|
Written by Ben
|
|
Monday, 18 June 2007 |
Thank goodness for testosterone and the private sector. I realize that’s a somewhat cryptic sentence, but let me explain. First, the private sector. The National Park Service no longer takes care of the campgrounds in Yellowstone National Park. That job is now done under contract by Xanterra Parks & Resorts, a private company. I have never stayed in a nicer campground on public land than the night I spent at Madison Junction. There was a hiker-biker section (which we had to ourselves) that cost 6 bucks for each of us. The staff, all retirees who live in their RVs in the campground, gave us free coffee in the morning, and kept the bathrooms in such an unearthly state of cleanliness that I was almost afraid to use the toilet for fear of getting it dirty. We saw coyotes flitting about on the outskirts of the campground, and paid scrupulous attention to the bear regulations in this most delicate of parks.
We stayed only one night in Yellowstone, walked around and saw Old Faithful in the morning, and I got charged by a bison. I’ll repeat that: I got charged by a bison. I’ll drop a kernal of knowledge for all those considering bike tours in Yellowstone. The bison are not as used to bikes as they are to cars. While one can quite safely pull over a car, step out, and take a photo of a bison rolling in the dirt a couple of hundred feet away, apparently the same is not true for cyclists. I got off my bike, walked a few steps sideways, and the bison immediately got up and began coming toward me. I just want to reiterate that I did not approach the bison, nor was I very close at any point. He just didn’t like cyclists. I hopped back on the bike and we pedaled quite quickly away, the bison eventually breaking off the chase and deciding to pace us from alongside the road instead.
So Yellowstone was interesting. In passing I estimate that there was about a one to one ratio of fly fishermen to trout in the park’s streams; I have one shot with 8 fishermen cheek by jowl.
Now, testosterone. There is really only one good reason why anyone would willingly bike through a hail or snow storm. That is, of course, because your buddy is doing it and you can’t bear the idea of him looking cooler than you. Day before yesterday, we biked over Togwotee Pass – 9500 feet or so and yet another jaunt across the continental divide. When we began the climb, it was 80 degrees and sunny. Behind us, the Tetons reared up above Jackson Hole, certainly some of the most amazing mountains I have ever seen.
As we climbed, though, thunderheads moved in above us, the sky darkened, and flashes punctuated our pedal strokes. Presently, it began raining, first lightly, then progressively harder. Climbing as hard as we were, our body heat kept us perfectly warm – it’s just that we just got soaked. Clint was a couple of hundred yards ahead of me when the rain turned to hail. I’ve only seen hail a couple of times, and aside from a few raps to the noggin from the ventilation holes in my helmet, I found I didn’t mind it much. On our left, a gas station and lodge came into view, but Clint didn’t even hesitate, so I couldn’t either, could I?
In the event, the hail lasted only a few minutes, with a brief stint when it turned to snow. On the tail end, the hail went to rain, the rain to drizzle, the drizzle to nothing, and then the clouds parted, revealing towering thunderheads reaching up to meet a sky of pure, dark blue. The magnificent lighting lasted only a few minutes before the clouds departed entirely. While they drifted off, two moose appeared in the meadow below the road, before blending back into the foliage. Had we stopped for coffee, we would have missed the moose and the gorgeous sky. So yay for testosterone.
I sit now in Lander. No one told us that the road from Togwotee Pass to Lander was basically a 110 mile downhill with a tailwind, but it is, and we raced through the whole thing yesterday in a very easy day. Lander has a wonderful city park whose sign states “Park open 5 AM to 11 PM. Exception: overnight camping allowed.” Yes. Oh, and it’s free.
Rawlins is 120 miles or so, and Clint’s just arranged a bus service for us from Granby to Denver, cutting off the worst climb of the trip. Life is good.
|
|
Last Updated ( Saturday, 29 September 2007 )
|
|
