Sunday, July 10th
Second day in Wyoming and First day riding with Dakota, Jesse and Gio who I met yesterday at the Devils Tower lodge. Together they are ‘Ride For Korah’, raising $50,000 to help empower woman in Ethiopia. They seem like three grounded, smart guys who share share a similar outlook on cycle touring as I do. Last night I was on the fence if I’d join them or not. In fact I slept really badly. I’m worrying a lot about the time I have left, even after pushing my flight back, and luxuries like rest days put towards updating this blog might have to be shelved until I feel like I’m on the homeward stretch – once I am out of Yellowstone, over the Rockies and approaching Washington state. Or maybe until I’m actually home.
In the short term the four of us are heading west in the same direction, at least for the next two days, as I’m undecided if I’ll head up over the Big Horn mountains, or continue with them up to Billings, Montana.
This second option is probably a less scenic way to go but maybe an easier route for setting me up to approach the Beartooth Highway – a 10,000ft+ mountain pass often given the title ‘the most beautiful road in America’ which I’m determined to reach the top of since I’ve abandoned the idea of going to Glacier National Park. We’ll ride together at least until Buffalo, tomorrow’s destination.
But back to today. I was up before anyone else. The four of us were camped on an area of grass in front of the lodge which hosted other guests inside there to climb the rock. I made coffee, the tower was still in the shadows.
It was a slow start as everyone gathered their things and leached the Internet inside plotting routes and chatting with the other guests and climbing guides who called the lodge home for a few months at a time. A little before 10 we rode out together, circling back around the rock, passing prairie dogs, and retracing the last 9 or 10 miles from the day before to reach the highway junction.
It was a steep climb out through the wind which would go on to batter us for the entire day. This was the first time I’d rode with other people at all, and in some ways it wasn’t all that different. You were still responsible for making your own pedals turn. However, knowing that you are one of four people struggling up the same mountain does tie you together in some invisible way which makes finding the motivation a little bit easier. There’s the fear of being left behind which doesn’t exist when there is anyone to lose.
The guys had been cycling for as long as I had and obviously they’d develop in a dynamic which worked and I wasn’t looking to disrupt this or wangle my way into there group, it was just a pleasure to tag along and feel part of this gang of strange men coming around the mountain.
At the junction was a young couple from Poland. I recognised them from a gas station I’d paused at in Sundance yesterday. The guy was holding up a piece of cardboard and had his thumb out. They’d been hitchhiking their way across America – starting in Chicago, and now looking for a ride to Yellowstone. Its amazing that there were people still travelling like this. Gio asked them if they had a blog or Instagram or anything, but they had nothing, apart from their backpacks and each other.
The day was split in two parts. From the turn off to the tower a series of small hills and climbs which then presented us with a vast desert landscape with our road running down the middle, a reservoir on one side, but otherwise nothing other than a few small ranches and a scattering of cattle. 20 long miles directly into the wind. We became spread out, me right at the back struggling a little with the thought that I might be holding people up. It was just about possible look ahead to track the three other dots moving along the side of the road.
We came back together at Moorcroft, the first town in a while which was small but had a well equipped supermarket where we bought supplies. The guys were living on a budget provided by sponsors so had to carefully manage what they bought and how they distributed it amongst themselves. I admired this organisation and planning. My budget had been abandoned a long time ago.
We ate lunch at a bench in the shade. The guys shared crackers with tinned salmon. Their quest for nutrition was also a noble one. I drank a Dr Pepper and ate peanut butter and bread.
An hour or so passed. I wrote and sent a post card. The heat and wind weren’t going to pass so we set off again, the remaining 30 miles to Gillette – the next big town along.
The wind had in fact picked up. We stayed close together as a four to begin with as a viscous cross wind pushed us out into the road. Dust blew up and freight trains powered by. It was a battle.
15 miles remaining we gathered outside a bar which was closed but provided some shade and a break. Jesse took ibuprofen for his knee. I was a little envious of the three bikes I saw in front of me. Despite the experience I had cycling,from Korea, to Japan, to here, I felt that my bike still looked like a confusing pile of stuff owned by someone who doesn’t know what they are doing. The expression ‘all the gear and no idea’ comes to mind, but I did wish my setup was a little closer to these – black Surly frames, Swift bags, camping gear which felt compact and tidy. I tried to remind myself that I’d bought my stuff on a budget initially, and really that as long as it worked then that was enough.
I moved forward In the pack for the last 15 miles, the wind calms slightly and we find ourselves on the edge of the city in just over an hour. We decide to head in to the Walmart then go to a campsite. Dakota gets a puncture and as he fixes it at the side of the road I add some much needed air to my tyres and immediately notice a difference when I ride it again – it feels like I’ve unlocked a reserve of energy that’s been out of reach for a while.
Restocked at Walmart we head to Crazy Lady Camping. A small campsite in the centre of the city. Gio tries to negotiate a free spot to camp with the well rehearsed story about their ride. The best the crazy lady can offer is $10. If I was alone I would have jumped on this, but the guys have a very tight budget and have been able to spend only about $30 on accommodation so far, so we continue looking. The other campsite is five miles away now, and it’s dark, almost ten.
Jesse, notebook and pencil in hand, calls the police to see if we sleep in the city park, but we’re told no. But the sergeant suggests the fire brigade who have an area of grass for recreation outside their building. A call is made, a fireman – presumably called something like Mike, answers and they’re going to let us camp. Everyone is relived.
Though I enjoyed witnessing the scavange for somewhere to sleep, it means we’re putting up tents in the dark, cooking food beside an emergency vehicle in a car park, and all feeling a little like we didn’t get that chance to enjoy the satisfaction of a day being over. I have huge a lot of admiration for the no-budget approach, but it comes at the cost of some comfort and convenience.
My tent is up. A streetlight sheds a little light on our makeshift campground..
Tomorrow: onward to Buffalo along the interstate
Map