I think we need to change our reading material. Kelv's powering through the tale of the Donner wagon train, a group of 80 or so emigrants who in the 1840's attempted a new trail over the Rockies to a new life in California. They were misled about the route and endured a hellish winter in the high mountains where half died and many resorted to cannibalism to survive. I'm reading 'The Worst Journey in the World', the story of the 1912 Scott expedition to the South Pole. Scott and his companions reach the South Pole only to find that Amundsen had beaten them to it by a couple of weeks. After a series of disasters, Scott and his companions eventually froze to death only 11 miles from their camp. Great reading when there's been over 1000 inches of snow in Yellowstone and there is another 10 inches forecast.
Last night we said goodbye to James and the Suburban SUV lifeline. We both felt very alone and isolated seeing him drive off leaving us in wintery Teton. The day before he'd saved our skins as we rode out of Dubois in subzero temperatures and into a howling blizzard. We'd learnt a valuable lesson that day, i.e. not to underestimate the weather even though it's mid-May. On the pass when we stopped for a few moments it was so cold our chains froze. Later in Jackson Hole we stocked up on full winter gear - lobster gloves, hiking socks, thermals and foot warmers.
We rode out of Signal Mountain today fully prepared for what ever the weather could throw at us. About 5 miles out, we stopped and stripped off the first outer layer and downsized our gloves - already it was getting hot and the apocalyptic weather hadn't yet materialised. Best to be prepared though. Following Jackson Lake with the Teton's towering above we headed north towards Yellowstone. The scenery here is the best I've seen so far, like a slice of the Dolomites dropped into Wyoming. Riding along the strip of tarmac carved out of 8 foot high snow drifts I still can't believe that only a few days ago I was suffering from heat stroke on the ride to Laramie.
Climbing out of Teton the terrain begins to change, the rivers drop down into deep canyons and forests close in on the route. After a long gradual climb we reach the Continental Divide again, taking us from the Pacific side back into the Atlantic. Kelv has another ceremonial piss on the Atlantic side whilst I slap another Pedal House sticker on the sign. The Park Rangers must be loving them. Looking closer at the map it appears we cross the divide 3 times on the 66 mile ride today - that means at least 3 mountain passes.
Once
Twice
Three times...
Dropping down into the Yellowstone park from the divide we pass another completely frozen lake - Lewis Lake. The snow here is insane with 10 foot drifts either side the road. 2 days ago it was still closed and the Ranger at the park gate informs us we are the first cyclists to enter the park. Clambering up one of the drifts I see we're missing some great scenery - the Snake River follows the road some way, roaring down to Lake Jackson before making its way through the Rockies, eventually to Portland and then the Pacific - our exact route westwards to the coast.
After a series of climbs we eventually arrive at the Yellowstone caldera, a vast bowl in the landscape left by an ancient volcano. Almost straightaway Kelv spots steam rising from a pool on the side of the road. Like someone flicking a switch the air smells and tastes different, warmer and more moist. Passing a layby a guy says there are bears ahead, thinking he's joking we smile and ride on, but he isn't - a mother and 2 cubs have been spotted near the road about a mile ahead. What the hell have we let ourselves in for here. 3 ranger cop cars drive past seemingly unbothered by the fact 2 loaded down tired cyclists are riding towards their certain death at the hands of a pair of bear cubs goaded on by their mother. A nice US Mothers Day treat.
Thankfully there are no bears in sight, just more climbing and we reach the divide for the second time. No pissing or stickering this time round, we just pause and catch our breath. Its been tough today riding at over 2600m for the majority of the ride. The third crossing of the divide is even less celebrated, Kelv stoops over his handle bars breathing deeply whilst I take one token photo, one eye on the camera, one eye on the woods looking for bears. The layby is full of unidentified animal droppings. Its got to be bears. Do bears shit in laybys? I take some comfort in the fact that Kelv's little mobile tuck shop he keeps in his handle bar bag makes him a far tastier target than me.
We reach Old Faithful about 4pm just as it starts to snow again. Time for a room upgrade. The only problem with doing a good days riding is it costs you dollars. You think, shit we worked really hard today, we deserve that High Rate Room with its own bar. Kelv has this system of organising his dollars in his wallet so they are easy to differentiate. I have my own system - spend them as fast as possible. They take up weight anyway...
Grand Teton to Old Faithful pictures on picasa
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