God Bless Wyoming and Keep It Wild

 These words were the last entry in a diary of a 15 year old girl back in 1925. I dont know and cant find anything else about Helen Mettler beyond that diary entry, chances are the wind, sun and snow erased everything else back to nature as it does in Wyoming.

Of all the places in the world I have been, Wyoming will always be special. Besides being the place where I was born it's mountains and plains have always had a strong connection for me. Feeling the wind and sun on my face and smelling the sage and pines is as comforting to me as the squeaky second step in your old childhood home. Being able to pedal through the deserts, plains, and passes that make it such an unique state and seeing the mountains on the horizon and smelling the flowers blooming along the rivers brought me back to a peaceful mind.

I pedaled from Sundance over to Wright through some low hills and lots of desert. Where more civilized states are kind enough to post signs telling you that you are a long way from anything, Wyoming just kinda figures that you are smart enough to read a map and see for yourself. If not, well then that sucks for you. From Wright I pedaled 90 miles of sage and sand to Casper, where I met my Aunt, Uncle and cousin for supper. They ranch down by Rock River, Wyoming and were kind enough to drive up just to see me for a bit and be amazed at what 6000 calories worth of ribs looks like in a skinny guy. After Casper I started off for Shoshone where Mom and I camped next to the Boysen Reservoir on the Wind River Reservation. At the campground there I saw the cutest thing I have seen all week. A little blonde girl, maybe 4 years old out fishing about 10ft from shore and neck deep but still with her cowboy hat on. I don't think she caught anything but not for lack of trying.

Leaving Shoshone I headed up towards Dubois, starting the climb of the Rockies. After 20 miles I ran into some other bikers heading the same direction and joined up with them. After a quick 15 miles at 18mph despite a hefty headwind we settled down to a painful crawl up the hills as the wind steadily increased. I road most the time with Philip, a nice guy from Alexandria, VA and met up with him the next day as well after the continental divide. I also met Jerry, a 71 year old gentleman on his RETURN trip across the US. Just goes to show your never to old to do something foolish and chase your dreams.

Mom and I headed out of Dubois that evening with groceries and lots of bear warnings and found a nice place to camp next to the Wind River in the Shoshone Nat Forest. No bears luckily and we enjoyed a watching the sun set behind the snowy peaks. Really wished I would have brought a fishing pole but I probably wouldn't have left for a week or two. Climbing up to the continental divide at 9600 ft above sea level actually wasn't quite as bad as I expected. But then again I expected pure hell with the mountain roads, low oxygen at that elevation, and the occasional bear or indian skirmish. Hit lots of road construction though, and with the blasting and heavy machinery I had to ride with the pilot car through it. A nice rest for a mile heading up the mountain but really sucked because it cut 7 miles of my downhill out! But then after the construction I was able to enjoy cruising down the mountain and rejoined Philip until we parted paths at Moran Junction, north of Jackson. After turning south from there and heading to Jackson I felt like I was back on the east coast with all the damn traffic. It had been nice not to deal with jersey drivers (although it was a Maryland goatsucking ratbastard that almost clipped me). Yes after many hours on the road you find creative ways to question the heritage of drivers that don't give us bikers enough room, so unless you want it implied that you or your parentage did things that would make a Bangkok hooker gag, SHARE THE ROAD!

Jackson, I decided, no longer belongs in Wyoming and it would be a hell of a lot better with out all the people. Beautiful mountains and great parks but it made me sad to see that you could order sushi at 6400 feet above the sea. The roar of private jets offset the breeze through the cottonwoods and I was all to happy to leave the tourists and pertinacious asses behind. The only consolation was knowing that the taxes off the money spent guarantied that Teton National Park will forever remain uncommercialized and that elk and moose and bison will have a place to roam (as long as the fricking Maryland drivers don't run them over...)

Leaving Jackson I headed through Wilson, Wy (of course I forgot to get a pic) then on up the Teton Pass. I climbed 2400 feet in about 7 miles with up to an 11% grade. Yes I stopped... often... BUT I did find a nice pair of Izuni Pearl gloves to replace the pair I lost. For some reason the original owner did not want to turn around and get them... After getting to the top I sat on the edge of the mountain and was amazed at what I had just done. The Rockies, source of my nightmares for the last month, where quite literally below me. Going down the other side I had to use my brakes because of the curves and only hit 50mph... Greeting me at the base of the mountain was the Grand Teton Brewery. Needless to say the day ended there.

After riding through some of the mountains of Idaho and absolutely loving my time in Victor (great town, go there instead of Jackson and drive a bit farther to get to Yellowstone) I cheated a bit and caught a ride through some of the potato farms and lava fields that makes up most of Idaho.  I realized that I had started this journey looking for something other than lots of miles and didn't really need to pedal the 80-100 a day I had planned on.  Yes I wont have pedaled every inch, but I would rather spend an extra week with my nephews before oz so cheated I did.  If anyone thinks too ill I would gladly meet you in Portland mid August for a self-sustained race up to Duvall, WA (points granted for culinary too)