Ahead to Arco

There is always something surreal about waking up to rain pattering against your tent, like natural alarm clock, although without a snooze button. Sticking my head out the fly expecting dark clouds I was surprised to see the storm just leaving Idaho Falls, with “rain” falling from the tree branches instead of the sky. We got started late because we needed to stock up on bike tubes, simple yet vital pieces for any type of cycling. After saying good bye and thank you to our host that night, we made our way west, or so we thought. Two miles in, I realized we had made a wrong turn. Before we would correct this, we stopped at a gas station to enquire of the road ahead. They claimed that while there was not many services from Idaho Falls to the town of Arco, there should be a few gas stations. Not wanting to weigh ourselves down, we stocked up on water and only bought a loaf of bread “Just in case”.

                The first 20 miles we had a steady cross wind from the south, making riding not ideal but doable. At one water break along the road we saw a dot up ahead, why yes! Another cyclist! The turned turned out to be a women who was riding a large loop from Missuola to raise money for charity. After a nice chat, we pressed ahead only to meet up with another cyclist. This man, who looked in his late 60’s was biking from Seattle to South Dakota, just for fun. We found out from him that the only water until Arco was at a rest stop 40 miles ahead. He gave us a spare bottle just in case.  Soon after this, our route shifted, now we were directly into the wind. The wind also began to pick up, surpassing 30 miles per hour. As mentioned before, wind is either a cylsist best friend or enemy. This began hours upon hours of moving what felt like only inches. Watching my speed, we were lucky to get above 8 mph . Even down hill we managed only 9mph.  Our stomachs were the first to complain. We purposefully had a light breakfast, a pastry and shared quart of chocolate milk, expecting to get something later. However, there was no “somethings” later. Our food until we would reach Arco would be bread and water. I must say, after hours of fighting a headwind that bread and water tasted more like steak and wine than anything else.

Even if we ran out of bread the body fat would eventually kick in providing energy. Unfortuetly however, I am not a camal and cannot store water. The gallon or so of water we had each was beginning to dwindle. What used to last all day was lasting only a couple hours. My body was telling me to drink the whole bottle to quench my thirst, but my mind understood I did not know how much further more water was. Every five miles I allowed myself a half bottle, savoring every drop, allowing it to linger in my mouth seemingly extending its quenching effects. We pulled into the rest area with barely a few drops left. Both Sauder and I stood at the fountain for what seemed like an eternity, drinking the lukewarm water to our fill. We had 18 miles left until Alco. The wind was still blowing hard and the sun was setting. I had seen a warm-showers host offering camping the day prior and had been in contact. I contacted him to say that we would arrive after dark. He said not to bother because he was on his way to pick us up. This was blessing, the wind was not slowing down, the sun was setting and storm clouds had been forming in the sky.

                So here we are, staying at a disabled veterans house, chatting about guns, the army, food, and more guns. I tried offer the man dinner for helping us out, but he declined, he did however accept my thanks through beer. Tomorrow we are hoping to get to another host home, around 88 miles away, we hope to get an early start. Here are some pictures of today and the past few days, sorry about them being lopsided, can't fix it right now.. Just turn your head! :)

Five star quaters

Mandatory accessory out west

Sauder had a blow out. Hurt our ears

Into Idaho

Leaving Jackson Hole

Sauder and the Tetons

Crawling Out of Jackson

Drew bid us farewell early this morning. With his bike shipped off and bags packed, he caught the bus down the road on his way home. Now it was only me and Andrew S. The morning in Jackson was chilly and wet, but what we were most worried about was the climb ahead. There is a reason they call Jackson Hole, WY a "hole." Jackson lies in a deep valley, surround by tall and steep mountains climbing past 10,000 feet. Looking at our route, we decided to take the shortest way out which was also the steepest, the infamous Teton Pass on WY 22. Through the rain and fog, which was making us dirty with grit and water, we were able to see just how steep this road would be. The smell of hot breaks was constant, the clammer of semi trucks slowing  down with their Jake breaks echoed down the mountain. A sign greeted us, Caution: Steep Road 10% grades! Within the first half mile, gravity began to take its toll on our bodies. The gears on our bikes could only take so much. Even in granny gear I found myself pumping the pedals with great force for even slight forward movement. 

 As we crawled up at 3 miles per hour, the fact that semi trucks were but mere dots descending the mountain dampened our resolve. This, along with our hearts pounding out of our chests, gasping for oxygen in the thin air, we decide to take our breaks  by walking. After 3 1/2 hours, we made it to the top. 8700 feet, from a start point at 6000 ft. Usually, conquering a mountain would bring the satisfaction of being able to fly to the bottom at great speed. However, the descent was rife with hair pin turns and on coming traffic, a death wish for a biker traveling over 30 mph.

 Thankfully our brakes held up and we made it down the mountains and across the border into Wyoming. After one more mountain pass, our goal of Idaho falls was in sight. Or so we thought. Just as we were coming out from a long valley nestled between mountain ranges, Sauder yelled to me ahead that rnhad a flat. Thus started 3 hours of frustration.  

Whatever puntuted the tube was my entolyntemoved tesiing in another puncture. The new tube then put on burst because of the tire bead coming loose.. And so on.. As frustration mounted a I got a call from our warm showers contact Carolyn. She had just got my message I sent a day prior and said we were welcome to stay in her yard, also she is a bike mechanic at alocal bike shop. After spending a hour working on Sauders tire, we were finally moving, only 30 miles left to Idaho falls. 

However, I too got a flat. This, due to various factors, took a hour itself. The sun not waiting for us to fall over the horizon. We knew we had to rise quick to make it before dark. This was hard because we had no time during the day to eat anything substantial. Running off body fat is possible, but not fun. Luckily, Idaho falls lay at a lower elevation than us  and we had a tail wind, Allowing speeds up to 24mph. 

We pulled into out hosts yard near dark, tired, dirty, hungry, yet happy we made it through the day. Pictures will come soon 

Down to Jackson

The morning was unbearably cold. The fire which was left blazing the night before was only embers. Luckily the bears which people had warned about did not show up. I scrambled out of the tent to see Drew piling on wood to stoke the embers into a warmth giving flame. Within 10 minutes our shivers began to recede and we began to make a breakfast of scrambled eggs and pack our gear and tents, taking breaks in between to warm our hands. We had only descended a quarter of the way the day before after conquering the pass, this meant starting off this morning would be a long and fast fall to the valleys below. The sun had finally passed the mountain peaks above us, warming the crisp mountain air to a comfortable level.

Our descent down the mountain started immediately. Within 30 seconds we were flying down the road at 30 miles per hour sometimes 40, the pine trees turning into a green blur as we hurtled by. traveling at such speeds, you become hyper aware of the road far in front of you. A thin layer of gravel could mean incredibly painful road rash, a deep pot hole, broken bones. Regardless of the danger, the assistance that gravity provided allowed us to take in the amazing scenery in which we were traveling. The long and green valley below from which the immense Grand Tetons peaks arose from came closer and closer and we soon found ourselves pedaling. Even after a couple hours, the Grand Tetons seemed far off. The road led us south, toward the base of these mountains, it was here where I spotted dark brown dots ahead in a field, as we got closer we saw that they were Bison! On the right side of the road were the Tetons on the left, Bison. We lingered there much longer than needed. The town of Jackson was only 20 more miles, but it took us a while because of first a flat tire, second a faulty tube and third, faulty installment. lets just say it was frustrating.

The town of Jackson is entirely geared to tourism. Everything is overpriced, Hotels and food, and the people are much less friendly that the rest of rural Wyoming. Since today was Drew's last day with us, we got a Hotel to relax and filling (gluttonous) meal at Chinese restaurant. Drew has to catch a bus in the morning to Salt Lake City where he will catch a flight home. It will be strange to be back to only two people, but we are almost done. Well, time for bed!

Excited to make it down

Taken at 40 mph

Camping with the bears

A little close for comfort...

Over the Top

Packing up the tents this morning we left the town of Dubois ready to conquer mountain pass that awaited us. For the next 30 miles we followed the Wind River up into the Shoshone national forest. The Horizon was always the peak of the next mountain, the road winding around it.  When pressing up long climbs, it is easy to become jealous of everyone in motorized vehicles, sitting comfortably in their RV’s, cars and motorcycles.  Although it was only 30 miles to the top of the pass which also was the continental divide, the time it took with our pace was incredible. The town from which we left was at around 6000 feet and the top of the pass was closer to 10,000. Between these two places lay numerous climbs and descents making the total feet of climbing well over 10,000 .

The scenery however, made up for every ache and pain. The snowcapped peaks which we have been approaching for days, now lay right over us with layers of pine trees blanketing their bases. Between trying to catch our breath because of the altitude, and ignoring gravity’s constant effort to keep us from reaching the top, we were able to enjoy the majestic landscape around us.  We stopped for lunch at Lodge, the restaurant was closed but we bought a pack of frozen hot dogs to grill on our stove outside. After a meal of bun less, lukewarm hot dogs, washed down with severely overpriced soda, we left to attempt our final assent to the top. This was perhaps the most difficult part of the trip. No longer was there a meandering river that the road followed, but rather steep graded highways. By this time we had been on the saddles for 5 hours. Fatigued both physically and mentally we finally crossed the continental divide. We were also greeted with a sign that said “ caution, 6% grade for 17 miles”,  Joy to our ears. Flying down from close to 10,000 feet is both exhilarating and scary.  My mind tried to balance between being overjoyed at the rush and being fearful that any wrong move would result in unneeded skin graft.

The rapid descent eventually evened out after a few miles. Around a little bend, we saw photo pull off, pulling in to see exactly what the overlook was about, one of them most beautiful sites was spread across the horizon. Up from the ground the grand Tetons reached sharply toward the sky, their peaks covered in snow, a valley of pine trees and rolling hills leading up to them. I can see now why these peaks are typically chosen to represents this state in photographs, they are truly awe inspiring.  By the time we had arrived at the overlook, it was around 4, we had 50 more miles until Jackson, a goal now unreachable except by night riding.

We chose to stop for the day. There is a campground operated by the forestry department about a mile into the wilderness. Tomorrow we hope to be in Jackson. It is also where Sauder and I say good bye to Andrew, who has to be home in time for a wedding. It will be strange to be back to only two riders, but we also press on knowing that we are almost done. Pictures will come later because service this far out is quite limited. Good night and thanks for reading.

Up and up we go

It is hard to believe that is has already been a month since we left the sandy shores of the Atlantic. In all honesty, it's hard to fathom the two thousand miles our legs have pedaled, let alone all food eaten and water drank. We have taken this trip one day, one pedal stroke and and mile at a time, otherwise the sheer immensity of the endeavor would drive us somewhat batty. All that said, Wyoming has been good to us. The endless corn fields between Ohio and Iowa and cattle ranches of Nebraska has changed into something truly wild.

The land from Riverton to Dubois, where we currently are, is seemingly straight out a Louis L'Amour novel, towering red cliffs and buttes, dry sandy scrub land, jittery prong antelope making an occasional appearance. Despite the romantic appeal of being in this region, romance was not present iin quest to go west, burning legs and mangled spirits awaited.

The first forty miles went by easy, Titus had given a 5 mile boost out of town and we enjoyed a  long gradual decent into river valley. We knew that we would be climbing a few thousand feet today, but it would be over seventy or so miles, easy we thought. The wind was almost still allowing us to keep a good pace without much discomfort. Around 30 miles in, we noticed another biker. He pulled over to greet us and we had a good conversation for around 10 minutes. This man, I did not get his name, flew from Britain to cycle across the states. He started in Oregon in April. After saying our adieus, we cycled on. The terrain was quite desolate, save the small homes down long drives whose yards were filled with rusting cars and buses. We had water for about 40 miles, but because of the heat, we were drinking it fast. Luckily a gas station was up ahead. Seeing that it was noon, we ate ourselves full with gas station microwave burgers and burritos. Since I could not text or call jackie, I decided to do something I have only done a few times in my life, send a post card. I picked out the post card, bought a stamp ( one which the clerk was not sure would cover it), and wrote a lovely note detailing my day and how I can't wait to get home. I was proud that I was using such "outdated" methods, and felt somewhat nostalgic about using "snail mail". It was not until 20 miles later, that I would realize that for the post card to actually get to Jackie, an address was needed. When I thought of this, I figuratively kicked myself. At least now, the mail man has a nice post card and note to keep.

While at the gas station, the wind had begun to pick up. We had not noticed previously that the entire valley we were in was notorious for wind, particulary westerly winds coming down from the mountains. Th word "wind" was posted every where, from gas stations, to rest stops, to even the name of the river our path was following up hill. We not only had to contend with the wind, but also the climbing. While it was not steep, our legs and lungs could definitively feel it. Normally, relief could be had the crest of a hill, letting gravity do the work to bring you down. However, the wind was so strong that we would have to pedal down hill to even keep acceptable pace. quite aggravating. We countered this with frequent rest stops, manic and primal yelling, the occasional profanity ( applied to me at least) and constantly reminding ourselves how much worse the windy day in Nebraska was. In all, we climbed up to 7,000 feet to the town of Dubois. Pulling into town we found a restaurant and each managed to eat a personal 12 inch pizza. We found a campground, which is overpriced but at least has a shower and free WiFi, modern day necessities. A few lots down, some other guys are biking from NY to Homer, AK and making a documentary about the trip. I would like to chat with them but it is quite late now. Anyways, that is just a glimpse of what happened today. If you want complete picture of each day, just sit on a bike and imagine pedaling for hours and hours, and make sure to include random and chronic pains. Yes, it sounds more painful than fun, which at times it is, but that in my mind is the adventure, the meat of a living narrative. So long for now. Tomorrow we home to cross the continental divide which means hours of climbing. We hope to make it to Jackson, WY.

Almost into the mountains: Riverton, WY

     Staying the night in a place called Hells half acre did not mean the weather would be hot and dry. On the contrary, it was cold, wet and awfully windy during the night. Waking up to water seeping through our tents should have dampened our spirits, but that was not the only thing we woke up to. Around 8, a loud car horn blared outside, the typical Beitzel greeting. Uncle Titus had arrived, not only to visit, but also bearing bags of breakfast sandwiches. We were awfully hungry because we had only one real meal the day before.

     Storing our packs in the car, we felt feather light as we rolled over the Wyoming country side. As we neared noon, I noticed a line of steady clouds in the distance that never seemed to change. We soon realized that these were not clouds but rather snow capped mountains lining the horizon. While the sight was beautiful, these would be our first major range that we would have to climb. At that distance however, we were at least a day and a half away. Focus need to be on the miles ahead.

Titus drove ahead to pick lunch for us and met us on the road. While on the side of the road eating our arbys sandwiches and milkshakes, a fellow biker came down the road. This biker was man on recumbent bike, making his way cross country. There seems to be special commradrie shared between cyclists, particularly ones on tour. We understand each others experiences, motivations and pains. This allows for quick and friendly conversation. This man also informed us that just 6 miles behind him another couple who was doing a cross country tour would pass us. In less than a hour, a pair of bikes could be seen down the road. We walked across the road to meet this couple. Johnny and Audry had recently retired and set out on a cross country adventure from Oregon to Virginia. Johnny had originally planned to run across America, but according to him, after 200+ miles his knees gave up on the idea. Now on bicycles, him and his wife would make their journey east. After a great visit, we made our way toward our goal of Riverton, WY.

     The last 20 or so miles riding into Riverton were splendid, long graduael descent from the high desert like plain into a green river bottom. The desecent, along with a generous tail wind allowed to us to take a extended break at a gas station. Titus had purchased us hotel rooms, of which we are grateful for. This allowed us to shower and do much needed Audrey before the long days of climbing ahead. after a filling meal of Mexican food, we are now at the hotel ready to rest until tomorrow. From what the other riders are telling us, we are facing at least 14 miles of climbing. While I am slightly exciting about getting into the mountains, my thighs are feeling a tad bit nervous.

Johnny and Audrey headed to VA

On the way down to Riverton

Water break 

Can you tell we have a tailwind? 

Back up speed...oh wait, nevemind

After taking a second day of rest due to sickness, we started the morning some what slow. Savoring every comfortable thing about our hotel room before we left again on the road. Pressure was on because we had already lost time against our goal of being done by June 20, and the various mechanical, weather and health issues had pushed us back. Unfortunately, fate had at least one more bump in our road.

When we pulled into casper, we had got the bikes checked out by a local bike shop, I had been hearing a few noises that sounded off, but was not sure exactly what it's was. Like always, the noise was not present around the mechanic, my bike was sent back with a clean bill of health. The noise persisted when we were about to leave casper, so I felt determined to find the issue. I found that a spoke had come loose. However, after tightening it, the noise was still there . Seeing that casper was the last big city until we reach Boise, we visited the shop a second time. Long story short, my rear wheel was shot. I had taken a risk bringing them seeing that they are racing wheels. Not meant to endure extended and harsh terrain over long periods of time as well has a hefty rider with luggage. So, a brand new wheel later, a wheel suited more toward touring, we finally left casper. Between casper and the next significant town ( a town with a gas station and toilet, there seems to be a void, endless grass land, fences and mountains in the distance which never seen to change.

The distance began to test is, while we had only ridden 30 miles, our water reserves were running low. Thirst is dangerous on a bicycle, physically and mentally. Dehydration makes a easy pace feel like cycling in mud, a small hill like a mountain. It destroys your joy about cycling and every one of your stray thoughts focuses on water. Luckily, before things to bad, we saw a town in the distance. Pulling up, it was disappointing to see the gas station, bar and restaurant closed and board. However, I was my leaving this town without water. I saw a man grilling behind his trailer with his soon. Pulling up, he barely acknowledged us. I asked  if we could bother him for some water and he did not answer until he had shuffled something in his grill. With barely a whisper, he said water? Walked to a spigot and hose and set it hanging by he fence. Although he opened up a little with conversation, it was quick and a lot take awkward, at least we had water... 

Soon we started to climb a long and gradual slope, we were already at 5300 feet, how high can we go I thought. At the top if this climb, a outlook beckoned us. This place is called Hells half acre, a small  canyon which is interesting but not jaw dropping. We all were feeling tired, hungry and week, so we decided to set up camp. We are excited Drews dad is in he area is is going to visit with us tomorrow. Well, I must rest, and I need both hands to swat away these mosquitos 

When porta potties are placed in your path, use them.

Hells half acre 

Our campsite for tonight.