Days 69,70 - Eugene, OR

Today was the last big day of my trip riding 91 miles to Eugene and summitting the Mckenzie pass at 5325 feet along the way. Throughout my trip I would tell myself at the end of long days that if I could get to the last 10 miles I could do them standing on my head. It just meant that no matter what condition I was in I would make my destination for the night. Well, today I could have done the ride with one leg, riding backward on my head. I hit the climb in the beginning of my ride and when i stopped to take a picture of Mount Washington and the seven sister peaks i belated realized i had already summitted the peak.




At the apex is a cool lava field which cooled as it was still flowing some 1600 years ago, leaving behing a river of black angular rock reaching all the way back to the peaks of mount Washington. Some of the narrow twisting roadway cuts through the rock itself giving the feeling of passing along stone hedgerows.

I started a long 3000 foot decsent outpacing at least one vehicle along the way. The road snaked around the side of the mountian presenting one hairpin turn after another. I passed new elevation signs every thousand vertical feet. At the bottom I lifted my arms of the bars and felt aches in my muscels from being on a technical decsent for a half hour.

The rest of the ride was along rout 126, a narrow no shoulder road on a slight downgrade all the way to Eugene. A pretty good headwind eliminated my ability to coast at any point. I just started to ride as if I were going up another climb, turning the cranks pretty quickly and making good time into town.

Along the way I saw the sun shining through the trees of a yard with a wooden fence and a house tucked away not to far from the road and I had he sensation that I was riding along a road from my childhood, almost a deja vu feeling.




Sue, the person I arranged to stay with through warm showers was waiting outside her two bedroom condo for me as I rolled up the street. She is one of the best of hosts I've had the good luck to encounter along my trip. She offered a multitude of information about Eugene and a set of keys to come and go as I please. We had dinner along the willamette river and then headed over to an outdoor short film festival in Alton Baker park.

"Tell everyone it rains all the time, we don't want the secret to get out." Sue told me. The secret is that during the summer Eugene is an Eden of dry sunny days and cool clear nights. It's what some locals call "their second paycheck."




Eugene is a college town with old hippies looking to hang on and new ones being minted every year on the University of Oregon campus. I have to believe there are more VW vans per capita here than anywhere else in the world. The town also has an inordinate amount of modern day hobos, young dirty kids with backpacks and sleepig bags traipsing about town. They are probably not much different from the tramps riding frieght trains in the 30s, albeit less easy to romanticize.

Sue was kind enough to put me up for another night so i could rest up an enjoy the city some more. I went to the Saturday market in the morning, a mix of food an craft vendors selling there goods downtown, had a fantastic dinner at Papa's, a soul food restaurant and did a little bit of early celebrating over a trio of noise rock bands at Sam Bonds, a popular music venue as I toyed with the surreal notion that I would hit the pacific ocean tomorrow.

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Day 68 - Sisters, OR

My energy level is through the roof, feuled by the thought that I'm just a few days from the coast. I started the day with another 2000 foot climb over the ochoco mountain pass, the fifth one in three days. I loved it, spinning up the incline with music blasting through my headphones.

I put in a 92 mile day ending the town of Sisters. Snow capped peaks were visible beyound the brown stone buttes and scrub brush prarie. The terrain is enough for me to not even think about my millage or the headwind or the heat. I am just enjoying it all.

Steve, who I'd been riding with for the last couple days cut his day short in prineville. It was good to have his company for a while but i am too excited to slow down. I'll head to Eugene tomorrow leaving me just 70 miles from the beach.

Day 67 - Mitchell, OR

Woke up first thing in the morning and rode 87 miles to Mitchell, OR. The first half of the day was really easy heading downhill for most of it until Dayville. There was only a market open and I tried my luck with a microwavable chicken sandwich.

The second half of the day involved a gradual climb of 2000 feet over Keyes mountain pass. He road lead through an amazing gorge surrounded by ancient rock buttes. Oregon is just getting better the more I ride through.

Mitchell is a cool small town, just one road with a market and a restaurant and a few other necessities. There was a self-proclaimed hobo with a long beard sitting outside outside on a park bench. There isn't much to do in town, but you can do anyhing you want.

Day 66 - Prarie City, OR

I climbed over three mountain passes in a headwind today today to reach Prarie city, just 66 miles away. The heat thankfully broke and for the first time in a week it was actually cool in the morning, perfect for climbing the 4000 feet of total elevation.




There were no resources along the way keeping me on my bike until I reached town for hearty lunch. I've pitched my tent at a local campsite and am looking forward to a quiet evening in this 100 person town.

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Day 64, 65 - Baker City, OR

I died of dysentery.

Just kidding. Baker City is an historic town on the Oregon Trail and I just can't stop thinking about playing that game on the Apple IIe when I was a kid.

As some readers have probably noticed, I have been sporadic with this blog lately. It has been harder to write daily posts these days due to: having no cell service; being too tired at the end of the day; or being more interested in having new experiences than writing about them. The good news is I have sat in the Baker City library for most of today catching up so that my future posts will be real-ish time as finish out my trip within the next week. There is just 417 miles from here to the coast! However, there are 5 mountain passes to deal with along the way.

I have been riding with Steve, a super fit and adventurous 62 year old from Minnesota who has been involved with parks and rec and a number of nature conservation initiatives.

Day 63 - Halfway, OR

I knew the day was going to be great when the waitress at the cafe reached down below the counter, pulled out a gun and fired at me. The projectile, a dart, sailed passed me landing on the floor. "Alright" she said, reached down under the counter pulled out bigger gun, loaded it with a marshmallow pumped it up and fired hitting me right in the chest from 20 feet out. The whole dinner broke into laughter. That's what you get for convincing the cook to ring the triangle when your order is up at Bucky's Cafe.

I headed out along 71 making a 1500 foot climb to summit a pass at around 5100 feet and than began a very long descent into, duh duh dahhhhh: Hell's Canyon. The waitress, who really liked me despite beaning me with a marshmallow, told me the Canyon is usually 5 degrees hotter than in town. I belated patted myself on the back for deciding not to ride through it in yesterday's heatwave.

The downhill was fantastic, twisting through stone passes along steep 7 percent grades. This is one of the few times on the trans-am bike trail where its better to be going the "wrong way," i.e. east to west.

After several miles I turned a corner to see the expanse of the Snake River flowing along the floor of Hell's Canyon. The road followed along the river passed the Oxbow damn where I crossed into Oregon, the 14th state of my trip. Oregon! The final frontier. The last state of my trip. I was so happy to see that sign.

I stopped at the only rest stop in the canyon to cool off. The thermometer read 100 degrees. They proprietor calmly told me that I wouldn't have made it through yesterday -- to damn hot. Steve caught up with me and in another 10 miles we were in the town of Halfway having a late lunch. Halfway to where? To another stagecoach stop in the olden days, which is how it got its name.

Steve had mentioned that Inga, his warm shower host, told him she had plenty of room and sounded laid back so I decided to show up at her door, having had no luck reaching her on the phone for past day. We rolled down a long dirt driveway two miles out of town up to an old farm house. A tall blond woman came to the fence saying hello and that it had slipped her mind to call me back but there would be no problem staying there. She immediately start shooting deadpan jokes our way, telling me she had a lovely ditch to bathe in and that the hay bales in her barn would make a lovely bed for us tonight. In the middle of the relentless joking she mentioned she used to race bikes in the past. I didn't think much of it.

After our greeting she went back inside to tend to some house guests and I took a walk around the yard. I stepped into an open barn off to the side and high up in the rafters were hanging 10 or so different racing bikes, most all with steel frames from the 80s. I walked under one bike to find her name embossed on the top tube. Across the rafters hung a team 7-11 eddy merckx bike. A light went off in my head. When she said racing she meant in the Olympics, holding world records, and winning national championships kind of way.

She fixed us some margaritas and we sat on her front porch as she told us stories of her career and what it was like raising horses and keeping an old farm. Steve and I were just giddy with the incredible luck of meeting someone as cool as Inga while on the road. We all drove into town for a first class dinner and wound the night up back on her porch, relaxing and trading stories.

After two months on the road I was mentally and physically exhausted and began to feel like i wanted to end my trip as soon as possible. This chance encounter completely revitalized me and got me excited again to be out on the road. Experiences like these are nothing short of magic.

Day 62 - Cambridge, ID

I headed out in the morning riding 40 miles down the road to the old logging town of Cambridge, ID. Along the way logging trucks, stocked with 12 or 13 large tree trunks on their beds whizzed by me, occasionally laying into their incredible loud air horns. My intention was to ride another 40 miles to Oxbow. I pulled into town at 2pm a figured I would have lunch and hang out in the Library to avoid some of the afternoon heat. One shop in town posted 100 degrees on its scrolling ticker. Ouch.

After two hours of waiting around i stepped back into the afternoon heat and if felt not one degree cooler, though the thermometer now read 99 degrees. I stopped in the cafe for a drink and noticed on the heat advisory warning on the TV. This was all the convincing i needed to make this a short day and stay in Cambridge for the night.

While outside I bumped into Steve, one of the 4 riders I met in Riggins the other day. He was looking to put in some more miles and was now a day ahead of his friend. We had a beer that night at the saloon and planned to ride together to Halfway in the morning where he had arranged to stay with a warm showers.

Day 61 - New Meadows, ID

I no longer have to cool comfortable weather of Yellowstone and Montana and I miss it. I continued along route 95 following the Salmon river to the town of Riggins where I met 4 other people on tour. They were all spending the night in town and I was contemplating to do the same after feeling the temperature shoot up into the 90s. I had a burger and a milkshake at a local cafe and afterward couldn't help feeling like a million bucks, Jumped back on my bike and headed for New Meadows another 42 miles and 2000 feet in elevation away.

10 minutes into the ride i had my shirt off and was sweating profusely. The sun seemed to get stronger in the late afternoon. I powered up the inclines, needing to take a few breaks before reaching the very small and sleepy town of New Meadows where I had a steak dinner special at the local bar and crashed right after, totally wiped from riding in the heat.

Day 60 - Grangeville, ID

I rode down along the Lochsa river I to Kooskia for breakfast the fred flintstone would have been happy with. The ommlette covered a dining platter and the pancackes looked like flattened basketballs. This was one of the few times I could not clear my plate on this trip.

I had been trying to decide whether to head into Washington or continue south in Idaho along the transam. I friendly local covinced me to head south declaing the the way to Baker City Oregon was the most beautiful in the Country.

Through led me through more green terrain and I noticed the heat intensified along my lower elevations. I followed along the Salmon river until reaching the small town of grangeville where I called it a night and leaving a 2000 foot mountain pass for the morning.

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Day 59 - Near Lowell, ID

Well rested and full of life from my visit with Bob and his family I headed out of Missoula and onto route 12. My plan was to head up over Lolo pass and down along the Lochsa river for as far as I close as I could get to Kooskia a 147 miles away.

Route 12 started out flat leading me through forest and surrounding mountians. I began to climb the reasonable grade in the cool afternoon air and about half way decided to take lunch, sitting on a barrier and eating half of my footlong subway sandwich. With just a little more effort I was at the summit and had crossed into Idaho, the 13th state of the trip.

After refilling my water bottles at the rest stop I began a long beautiful decsent into the lush green valley bellow. The winding roadway carved into the mountian was visible far off in the distance. As I flew down I passed other bicyclists grinding their gears on their way up, a much tougher approach to the summit than my own.




The steep decsent yeilded to a more gradual one and the road began to follow the beautiful pristine Lochsa river. The shallow water of the river wound it's way over a rocky bed with dense national forrest surrounding it's shorline.




70 miles into my day I decided to take a break and hike up to the Jerry Johnson hotsprings. I traversed the river over a cable and wood suspension bridge and followed 1.5 mile long through the woods. Old cedars lined the way.majestic olde Cedar trees.

A good size pool contained by surrounding boulders sat next to a small stream. I put my bathing suit on and stepped into the 100 degree water, slowly submerging my limbs until I was comfortable sitting on the sandy floor of the pool. The water was cyrstal clear and without any sulfer smell and felt great on my overworked legs.




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Day 57, 58 - Missoula, MT

In the morning I made a relatively easy decision to cut 200 bicycle miles off my trip and drive from Bozeman to Missoula to spend time with my good friend Bob and his family before they moved to DC. After riding 3200+ miles (enough to span the US on the southern tier) I realized I'm no longer worried about "making it", but rather how I can make the journey better.

Bob is one of the inspirations for my trip having told me countless amazing stories from his childhood in Missoula. We had a blast catching up on each others lives, hanging out at the Salish Pow Wow, watching the fireworks and lighting off a bunch of our own.

Day 56 - Bozeman, MT

I was hoping to pull of some big days to catch Bob and his family in Missoula before they left for DC. I got up at 6am and hit the road shortly after. I stepped out into a freezing cold morning for July and put on my leg warmers and gloves for the first time since i began the trip in early may. Clouds covered the sky and a light drizzle fell. As soon as i left town a headwind kicked up slowing me to a crawl and making my hands numb from the chill. It took me close to an hour and a half to make the turn ten miles down the road.

I headed onto a dirt road and began riding up a hill. The dirt turned to gravel and the gravel turned to good size throwing stones. I kept on riding, jumping all over the road to avoid large stone piles. I passed a woman and man in a driveway who gave bewildered stares. As the grade increased it became more difficult to hand difficulty and eventually I had to get off and start walking. I got my route from google which has lead me wrong before and I decided to loose a bunch of altitude by riding back down to the people in the driveway to get a second opinion.

"This road leads way up the mountain and eventually turns into a mountain bike trail with no outlet." I was glad i cam back down.
"Did you notice a dead end sign right when you came in? There's an old man who bought up a bunch of property around here and put that sign up to confuse people into not driving through." Great! Glad i asked.

I scurried back down the hill, made the turn which was also marked as a "private road" and followed a dirt path for 3 miles until i was finally back on pavement. The road was tolerable but the headwind was not. I kept fighting for speed but getting nowhere. With about 10 miles to go I felt my steering being a bit sluggish. My front tire had gotten a flat. I the tire looked a bit compromised but was able to take a new tube. I finally started back again and after a whopping 5 hours I had ridden 30 miles to make it into Bozeman.


I had been feeling a bit off during the day an thought i might have been the chill from the cold morning or perhaps some food I ate. I was just a bit dizzy. Next thing I know I'm on the ground. I had hit a parked car with one of my bags and flew off the bike. Luckily, I did no harm to myself of the car, but took it as a sign to call it a day and spend the night in Bozeman.

Day 55 - Livingston, MT

I woke up extra early and packed down my tent and gear excited to see more of Yellowstone. After spending the day before on the east side I decided to cut over and ride the west side of the upper loop of the park. The temperature is quite cool in the morning, perfect for riding and my legs felt pretty strong. The shoulder of the road disappeared 7 miles into my ride but luckily encountered little traffic and almost no RVs, the transportation of choice in yellowstone. I passed through another valley again with bison strewn across the fields. At one point there were large rock caves just off the side of the road, which i didn't bother to inspect.

Though i was gaining elevation I didn't particularly notice and i was well into the 21 mile stretch to Mammoth. I turned a corner to realize i was at the top of a high mountain pass looking down into huge canyon below. The road carved into the stone mountain side winded its way down below. I attempted to video parts of my descent managing to keep on the narrow road as the cars drove past. I sailed along a few miles of downhill until i saw a sign for the Mammoth Hot springs and turned into see the jewel of Yellowstone.

A vast array of thermal pools are spread out over the side of a stone hill. Over thousands of years the springs have bubbled up stone and minerals leaving deposits along the waters path, creating the effect of a stone watterfal. The springs themselves contained deep blue pools of water and dark red stone. They were really amazing to look.

I got to Mammoth lodge by noon with tons of energy left so I decided to push on out of the park. The road continued along a steep downhill following the Yellowstone river where I cruised at 45 mph keeping up with a few motorcycles next to me. Along the way i passed the 45th parallel and the state Montana state line, the 13th state of my trip. I stopped int he town of, a poor looking town seemingly propped up by the run off tourism of yellowstone to get a bit to eat and internet access. A cafe charged $2:50 for the net. Not for 20 minutes, or an hour, but the whole day.

I call my good friend Bob who lives in Missoula and I am eager to see before he and his family move to DC. My original plan was to get there on the 4th but the extra time spent in Yellowstone has put me off that time frame. I decided to ride another 55 miles to Livingston before they day was through, hoping the my legs, the hills and the wind would all cooperate.

Just before leaving town I got a text from Ryan saying he had left the park on the west side and was in West Yellowstone. I know this likely much meant the end of tour together after riding some 3000+ miles. We were tracking for different destinations and would be splitting up at some point. Now seemed as good as any.

I hoped on my bike at 3:30 and headed out of town along the Yellowstone river. I had brief moment of panic about an oppressive headwind as I saw the grass bend back in forth in a strong breeze. Then suddenly i didn't notice any wind at all; it was all behind me. Quickly i was up to 30 mph cruising along with little effort. I sat upright leaning on the top of my handlebars letting wind push me along, at some points running out of gears to keep up with the the wind allowed. Mile marks passed by with frequency. In two hours I had knocked out 50 miles and was just 4 miles out of town when the wind did an about face and slowed me to a crawl. I pushed my way into town and decided to not press my luck by continuing to Bozeman.

In the evening I caught my first rodeo which was a blast to see after hearing bull riding stories from a cowboy in colorado. Folks were decked out in there wranglers and cowboy hats, buying beers by the six pack laughing at the antics of the clown in the ring between events. I got close look at the roping contest and was truly impressed with the riders' ability to maneuver a horse at full speed.

Day 54 - Yellowstone Park, WY

The Yellowstone roadway is a large figure eight and we knew we weren't going to ecompass all of it. After some debate we took the east side route skipping old faithful and the other gueysers in favor of riding along the lake and through Hayden valley. "see old faithful when you are 70 with your grandkids" one guy who camped in the park told me and I took it to heart.

The morning was beautiful and cool as I rode along the tree lined lake from Grant Village. The road took me up over several hills as I spun along enjoying the view of yellowstone lake and the mountains behind it.

I passed several areas of trees which had been burned in a forrest fire. I had learned this is good overall for the forrest to prevent feul build up. In addition the lodgepol pine tree will reseed the ground with one type of cone which opens up only under extreme heat. Fires were always a part of the forrest and he trees have adapted.




I entered Hayden valley, a huge open and rolling clearing along a river with up to two miles of visibility. Herds of Bison sprinkled the hillside. Some sat right by the road side resting under the trees without the faintest care for the passing tourists. These massive animals are around 2000 lbs and have to give themselves a coulpe heave ho's to get themselves back on their feet.

I stopped along the route to spy a grizzley bear and two of her cubs through binoculars I borrowed from one of the several people watching them. A little ways beyond a coyote lazed about in the grass, unaware of all the watching eyes.




I approached south rim road and rode up a steep hill with the promise of a great views of Yellowstone grand canyon. Iwas not dissapointed. I stopped at uncle toms trail which lead me down a steep series of metal stairs halfway down to the base of the lower falls which spilled volumes of water over ancient stone down into the canyon river below.




I continued along a foot trail for 1.5 miles along the rim of the massive canyon. The stone along it's walls where brown and an ochre yellow ( hence the name) stained from minerals and other geothermal activity. The foot path was slight at points runing right along the edge of the canyon. Trees on the edge of the cliff had half of their roots exposed from the slow errosion.

I was so amazed by the canyon I decided to follow the north rim after hiking the south rim to experience it again.


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Day 53 - Yellowstone Park, WY

We layed into a breakfast buffet at the camp restaurant in the morning, piling our plates with heaps of food, perhaps out of fear that we wouldn't have other food opportunites down the road.

We continued north out of Teton park going up and down a winding road, thick forrest all around us. A few miles before the Yellowstone park entrance I took on a large decsent into this spectacularly huge open valley. Nothing but open undisturbed woods surrounded me and the consideration that this land has been kept largely the same since it's formation 600,000 years ago held a powerful grip on my imagination.

I met up with Ryan near Flagg Ranch. He suggested we visit a camp he was told about by a women in Lander so we headed down a dirt road, across a low creek and into a camp where we met Jim, a horse wrangler with long whispy hair and a bushy mustache. He was kind to talk to us as he shod one of his horses, telling us about how his father started the camp after WWII. His love for his horses is subsidized by hauling trees off the mountain in the fall and being a "snow farmer", someon who lays snow making equipment on a ski mountain, in the winter. "Its gorgeous here, but you can't eat the scenery" he told us.

After entering yellowstone park we rode up to Grant Village and decided to camp their for the night. We new we would be slowing down our pace to enjoy the park and 40 miles on the day seemed pretty good. After setting up my tent I decided to ride up the road 2 miles to west thumb to check out the thermal pools. All of the where spread out alon the shore of Yellowstone lake, some with deep red stone and rich blue water. A strong smell of sulfer wafted through the air. As I came down the wooden walkway a large Elk walked across my path to reach a small shrub which she began to nibble at. I ended the day with a mile hike up a hillside to gain a full view of Yellowstone lake and the mountains beyond, well worth the effort.




I returned to camp to have a wonderful meal at the restaurant right on the shore of yellowstone lake at sunset.

Day 52 - Grand Teton Park, WY

I was beaming with energy at the start of the day from all the extra rest and the prospect of reaching Grand Teton park by the afternoon. Grand Teton and Yellowstone parks loomed in the back of my imagination for most of the trip and were the main reason for turning north at Colorado instead of continuing west.

We had about 50 miles along route 287 taking us over Togwotee pass, a 9658 foot peak which we began to ascend shortly after leaving town.

My legs happily began to spin up the climb in the cool dry mountain air. Timber lined ridges with stone outcroppings surrounded the view. My excitement grew as I approached the top.

The road flattened and i noticed 4 cars waiting in front a construction worker holding a stop sign. The young guy holding the sign waved me over and explained that the road was being worked on and that the pilot truck leading cars back and forth would be have to take me and my bike down the road.

I paniced that i would be robbed of one of the most dramatic stretches of road on the trip. Luckily the free ride was only a couple miles. "Watch out for the Griz" Jack the driver told me. "We see 8 or 9 a week in broad daylight up here". I thought about the 3 pb&j sandwiches I had packed in my bag.




Back on my bike I began the long decsent down the pass cruising along at 33 mph. In a moment the tree line cleared on my left side and I saw the majestic Teton mountain range off in the distant. Large dark stone mountains with snowy creases jutted up into the air. The Grand Teton with it's pyramidal top extended high into the sky with small clouds danced around it's peak.

We continued on along the flat road into Teton park and into the dense forrest it preserves, the teton mountian range and ever present backdrop. We stopped in Jackson lake lodge, an architechtual mastepiece with it's grand 3 story high hall with its towering windows framing the Tetons an had lunch.

We continued into Colter Bay Village, another full service lodge and campsite right on Jackson Lake. John Colter was a fur trapper on the Lewis and Clark expidition and the first westerner to see this part of the country. We pitched out tents at camp and and carefully separated all our food and toilletries into separate bags to be stored in large metal bear boxes.




I headed back to the lake to enjoy it's beauty at sunset. The Forrest was thick and quiet and provided the best night of camping thus far despite falling asleep with the mild worry that I missed some candybar or bag of peanuts hiding in the clothes i use as a pillow and that a bear, smelling it's sweet sent would rip my head off to get at it.

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Day 51 - Rest Day in Dubois

Ryan needed a rest day to heal a pulled muscle in his calf which I took as an opportunity to catch up on mail laundry and rest myself.

After a day of errands in town I moved over to the cowboy bar (real name) for a beer and met Dean who works for the power company driving around the mountains each day. He told me how to get a pickup across a river, how he's lost a truck off the side of a snowy mountain road and that the loaded pistol he carries in his glove compartment is his bear spray.

Into the bar came 4 men all in white cowboy hats, worn blue jeans and crisply pressed wrangler shirts. They all looked differet but each had strong jaws, distinguished laugh lines along their cheeks and big chins. Two of them had spurs off he back of their boots. I thought to myself: damn all of these guys look like Marlboro men. Dean piped up: "they're Marlboro men. They come every summer to shot commercials out here". I laughed at the coincidence.

"But they're dudes. They ain't no cowboys, that's for sure. Lucky if they could ride a horse". He continued. "Dudes don't know how to do anything except look pretty"

Day 50 - Dubois, WY

We had a 75 mile day planned along 287 to Dubois (pronounced doo-boys). We gained more than a thousand feet of altittude, but I barely noticed with the road rolling over climbs and decsents all day.

Lush green grass and brush ran along the red stone cliffs, some reaching over 200 feet high. Every so often a ranch would sit tucked in by the hillside and i wondered what life must be like in such a beautiful yet remote area.




About 2 or 3 miles before the junction if route 26 I encountered a steep downhill, the road twisting through the most alien terrain I have seen. Red and biege bolder with green tint spilled along the hillside and into a canyon below. The road slightly elevated, snaked through the boulder beds almost appearing to hover. I raced down road with a quick feeling of disconnect, as though I could have been travling on a different planet.

The hills became more subtle as I reached Dubois, another small town with a look left over from the frontier days, timber framed stores, wooden sidewalks and old neon marquees. A man in a vest and sleeves sat at an upright piano outside one store playing rags. Men eating at a local estaurant donned long moustache reaching down to their jowls.

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Day 49 - Rest Day in Lander, WY

Ryan's friend Lilly came for a visit in Lander so we spent an extra day in town, which I was happy to have after having a tough ride. After sleeping 10 hours I drifted around town stopping in some shops and replenishing my PB&J supplies. There is good great bike shop and outfitter on main with friendly folks.

I had a killer burger at the Gannet grill and along with a couple local Lander beers (Stout was aces) and chatted up some locals for a while.




In the evening we drove 15 miles north in Lilly's car into the wind river reservation to check out the Eastern Shoshone Indian Days, a pow wow taking place over the weekend. Cars jammed the parking lot indicating a big gathering. The festivities took place around a large grass circle with bench seating underneath a roof along the outer ring. Outside the ring vendors sold Navajo tacos, burgers, smoked turkey legs and other food as well as handcrafts and clothes.




Families walked around the grounds, some kids in dress waiting to take the field to dance.
Teenagers stood in packs wearing baggy jeans, basketball jerseys and dark shades, their long back hair pulled back tight in pony tails.


"Are you ready to pow wow" an announcer with a booming voice called. Just were I was standing 5 men seated around a large animal skin drum each holding long drumsticks with cloth heads began to sound a beat and chant in their native tongue. Turns were taken to lead the song. The chanter would press his finger to his ear, perhaps trying to hear his own voice over the drum. Every so often one man would come over the top of the driving rhtythym with heavy strikes on the drum. Old men with portable tape recorders held them up, their crooked thumbs simultaneously holding down the play and record buttons. Some held there cell phones toward the circle and I joined taking small sound recordings of music I had never heard before.

In the center of the field men, women and children danced in a circle. Some had elaborate feathered headresses and beaded costumes, some in simple street clothes. They would take all their weight lunging on one leg, step back and lunge on the other leg.

The announcer sounded again calling out a different nation and the drum and song passed from one circle to another until it had made it's way all te way around the ring.