Wednesday, August 05, 2009

51: Riding a Jackalope and the Rockies

Stoker's Log

Day Fifty-One

8/5/09

From Dubois, WY

To Jackson, WY

80.5 miles

10.4 avg mph

If only all of my mornings could begin with a latte and a jackalope ride.

No one was manning the Branding Iron Inn office when we got up, so we headed across the street to Kathy's Koffee at Bear Square.

The guy behind the counter not only made us delicious drinks, he also told us stories about his own cross-country bicycle trip from Seattle to New York. As we ate our breakfast -- ham and egg on a bagel for Kyle, a croissant for me, and a giant blueberry muffin to split between us -- I had an overwhelming desire to spend the entire day there, which led to an even stronger desire to be finished with the trip and back to reading and drinking coffee in my normal life. Sigh.

Of course, we eventually had to leave, pack up, check out, and get going. But there was something I needed to ride before the bike.

That's right,

They actually ran out of these tickets, which saddened me, so I had to take a photo of their display. I was cheered right up, though, when I heard a group of women becoming increasingly confused as they perused the museum of Jackalope information and artifacts.

"Wait, jackalopes aren't real, right? I mean I thought it was a joke but they have all of this information and even fossils..."

The museum, which was actually just one section of an enterprising Exxon convenience store, had another giant jackalope out front.

I resisted the urge to ride it and we climbed on the bike instead. We rode out of Dubois, waving fondly at the laundromat that fed us last night and at its intimidating competition.

We had a rather pleasant morning ride. Kyle asked me what I would put on my syllabus if I ever landed that elusive teaching job, which led to a great conversation about literature, teaching, and the pieces of stories that were still stuck in our memories from middle school.

We had been warned in person and through travel blogs about a massive construction project in the area that was impassable by bike, and we discovered it before too long. We were able to ride through the initial sections without any trouble, but when we were nearly at the top of one of the hills we were told it was time to climb into the pilot truck and be carried through the worst of it, and we would have to do the same a little later in the day. For once we wouldn't be able to make up the exact miles that we'd been driven, but the truck took us more downhill than up, and watching how difficult and dangerous the road was for motorcyclists, we couldn't really complain. Plus the construction project was one we enthusiastically supported: widening the shoulder for bike and car safety on the twisting and turning mountain road. We came to enjoy the brief respites; during our first ride I sat up front and chatted with the driver, who pointed out the "Indian snow" (a patch-e here, a patch-e there) and checked on the weather report for us. The other time I rode with the bike so that I could take pictures of the colorful trees; somewhere along the way I realized that despite growing up near farm country, it was the probably the first time I'd ridden in the back of a pickup.

The rest of the time we were on our own to climb the Rockies. It was an intimidating prospect. The steep uphills reared up in front of us, and one of the rare stores we passed reminded us about the dangers of exertion at high altitudes.

So we climbed, and climbed, and climbed, and soared downhill for a while, and then climbed, and climbed, and climbed... But as we pushed our way uphill through the infamous Rockies, we realized something strange and encouraging: the Appalachians were much, much harder. It was hotter back then, and we were still getting in shape and getting used to the bike. And the Appalachians, while not as long or as high, tend to be steeper than the Rockies, and have fewer helpful passes. Compared to most of our trip, the Rockies are tiring climbs, but compared to the Appalachians, they really aren't so bad. We still have more of the Rockies to climb tomorrow, but so far they seem, while tiring, certainly doable.

Outside one of the rest stops (which offered showers at an interesting rate of $1 per 2 minutes 40 seconds) we saw three touring bicycles. The complex was big enough that we didn't locate their owners before they left, but we caught up to them on the next uphill and chatted as we passed by. They were an eclectic group of friends who were riding across the country in sections over the period of three summers; this was the final leg of their trip that would end in San Francisco.

And then we discovered why so many cyclists and motorcyclists were braving the construction to ride this pass: ahead of us were the beautiful Tetons and a seven mile downhill. They were both magnificent.

We rode alongside the Tetons for many scenic miles, really enjoying the view and the comparatively flat ride.

We had planned to ride part of the Yellowstone route, but then we looked at the prices. It was $12 for cyclists, so unless we convinced them to charge us per bicycle we would be paying $24 for just a few miles in the Park, which didn't seem worth it. So we stayed on the road that led to a place called Moose and advertised all kinds of wildlife.

Despite the warnings, all we saw were antelopes from very far away. We might not have even noticed them, but a number of tourists had parked their cars by the side of the road and wandered into a field to try to get pictures of them.

We kept right on going, enjoying the ride and excited to be making great time (for us, anyway; we were passed by another cyclist at one point). Unfortunately, it took us longer to reach Moose than anticipated, so by the time we got there I was irritated and Kyle was bonking (cyclists' term for a serious energy crash). We perked up somewhat after slushies, however, and we rode on towards our destination for the day: Jackson Hole, paradise for elk (there's a refuge there) and rich tourists. The town is most well-known for skiing, but the tourist population and the prices are also quite high during the summer. The cheapest lodging option was still well over $100... for a Motel 6. It made us want to cry a little, but when we got to our room we discovered that someone had replaced the usual Motel 6 room with a clean and cheery Ikea display.

Jackson Hole was nice, if excessively touristy. We especially enjoyed the antler arches.

It took us forever to find a restaurant that was somewhere in between fast food and freaking expensive, but we eventually settled on a place called Sidewinders where I inhaled chicken pot pie (baked, not boiled like in PA, but good nonetheless) and a fantastic salad.

We thought we would return to the hotel in plenty of time to do laundry, but it turned out that everyone else had the same idea; the lines for the two machines were so long that I ended up having to handwash, which sucked as usual. Still, it was a good day overall, and I feel like tomorrow we'll be ready for more of the Rockies and Wyoming.

Yee-hah.

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