Yearly Archives: 2015

I can see clearly now the rain is gone… sort of

So, we survived the thunderstorm, and yes everyone, Beefy was saved too. As Jim pulled his car over in the sideways rain, and Stink ran up to secure our escape, I was busy un-bungeeing his mailbox, and grabbing his food. When I ran to the waiting car & jumped in, I made no explanation of the mailbox… sometimes there just isn’t a good way to bring up the fact that you’ve got a smelly ol’ rodent tagging along with you.

nobody loves me, boo-hoo

The morning after the storm, I was feeling a bit dazed. In spite of the very real danger we had been in, no lasting damage was made (besides a gnarly scratch in the paint on Stink’s bike from loading it up into the truck in a still raging storm). It was just like any other morning, which I found kind of disconcerting. To combat this slight uneasiness I drank two large cups of surprisingly good gas station coffee, and self-medicated with a boxed cherry pie. After chowing down and chatting with a tour-bus tourist from down under (who I couldn’t always understand and who ended many a sentence with a echoing, “hey?”), I was feeling better. The storm was over, the sky was blue, and life goes on.

We road out to a little town called Sundance, and sat out in front of the grocery mart, eating saltines with ketchup as an appetizer, moving on to the main dish of lunch, banana bagels with peanut butter and jelly and sliced bananas on top (bbpb&jb’s for short). This has pretty much been the staple since we started riding a month ago. Still not tired of it!

such precious milk packaging I have never seen before

After going inside the mart, with me getting two boxed pies, a cliff bar, and tub of discounted strawberry frosting (I tried to get Stink to convince me to not get the frosting, but she only said, “You could put in on those unfrosted poptarts…” Extremely unhelpful. Very delicious), and Stink getting a tub of quick-sale somewhat gross “humus”, and a tiny precious miniature jug of milk, we went back outside and gorged on cookies…

Okay, folks, I’m sorry that this is 90% about food. This has got to be the weirdest foodblog out there. I’d try to refrain from food stories, but who am I kidding?

This is from a different day, but seriously, I can’t stop eating these tiny pies. JJ’s bakery needs to sponsor me.

We rolled over to the local tennis court/basketball court/skatepark and immediately fell into a food coma nap on the quarter pipe. I was awoken by Stink standing over me saying that there was a severe storm warning for the area. I thought it was a joke at first, considering that the night previous was DeathStorm ’15, but once I realized that she wasn’t kidding, I hopped & prepared to leave with a bit more speed than usual… I wasn’t ready for a repeat.

uhm. I was not aware this picture was snapped of me napping at the skatepark…

We biked out, and soon reached the Wyoming/South Dakota border. Even with the threat of storm, we stopped to take our obligatory new state photo. We got a gal to take our photo for us, and she steadfastly refused to acknowledge the presence of a rat in my arms. During the impromptu photoshoot, I noticed that my back tire was going flat, so I located the wire still protruding from the sidewall of the tire & Stink did a quick patchjob. As soon as we got back on the road, it was flat again. Another hole was located & patched, and we went on, hoping the series of bad luck was a farewell from Wyoming and not a greeting from South Dakota…

and great, a flat. 🙁

Unfortunately, just as we were getting to the South Dakota Visitors Center, it went flat again. We pulled in, I did an exhaustive check & patch, and we continued.

uhm, no idea where or when this picture was from, but I’m just gunna stick it riiiiight here.

Ten more miles down the road, it was going flat again… As it was a slow leak, I pumped it up & hoped to limp on in to Spearfish where I could easier deal with the situation. We made it to town and I had to pump it up again before we could find a park to camp out in. Everlasting flats like these are a drain. I put in my spare tube & in the fading light, thoroughly checked for any thorns or wires that still might be lurking in the tire. No luck, but there wasn’t much more I could do. One final inflation of the new tube, and I was dog tired & ready for dinner & bed. We watched the lightning flare up around us as we ate in the relative safety of the park pavilion, and soon crawled to bed underneath the centermost picnic tables in attempt to avoid wind blown rain from the coming storm. I wanted to stay up & watch as it crashed around us, but quickly fell asleep.

it’s a trade-off

In the morning, we went to a coffee shop… then literally loitered there for like 6 hours, writing, blogging, and refilling our coffees. Leaving Spearfish we headed to Deadwood so that we could get on the George Mickelson Trail. This is 108 miles of old railway converted to gravel bike path that was on the list of must do’s for the tour. We stopped at a Family Dollar on our way to the trailhead, and I got a bag of extremely orange, extremely off brand BBQ flavored fritos. The guy who was checking out in front of me gave me his coins (much appreciated) and when I got outside, we all started chatting as he devoured three cheese sticks. Stink & I both agreed later that the manner in which he did so was bad ass. He was one of the first people to ride the trail, and as a mountain biker, he said it was boring and that we’d love it. Too true.

As we got onto the trail, it was packed gravel but the uphill was discouraging. We went about five miles that evening before stopping, cooking dinner, and zonking out. In the morning we woke to the sounds of cyclists crunching by on the path. We packed up and as we were eating breakfast, met a mom & her two kids who had been biking the whole trail, from south to north. The mom was a rat person too and had spied Beefy running around on the picnic tables. He’s always making new friends…

glamour shot of the hunq on the trail

We starting biking and were quite impressed with the trail. The lady at the visitor’s center in Deadwood had tried to convince us to skip the first part of the trail & take the highway… We wondered about her sanity as the miles rolled by, beautiful & free of cars, trucks, and motorcycles. There were cows though, and at one point a herd was blocking our path. Another group of cyclists had stopped to wait it out, but I opted to slowly make my way through the cattle, and after a brief standoff with a young bull, us cyclists had secured our rightful place on the path.

At one point, my back tire started going low again. Stink pulled the tire off the rim and turned it completely inside out to find the tiny hidden wire that was repeat offender while I patched the tube. Finally, flat free!

some views from the trail. there were tunnels and trestles and slow curves with shallow grades, quite nice, quite nice.

As we neared Hill City, we began to see people’s backyards, and then in what seemed like seconds, we were in a bustling tourist town, with throngs of people everywhere. We were in shock, having just been alone in the woods for hours. We found a bench at the dinky end of town and snacked & people watched for a bit. Most folks were there to see Mount Rushmore or go to Sturgis, so it was quite a mixed crowd.

We went to a grocerymart on the way out of town, were we met some folks who were from Gillette and had read the article in the paper about us, though mis-remembered Beef as being an iguana… Understandable, I suppose.

here’s the article, by the way. click for full size I think…

Beeeeify!

We camped that night at a picnic table/shelter on the trail, a definite no-no for camping, but a total yes-yes for staying out of any storms heading our way, and for not having to put the tent up.

We stopped for lunch and rat snuggles at one of the other shelters earlier in the day.

In the morning, we rode out to Pringle then got off the trail, somewhat reluctantly getting back on the highway so that we could head towards Nebraska. We rode out to Hot Springs, lunched in the shade under a tree in the park, and Beef ran around, tunneling in the grass. We went to Dairy Queen afterwards for loitering and for Stink to get a blizzard… and eat it… right there in front of me… Blizzards may or may not be one of the things i still miss from before going vegan.

We rode on in the heat to Oelrichs, South Dakota, just miles from the Nebraska border. As we turned off the highway and onto the gravel roads of the town, I noticed a few mosquitoes biting at my leg, and swatted them away. This was just a taste of things to come. We found some picnic tables at the town school and sat down to cook dinner, and more and more mosquitoes swarmed around, making dinner of us. There would be five or six landing on you at a time… It was miserable; I think I really hate mosquitoes.

As we endured the torture and attempted to eat dinner, a local lady came by to chat with us, and after hearing our intentions or traveling across the border and to Chadron in the morning, informed us that both the bridge four miles out of town, and the one 24 miles away in Nebraska, were probably going to flood overnight. The heavy rains had swollen the rivers… and created large pools of standing water, hence all the mosquitoes.

So, with a little bit of glee about having a good reason for needing to leave the mosquito infested town, we decided to head out after dinner, to make it across the bridges so that we weren’t stranded in South Dakota the next day. With storms once again on the horizon, we set out.

…the good life.

There was a magnificent sunset behind us, but also, massive cloud systems and flashes of lightning. As we were riding, we could outrun the mosquitoes on the straight aways and downhills, but they would keep pace with us struggling to speed uphill. We were getting bitten through clothes, unable to do anything but swat, swat, swat, and ride on. We got to the border in the growing dusk, snapped a quick picture, the mosquitoes delighted at having stationary hosts.

We knew there was just 12 more miles to get to the bridge, so we sped on in the growing dark (yes to all concerned readers, we put our lights on & were being careful). As the storm crept up behind us, we finally reached the flooded White River, which thankfully hadn’t yet covered the bridge. Still not sure if it ever did get over, but glad we got past it all the same.

There were about 10 miles from the bridge to Chadron, and we hoped to reach it before the storm reached us, but it was to no avail. With just four miles to go, the lightning starting getting a bit too close for comfort, and we pulled off the road, leaned the bikes against a fence and hastily threw up the tent in the ditch, grabbed Beefy, and hopped in.

I also managed to grab a clif bar and chicostick, so we lay in the soggy tent, illuminated at intervals by bright lightning flashes, munching treats, listening to the rain soak the tent and thunder booming in our chests, and letting Beef scamper around. We were debating whether to wait out the storm and push on to Chadron after it abetted, or to just crash for the night. Once it settled down, I asked Stink if she was still up for going on, but she’d already zonked. Don’t blame her, I was nearly there myself, having had a long 90-plus mile day behind us, and soon also fell asleep.

soggums

In the morning I was sleepy, soggy, and hungry. We rolled the remaining four miles into town and stopped at the Wal-Mart at seven in the morning. I roamed the aisles, knowing I should just go outside and eat a bagel for breakfast, but my hunger-addled mind convinced me to get $1 bag of off brand coco roos. I had a discount chocolate almond milk in my pack that I figured I could pair with chocolatey cereal. I sat on the bench outside and ate the entire bag. Soon, I realized my mistake, as my stomach churned. I barely held off barfing as I slowly peddled the two miles to a church in town that Stink was wanting to attend.

Heading inside, I looked like hell, felt like it too. I slunk down in a chair next to Stink, and fought nausea and exhaustion (didn’t sleep too well that night either). As soon as service began, I zonked out, chin on my chest, hopefully not snoring. After service finished up, I was feeling a bit better; at least good good enough to get some coffee from the foyer. But, as I grabbed a cup and attempted to pump some liquid energy from one of the carafes, I found it empty. The man rinsing some other empty catafes out at the sink suggested getting some hot water for tea. I took his advice and sat down with a hot cup of chamomile tea, and started chatting with his wife. They handled all the refreshments, and after a bit of small talk, it came out that we were biking through town.

She told her husband what we were up to, then invited us out to lunch at the local diner. Such an offer we couldn’t refuse, and somewhat bashfully accepted. They let us park the bikes inside, met Beef, and then drove us down the road to the restaurant. Their names were Juanita and Donny Whittecar (whit-e-car, mind you), and lived just 10 miles out of town. Over an excellent lunch, we talked about all sorts of things; family, hometowns, and our bike trip. We entertained with tales from the road and we gobbled, me eating slower than usual with my still somewhat churning stomach. Juanita then offered to let us stay at their place, and after a bit of thought, we jumped at the opportunity of a night inside (and mosquito free).

Doesn’t this just look like it could be a picture of your grandparents??

They took us back to church, and they headed on home, while we rode to a closed storefront to make calls home and wait out a small rain cloud that was passing overhead. Soon we hopped on the bikes and after a brief ride, arrived at the Whittecars, a cozy paradise. We laid tent and tarps out to dry, and took some much needed showers, and talked with our gracious hosts. That evening Juanita whipped up some veggies and baked potatoes, while Donny manned the grill and brought out a couple steaks. For our part, we ate with gusto, then munched on half a package of cookies and had a (surprisingly vegan!) pie for dessert. We stayed up late talking with these folks who felt like our new adopted grandparents. The bed in the guest bedroom was unbelievably comfy, and like falling into a cloud, I slipped into a deep sleep.

The morning brought breakfast of cheerios, (no more coco puffs for me, thank you very much), ripe (not overripe like I always buy on discount) bananas, and coffee. I may or may not have snuck a few more cookies and a piece of pie in there as well…

We slowly and a bit reluctantly packed up, and Donny & Juanita supplied us with a can of bug repellent (thank you! thank you!) and the air compressor to make sure both us and our trusty wheels were ready to hit the road. Some pictures, some hugs, some thank yous, and then some waves as we rolled down the driveway and back onto the road. Meeting such friendly folks like that leaves you feeling refreshed and renewed, and we rolled along just fine.

We stoped for lunch, and perhaps a couple of little boxed pies in Gordon, then continued on to our planned destination of Merriman. It was still a bit early in afternoon when we arrived, and when we found a somewhat defunct little town, we weren’t really feeling it. We decided to head on an extra 18 miles up into Martin, South Dakota for the night. The road was good, and so was the weather, and we soon found ourselves at a Dairy Queen sharing fries and cooking dinner on our portable stove in the outside seating area. We ate, and wrote, and relaxed, eventually pitching the tent out back by the dumpster that night.

In the morning we rose early, and trekked over to the gas station to eat cliff bars for breakfast and get a start before the heat settled in. Miles on, we found a shady church to stop and lunch at, and watched our own version of Animal Planet (we get good tv on the road…) as a cute little she-chipmunk-critter skittered around and ate the bits of lunch Stink tossed out for her. Beef could have made a good impression on the little lady, but was too lazy and stayed in bed and ate his lunch alone. Not much of a ladies man.

where are your ears you cute little thing?

We continued on as the heat intensified, and gulped water as the miles flew by, the wind being in our favor for once. Kadoka eventually appeared on the horizon, and finally we arrived. Stink was about ready to pass out, and Beef wasn’t feeling to hot either (er, well, the opposite of that actually… oh, you know what I mean). We got water from the gas station and I put my head under the cool faucet in the bathroom. We were hungry and in need of a good loiter, so we voted to eat Subway sandwiches and chill out (literally. thank you air conditioning!).

A couple of hours in and Stink started getting a bit antsy as she spotted a large storm system on the horizon. We packed out and got a dose of headwind as we rode 11 miles on to Belvidere. Upon arrival, we wanted to leave. Another defunct little town, complete with mosquitoes and a closed down gas station. We opted to rather just ride on and camp out in a ditch alongside the highway.

Soon we began to see billboards advertising an “1880 Town!” complete with gas station. Sounded like our kind of joint. We slowly headed on and arrived and treated ourselves to a Twix bar for Stink, and (you guessed it) a tiny pie for me. Headwinds make you desire rewards such as these. We sat out at some picnic tables edging the tourist trap western themed compound and quickly cooked up some dinner before they locked the gates at 9 o’clock. We located some old hay bales to sneaky camp behind, and as the mosquitoes relentlessly attacked, quickly set up the tent and crawled inside.

I woke early as I could hear ranchers down the road, and not wanting a lecture (or gunshot), started packing up. Back to the ‘authentic’ 1880 town for bathrooms and water, and off we went, battling headwinds and 12 miles of roadwork to reach Mordo, where we knew there would be a truck stop(!) to loiter at. Sometimes you just need something to work towards.

When we got there, the decision was made that french fries and refillable diner coffee was sorely needed, so we stopped in at one and got our fill. The waitress was so sweet and brought out carafe after carafe, and we chatted with other patrons about our trip. After a good loiter, we visited the gas stations for entertainment and candy browsing (we don’t always buy, but we do always look). Finally we rode out, deciding to take the old highway paralleling the freeway, which was a fantastic choice, and it was nearly completely automobile free, and side by side riding & chatting was a viable option. Rain clouds threatened, then delivered their load, completely soaking us, but since the headwind was gone, the miles rolled by with us being soggy but content. We knew that another 20 miles would bring us to a new truck stop, which meant a dry place to sit for a bit & recoup.

Beef and I being totally cool at the Sinclair gas station we stopped for bbpb&jb’s at.

We arrived, ate lunch, and debated riding the 33 more miles to Pierre that evening, or to wait for morning to head out. We opted to leave the dry haven in a moment of excitement for our so called Christmas in June (Stink’s mom had sent us our next set of maps, and maybe even some jelly beans and other unknown goodies to the Pierre post office. We’ve been eagerly awaiting our arrival ever since we left, I think). We went outside, and as we were packing up in the drizzling rain, a burly old motorcycle dude expressed his awe at what we are attempting here. He was seriously shocked and impressed, and told us we were incredible. Talk about an ego boost. He took a picture of us in front of our loaded bikes with a disposable camera, surely to end up in some sort of bad ass biker dude scrapbook.

We finally mounted the bikes, and rode out into the rain, excited at the prospect of reaching Pierre, and maybe putting on some dry socks. We got 22 miles in before we stopped, with achey knees, to sit and cook dinner on a spit of gravel next to the highway. As we prepared to eat, a car stopped, then backed up, with us thinking, “oh boy, what’s this to be?” but it was just a couple of fellas from the diner earlier that day. We were happy to see them again, and one reached in a bag and pulled out a couple energy bars for us. We said our thanks and they wished us luck as they rolled back onto the road.

After dinner, with just 11 miles to go, we opted to save our knees, and popped up the tent in the wet tall grass. I had a chance to call family and catch up, before heading to snoozetown. In the morning, we woke up to continuing rain, but it abetted around 7, so we packed up in the reprise, and perkily headed out to Pierre! The miles went quickly, and soon we were in town and stopping at the Visitor’s Center for a potential free coffee and to map out our destinations (post office for the package, McDonald’s for the wifi, bike shop for new chains and a freewheel for my cycle, and to get the number of the local paper so we can continue to spread the word about Watsi).

just another day at the office.

We did an interview in the children’s play room of the McDonald’s right down the street, and had our pictures taken while sitting on hamburger shaped stools. Now, I believe you’re all caught up with our adventures, as I finish writing this and prepare to add pictures before we go pick up our package! So excited!

Continued love to you all, and hugs & kisses from Stink, Beef, and I.

So very sincerely,
Liz-bits

Quick update. . .

After writing our last blog update in the outdoor furnishings display at Smith’s Grocery, we noticed a large, black cloud mass in the distant Western sky. Can you see where this is going? We hadn’t done any miles that day . . . So we decided to try to outrun it. I might add that we were riding into a headwind, something that we welcomed because it seemed logical to assume the storm was traveling away from us. However, once we were just too far out of Gillette to turn around, we realized our mistake. Sky that is blue is nice, sky that is red/pink/purple/orange can be nice too– but sky that is green is another story. Lightening was behind us, and then to the right of us, then to the left of us, and then ahead of us, and then above us. We were flying down the road in our highest gear being pushed by the wind (which had changed direction) with rain and thunder at our backs. We had absolutely no place to get out of it, so we gritted our teeth and hoped to find an overpass. I could see one about a mile ahead and screamed at Lizzy–screamed because of the loud howling of the wind and the boom of the thunder overpowered me–to stop at the overpass. The phone wires overhead were whistling eerily as we tried to slow to a stop. We realized quickly that being under the overpass was more dangerous than out as it was the highest point on the pane. Lizzy tried to get Beef, but the wind was so strong I couldn’t hold on to her bike and mine at the same time.

Lizzy took charge and decided we needed to hitch to the nearest town. I might add that though I was aware of the danger, and a little bit terrified, I was hesitant to loose the magnificent tail wind we were experiencing. Once a cyclist always cyclist. At least Liz had her wits about her.

We laid our bikes down, grabbed a flashlight and flagged down a car (I might add several passed us). A nice man named Jim picked us up, we stared at each other wide eyed for a minute before he called his wife, CindySue, and said “honey, I’ve got two teenage girls in the car. I’m bringing them home–they look like drowned rats.”

After the adrenaline of the storm passed, Liz and I tried to determine how dangerous it really was. I’ve been in a few humdingers before, but this one was something else. I determined that if we were willing to dump everything that we owned on the side of the road and hop into a stranger’s car in the middle of no where with no questions asked, it must have been a bad one.

Jim and CindySue were our trail angels that night. Jim took us home, CindySue handed us hamburgers and warm clothes. Then Jim fired up the truck and drove with Liz back into the heart of the storm 15 miles to pick up our gear knowing our bikes wouldn’t be there in the morning.

We slept that night snug as a bug in a rug, with full bellies and warm hearts. Jim and CindySue are some great folks. She went out too that night, as she is the town Designated Driver. According to her, she’d rather drive someone home at 2am then have them try to drive themselves. She and Jim have 15 grand babies, and over 45 cousins back East and from the sound of it, live a full life.

Jim warned us that Wyoming is full of unsavory characters and psychopaths. I believe him, but fortunately not everyone is. I thank God for the blessing of these two folks who saved us that night and went above and beyond the call of hospitality by sharing their home with the three of us drowned rats. We are truly grateful.

P.S. We have since done a lot of research concerning lightening and biking.

Our first big storm before Gillette

Some remote places in Wyoming, near the cattledrive

Lizzy and I left Blaise’s house in Cody, WY around 1:30 in the afternoon with the goal of reaching Basin, a small town just out of Greybull that has an A&W, or in other words, a french fry opportunity. For the first time since we left we got a taste of summer, and we liked it. The road to Greybull is flattish, straightish, hottish, and quite beautiful. We saw antelope, cows, rocks, tour busses, an occasional dead thing. Riveting. We also happened upon some chill tourists named Martin and Lucas who have a very similar tour style to ours. They are currently riding around America, from Vancouver Canada to Arizona, and back up to Montreal Canada. (It’ll take them about a year, don’t know how far because they only speak kilometers) After a brief discussion regarding ditch camping legalities, the status of American rednecks and hospitality, and the road ahead in each our respective directions, we took off toward the possibility of french fries.

It was weird riding through that neck of the woods again. I’ve only been there once while riding to New York with daddy, but that was five years ago. I was kind of surprised by how much I remembered about the towns and the roads we were/have been riding through. Instead of stopping for fries we pushed on to a little grocery store and got a gigantic sack of Western Family double fudge sandwich cookies-a great value–which we of course are in front of the store with Beefy, making a special of ourselves.

Lizzy has been craving those little pocket pies that are sold at convenience stores and the like, but it is increasingly difficult to find the vegan variety. At one point, we went into the local Shopko to search for them. After wandering about the store in a stupor from both the excitement of being in civilization and our protruding double fudge cookie bellies, we gave up and filled our water bottles with the water fountain. As we were leaving, one of the employees asked us, “Did you feel strange getting water in there because you looked . . .” She trailed off but I ever so much wanted her to tell me what we looked like. We had a long conversation about what we were doing, how long we were doing it, how hard it was, and yes–we do take breaks. We both were hoping we’d instilled some sense of adventure into her because adventure is for everybody.

After a good long snack rest, we rode off to Basin, which turned out to be a really neat little town. We found some blackberries and decided to save them for morning oatmeal, and also decided to lock our bikes up in the park and walk around town. Small towns are the best, and there are few things that remind me of home more than warm evening town walks. We found a little Methodist church and decided to set up camp in their stoop so that we wouldn’t have to cover our bikes, or set up the tent. We meandered back to the park to pick up our gear when to our surprise, fright, and annoyance, the town mosquito fumigation truck blew past us. To those who don’t know, many small towns still have mosquito fumigation trucks that drive up and down the streets blowing a fog of filmy gas behind them. Oye and vey. I hope we don’t die from it.
We scooted our gear down to the church and after lugging Lizzy’s bike up the stairs we discovered that the stoop had a motion sensitive light. I knew that since I roll around a lot in my sleep, I would be perpetually setting off the light so we ended up doing our first cowboy camp in the church lawn. I might add that I did notice the grass was green and well watered, but decided that I was too sleepy to care about sprinklers. So when the sprinklers went off at 6, thankfully not 4, we were ready to hop up and move our gear back to the park to make oatmeal. And by golly, it was some darn tasty oatmeal.

When we left, we decided to stop by the town IGA to check for pies, and to my delight, I found a set of two, beautiful day old cake doughnuts for only a mere $.40. Deals like that don’t just happen anywhere, so of course I had to buy them. So though we were up and moving at 6, we got cookie munchy loiter and didn’t leave town until 9:30. In the process of eating a our junk food second breakfast, we met a man who is planning on riding his first tour, starting next week, from Wyoming to Alaska. We made sure to give him a hearty thumbs up, and some advice, which included: “put peanut butter on everything,” but more helpful advice would have been “find a way to laugh about everything.” Bike touring is a trick of the mind more than anything, in any circumstance, if you can lie to yourself and say “this is fun, and it’s really not that hard,” you will eventually believe it, and it will eventually no longer be a lie. That philosophy has gotten us over some chilly, steep, lonely terrain.

Ten Sleep canyon

The ride to Ten Sleep was quite long, quite hot, and quite nowhere. To give you perspective, I gave Lizzy a scene by scene, near word for word rendition of Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang complete with musical score and intermission, and by the time the ‘movie’ was over, we were about a third of the way to town. I’m fairly certain we were at the most remote of places we have been through since leaving. Maybe 30 cars passed us before we got to Ten Sleep.

Lizzy found the carcass of a 4 ft. rattlesnake which was exciting. I obtained my first real sunburn, and we also rode through a cattle drive. The cowfolks were not too impressed with us, and we’re not enthused with the prospect of us riding our loaded bikes, neon flags flapping in the breeze, through their herd of cows. One yelled at me to sign a waver before riding through, I wanted to yell back, “Maybe you shouldn’t park your cows in the road,” but that’s not really a fight you want to pick. Wisdom at work.

By the time we reached Ten Sleep–did I mention we had a head wind–we were both sore and tuckered. Also, we needed lunch badly. Neither of us was excited about the prospect of staring the Powder River Ascent, so we decided to loiter. I fell asleep eating half of my peanut butter banana bagel. I’ve become an expert at instantaneously falling asleep. We met a nice couple, Mandy and John, who talked to us about a famous Ten Sleep left handed guitarist, and life in Wyoming. Mandy told us about a brewery a mile away that was holding a pig roast. I told her Liz was vegan, so we probably wouldn’t go. She laughed and said she was vegetarian, and that John was Jewish, so they wouldn’t be there either. I really liked them.

We left to take on the Powder River Pass that the both of us had been dreading since we left. I knew what was coming, 40 miles of slowly creeping up to the 9,666 foot summit, and then a climb on the other side. The Powder River Pass–for reasons I can’t comprehend, nor do I think is physically possible, but is– has a steep climb on both sides. Also, it tricks your mind. Downhill looks like uphill and vice versa. I don’t like it. The first night we made it a little bit passed the switch backs before darkness and tireliness forced us to stop. We camped on the side of the road, and not a moment to soon. The sound of the zipper closing the tent marked the beginning of a long and steady drizzle.
The next morning we pushed to the top. The weather could not have been better, it was not to hot or too cold, but a true goldilocks morning. We ate the celebratory mandarins that Lizz had been packing since Washington, and met Britt and Shannon, a couple of traveling, retired teachers from Oklahoma (shout out to Owasso) who encouraged us with pistachios and gum!!

That’s right, 9,666 feet and still standing

We made it to Buffalo somehow. A man approached us at the grocery store, and told us that the Bible said if we ever fall in love with someone, we should force to him to give us a toenail. More great love advice from the road. Also, not sure he ever read the Bible. . . We got some great discount items and decided to have a post PRP celebratory curry feast. Since that grocery store had no frozen veggies, we went to the next and Lizzy found a WHOLE WATERMELLON in the the dumpster (clean, no bruises, just sitting on top of a bunch of corn husks with some nectarines of similar condition) BooYah!

Hunqapillar Mellon wagon

Enjoying some delicious dumpster curry

Sometimes our food is actually good

The park system at Buffalo is expansive, impressive, and hospitable to cyclists traveling on the cheap. We slept in the amphitheater, and went to IGA in the morning to get some bagels, which are a mainstay. I saw several people walking out that joint with doughnut boxes, so I knew I had to get one. (It was bomb) While outside, an awesome retired PE teacher/former bike tourist/back in the day unicyclist/petrified wood enthusiast invited us into her home to take showers and cook our oatmeal. Thanks Deb! You are soooooo awesome! Also, I used your syrup in my oatmeal without asking. . . Instead of a bike, she rides a Eliptigo bicycle and she let us try it out. My legs are still burning.

Though we woke up at 6, we didn’t leave Buffalo until 1 as we were delayed at McDonald’s. I did a lot of map work, while Lizzy did all of our Watsi admin. obligations. June 1, we sent out our first pledge fulfillment emails. Thanks everyone! We’ve travelled over 1,200 miles.

The road from Buffalo to Gillette is not flat. I don’t really think that there is a flat place on earth, but I guess I should have just taken Euclid’s word for it. (Sorry, math) At a rest point, Lizzy saw an add for the Gillette City FREE swimming pool, so of course we had to go. Deb warned us that we were expecting golf ball sized hail and severe thunder storms, so we knew that it was unlikely the pool would be open that night, but we pressed on anyway.

The thunder hit us about 10 miles from town. At first, I remarked to myself how lazy it was of a thunder storm, not that I wished it any more intense. It quickly picked up gusto and blew us haphazardly into town, but we didn’t get too wet. Long story short, we found a Walmart and got chocolate soy milk and cookies, and then slept in a safe, dry spot of grass between the Gillette Welcome Center and a Flying J. It was a good night.

In the morning, we got groceries, went to the Welcome Center and got some great Wyoming stickers, and headed out to the pool. Lizzy also got us an interview with the local paper so we were able to meet some really nice people-Grant and Tim. Thanks guys. Now we are at a McDonald’s, abusing free refills on coffee and wifi.

Thanks for all your support everyone, it’s been fun. We hope to be in South Dakota tomorrow, so hopefully next time you hear from us we’ll only have 42 states left.

Stink biking through beautiful Montana, only slightly intimidated by the daunting mountains ahead.

So, let’s see, we left off in Ennis, Montana the other day. We rolled out of town with some great tailwinds and the miles just blew by. I had to stop for water (yes everyone, I am being very mindful about staying hydrated) in a teensy town called Cameron. I was given a mighty “Welcome to Cameron, Montana!” as I entered the bar by the building’s five occupants, who were chowing down on a delicious looking meal. One was an avid cycle tourist himself, and was happy to meet me.

The barman had me go out back to RV campspots to fill my water, but I vowed to go back in an give out a few Within Biking Distance cards to the folks inside after filling up, but before I could, they came pouring out of the bar and just had to ask what the mailbox was all about. So, naturally, everyone got to meet Beefy and he got lots of pets & treats out of it. This is actually how we end up talking to a lot of people.

Who needs tripods when fence posts abound?

Finally we cleared out though, and biked through some gorgeous views, with rain always somewhere on the horizon (and once a beautiful, yet short rainbow). The rain was always in sight, but never seemed tk be above us. What can I say, we’re charmed…

Tiny pretty rainbow

We found a perfect ditch campsite, just after the turnoff to a “money-money” state park campground, set up camp early, and climbed into the tent to play maps, eat PB&J bagels (the jelly aspect thanks to the unwitting diner back in Ennis… sorry, can’t resist free tableside jams), and get our snooze on.

Our roadside ditch campsite for the night.

In the morning we headed out, and took the road past Quake Lake, wherein Stink stopped to dunk & wash her hair during our lunch break. It was crazy buggy out there and all the little gitters kept getting in my PB and on my bagel, but I suffered no serious mosquito bites so was pleased with the results.

We rode on, & ahead saw two tourists coming our way and cross the road to come chat with us. They were Steven & Jonn, two younger guys from Virgina, who looked so fresh & clean & had so little crap packed all over their bikes, that we had to ask, “What’s your tour style?” to which we got the answer to our question: they had raised money beforehand to be able to eat out for the duration of their trip. So at their second month of travel, they looked quite fresher than us two, who had been traveling for less than three weeks. I am sure there are other factors, but I like to think about it in those terms.

They were real nice dudes, and Stink was able to pass off this rubber ducky I had found on the side of the road to them. Steven quickly named him Herbert & actually enjoyed him, unlike soooomebody, who thought the duck a mere nuisance… not naming names.

Finally we said bye to our new-found friends and scooted along. To our luck, we also met up with the Cotton-Eyed-Joes (an older couple we kept seeing touring around, sometimes in different directions than the last time, so that we didn’t know where did they come from, where did they go?), and finally got their names & route (Steve & Patty, going from Missoula to Colorado, I believe). So I rode with them for a bit chatting, then went on my merry way to catch up to Stink. We then got to talk & speculate all about the people we had met that day, which proves mighty interesting on the road.

Stink found a men’s XXL down Patagonia jacket on the roadside (score!) and we finished up our ride by rolling into West Yellowstone (the fairly touristy, and I mean like, the camera wielding, RV renting type touristy, town and hit up a McDonald’s for free wifi, apple pie, and french fries. America, yo, America.

blown up, yo

After blowing that place up for several hours, pointedly ignoring the “Please limit the duration of your stay to a 20-30 minute meal” sign, and abusing their bathroom (TMI? sorry), we rolled out to the grocery store down the road. We held off buying much, because of the inflated tour-town price of everything, but did go in for a box of chocolate graham crackers , a small loaf of pumpernickel bread, & a couple apples to tide us over through Yellowstone. I swiftly noticed that they had no over-ripe bananas on display & deduced that their dumpster would be bountiful. Yet, when we went out back to check, it was too overflowing with trashbags (and oddly enough, copiers & fax machines) to do much digging. Give it time though, we’ll find our motherload one day.

While sitting on the bench outside the mart, Beefy got many “oohs” and “ahhs” from folks curious about our spectacle. Then we moved on and scouted around for: A. a diner to sit & drink our fill of refillable coffees, and B. somewhere sneaky to camp that night. We found a couple of tubes at a construction site, and sharing a knowing glance, we agreed that they were definitely worthy of being our home for the night. We then found a covered open-air mall to sit, watch lightning, hear thunder, let Beef run around, and to munch on pumpernickel-peanutbutter-bikergelpacket-matzo bread sandwiches, till we decided that we really ought to get moving and stop snacking on weird foods… We found a diner that was warm with a nice wait time in the lobby & lo-and-behold, they had a veggie burger, which I quickly succumbed to my desires of eating, while guzzling down two full carafes of freshly ground, delicious hot coffee.

We stayed there forever, taking our time eating (Stink opted to have an apple betty with huge scoops of ice cream for dinner), drinking, journaling, and being generally weird in a public place after so much time on the road. One lady stopped by our booth on the way out and asked, “Excuse me, where are you from?” and as we answered, she just nodded & walked away, leaving us maddeningly curious as to WHY she wanted to know where we were from? Did we look local? foreign? escaped from a mental hospital? We’ll never know, I suppose…

With bellies fit to burst, we paid our check, took maybe a few too many free mints, and waddled on out of there, to head back to our lovely, sweet, dry, cozy home-tubes for the night. We unpacked, climbed in (some more gracefully than others) and tried to go to sleep. Only thing was, was that we had guzzled more coffee than appropriate for nine o’clock at night, and after each lying restlessly in our respective tubes for what seemed like an hour, I burst out laughing as the words “tube sister” floated through my mind (this was a term of unknown origins from my cross country running days in highschool; you would be assigned a secret tube sister at the beginning of the season to give gifts & encouraging notes to before each race, and finally reveal your true identity at final meet). So then we both got to laughing, and all hope for sleep was lost. Stink got up to whiz at a conveniently located porta-potty, grabbed our journaling equipment so we could at least do something productive with our time, and crawled back in her tube. I had also taken a picture of her emerging that set me off, a cackling tube in the night.

totally tubula, dude

Anyways, I eventually dozed off, whereas Stink, sick to her stomach from coffees & ice cream dinners, didn’t sleep a wink, and at about 5 in the morning, wandered over to a nearby hotel lobby to sit by the fire & employ copious amounts of self-discipline to not partake in the free continental breakfast happening just feet away. She came back around 6, when I woke up and backward army crawled out of my own tube to pack up, and again, hit the McDonald’s in town.

Tube, sweet tube. Beef’s house is wrapped up in tarps for warmth.

After a greasy breakfast of an egg mcmuffin, hashbrown, and OJ for Stink (nothing cures a stomach ache coffee hangover quite like greasy foods, you see), and an apple pie for me (small pies have proven to be my weakness for this trip), plus chocolate grahams, peanut butter, and one especially mushy banana for the boths of us, we headed out again, this time for good, to cross the gates into the land of Yellowstone!

Hullo yellowstone… We are weird.

The nice ranger lady let me try on her hat.

We begrudgingly paid the $12 (each!) entrance fee and rumbled through to the wilderness beyond (which, you know, was very similar looking to the wilderness on the outside of the park…) and were quickly rewarded with the very inconspicuous entrance sign to our 5th state: Wyoming!

Wyoming! State #5 of 48!

After our obligatory photoshoot, we trundled on and soon caught sight of our first buffaloes! A whole herd of them in fact! And crossing a river, quite nearby, with babies too, who ran & jumped & played & generally looked like happy cow-pig little creatures. This alone, for me at least, made the exorbitant entrance fees quite worth it, as we stood & watched the creatures lumber around munching grass for some time.

Boofs boffin’

… and beefin’

Eventually we rolled on, stopping at view points along the way, as a bicyclist can so easily do, and checked out the sights & sounds of Yellowstone. While viewing one boiling bubbling hot pool of vivid colored waters, an older Indian (like, eastern India Indian) woman, who when I said good morning to, looked me in the eyes and uttered the mysterious words, “Strange are the ways of the nature.” “Uhm, yes, quite right,” I replied, a bit bewildered & enjoying the odd phrasing.

quite strange, indeed

We saw more sights, and it began to drizzle, then out-right pour on us, sending the tourists flocking back to their cozy RVs and minivans, and us scrambling to dawn (or is it don?) raincoats and cover our more perishable gear. This kind of nixed the picture taking for much of the time, but we did see bubbling mud pots, steaming holes in the ground, and more boofs (buffaloes) wandering the land.

Earth…weird.

Stink stank

We climbed an 8% grade for three miles (with Stink, still feeling queasy from her restless night in the tube, nearly throwing up a few different times) and finally reached Canyon Village, our would-be campground for the night (I say would-be for a reason, but we’ll get to that in a moment). We staked out a picnic table, I cleaned out Beef’s house, letting him roam free on the table top, and feasted on more mushy bananas and bagels.

A woman from Oklahoma (! home sweet!) approached because she saw Beef & was a rat person herself. Her name was Donna and she was an excellent rat petter, if Beef’s happy chitterings have any merit in this writing. Her daughters (I think, I never clarified) also came over and saw that she had once again ‘found a rat’ while on their travels. It was great to chat with another rat person, who understood all things rat that perhaps dog and cat people just don’t comprehend. (Shout out to the rat folks we met back in Portland too, as they continue to follow along our tales and send encouraging words). We exchanged information and Beefy got his final goodbye scritches before they headed on their way.

beef is a bonified tour rat now

We also met a man, JT (James Thomas, for those not inclined for abbreviations) who was traveling around Yellowstone for his second or so week, taking it all in in a very laid back style that was easy to relate to. Chatting for awhile about the shared joys of being travelers, he too gave Beef pets and attention. He mentioned that he wasn’t able to shower at the Canyon campground as it wasn’t open yet, when we assured him that we saw that morning a sign clearly indicating that it would be open today…

straight koo-koo banan.

JT moved on after awhile, and we went about checking out the overpriced general store (eyeing all the treats but not daring to splurge on the ridiculously overpriced goods when we had already dropped nearly three days funds just to enter the park), and schmoozed on over to the visitors center to take advantage of bathrooms with running water and fantastically powerful hand driers. As we were walking back out of the building, we stopped at the front desk to ask about where to go get our campsite, when the lady, quite regrettably, told us that, despite the misleading sign at the park entrance, Canyon campground wouldn’t be open till the 29th… This meant we had 20 more miles to do, to get to the next available tent campsite. We were crestfallen. We were so ready to just set up camp and decompress, when this obstacle chose to fall in our path. The lady at the desk was truly sad for us, as we slowly dragged our feet out the door, to the darkening outside where it had just begun to slightly rain once again…

With nothing left to do but to pack up and take on the unexpected 20 extra miles, we climbed back aboard the bikes and took off. Begrudgingly , we stopped to view the various sights along the way, more or less just wanting to get through the rolling hills, set up camp, and finally devour the Mountain House freeze-dried preprepared meals we had been carrying with us since we left home. (Stink’s mom had purchased them for us prior to leaving, and we had been savoring the idea of feasting on them once we reached Yellowstone).

Finally, after once quickly rectified wrong turn, we reached Bridge Bay, paid an additional $7.98 each for hiker/biker camping, walked to our site, set up camp, and Stink started a fire (we collected leftover half burnt logs from unoccupied sites around us, as we are nothing but cheap & resourceful). We boiled up some water, added it to our bagged meals, waited the 10 minutes and devoured with gusto. Stink had the turkey tetrazzini and I had the burrito bowl (or should I say bag?). Either way, they were quite filling, warm, delicious, & nutritious, especially compared to some of the slop that passed for food that we had been eating for the past few weeks.

After dinner, I stood over the warm fire till I was nearly collapsing into it from exhaustion, then joined Stink in the tent. In the morning it was a bit soggy, as it always seems to be, and we slowly packed up, having to collect our bags of food & utensils from the bear-proof storage bin across the way. We were surprised that so much junk had fit onto our bikes! We rolled out after breakfast of more banana (I admit, I buy bananas left & right), chocolate graham crackers, peanut butter, and a biker gel pack, that I steadfastly continue to treat solely as a inventively new packaged type of jelly, rather than the slurp up power boost squeeze tube of energy goop that it is intended to be used as. Our tour style relies intensively on putting various things on bread & crackers.

We biked out to Fisherman’s Bridge, Stink got a giant chocolate milk (she had earned the splurge by suffering through the previous day on zero sleep and a churning stomach) and I found my favorite boxed pies and got an apple one (I am serious, those pies are now a weakness). We loitered, used bathrooms, browsed overpriced gift shops, and eventually headed out to conquer Sylvan Pass, one mighty climb before we could coast on out of Yellowstone for good.

we made it!

Chocolate milk is apparently Stink’s mojo drink and we chugged along the road just fine, each tuning into our ipods for the long ascent. We were surrounded by beautiful views of Yellowstone Lake, snowcapped mountains, and forests, new and old. Finally we reached the peak, where I took a long relieving whiz in the snow (don’t have the skills to write my name though), dawned gloves and coats for the chilly descent & took off down the mountain. Tears streamed out of the corners of our eyes as we sped down, taking the lane as there was practically no traffic, and completely disregarding our brakes as who would want to be cautious on such a well earned downhill challenge as this? We coasted on out the east exit of the park, gave some grazing buffaloes a final goodbye wave, and cruised on.

We stopped for snacks, then again in a few miles at a lodge to take a power nap on the warm sunny asphalt of their parking lot. Eventually we perked up from our sleepiness, and continued on, to the changing landscape of Wyoming. There were rock formations popping up everywhere that caught the imagination, allowing you to envision mighty creatures and stone solid faces in the earth. I swear I saw a giant foot complete with protruding big toe, and a hand raising from the surrounding rocks on opposite sides of the road.

We stopped to climb in a large crack in the rock wall paralleling the road at one point, and also saw mountain goats climbing directly overhead carefully picking their way through the steep edges. Soon after, passing through a meadow, a whole herd of mountain goats surprised us right on the edge of the road, too quickly we passed to take a picture, but the sight of them will prove memory enough.

The riding was good, basically downhill with a tailwind, and we covered many miles, going through Wapiti even though it was above our necessary miles for the day. There was a long area of road construction going on but we were given free reign to ride through at our own pace over the alternating freshly paved and bumpy gravelly bits of road, with me sometimes racing with the drivers slowly following the pilot cars that were guiding them through the work zone.

We stopped at the Buffalo Bill State Park at the end of the reservoir just 15 miles shy of Cody, WY. We were a bit wide eyed when the man at the ticket box told us there was no lowered hiker/biker rate and that it’d be $17.25 to camp there that night, but when he saw our hesitant faces, he offered to let us pay the in-state rate of $10 total for a tent site. Thanks sir!

We scooted around the park to our site, set our gear to dry (and de-stinkify… the tubes and our tent had been rank with the smell of our feet… and farts, all night long). Stink whipped up another fire and we ate our remaining Mountain House meals (Stink had spaghetti with meat sauce, and I had the vegetarian chilli… which apparently had me farting in my sleep all that night. SORRY!) and we were able to chill out for a bit, journal , and call folks back home with our newly re-found cellphone signals.

In the morning, we rolled out, and soon arrived at the Buffalo Bill Dam, which was quite impressive, and had a nice visitors center to loiter around in, while reading about the history of it’s construction. A nice old man who worked there offered to open up the service road that followed the river in the canyon for us, instead of taking the narrow, dark, fallen-rock-filled tunnel that the highway took. We jumped at the opportunity, as the lady told us we should consider ourselves lucky because they only opened the road once a year.

It was a steep winding downhill, following the rushing river as it was spilled from the dam, and was quite enjoyable to speed down. We climbed up out of the canyon then soon rolled into Cody! We had arranged to stay with a Warm Showers host here, so took our time stocking up on foods and snacks (I struggled to put back a box of poptarts that my empty stomach was telling me I ought to purchase, but my budgeted and nutrition-wise mind won out and I placed it back on the shelves with only a few backward glances). We loaded up the bikes with what seemed like an impossible amount of food, and took off to find our home for the night.

Speedy scoots!

this is for you, cody.

Blaise was our host, who was working late at the ER, so we had free roam of the house most of the day. Showers were taken, grimed scrubed off, clothes washed, even my sleeping bag which at this point reeked of rotten feet. We lunched on a bagged salad, discounted bread from Wal-Mart (which we toasted! we had a toaster!), coffee, and a huge jug of chocolate almond milk I had thankfully insisted on purchasing. Delicious.

We then walked (walking becomes a treat while on tour as well) down to the post office to send off cards & get more stamps. Eventually, another bike tourist arrived (he and another dude were scheduled to stay here for the night as well). His name was Andrew and we quickly got to chatting all things tour: weirdest campsites, fart-alert hand signals, foods to feast upon, and other such ways of the road. He headed out for a bit to get groceries, and while he was out, the fella he had been riding with, Robert, arrived at the house. They had met in the road during their respective solo trips, and had been riding together for a few days since they were heading in the same direction.

We all hung about and eventually our gracious host, Blaise, arrived home & was greeted with a full house of cyclists. It’s a bit funny because he had only just recently created a Warm Showers account, and we were his first tourists, coincidentally enough all arriving at the same night (it’s not often that you’ll get more than one biker or couple coming through at a time). So we all had a good time talking about maps, roads, routes, and tour styles till it turned late, and people turned in to bed. Us cyclists all chose to crash in heaps on the livingroom floor, and awoke this morning to have Stink whip up some scrambled eggs and toast with coffee for breakfast. Blaise keeps some happy chickens in the backyard that I was more than delighted to eat the products of. Thanks chickens! Thanks Blaise!

So here I am now, furiously typing this all out so that we may eventually actually get out and back on the road where we belong. Much love to everyone and I hoped you have all enjoyed the latest installment of Within Biking Distance!

-Lizzbutts