Dubois. I pronounce it the French way, doo-bwah, but it doesn’t cut any ice out here. Apparently it was named after a French trapper, but he annoyed the inhabitants so from then on they pronounced it doo-boys to annoy him, and it’s still pronounced that way. I kinda like the way things like that stick for hundreds of years.
Although we drove here through semi arid desert heat the snow has arrived overnight, it is a blizzard outside, visibility about 50 metres and a couple of inches on the road. Bert and I are wary but up for it, despite the horrified advice of the mountain-biking hotel owner (“I wouldn’t do it“). Having an SUV support truck gives us options though, and we agree to ride out for a few miles with james providing support.
4 miles of slipping and sliding along the shoulder is kinda tough, our clothes are not up to it, feet, thighs, hands, faces freezing, passing trucks throw buckets of sleet over us, the slipstream tries to steal all our grip. This is not good riding weather, the risk is high, and my spider sense is telling me to call it quits and get in the truck. But you have to have a good attempt or the road will scorn you, so we push on.
James pulls past and I wave him to stop, at a minimum I need to grab some extra layers from my kit bag. Whilst deciding what to do we see a snow plough approaching. I think only of the suction of a passing truck so grab onto the side of the suv, with my arm through the open window for grip. James thinks only of the buckets of slush being thrown up by the plough so closes the window ruthlessly on my arm. Bert thinks of both and wisely disappears behind the suv. The plough driver takes pity on me and half raises the plough so I only get half spattered, my arm in the window has delayed james’ window closing so he gets half a faceful, and bert comes out tops.
Bert and I look at each other, both thinking about one of those going past us in the full-on snow of the pass, we would probably be thrown off the road. Time for the truck, I have no shame in these matters and wave the bail-out card. Truck is warm and dry. Truck is good.
10 miles later, quite a bit higher and amazingly the road is clear. We add several layers and jump out of the truck onto our bikes again, with several layers of fallbacks agreed onto james, who is going to scout out the pass.
Rolling along the top of the plateau we become aware of the inadequacies of our clothing, we are both getting cold, can barely feel our hands and feet, and there is a 20 mile descent into the next town. Descents sound fun because you just sit there zooming downhill, but you’re not doing any work and there is a sub-zero 25 mile an hour wind into your face, and you will suffer if you don’t have the right clothes.
We don’t have the right clothes and start to suffer. After some road works we stop to add any remaining layers, digging into our emergency kit, and are shocked to realize that our bikes are covered in icicles, our chains frozen, nothing working properly, brakes a joke. We descend with caution through the atmospheric thermal layers, gradually the bikes, our bodies and brains start working again and at some point we stop to look at the view.
Our beloved team manager pulls up as if from nowhere, the SUV spattered with mud, he’s been off-road and has enjoyed it. It feels absolutely awesome to have a team manager looking after us, he gives us water, food and accurate information on the road ahead. We decide to push on to our lodgings through awesome scenery, frozen lakes and rivers, friendly Australians (I let bert do all the talking to savour what I’ve had 10 times a day for 2 months), until we get to our lakeside cabin looking out at the jagged mountains.
After stocking up on cold weather gear at Jackson we are in the bar by the lake wondering what to do. It is clear what to do. James is leaving tomorrow, it is our duty to get absolutely hammered to send him off in style. There is no discussion, it is one of those perfectly formed plans, and wine, beer and shots are soon landing on the table.
It turns out to be the first Friday of the season, and the bar is not full of tourists but full of staff, all getting blasted. We are the last to be kicked out, in a friendly way, chatting to the bouncer about where we’re from, where he’s from, what it’s like to work here, the usual stuff. Outside we meet up with Ben, who bert was chatting to at the bar, he’s a cool dude so we bring him back to the cabin with the promise of beer. One of those all night sessions follows, discussions ranging through jack Kerouac, cannibalism for survival, the civil war, life in Montana, and it turns out his uncle wrote one of the standard textbooks on the civil war. At 3.30am he staggers back to the dorm, hiccupping as he goes, and the night is over. We will regret it tomorrow, but never forget it.
Jackson Lake to Yellowstone
Man oh man, so here I am, snowed in at the Old Faithful Inn, 10 inches last night, 8 inches today, pass closed behind us , 30 miles to the next accommodation, sitting at the bar with bert chatting to the staff drinking red wine, bert is on beer. We saw old faithful last night, something I’ve wanted to see all my life after reading about it in the primary school library way back when I was like 6 or something.
We rode out of the Grand Teton national park yesterday, me and bert after waving goodbye to james, man it was sad to see him go, we both watched the big suburban pulling out of the carpark, both of us scanning for the last possible view of it through the trees alongside the road, when it was gone there was a thoughtful, sad silence as it settled in to both of us that we were really on our own. You’d think I’d be used to that, but after a week of buddies and truck support it is like jumping into cold water. Not to worry.
We haul slowly out along Jackson lake, over a small pass into Yellowstone national park. The ranger on the ticket station tells us we’re the first cyclists through this year, and cheerfully warns us of a 10” snowstorm coming tonight, we’ll be fine if we can make old faithful, but this means crossing the continental divide 3 times today. Luckily this is our plan anyway, our legs are strong and we are confident. But we can feel the weather coming in, black snowstorms chase us, and we push through the passes feeling the sure sign of bad weather chasing us. It is lucky that we push on, for we get to old faithful inn, pushing through the snow showers, feeling the pressure, and about an hour after we get in it is like a switch is flicked and the trees bend over as the snow howls in on a gale.
Reading about the donner party is not a good foundation for this section, I can feel the trap springing shut behind us, and I can see that there is not much meat on bert to last me through the winter. Luckily the lush hotel has a bar and a restaurant, and there are plenty of chunky guests, so I think I’ll be ok. Summer is not far away.
We’ve both been feeling the altitude today, it builds up, we’ve been riding all day at over 8,000 feet, and although the first continental divide goes past without problem the second one is tougher, and by the third one we are both feeling it, I’m nauseous but need to eat for the energy, bert is feeing “a bit kind of fluey, really” (verbatim), and by the time we clear the divide for the third time I’m really suffering, trembling and gasping by the time we nail it.
This is followed by a long descent into old faithful, feeling the air get warm and moist, staying loose over the streams running across the road in case they are ice, passing over the keppler cascades and into old faithful. A strong cross wind hits us, I’m so used to these after crossing the plains I barely notice it but bert is blown straight onto the gravel verge, he frowns and curses as he fights the bike back onto the road.
The entry to the old faithful inn is through a geyser field. We’ve been riding through a massive volcano caldera (crater) for the last 20 miles, and it hits home that we’re in an active volcano when we see the steam and bubbling pools leading up to the inn.
The inn is an incredible building, straight out of a fairy tale, but with loads of cyclists and hikers hanging around outside, some of which come over and give us good advice about our route, and also warn us about bears on the route. For an out of the way hotel in the middle of nowhere in a park that opened only 3 days ago it is heaving, loads of outdoors folk hanging around with a cool vibe.
I should describe the Inn to you, but it is beyond me, something straight out of a grimms fairy tale, a building made out of wooden antlers, branching and soaring 5 storeys to reach the sky with a roof layed gently over them.
It is very different having company. Normally on a ride, or a rest day, I spend the time thinking about what I’m going to write, but with company I’m just having fun, my mind is empty and happy rather than churning out babble.
To see old faithful was amazing, it’s something I’ve always wanted to see but never thought I would, but suddenly I’m here. We wandered out into the snow along the boardwalk, it looks kinda familiar from television programs but not over familiar. The wind is strong, snow is blowing past us, and distant thunder rumbles from the mountains. Perfect. Bert has forgotten his waterproof and is cold and grumpy, but I’m all kitted out and excited, jumping up and down as we enter the plus/minus 10 minute window of the ‘eruption’. I daren’t take my eyes off it, I’ve wanted to see this all my life and soon It’s gonna happen. It’s not like normal scenery where you look at it and go ‘cool’, you can’t summon this on demand, it happens on its terms and nobody elses.
A whining american brat provides the background noise to the natural grandeur, whining and moaning, its parents indulging it, making me and bert think about the safety sign near the geysers warning succinctly of ‘dangerous thermal area’.
A strange guy notices me standing on a bench to get a better view and gradually works his way closer until he’s standing on the next bench only a few feet away. He tries a couple of openers, ‘looks awesome doesn’t it’, but each utterance has the watermark of the tagalong guy, who will latch on to you for as long as possible. My force field is well established, bert’s is more verbal, but either way the message gets across and the guy eventually wanders off. I think for a little while that really he’s just followed the pattern of the extremely lonely person, but the sad truth is that loneliness begets loneliness, and lonely people have a big warning sign over their heads that repels people, a sad truth but a truth just the same.
Old faithful teases us, sometimes bubbling, sometimes shooting small jets of water into the air, sometimes the steam builds up and up until you’re sure it’s gonna blow, before dying down again. But suddenly the water boils, there is a ‘whumpf’ just like lighting a gas cooker, and a jet of steam and water shoots high into the air, the jet roaring and growling, tourists ducking for cover.
I have a natural high after this, bert compares me to an excited seven year old girl but I don’t care, I am hyped. I taste the water running from old faithful in a steaming stream, somehow I just have to, it just tastes of water but it feels right. Bert is worried about chemicals, but what the hell.
We plan to ride the next morning but wake to a winter wonderland, bison (buffalo) wandering past the window, cars with 8 inches on snow on top slipping and sliding along the access road. We can barely walk let alone ride so quickly decide on staying put, effectively we are snowed in, with another 8 inches on the way. Luckily the hotel has a room for us so we kill some time wandering out into the geyser field. It is full-on end of the world, a post-apocalyptic twilight showing the drifting steam and falling snow, the valley appearing and disappearing through snow showers, black clouds surrounding the valley. We mean to walk along a path but a big sign declares ‘bear area, safety can NOT be guaranteed’, this gives us the fear and we take another route.
Bears sound fine when you read the statistics, one death a year from bear attack, but when you are by yourself on a heavily loaded bike in the middle of nowhere on a lonely mountain road it is a very different matter, we both feel it.
Never mind. We slip and slide along the boardwalk marveling at the huge variety of geysers, hot springs and mud pools. We’ve bought some small bottles of wine and find a warm spot downwind from a hot spring, the steam has melted the snow and dried the boardwalk so we sit on the floor and drink our wine, marveling at our trip, which has changed from normal hot country tour through the south, through mental slog through the plains, to ‘boys own’ adventure through snowy mountain passes with dangerous wildlife.
After watching a herd of bison grazing along the river side we camp out at grand geyser, which is apparently the biggest ‘predictable’ geyser in the world at 180 feet of water and steam. It has a 5 hour window when it may erupt, we are right at the end so are not hopeful, but after reading the signs it seems it may go soon so we sit for a while, chatting to some american dudes who are conducting a grizzly bear survey. They warn us to stay well away from bears, we don’t need telling.
Without warning the geyser erupts, a rumbling howling jet of water and steam shrieking high into the air, we stand in awe. The runoff is hot and I have to touch and taste it, luckily I don’t immediately die from dissolved chemicals. The american dudes are inspired by my example (and survival) and do the same, eventually bert overcomes his inhibitions and joins in. Nature is raw and powerful, and sometimes you have to get as close to it as you can.
The blowing snow is taking its toll and we head back to the bar, an oasis of wine, local beer, friendly staff getting drunk on their time off (hey I checked you guys in!) and snug views of horizontal snow.
1 comment:
Serious epicness. Great posts, gents, thanks. Great photos too. I like the one with Bert defending his hono(u)r from marauding buffalo armed only with cheese sticks.
Australians?
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