one had granola bars in her hand to give to us. They had just finished an organized bike ride in Montana and felt compelled to assist us since we were traveling on our own. They kept asking us if there was anything we needed. With tubes and patch kits, they were said to be well stock with bike parts in their car. We were pretty well equipped ourselves but we did accept a tube which was actually a bit narrow for our size tires.

Well rested by now, we hopped on our tandem and continued our quest to the second divide. After four miles, another car pulled in front of us. A woman got out and waved for us to stop. She asked if we wanted some ice water. The ice from our last stop had already melted, so we said, “Sure.” She got our her ice chest and began to determine the best way to get the ice cubes into our bottles. Scooping with the bottle didn’t work too well. She looked at her hands and said, “They’re almost clean.” We replied that after being on the road more than two months, our cleanliness standards had changed. She scooped up enough ice to fill Barb’s bottle and Randall’s Camelbak and then offered us some cherries. Feeling refreshed from all of the roadside assistance, we continued the climb.

The first three miles to the second divide crossing was a moderate climb at 4 to 5 percent grade. We went nonstop and when we had advanced the three miles, the climb leveled out a bit but we then realized that we were still climbing. As the road bend twice, we had two additional miles of 2 to 3 percent grade to climb. Again, it was difficult to determine when we had reached the top by appearances alone. A sign removed all doubt and told us that this Continental Divide was at 7,174 feet. We counted the two crossings today as numbers, twelve and thirteen.

Once we crested, we felt the west wind at our side. We descended into Rawlings, a town of over 8,000 people. We stopped at two electronics stores to inquire about a new battery for our Palm computer, but no luck. As we headed out of town on Highway 30, we spotted a Wendy’s restaurant where we had dinner before leaving town. With the wind being out of the west most of the day, we were looking forward to heading east. Unfortunately, the wind seemed to have diminish. Just outside of Rawlins, we biked by a herd of domestic buffalo. Our route took us on Highway 76 to Sinclair, WY, where appropriately, we biked by a Sinclair oil refinery. We thought it a bit odd though that the prominent service station just beyond the town was operated by Philips 66.

Now our route did something that went against everything our mothers ever taught us: it went onto Interstate 80. Biking on the interstate is legal in some western states because there is no alternative. There was a wide shoulder so we weren’t right next to traffic, but still, it felt odd. Many of the trucks pulled into the left lane to give us even more room, which we appreciated as there was the occasional thrown rock. Rocks thrown at those highway speeds can do some damage. The shoulder we biked on had a rough concrete surface which increased our rolling resistance. We had a bit of a climb during this segment so it took us about 80 minutes to bike the interstate. Like any interstate, the scenery was bland. We don’t promote riding on an interstate highway, legal or not, as it is just not as fun as the back roads.

After 13 miles on I-80, we exited at Walcott, WY and discovered we had a flat front tire. Perhaps the rough shoulder on the interstate highway caused a pinch flat? We pulled into a service station area and changed the tube. We couldn’t identify the leak location in the tube, so it may have been a slow leak. After getting some drinks and snacks, we headed south on Highway 130. It was now about 7:00 PM and we had some climbing to do and 21 miles to go to reach Saratoga. We soon met a young man biking north. He pulled over to our side of the road to tell us about the hot springs in Saratoga. “It’s open all night,” he proclaimed. He was from Italy and was biking the TransAmerica route. He kept looking over his left shoulder as he was trying to escape the rain storm in Saratoga. We gave each other regards for a safe journey and then hurried on to our destinations.

The sky to the west was dark with storm clouds and the west wind was blowing again (and, of course, we were headed south). We covered a few more miles before the rain started and we stopped to put on our rain jackets. We couldn’t get our jackets on fast enough as the rain was just pouring and blowing sideways. The wind increased to a fierce 40 mph and the rain was pelting our legs (it felt like dozens of pins hitting our legs). We were being blown nearly across the center line. We have been in some rough weather in our past biking experiences but this storm was leaving us with a lasting impression! Fortunately, the passing vehicles were giving us lots of room.

After ten minutes of heavy rain, it begin to diminish. Then, we heard a loud pop. Our rear tire was flat! With the rain still coming down at half speed, this was not a nice time to have a flat . We stopped and changed both the tire and the tube. We had planned to change the tire in Saratoga but instead, we slipped on the new tire without hesitation. Why? We were not going to spend time checking the old tire for problems. We got the trailer back on and the tire changing tools put away and were ready to start again. But wait, the front tire was also flat. Wow, was it the road, the rain or just bad luck? Again, we opted to change both the tire and the tube. As we stood in the rain and wind, Randall said, “I hope you are not loosing spirit.” Barb replied, ” I have lots of spirit; I’m praying as hard as I can!” We had started early in the morning, battled headwinds and crosswinds, crossed two divide crossings, trekked through a storm, fixed three flats and biked a huge number of miles, but we still had spirit.

For half of the 21 miles to Saratoga, we had to climb up and up and finally we crested and biked downhill into Saratoga. It was 9 PM when we reached the city limits and we were now relying on the street lights and our bike light to see the way. A boy on his bike saw our tandem and yelled, “Wow! How cool!” We stopped at a gas station to ask to see a map so we could find our way in the dark. The station attendant was most helpful. We had a small hill to climb to get to the private vacation house. As we arrived at the right street, a large deer darted into the trees. We initially went a couple of houses too far and could not find the key as it was explained to us. Barb went back to check another house and found the key. All this was done using our bike light as a flash light. We were waiting for the police to show up and haul us away. Once inside, we were able to shower and recover from the long day. We called Barb’s sister and asked her to ship us two new tires and several new tubes as we had used up our supply.

Miles cycled – 111.9

August 3 – 5, 2004

It was wonderful to sleep in after the long day of riding. We awoke to find a beautiful view of the sun rising above the Snowy Mountain Range. The picture windows in the back of the house gave us a wonderful panorama of the outdoors. Below the mountains was a golf course and immediately behind the back yard was a wooded area. All this was too dark to see when we arrived last night, so it was quite a treat to view now. Later, we would see deer walk across the lawn and in the woods beyond.

As we prepared to bike into town for breakfast and supplies, Barb’s sister called to say that FedEx would not accept the address we gave her. We called the local post office and found that there was no home delivery; all received mail is placed in post office boxes. We asked if we could we get a package from Kansas to Saratoga in one day. The answer was no, because the US postal service did not fly into town. Even express mail took two days. So, we had Susan ship to the local post office via US mail and added a day to our layover in Saratoga.

We biked to Mom’s Diner for breakfast and got a couple of huge cinnamon rolls to go. While there, we heard “Mom” tell another customer that business was down 50% from four years ago. Because of this another business owner opted to not open this spring and put his business up for sale. There was a help wanted sign in the diner’s window, so if tourism returned to previous levels, many places would not have the staff to accommodate the extra customers. We stopped at the Laundromat to wash our sleeping bags. We figured they were due for a washing after 3,500 miles and that required a commercial front-loading washer. While Barb tended to the sleeping bags, Randall walked to the beauty saloon for a haircut as there was no barber shop in town. He also visited the local Radio Shack. There, the clerk urged him to talk to the local paper about our adventure. The Saratoga Sun published on Wednesdays. Being Tuesday, the staff was busy trying to get the paper out. We said we would be in town for a couple of days so we set up an appointment for 11:00 AM the next day. We then biked to the grocery store and got enough food to last for three days. Our trailer was packed full of food for the ride to the house.

It was so nice having the use of a private home. This comfortable ranch house belonged to Jack and Peg. His sister is Marian, Barb’s good friend who sheltered us for five nights after we vacated the home we sold in Michigan. She even drove us to the airport for our early flight to Fairbanks. Now her brother, who we had only talked to by phone, had offered us his vacation home. What a family! Jack and Peg pilot their own plane. He and Peg discovered the charm of Saratoga on one of their “hundred dollar breakfasts” where they would fly somewhere to eat. We had many “breakfast run” spots in Michigan ourselves, but fortunately biking there didn’t cost nearly that much. The Saratoga airport was busy with many private aircraft landing while we were there. It was recently expanded to accommodate a Boeing 737, (but the US postal service apparently was not aware of this). Jack said a rancher from Dubois would fly to the airport where he kept a smaller aircraft. He would use the smaller aircraft to fly over his nearby ranch, checking to be sure the cattle were all OK.

On Wednesday, the reporter from the Sarasota Sun arrived by bicycle. She took some pictures of us with our gear and then we sat down at the table to talk about our adventures for 90 minutes. The reporter sent a copy of the newspaper to Barb’s sister. It was a nice, lengthy article with lots of details. Except for calling us “the Randalls” in the last paragraph, she got the facts straight.

On Thursday, Jack came up from Denver to meet us. The weather was threatening with thunderstorms predicted, so instead of doing a one hour flight, he drove up (three and a half hours). He took us out to the Wolf Hotel, where we enjoyed a delicious lunch. We also made stops at the post office (to pick up our package of bike supplies and to ship out unused items) and at the Saratoga Hot Springs. We had a pleasant time getting to know one another better.

Miles cycled – 3.5

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Related Photos The Missoula, MT to Yellowstone Stage (via Highways 93, 203, 269, 43, 278, 41 and 287) Back

 

July 23, 2004

While setting up our bike and trailer outside our Missoula hotel room, we were approached by a couple from Canton, OH who was walking by. They had just spent a week biking the Lewis and Clark Tour independently and asked about our adventure. We spent some time talking about bikes and gear as touring cyclists learn a lot from each other. Departing our hotel, we weaved slowly through downtown as we headed out of town. Our two visits to this bicycle friendly city were a lot of fun and we hope to make another visit in the future.

As we started south, we noticed that Randall was not able to hear through our intercom system called Tandem-Talk. We continued to the outskirts of town as we thought it might be a low battery. At the south edge of Missoula, we stopped to change the battery. After the battery change, Randall could not hear Barb but Barb could hear Randall. One of the wires on Randall’s headset (or ear piece) must have had a short. We biked north to Radio Shack to get a cellular phone headset as that has worked for us in the past. We spent quite some time determining which headset would work best as the options at this Radio Shack were more limited. Once we selected a headset, we decided to get two as we would not be in another large town for awhile and Barb’s headset has seen a lot of wear, too. One problem we face with using the cellular phone headsets is that they are intended for indoor use. Wind noise can be very loud. To solve this problem, we transferred the foam cover from the microphone of the shorted headset. We headed back south to rejoin our route after this six mile detour. One can appreciate that we really get a lot of benefit from this Tandem-Talk to have biked three miles out of our way for a resolution. On our route again, it was already after 10 AM, so it was going to be a long day.

Our route followed the Bitterroot River Valley and was mostly flat. We had a wonderful tail wind. A four lane Highway 93 with a wide shoulder went south out of Missoula. We stopped at a convenience store in Lolo for a quick lunch as we had only a light breakfast to start the day. South of Lolo, we hopped onto a bike path that paralleled the busy Highway 93. Along this path, we met two touring cyclists headed north. The path had a smoother surface than the highway shoulder and had a couple of shaded, rest stops.

At Florence, we turned left onto Eastside Highway (CR 203) which parallels Highway 93. This back road took us through the beautiful valley setting. There was no shoulder but most of the motorists were giving us a wide berth when passing. We were cycling through mostly irrigated farmland with a view of the mountains beyond. Many new homes were being built in this area as it was quiet and peaceful, (at least until all the new people move in). One can now see why the neighboring highway is four lanes all the way to Florence.

Eastside Highway continued through Stevensville where we stopped for some large, icy drinks. The temperature was climbing into the mid 80s so we tried out our new Kool Ties. Worn around the neck, the Kool Tie is a cooling neck scarf which is full of water-absorbing crystals. We soaked the ties in water for 30 minutes and then tied them around our necks to help beat the heat. Leaving Stevensville, CR 203 became CR 269 but the highway was still called Eastside. We saw more of the farms and mountain views but we saw fewer dwellings along the way.

Arriving in Corvallis, the rear tandem tire blew out. Wow, our first bicycle tire flat on this tour after almost 3,000 miles (some of you may recall that we had a trailer tire flat on the Dalton Highway). We will never go that far again without a flat! We walked the tandem over to a driveway about 50 ft away so that we would not be so close to the highway. Upon inspection of the deflated tube, we found a small slit. We always check the tire for the source of the tube failure because if a piece of glass or a thorn is left in the tire, it will pop the new tube as well. We discovered that the tire itself had a slit on the side wall, just above where it fits into the rim. We checked to make sure the brake pads were not rubbing on the tire, but the pads were positioned properly. A tire failure of this type is usually a manufacturing defect and is rare. This tire was put on brand new in Coleman, Alberta about 400 miles earlier. We put on one of our two backup tires and a new tube and we were on our way. We discarded the bad tire as we opted not to give the manufacturer any failure feedback while on tour.

Departing the small farming community of Corvallis (forever remembered as a deflating town), we continued to enjoy the views of the farms and mountains along the way. The terrain was still mostly flat and the wind continued to be our friend. Seven miles later, we reached Hamilton, a sizable town in the valley. Since, we were now down to one spare tire, we sought out the bike shop in town. Valley Bikes turned out to be a very well supplied bike shop. They had in stock our tire size and tubes so we were pleased to be able to purchase a new tire and two tubes. We also picked up their business card as we would not see another bike shop until West Yellowstone, MT. Rather drained from biking 60 plus miles in a warmer climate, we stopped at a Hamilton restaurant for a cool salad to eat. While at the restaurant, a lady asked if we were from San Luis Obispo. Confused, we then realized that she was reading the city name from our trailer flag (where our trailer was manufactured).

Leaving Hamilton, we rejoined the busy Highway 93. Fortunately, we had a shoulder and traffic was winding down for the day. We were now saying goodbye to the flat highway and beginning a series of hills. Not exactly the way you want to end your day of cycling. It was during this stretch that we saw a number of sheep farms. Reaching our final stop for the day, Darby, MT, we picked up some groceries as services were expected to be sparse down the road. As we entered Darby, we passed another milestone: 3000 miles on the tour! We assessed the best backdrop for our photo op. Since the sun was setting behind the mountains, a photo in that direction would not work. Darby was a quaint town with rustic storefronts so we set up for a background shot of Americana. Our tandem would temporarily block half of main street. As Randall positioned the bike, a woman stopped her car and offered to take the photo so that both of us could be in it.

While we unloaded our gear outside our motel room, a woman from San Diego stopped to talk. She was with a group of friends who created their own supported bike tour for two weeks every year. The next day, they would be biking over the same pass we would cross, but they would continue on to Salmon, ID while we would turn toward the Big Hole Valley and stay in Montana.

Miles cycled – 79.3

July 24, 2004

We started biking at 7 AM after having breakfast at a local cafe. Before leaving the parking lot, we chatted with a couple of bikers from the same group as the San Diego woman and with another gentleman from California who was scouting out retirement property. Leaving Darby, there was a moderate climb as we followed the river valley to Sula. Along the way, we saw a lot of irrigation and a number of ranches. We also saw some of the burnt timber from the 2000 Bitterroot forest fire. At Sula, we stopped at a small grocery store to get a bottle of Gatorade as we were about to start a long climb. Three miles later, the serious climbing began. At the roadside chain-up area, we stopped to shed our tights as we would quickly heat up with the climbing. The supported cyclists we chatted with earlier began passing us at this point.

As we typically do for difficult ascents, we dropped into our third lowest gear. Less than a minute later, we shifted to the second lowest gear. Ooh boy, this was going to be a workout. We would stay with this gear for the entire six miles of climbing. There were a number of switchbacks to take us to the top and we took a rest after each mile of climbing. Three fourths of the way up, two teenagers passed us. Later, at one of our rest breaks, their father caught up to us and stopped to chat. He had toured extensively in the late 1960s and this was his sons’ first century ride (100 miles). They had started from their home in Hamilton and would stop in Salmon, ID for some fishing before returning home by car the next evening.

We caught up to this cycling family at the rest area on top of Lost Trail Pass (6,990 feet). After more chatting, we learned that the father was the president of a log home construction company that built homes for the top 1% of the market. His company built all the Outdoor World Bass Pro shops across the country, including the one in Auburn Hills, MI, just ten miles from our previous home. His sons were impressed that two adults did something as radical as selling their home and quitting their jobs to go on “just a big adventure.” Also, while at the rest area, we read a posting about the Montana “White Crosses.” The America Legion Post builds, erects and maintains the signs which remind people to drive (and bike) carefully. We have noticed the signs on every highway we have traveled on in Montana. We have seen as many as five crosses lined up, next to the highway.

While these bikers and most of the traffic continued on into Idaho on Highway 93, we turned left (east) onto Highway 43. After yet another mile of climbing, we crossed Chief Joseph Pass (7,241 feet). Another pass completed! Earlier, the cycling father had told us that we would now be entering the prettiest area in Montana. Having already toured Glacier, the Swan River Valley and the Bitterroot River Valley, we were skeptical. However, judging from the high number of photos taken during this stage, he was probably accurate in his opinion.

After a photo stop at the pass (our seventh Continental Divide crossing), we quickly descended into a valley with elaborate, roadside fences and dense forests along the mountainsides. We met a touring couple heading north. A few miles into our descent, the valley widened and the landscape became more pasture-like with cattle seen grazing. After reaching the top of a large plateau, we passed by the Big Hole Battlefield National Monument. For miles and miles, we rode across this vast plateau. It was a remarkable change for us as the surrounding mountains became quite distant and we could see for miles around. The enormous pastures along the road were populated with cattle, antelope and sage brush. We had never seen so much sage brush!

Descending from this large plateau, we entered the town of Wisdom where we ate an early dinner at a restaurant. As we left Wisdom, we stopped to get groceries. Our route plan now had us leaving Highway 43 and heading south on Highway 278. Having earlier traveled for miles by grazing cattle, the agricultural setting changed to crops as we passed by miles of alfalfa. Some of the fields had very tall ramps which must have been used for elevating and stacking the hay bales.

A couple of miles south of Wisdom, our camera chip became full. We were really taking in the sights. When we stopped to change out to another memory card, we were immediately swarmed by mosquitoes. We could not get that card changed fast enough! The irrigated hay must have provided a nice habitat for these pesky insects. On our next rest stop, we quickly put on repellant so we could enjoy our break. After 18 miles with a gradual climb, we reached Jackson, MT. We had reservations for a basic cabin (plumbing located in a neighboring building). Realizing that we did not have enough food for a hearty breakfast, we bought some cinnamon rolls at the local store.

Miles cycled – 75.2

July 25, 2004

We left Jackson at 6:30 AM, a bit earlier than usual. We had two passes to climb today and we did not want to be caught climbing them in the heat of the day. The first eight miles from Jackson consisted of slight rolling hills with a gradual climb. Having cycled through a wide open expanse the day before, the mountains were now closing in on us. A number of ranches and cattle herds could be seen between the highway and the mountains. To get to the top of Big Hole Pass (7,360 feet), we had three miles of five to six percent grade to climb. Beyond the pass, there was a long, fun descent that took us into another vast expanse. These expansive views with pastures extending as far as the eye can see were just a wonderful thing to bike through. Photography just could not capture the full experience. As we raced down the highway, cattle of all colors dotted the landscape. Even some longhorn cattle were seen. Black angus appeared to be the dominant breed of cattle. The grass available for grazing was somewhat green looking, much greener than expected for an area getting an average of 12 to 20 inches of rain a year.

Our next climb, Badger Pass (6,760 feet) was not as high but our prior, fun descent took us down 1,400 ft in elevation. So, back up we went. The ascent of this pass was going smoothly until we were within one quarter mile of the summit. At that point, we discovered a slow leak in the rear tandem tire. Yikes, another flat! That’s two flats in three days after going two months without a flat. We pulled off the road as far as possible and changed the tube. The one positive with this stop was that we had a nice view to enjoy. The tube had a single hole that entered in at an angle. This odd type of puncture did not appear to be the result of a pinched tube. However, no hole or foreign object could be found in the tire. Who knows what happened to the tube?

With the deflated tire re-inflated, we finally conquered the pass. Once beyond the pass, we could see a cyclist’s dream. Our highway was fairly straight and it went down and down and down. Reaching speeds up to 35 mph, we descended for over ten miles. What a blast! Going fast for ten miles downhill can be very tiring to the rider doing the steering so we took a brief rest and shot a photo of an entrance gate. On the gate post, a mailbox was fastened up at a height that no one could reach was marked for airmail.

After going under Interstate 15 and over a railroad overpass, we soon found ourselves in Dillon. We weaved through town for a couple of miles before finding the Longhorn Cafe for a lunch stop. A couple who saw our Habitat for Humanity banner on our trailer asked us about our travels. A second couple from California with a vacation home north of Yellowstone gave us some insight about the accommodations for the next couple of days. A third couple, who sat quietly listening to us talking, asked for our card before they left. When we went to pay for our meal, the waitress said that the third couple had already taken care of our tab. How generous and sneaky!

From Dillon, we headed northwest on Highway 41. The lunch stop was refreshing which was good because we immediately were greeted by three miles of road construction. We biked (and sometimes walked) through gravel packed with large rocks. It was not a pretty sight and we feared that we might break a rim or spoke. In addition, we had to dodge traffic barrels and vehicles.

Once through the construction zone, we met a chap from London traveling the TransAmerica route from east to west. He had covered 3,200 miles since May and now, was just three weeks from finishing. The TransAmerica route goes from Oregon to Virginia. Most people travel it in that direction to get the benefit of the prevailing winds. We joined the route in Missoula and would stay with it until Kentucky (except for some planned deviations in Kansas to visit our hometowns). We were now crossing paths with cyclists who chose to go west. This cyclist from London had been enjoying his journey but was ready to end it soon. We wondered if we would have similar feelings towards the end of our trip. Our feelings at that moment were “we could not imagine having it end and having to get real jobs!” He told us that we would soon see a couple on a recumbent tandem as they had been traveling together since Kansas. Sure enough, we saw them ten miles later but heavy traffic did not allow us to stop.

Outside of Dillon, we biked by several farms, some of which had sheep grazing. Irrigation was very prevalent as both crops and pastures were being watered down. Later, we came upon a historical marker for Beaverhead Rock. This large rock was an important landmark for the frontier travelers. We did not use the rock to guide us on our way but we very much enjoyed its beauty.

Going past Beaverhead Rock, the thundershowers that we had been able to avoid were catching up to us. Without warning, a huge gust of wind hit us from the southwest as we were headed mostly north. Instead of subsiding, the wind increased to a sustained 40 to 50 mph. Since we weren’t exactly in the direction of the wind, Randall battled to keep the tandem from blowing off the right side of the road. After a quarter mile of this, we encountered a most unbelievable combination. As we passed a gravel road to our left, a semi-truck from the north met us. Just as we got sandblasted alive by the blowing dirt, the truck’s opposing wind current made it feel like we were inside a twister. Whew! As we regrouped, the road then turned, to the northeast. Now, with the wind directly behind us, we rode (or flew) the final ten miles to Twin Bridges, MT in just 25 minutes! While showers drenched the areas behind us, we only felt a few drops of moisture.

By the time we reached Twin Bridges, the wind had subsided to 10 to 15 mph. We would now turn right onto Highway 287. Riding through the small town, we stopped at a convenience store for some refreshments. Feeling somewhat refreshed, we decided to take on the next ten miles to Sheridan, MT. As it turned out, this was no easy ten miles. We were now headed southeast so we had no tailwind and we had a constant, gradual climb. After earlier “flying” to Twin Bridges, we now felt like we were riding through quicksand!

When we arrived in Sheridan, we looked back to the northwest and the sky was a deep blue. An overnight rain appeared likely so we checked into a motel for the night. The grocery store in town was already closed so we stopped at the convenience store to get some sandwiches and some breakfast snacks for in the morning.

Miles cycled – 85.8

July 26, 2004

With the days getting warmer, we were getting motivated to do earlier starts. We left Sheridan at 6:30 AM as we anticipated a lot of climbing in the morning. Although rain was threatening last night, this morning had mostly clear skies. As we headed to the mountain pass, we passed through the small towns of Lauren and Alder. Both towns appeared to support a thriving agricultural community with a mixture of crops (mostly hay) and pastures. We could see the lush green fields span up to the mountain foothills. There was a lot of irrigation and rustic barns. After Alder, the crops and pasture gave way to sagebrush. Lots of sagebrush. We met two men in their fifties on recumbent bicycles heading west. They had been traveling with the three cyclists we saw the day before but stayed an extra day in Yellowstone. They too were looking forward to ending their trip soon and returning home.

As we continued to climb through the Alder Gulch, we saw antelope and some cabins along the way. We soon entered Nevada City and Virginia City, two towns designed for tourists with old buildings to tour and gold panning experiences for the kids. Nevada City, in our opinion, had more of an old west look to it. The store fronts were fairly aged and weathered as they faced the main street. Just a short distance later, we pedaled up the main street in Virginia City. The main street is on a steep incline, which along with the western style buildings, gave the small town some character. We saw no convenience store or gas station in the area so they must have been off the beaten path. Two points in town caught our eye with one being the courthouse building and the other being a large white tent which served as the “Cowboy Church.”

Climbing out of Virginia City, we noticed piles upon piles of rocks like the ones we had seen near Sacramento, CA on a previous trip. The rocks were apparently left over from the river dredging of the gold rush days. Our map showed that the pass beyond Virginia City was a pretty serious climb as we go over 7,000 ft in elevation to reach the top. The map was not exaggerating. There were four miles of climbing and the first mile was particularly strenuously. Thankfully, the climb was a little less severe for the last three miles. Since this pass was not a Continental Divide, it was not marked.

Having conquered another pass, we started the glorious downhill descent. The view was just incredible as you could see the highway winding down the mountain. Part way into the descent, we scorched the brakes to stop at a scenic overlook. Photo opportunity! A couple from New York took an interest in our adventure and asked lots of questions. They had flown into Billings, MT and were touring the west. The New Yorkers happily took our photo. We continued downhill into Ennis, MT for lunch. Boy, we were hungry, having climbed up that difficult pass. As we biked through town, the couple from California that we met in Dillon the day before shouted hello to us from the sidewalk.

Leaving Ennis, we continued on Highway 287 towards Cameron, MT and into a south headwind. Traffic was getting heavier so we stayed on the shoulder. The shoulder was wide enough but very rough with lots of gravel chips. In addition, we were climbing with our speed now at a sluggish 7 to 9 mph. Our hopes of getting a cold drink in Cameron disappeared as the listed facilities were closed. As we stopped to rest, a SUV pulled up beside us. It was the couple from California. Their vacation home was about five miles ahead and they invited us over for a cold soda. This was an offer we could not refuse!

The house was located about a mile off the highway on a dirt road. About a third of the road was parallel to the highway before heading toward the Madison River. Some of the road was a bit rough for our bike so we walked those sections. As we got near the house, we could suddenly see the river, two hundred feet below. Wow, what a startling view! Getting off the beaten path has its rewards. The cabin was on the ridge with a wonderful view of the river below and the mountains beyond. Dave and Sue built the cabin 10 years ago with two other couples who also enjoyed fly-fishing on the Madison River. More homes have since been built, but the peaceful feeling of solitude remained. The river meandered and looked so beautiful, we had to remind ourselves it was not a painting, but was real!

As we enjoyed the view, the company and the refreshments, the sky began to darken and a thunderstorm threatened. The wind rushed strongly by the cabin at 30 to 40 mph. We had parked our bike in their garage so it was spared from the wind and intermittent rain. With the weather not looking good, we accepted Dave and Sue’s earlier offer of a bed for the night. We cleaned up while they prepared grill chicken for dinner. We learned a lot about the area and thoroughly enjoyed our time together. It was nice to visit with someone else who had found their passion and worked to make it a priority in their lives. What a splendid way to end the day!

Miles cycled – 54.5

July 27, 2004

After a very restful night in the “Cabin Grande,” we gathered up our gear and loaded up our tandem for riding. Sue served us a delicious breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon. While eating breakfast, there was a spectacle of wildlife – antelope, osprey, badger, etc. seen along the river. What a exceptional location for a cabin!

We traversed the dirt road to get back on Highway 287. Heading south, we continued along the Madison River basin where we saw more antelope and log cabins. Occasionally, you could see white spots on the high river banks. The spots were mineral deposits from former hot springs. The springs were sealed off after the earth shifted from earthquakes. There was a row of mountains of each side of us. We would continue on Highway 287 all the way to West Yellowstone. The shoulder was not the best surface to ride on because of pea size rocks. It was almost like riding on gravel. We rode on the much smoother highway when lighter traffic allowed.

The road gradually curved to the east. Mountain sheep were seen up on the side of the road which made for an easy photo. We passed Three Dollar Bridge, so named because the owner kept a box at the bridge with a sign that said, $3 for parking all day. Fishing was very prevalent in this area. One service stop listed on our map was a fly shop bustling with fishermen. The only items they had which interested us were their Gatorade and a limited selection of snacks. They sold far more beer for sure.

With Quake Lake just ahead of us, we had a steady climb before we could actually see the lake. In 1959, an earthquake caused a huge rock slide which created Quake Lake. An extraordinary pile of rock dammed the Madison River. The Corp of Engineers had to dig a deep trench to allow the water to flow through and to reduce the effects of flooding. Near the lake’s shore, there were many dead trees as a result of the higher water level. On the side of the mountain where the slide occurred, cedar trees had established themselves and looked pretty big for only 45 years of growth.

After riding past Quake Lake, we stopped for lunch at a cafe 100 feet from the Madison River. The cafe operator asked if we were trying to be like Lance (Armstrong). When she learned the details of our trip, she told us about a woman who sold all of her belongings except for eight boxes that she stored with her sister. She then bought a small pick-up truck and camping gear and traveled the US. She then planned to sell the truck when she reached Florida and work on a freighter headed for Europe. She would continue until she went around the world or the money ran out, which ever came first.

Leaving the cafe, we soon arrived at the Hebgen Lake dam. Below the dam, a number of fishermen could be seen, wading in the Madison River. Hebgen Lake, a very large recreational lake, was created to provide water for irrigation. We followed the lake’s shoreline for at least 10 miles before turning south for the final 8 miles to West Yellowstone, MT. The town provided services for those visiting the park and it was very active. We stopped at the bike shop for new bike gloves as our old ones were wearing out. Barb went to the neighboring visitor center to buy an annual national parks pass for $50. As we stood on the sidewalk outside the shop, a Japanese tourist dressed in a flashy red, white and blue shirt walked by. He was excitedly talking to his wife about everything he was seeing. He pointed to our bike and said “Booed-dee-ful” and kept right on walking. We also stopped at the grocery store for supplies. Since it was windy, Barb stayed with the bike while Randall went into the store. Several people approached to ask about our trip. They had seen us bike into town and wanted to know more.

We headed into the park with the goal of reaching the Madison Campground 14 miles in. The wind was in our favor and the route was mostly flat. Soon, it clouded over and began to rain with some lightning and thunder. We think the rain helped to reduce the heavy flow of motorists heading into the park. There was almost a constant flow of vehicles exiting the park. So, our entrance timing into the park was great. The rain began to stop when we reached the campground. There was no availability for cars and RVs at the campground as it was full. However, they had a hiker/biker section to hold as many as needed. Eileen checked us in and showed us the food storage boxes. There were tarps over community picnic tables and a few lawn chairs. She offered to heat some water for tea. We were rushing to set up the tent in case the rain started again when she returned with the hot water. What service! They seemed to cover every need except warm showers.

We could tell we were back in the USA and in the land of lawyers as we were given several fliers. One warned “Many visitors have been gored by Buffalo. Buffalo can weigh 2000 pounds and can sprint at 30 mph, three times faster than you can run. DO NOT APPROACH BUFFALO.” Another flier listed no less than eighteen guidelines for a safe and enjoyable stay in Yellowstone Park.

There was one other touring cyclist camping that night. Wim, a 32 year old web developer from Denmark was taking a year to bike from Edmonton, Alberta to Buenos Aries, Argentina. He also had a website and he used a Palm (hand sized computer} to record his stories and photos. He updated his website by stopping at the local libraries. We suspect internet access and libraries will be hard to find in Latin America. He carried a solar panel to charge his Palm and camera batteries. His website is in the Dutch language (we think), but the photos are very readable. Check it out at movingsouth.be.

Miles cycled – 66.5

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Related Photos The Whitehorse, YT to Watson Lake, YT Stage (via the Alaskan Highway) Back

 

June 7, 2004

We got a later start today as we were updating the photos and working on the website text. After breakfast, we went down Main Street to hop onto a path that follows the Yukon River. We followed this path 2 miles east of Whitehorse to check out the fish ladder. This ladder, purported to be the longest in North America, was built to allow the salmon to get upstream to spawn once the hydroelectric plant was built on the Yukon River. The salmon migration doesn’t start until late July so there were no fish to see. The ladder was quite interesting to see and worth going 2 miles out of our way. While there, we met a guy from Newfoundland with a heavy accent. He described his adventure, kayaking 500 miles down the Yukon River. He thought it was wonderful that we “dropped out” to do what we enjoyed while we still could do it.

As we approach our re-entry to the Alaskan Highway, we noticed that they had placed new bike-lane markings on the highway shoulder. It was nearly noon when we got outside of Whitehorse. Along the way, we met a cyclist racing into town. Ten miles outside of town, we stopped to eat a quick lunch. After lunch, we crossed a bridge which took us over the Yukon River for the last time. The river was not as impressive looking as it was140 miles north of Fairbanks, but none the less, we realized that this was our last view of the river on this trip.

We pedaled hard to make it to Jake’s Corner for dinner. Back on the road after dinner, it was 6 PM and we still had Johnson’s Crossing in our sights for a night’s stay. The problem was that we still had 20 some miles to go and about 8 of those miles involved some climbing. The skies looked like they were going to dump a lot a rain on us. For about 15 minutes, we biked through a light shower. The climbing we did was in a valley setting with mountains up close on both sides. So, even though that part of the ride was slow, we had some fantastic views along the way. Finally, the road leveled out and we were flying as fast as our tired legs would take us. When we got within two miles of Johnson’s Crossing, we discovered that it was an 8 percent grade downhill. Great way to end a ride! When we arrived at 9 PM, the sign outside the door said that the office closed at 8 PM. Barb saw someone stirring around and she blurted out, “Is it too late to get a room tonight?” twice. The attendant waved her in and we were all set with a room to avoid a rainy night. The attendant said they had received buckets of rain just a few hours earlier so we were lucky (sometimes late starts do work out).

Miles cycled – 82.9

June 8, 2004

We started the day with cinnamon rolls and orange juice at the motel cafe. We struck up a conversation with a man from Medina, Ohio (near Cleveland) who was traveling the Alaskan Highway by motorcycle. It took a heart attack at age 46 for him to stop and do the things he really enjoyed, so he was supportive of our trip.

As we pull out of the motel location, we turned left and found ourselves immediately facing the long bridge that is associated with the name Johnson’s crossing. The river and its banks are very impressive as we biked up the bridge at a 4 percent grade. There was a flag woman at each end of the bridge as the opposite end was necked down to a single lane for bridge repair. Once over the bridge, we kept our camera pretty busy taking pictures. After the bridge, we have a decent climb to get up out of the river valley.

The Alaskan Highway now followed Teslin Lake for 20 miles (the lake is 70 miles long). The road along the lake went up and down. Though only a 4 to 5% grade, it got to be quite a routine. Up one half mile. Down one half mile. Up one half mile. Down one half mile – on and on for 20 miles! As the hills went away, we had 4 miles of bone jarring, road construction. It wasn’t gravel but payment with loose stone. What a ride!

We had lunch at Mukluk Annie’s who’s specialty was salmon bake. Not being big fish eaters, we got the huge, tasty burgers. While there, we talked with a couple from Colorado who previously lived in Anchorage and have returned to Alaska many times. They were heading north and had seen many bikers south of us (though none on tandems). They commented that the bikers dressed in black looked like bears from a distance. Those in yellow (like our jackets) were recognizable and they would slow down or give them a wider berth than they would for the “bears.” The cook and waitress (both about 20 years old) were intrigued by our trip. The waitress came outside before we left to give us a donation for Habitat for Humanity which was most generous as she was working her way through college. As we stood near our bike, a couple currently from Idaho who have lived several places chatted with us. They talked about our bike gear and how Habitat for Humanity was not a welfare program. They like the requirement that the recipients of the homes work with the volunteers while their home is being built (so called sweat equity). This leads to a greater sense of pride of ownership. We said that biking the Alaskan Highway was our “sweat equity” and by peddling every mile we felt like we “owned” the Alaskan Highway in a way that someone merely driving it could not. They gave us a donation for Habitat, as well.

When we arrived in the town of Teslin, we got a few groceries at the local store. While leaving, we met a bike touring couple from Vancouver heading north (we regret we didn’t get a photo of them). They had sold their assets and started biking in April. That turned out to be a bit too early as they hit snow and had to wait 3 weeks since they were not equipped to bike in those conditions. They joined the Alaskan Highway in Fort St. John and were headed to Valdez. They were planning to take a ferry back to Vancouver, then relocate in Kingston, Ontario. They told us that the campground we intended to stay in that night was closed and that there were no grocery stores until Watson Lake. Hearing that, we went back to the local grocery store and got 4 boxes of macaroni and cheese for extra insurance.

Just as you’re leaving Teslin, you go over a long bridge which crosses the Nisutlin River. We have crossed long bridges before but this was the first one to have a grated decking. Hmmm? Would our tires going to hold up, going over this grid of quarter inch steel? We made it across without issue as Randall was worried about possible tire damage and Barb was worried about how she could see through the bridge. After the bridge, came a long, difficult climb. Then, a shower arrived, followed by rain.

When we arrived at the Dawson Peaks Resort for dinner, we noticed our front fender was rattling because a screw came out. We had a replacement screw, so we fixed it and went in for a bite to eat. When we set out again, the rain was as persistent as ever. Almost immediately, we noticed that the front derailleur was not responding and we were stuck in third gear. A crucial screw had fallen out (one of the two pivoting screws). As Randall searched for a substitute in his miscellaneous hardware collection, the rain increased. We had no replacement screw on board so we biked the two miles back to Dawson Peaks as there were no services for another 60 miles ahead. As Barb setup for a room that night, the owner, Dave, took Randall to his shop to check for a possible replacement screw. Again, nothing was found. He suggested that a bike shop in Whitehorse (now 120 miles away) could put a replacement screw or derailleur on the Greyhound bus which arrives Teslin around 3:30 PM on its daily trip to Dawson Creek. Randall called one shop but they didn’t deal with the high end Shimano component we needed. The shop owner suggested another store which unfortunately was already closed for the day so we had to wait to address this issue in the morning.

Miles cycled – 41.4

June 9, 2004

Randall got a hold of the bike shop in Whitehorse when they opened at 10:00 a.m. and Dev cheerfully assisted us by delivering a new derailleur (screws not sold separately) to the Greyhound Bus station by 11:00. Now we waited until the bus would arrive in Teslin at 3:30 p.m. Meanwhile, we continued to type our story into the laptop and checked the tightness on all the other screws on the bike (like closing the barn door after the horse got out, eh?). The rain continued throughout the morning and into the early afternoon so it was nice to be inside. Suppose we picked a good day to have equipment problems!

Dave and Carolyn, the owners and operators of the Dawson Peaks Resort were most helpful assisting us in contacting the bike shops and arranging the bus transportation. Dave came to Teslin to be the school principle 30 years ago. Carolyn was an investment banker. They started their business with a restaurant in a 14′ by 32′ canvas tent and two Coleman stoves using water they hauled up from the lake. The resort now has cabins by the lake, motel rooms and an RV campground in addition to the restaurant and gift shop. Dave, Carolyn, their resort and famous rhubarb pie are featured in the novel “Dead North” by Alaskan mystery writer Sue Henry. Dave loaned us his truck to drive the seven miles into Teslin and the Greyhound Bus station. In exchange for borrowing Dave’s pickup, we went to the Teslin dump and unloaded a load of trash. It was quite a novelty for city folk to drop bags into a burning pit amidst the ravens and gulls. The electric fence surrounding the dump helps to keep the bears away. The bus with our package arrived on schedule. The station clerk said “if that doesn’t fix your problem, let me know. I’m going to Whitehorse tomorrow.”

Back at the resort, we completed the repair to the derailleur and changed the rear tire since it showed more wear than expected as some threads were starting to appear. We wondered if the short life was from road construction or from the grated bridge decking. With only 700 miles on the tire, we would need around 8 more tires during the course of this tour just to keep the rear wheel spinning. We called Barb’s sister Susan for replacement tires and other supplies to be sent to Fort Nelson nearly 500 miles away. Then we turned in for the night to be ready for an early departure and productive day ahead.

June 10, 2004

Our start was much chillier than expected. The sky had cleared and the temperature was a cool 40 degrees F. We had a 7 to 10 mph headwind and the initial downhill made it feel even colder. We saw RVs being driven by men wearing short sleeves. Barb queried, “Don’t they know it cold outside?” Randall replied that being in a RV is a lot like being in a living room, very removed from the outside elements. We had dressed in just shorts, tights, shirts and a wool sweater under our jackets as that worked well in the past. After 10 miles, the cycling wasn’t warming us up enough so we stopped to put on wool pants, wool stocking caps and an additional pair of socks. Randall also took time to adjust the front derailleur as it was not going into first gear easily.

After a few miles, we were greeted by a “Welcome to British Columbia” sign, one of seven border crossings between Yukon and BC on the Alaskan Highway. This particular jaunt to the south was 42 miles long before we curved back north to Yukon. We had a 2 mile section of road construction while in BC.

Right after crossing back into Yukon, we stopped for lunch at the Swift River Lodge. The cook asked where we started and where were we headed. He knew that the Arctic Circle was at 66 degree latitude. He guessed that Key West was at about 20 degrees since he knew Jamaica was at 18. We didn’t know, but a later check of our North American map put it at about 25 degrees. Still, we were impressed that here in this remote area, a short order cook knew more about geography than most of the people we worked with in Michigan. The owner of the Lodge gave us a idea of the amount of climbing left before Watson Lake. We knew that gas was high in Canada but we were startled when the owner mentioned that the last customer to come through bought gas, a meal and some souvenirs and was put out $150. Glad we’re pedaling.

The lunch break was over and it was raining. We crossed a river and began a long, long climb. There wasn’t much of a shoulder so we were at the mercy of the drivers to give us a wide berth and most did. Reaching the top of this hill, we rested and took photos as we wanted to remember the challenge of the rain and the hill. With just a little more climbing, we crossed the Continental Divide (one side drains to the east and ends up in the Arctic Ocean, the other side drains to the west and ends up in the Pacific Ocean). We stopped for a snack at the lodge just past the Divide as the rain began to clear. We meet two different couples who spend most of their time in RVs traveling North America. One even gave us their card which listed their occupation as nomads. The operator of the lodge said we sure picked the tough way to see the Yukon. He also said that around here they call bicyclists “meals on wheels for bears.” He wasn’t through having fun yet and he told a couple of motorcyclists who stopped there that at least their bikes had motors. The bikers however said they were impressed with our biking the Alaskan Highway even without knowing the full distance we planned to cover.

At around 5 pm, we cheered for ourselves as we reached 1000 total miles of biking and the halfway point of the Alaskan Highway. Something nice to reflect on now that the rain seemed to be behind us. Looking forward to our second 1,000 milestone!

We stopped at the Rancheria Lodge for the night and got a room since we are trying to cover a greater distance today and tomorrow. The operator was an interesting lady whose grandfather came to the area during the Klondike Gold rush and lost all his money. There were no phones available here. There was satellite TV. However all the TVs were on the same feed so all the rooms and the lounge got the same channel. We asked if the Piston’s game was being broadcast and they set it up for us while we ate in the lounge which had a wood fire for heat and numerous stuffed animals and hides. Basketball is not very popular here in the north, but the operator had heard of Kobe Bryant. Hockey is the game of choice. Barb asked her “What’s the Cup doing in Florida?” She quickly responded “Exactly! But I heard the whole team is from Canada.” (For those who did not understand this, ask a hockey fan.) She kept coming back into the lounge asking if the game was over yet. At the beginning of the 4th quarter, the Pistons were in control and the other guests were complaining so we relinquished the channel selection. We picked up cinnamon rolls and orange juice for breakfast in our room as the “24 hour” restaurant closed between midnight and 7:00 a.m. due to staffing issues.

Miles cycled – 82.4

June 11, 2004

This day started our overcast with gradual rolling hills. With a 7:00 AM start, we were hoping to see some critters, but no such luck. Five miles into the ride, the mountains closed in on us on both sides as we biked through a narrow valley for 15 miles. After crossing the Rancheria River, we stopped at a rest stop. Three fifth-wheelers traveling together pull in from the other direction. When the driver of the first vehicle learned about the extent of our trip, he got back into his vehicle and radioed to the other two in the group (even though they were all parked in a line a few feet apart) to give them the scoop. So we had some curious tourists (not enthusiastic, just curious). Leaving the rest stop, our climbing began.

We climbed one mile up and then descended one mile down. Again, we climbed one mile up and then descended one mile down. This went on and on for 14 miles and with a headwind, no less. Finally we reached the Nugget City Restaurant and Bakery and had a late lunch. Before entering the restaurant, we met Mary, who was from Colorado and was cycling by herself. She started in Washington State and was headed to Anchorage. She had been traveling 100 miles a day as the campgrounds were spaced that far apart. She had seen several bears and had even been chased by a moose, but she thought that with our long bike and trailer, a moose would find us more intimidating. We were quite impressed with the distance she was covering despite her having a favorable tailwind.

The sign in the restaurant read “Please be patient as we are short staffed and the cook is working long hours to keep you fed and happy.” As it was past the noon rush, she was able to chat a bit with us. She said that many people are not prepared for the isolation and remoteness of working on the Alaskan Highway. People who are not comfortable being by themselves don’t do well. She even made access to the internet a condition of her employment, but with the long hours, she probably does not spend much time online. She did, however, eagerly accept one of our cards listing our website address.

After leaving the restaurant, we crossed paths with Conrad, a touring cyclist from Germany. He had biked all over the world and was currently heading from Calgary to Fairbanks. He had posted a sign from his hometown at the Watson Lake Signpost Forest we would see later.

After a long, fast descent, we crossed the Upper Liard River which is quite large. We stopped to photograph the bridge and river. Randall walked onto the grated pedestrian walkway and he could see straight down to the water about 80 feet below. Barb declined to take in the view as she does not like to walk on surfaces she can see through. After the river, Watson Lake welcomed us with a nice 6% grade, 1.7 mile long hill. After this climb, the highway shoulder disappeared and the road was very narrow. Luckily there was little traffic so people could get around us as we crawled up a second, half mile hill. At one point, when cars were in both lanes, the opposing traffic drove with their passenger side wheels on the shoulder and honked at the oncoming car behind us, letting them know they had room to pass our tandem. We appreciate their making us feel at home!

Arriving into town in our favorite mode (downhill) we saw the SIGNS. Incredible! Long strings of posts were filled top to bottom with expensive road signs from nearly every imaginable city and country. Signpost Forest was an appropriate name. Over the years, the town got a reputation for providing a place for you to post your favorite sign from back home. Given the professional quality of the signs, we assumed that some of the signs were stolen from their original location. Thankfully, not many towns have this kind of display as there would be no signs left to tell us which way to go. Once you see the Sign Forrest, you are exasperated.

We checked into a hotel as this would be our last phone (and email) access for 330 miles (Fort Nelson). While Randall worked on the computer, Barb walked to the nearby Laundromat. While washing our bike clothes, she met a couple from north of Flint, Michigan. The woman had traveled the Alaskan Highway in 1976 and the Sign Forrest was just a single row then. They said that the signs now number 51,000!

Miles cycled – 74.4

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