*Due to being so far behind (you'll read about the reason eventually) I'm attempting to catch up through an abridged series of posts. Stick with me now, we'll get to the coast before too long!
Douglas, WY – Grand Teton National Park (Jackson, WY)
The day out of Douglas was personally one of the top 5 most difficult days for me personally. I should explain it in pretty basic terms.
-Wyoming is windy.
-Wider objects produce more wind resistance, making it harder to move.
-I’m a significantly wider person than my riding companion.
-I went a lot slower.
This wind was unlike any we encountered all trip as it either hit you head on, almost stopping you dead in your tracks as you tried to pedal uphill along the shoulder of a busy highway, or violently from the side, almost knocking you over onto the ground. I struggled and this was the day that I actually posted about wondering whether or not it was really worth it to continue going or not. If you’ve read my posts you may not know exactly which one I’m referring to, as it seems that I often had doubts like this. I’m referring to the short post I wrote because I actually posted it while standing on the side of the road that day out of Douglas, all the while praying that someone would offer to give me a ride into our destination of Casper where we would have a rest day with Jared’s friend Matt Roark.
You may wonder why I kept riding if I seemingly always wanted to not be doing so. I’ll explain that in my after trip thoughts when I get to that post.
Sadly nobody stopped to ask if I was alright and as daylight kept burning with me gaining very little ground, I was beginning to become discouraged. Then as luck would have it a motorcycle tourist stopped to check on me. You’re probably wondering why I would be excited about a motorcyclist stopping for me. Well, I wasn’t excited so you’re clearly a good critical thinker. A motorcyclist can do very little to help a stranded cyclist aside from offer food, drink, or a cell phone. All I wanted was a ride into a town that felt too far away so I told him I was fine and off he went. Long story short, after waiting for two hours on the side of the road with my front wheel removed and held up (supposedly a distress signal for cyclists), nobody stopped. This was particularly discouraging because we knew there was literally nothing between Douglas and Casper, save for a few ranches, and during those couple hours we saw countless empty pickup trucks that we almost knew for a fact were heading to where we needed to go. My faith in humanity was almost dried up despite all earlier encounters (or rather, my bias toward the East being superior to the West was becoming stronger).
Then Jared’s friend Matt came out to pick us up and miraculously save us. His house is on top of Mount Casper and after driving up in his truck through steep switchbacks I was grateful for not having to ride. The next couple days were spent relaxing at Matt’s house, going to a county fair, being treated to meals out by an awesome man of God, and feeling adopted yet again by another person who was not either of our parents. This is one of the greatest joys of riding a bicycle across country.
After departing Casper we spent the next night camping in a roadside rest area that explicitly did not allow camping, but after a call to the police we received permission as it is understandable that sometimes you just have to camp in the middle of nowhere when confined by the limits of a bicycle. From there we made a memorable stop in Riverton, WY where we stayed with Pastor Eric of the Nazarene Church in town. Eric is a really solid young pastor who seems to be moving the church in a good direction under God’s leadership and while being destroyed by mosquitoes at his softball game was not quite as enjoyable as I initially thought it would be, getting to talk to a guy who is not too much older (relatively) to us and who is doing ministry in the church was encouraging. I’ll admit that prior to talking to Pastor Eric, I was somewhat scared, okay I mean terrified, of a life in ministry, and yet I could not help but feel pulled back in to this irresistible calling. Pastor Eric made me realize that being young was not an acceptable excuse. I’ll share more on this train of thought later though.
Leaving out of Riverton, the theme for me was the stunning first views of snow capped peaks and the growing terror of potential bear’s with insatiable appetites painted a beautiful contrast in the way I viewed this seemingly mystical land that I knew I was just outside the proverbial golden gates of. The day out of Riverton also was memorable because it was our first encounter with our own growing sense of adventure after it began to come at a cost of increased danger. How so? Well riding into bear country is in and of itself a dangerous act when you are on a bicycle because to the bear you are a tasty treat that moves just fast enough to make it fun to chase, but slow enough that they don’t have to work too hard to make it worth the calories. We decided to take it to another level on this day however as we not only did not make arrangements for where to sleep (it’s important to not leave food out so that took away stealth camping being a safe option) and we weren’t making good time on the way to the next actual town of Dubois (Dew-boys with a cowboy twang). So as we hit a small “town” with a closed gas station and library we were forced with the decision of whether to just camp outside a church without permission or press on to Dubois through the dark. We’re adventurous (dumb) by now remember? Guess which option we chose.
So riding through the cover of complete darkness, up through mountains with the fear of bear attack, Jared and I made our way to Dubois. We got some stunning views of the sunset as it disappeared beneath the mountains and then we were left with only the light of the stars, our battery powered bicycle lights, and the headlights of cars flying past at only a couple feet away. There were times I wondered if we would have had better odds of survival wearing meat pajamas and camping outside of a bear den (where bears would naturally be too distracted playing chess and smoking pipes in their smoking jackets in a den furnished with people skin rugs).
We did make it eventually, all the worse for wear. Our butts were sore, our hands were numb, and we experienced the coldest temperatures all trip in the higher altitudes. Thankfully we had no idea where we would sleep that night (sarcasm). The K.O.A. campground in town wanted $28 for a primitive (ground and bear box) site so we decided that the Stage Coach Inn would be a better option if we could get it for just a little bit more. Having grown up in a family that is almost twice as large as almost what the travel industry considers a normal sized family, I picked up on the trick of smuggling some people in for a cheaper rate. This is unethical, but we were desperate and weren’t really willing to pay twice as much for a room just for an extra bar of hotel soap, so Jared went in to negotiate for a room with the friendly woman in the front office. She asked him what he could afford and agreed to give him the room for the $50 he and I agreed we were willing to spend. It was luxurious to have a room of our own with a bed and shower and television we could watch (I squandered this opportunity by watching an episode of “Martin,” the “show” starring Martin Lawrence that relies on him having freakishly large ears to garner laughs from the audience).
The next morning we got up and walked to a diner that we both enjoyed. I particularly liked the skillet they had, while Jared particularly liked the waitress with musculature that was clearly either a result of her profession or what lead her to the profession in the first place (not saying she was manly, but the girl could carry some plates). After we were full and Jared was temporarily in love we headed back to pack up our stuff before checkout. While riding out of the parking lot the nice lady from the office stopped Jared and in a sort of motherly blend of guilt and compassion, told Jared that he “duped” her. He smiled and she smirked and when asked whether she would have given the same rate for both of us she said of course not, but that she hoped we had a safe ride and to take care of ourselves. Wyoming doesn’t have many people and generally speaking I hate the state just as much as South Dakota, but most of the people we did meet were saints. It was almost as if they were trying to make up for their lack of numbers.
Leaving Dubois was exciting because Jared knew what was ahead of us and I could only dream of what it might actually be like. In many ways I felt a special blessing never having been to most of the places we rode through. It reminded me of my first Spring Break road trip to visit my grandmother in Huntington Beach, California when I took Jared and a friend also named Matt. Jared and I had been to an ocean and even California’s coast specifically, but Matt had never seen one. It was awesome seeing how much that wonderous ocean meant to him and it was something neither Jared nor I could really fully appreciate or understand, that is, until I finally saw the Tetons…
…To Be Continued…
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