Post #13

Endo the ride and Back in SoCal

Hello-

From my motel in Rio Rancho North of Albuquerque, I rode through the city for the first twenty or so miles which was choked with traffic and I had a disgusting amount of fun mixing it up with the autos in spite of the Bob which flopped about in my wake. From the southern edge of the city the trip became a Taco Bell advert and with skinny road tires I paralleled I-25 on frontage roads and hammered South.

I stopped for the night in Socorro and ate a pizza at a pizza hut, the waitress looked at me strangely when I ordered a large pizza and a pitcher of beer with only one glass, she looked at me even more strangely when I left after eating and drinking everything. In the morning it was more road riding and I spent a long time on the shoulder of the highway. I stopped for a while to let a storm pass but it never came over. As I was pulling back on to the road I met a couple who were auto-touring from New York to Miami. They had run out of fuel, I offered a Double-Caffeine Espresso Love GU Human Octane Booster. They declined, I think it might have clogged the injectors anyway. They took great interest in my trip and interrogated me for a while and took some photos.

I headed on and at the next rest stop met an ex-marine trucker team. They thought it would be really great to ride one of their regular routes at an eighth of their regular speed just to see what they had been missing. They must have radioed me around because for a short while afterwards, I received a disproportionate number of honks and waves from big-rigs.

That afternoon my destination was Truth or Consequences (which was named after the TV game show) where I was to rendezvous with my Mother who volunteered to shadow me for the remainder of the trip and then drive me back to Sunny SoCal. My rear tire flatted about a hundred yards from the off ramp, rather than fix it I just rode in with a flat rear tire.

We met up at the Sonic Burger for limeade and then headed for a motel to clean up. We dined at the only crowded joint in town which we thought was a Mexican restaurant but turned out to be a steak house and sports bar. I had a big rack of juicy spare-ribs which seemed to fall off of the bone Mom had chicken which was so juicy it left a puddle on the plate.

In the morning we headed West towards Silver City, a big thunder and lightning storm pinned us down, but I jumped in the rolling insulated shelter and hung out until it settled down, from there it was a long rainy climb up to the pass and the other side was a long swooping descent where the grade and wind conspired to keep me at a fun 30 mph for nearly 15 miles no brakes just swinging through turns faster than cars would dare. It was vaguely reminiscent of Bouquet Canyon with big trees and terrific tarmac.

There were a few more hills and I didn't quite make it to Silver City before dark but I had ridden 82 miles so I felt OK about it. Rather than sleep on the side of the road I jumped in the car and was shuttled to town to sleep in a motel. In the morning after a big breakfast I was re-deposited on the road where I was picked up the previous evening.
That day consisted of a rolling elevation gain up to the divide at a little over 5000' and then a rolling elevation loss to a big long descent to the valley floor. Although the total elevation change was around a thousand foot drop there was a lot of climbing.

On the long descent to the valley floor I left the relative shelter of the trees and mountains and had a fairly strong headwind. I was really working to go downhill. As soon as the road leveled off there was a very noticeable temperature jump and off came the warmers and cap for a ride Eastward down the shoulder of I-10. The headwind was now a tailwind and with that help I could spin along with relative ease at 20mph.

Bicycles are permitted on most highways but are required to exit and re-enter at every off ramp, after about 10 miles just as I was topping an off ramp my rear tire was slashed open by a piece of something. I swapped back to a knobby and rode another fifteen miles or so to the turn where I would be heading South to the border. After a supper in Lordsburg in the only restaurant and a sleep in a bed and breakfast at that same restaurant, I got a fairly early start towards the border. Despite the long straight road shown on the map which usually denotes a hill-free, fairly flat ride this was one of the tougher days.

It may be that I already felt 'done' or that it was a long boring ascent but it was tough. The ride was punctuated before the end by a monsoonal type storm which found me in the car/shelter a scant nine miles from the border. No sooner had the worst of the storm passed than I was back out on the bike trying to kill the last chunk of road like the last half of an out and back time trial. I was holding 19 mph, uphill, into a headwind and reveling in the knowledge that I wouldn't be riding the next day.

At the border we took the commensurate pictures and loaded up for a short drive back to Tuscon. In Tucson we grabbed a roomat a hote and met up with my old roommate, Ed, for dinner at one of the best Mexican places in town. afterwards we headed for The Buffet where we met some other bike dork buddies for a couple of rounds.a monsoon broke out while we were in the buffety and we got soaked on the short walk back to the hotel.

In the morning, fueled by Nico's Burritos and much coffee, we drove to San Diego where the trip really ended.

Although I was roaming the continent without immediate company I owe much of my success to my family and friends for the eventual success of my endeavor this includes but is not limited to:
My parents for their visits, concern, and assistance
All of the crew at Sundance Cycles for posting this drivel for you to read as well as their backing on the equipment end of things.
The Boys for their constant and unflagging enspiritment and confidence,
The Jewsburys and cohorts for a great and much needed day off,
The Guelphers for making Banff one of the hardest places to leave/start from,
Special Ed for his internet and 'homefront' assistance,
The countless people who sent me messages of encouragement along the way,
Miss Jenn X who provided me with the cookie-fuel which propelled me through the bad lands of Wyoming,
Randy Sane who hooked my Mother and I up with a ride home,
All of the Motorists who didn't hit me and the few who nearly did but provided me with fodder for writing.
And all of the people I met along the road who provided me with; directions, water, food, advise and optimism.

I am firmly convinced that any of you could do it too. But I hope you're smarter than that.

What's next? Party of course.
Thursday, August Third, 8:30pm at the Cowboy Palace ,
21635 Devonshire, Chatsworth, CA 91311

To accommodate the geographical disparity of you all we tried to pick something equally inconvenient for everybody.

Go outside,
-Scott(y) Junker

Post #12

Albuquerque, New Mexico

that night in salida I went to sleep in the park and woke up a few hours later when the bar across the street opened there was a lot of noise but I eventually fell asleep, I woke up in the morning to squirrels jumping on my knees as they ran back and forth between two gigantic trees.

Since I left Salida I have crossed the last state line and the 10,000 foot elevation mark for the final time. Out of Salida I climbed over a high pass pausing briefly near the top for lunch and reaped the reward of a beautiful 12 mile fire road descent to a highway which was itself a descent for the next ten miles or so.

After discovering that I had left my trashed and treasured Rainbow sandles (the only shoes I brought with me) in Salida I poured a 40 on the sidewalk for them and slept beside the road. I rose early and crossed a section of dirt road which led to another highway. As I rode along towards the next turn-off there was yet another storm blocking my planed route, rather than take a day longer to ride this section I just re-routed and soon found myself back on Highway 285 around 40 miles South of Salida.

My odometer had logged a little over a hundred miles to get there, I guess I took the scenic route. I spun on down the highway to Monte Vista, Colorado, which is a small farming town on the Southern end of the Colorado plateau. It was here that I heard my first Spanish conversation since leaving LAX. It reminds me of home to hear people speak spanish with english words thrownin for convience.

After a big dinner of strawberry chicken, that paled in comparison to anything from Dan's wok at the Imperial Garden in Agoura Hills, I slept in the park in front of the Chamber of Commerce. I slept soundly until around 2:00 am when I got sprinklered. I just zipped up and went back to sleep.

In the morning went to the most crowded breakfast joint in town and I somehow fell in with the power table. I ate with the County Water Commissioner, Local Department of Wildlife Officer, the Justice of the Peace, the Insurance Salesman, the Town Matriarch Businesswoman, a potato farmer and another gentleman of some distinction. They were nearly all named John. They wished me well and I set off for New Mexico. After a long spin through farmland and a couple of snotty climbs back over some beautiful high passes divided by alpine riparian pastures I descended into New Mexico and the town of Chama.

After a cursory tour of the area I came across the High Country Lounge which I decided would be a great place for dinner based on the number of motorcycles and rock crawlers in front. Inside I found a perfect little bar with a honky tonk band going hard, peanut shells and sawdust all over the place all topped off by some killer mexican food. Big dinner with New Belgium 1554 and I met the locals, including the oil baroness, a venerated old cowboy who was introduced as "The Major Domo of Northern New Mexico", and a man who had been struck by lightning three times. It was a great crowd telling old stories and goofing around as only long time neighbors and friends can. Truly an 'I love this bar' place. I was persuaded to camp in the RV park that night and they treated me very well. I also got a shower and washed off some of my 'tan'.

In the morning I rode on only to be stuck on a road that was supposed to be paved but hadn't been graded in the last decade, if ever. After that I got ambushed from behind by a big lightning storm in Regina it was right on top of me before I ever knew it was there. I disobeyed a 'no trespassing' sign and huddled in my tarp under the eaves of an abandoned house. From there I leapfrogged a couple more storms into Cuba, a nowhere highway town.

On the advice of my Chama friends I got a motel room ($28) rather than risk getting rolled during the night. Cuba still holds the reputation of the dangerous old-west town and travelers were advised not to get stuck there overnight well into the 20th Century. The town doesn't seem keen on dispelling this reputation.

In the clear skies of morning I set off only to be blocked by storms again so I re-routed again, this time to Albuquerque and got another motel room. Wendy took first place in her category in the Bob Cook Mt. Evans Hill Climb. I have no idea where I'm going as these storms are forecast beyond the end of the week and I have no envy of Captain Lightning of Chama. It looks like "Go South" is the standing order again, but I should only be another week or so.

My mother is coming out on Tuesday to join me for the remainder of the route and to drive my bike bum self back to California. I'm looking forward to taking her to the Buffet in Tucson on the way home.

Almost there if it weren't for the storms,

-Scott

Post #11

Salida (sahl-eye-duh), Colorado

Hello-
I had an awesome time with the Jewsburys (Al and Wendy) and after a day of relaxation and feeding, which included an awesome barbecue and homemade ice cream (in honor of Wendy's birthday) at the home of Greg and Angie, I got to sleep in a real bed and I got lost in the sheets.

On Monday morning Wendy dropped me back off exactly where she had picked me up and I rode the bike path from Silverthorne to Breckenridge. This particular one was a minefield of distracted, vacationing bicycle renters and aero-bar-bound triathletes. I'm not sure which is more hazardous but they both provide a more immediate hazard than a grizzly. I had to stop twice, once to fix a flat tire and once to re-place a dropped chain on two of the said rentals.

Upon my arrival in Breckenridge (which is itself a hazard zone of vacationing drivers and pedestrians) I could clearly see the pass which I was to cross (Boreas pass 11,482 ft) and could also see the lightning storm squatting in it, waiting to strike any ignorant itinerant bike dorks. Rather than try to sneak past hoping to go unnoticed by thor, I opted for a long lunch and some coffee and waited for it to pass through the pass.

It did, but I had been way-laid long enough to only make 45 miles before being pinned down by a second storm in Como. There is nothing in Como. I camped in front of the Town Hall / School.

In the morning I hit the highway and except for a road cleaning crew saw very little traffic. The shoulder was clean and wide and the road wound through a wide farming valley and offered a view of some of the famous 'fourteeners' to the East. I stopped for a while at a truck stop diner for lunch and to allow yet another storm to pass and spun the last 30 miles into Salida.

After a stop at the bike shop, Absolute Bikes to BS with the staff I have retired to the cafe / bar Internet cafe for some supper and to send this message. A check with home revealed that the local newspaper somehow got wind of me and wants to interview me upon my return, I can only hope they're not down-wind.

I'll probably be in New Mexico when you next hear from me as there's not much between here and original Mexico.

Hasta Luego,

Scott

Post #10

Evergreen, Colorado

Hello-

As I left Rawlins the road led up a series of buttes and I climbed back up to some serious elevation, after a lunch stop in the shade of a backhoe I set out to ascend the last section of hill, and as I was cresting the divide itself I saw what I thought was a large dog over the top of the hill.

As I continued to ride towards it I realized that the 'dog' was standing on it's hind legs and was not in fact a dog at all but a black bear. Before I could do anything it began to run down the road, directly towards me. In the belie f that I was being charged by a hungry bear after my peanut-butter-sandwich-breath I began to fumble for the bear spray that I had originally been so reluctant to carry. As the thing galloped directly towards me I finally heard the sound of a truck coming up the other side of the hill and realized that the animal was not running at me but running away from the pickup. He continued to run straight at me until he came within 15 yards (which was far too close for my comfort) he hung a hard left and ran up the hill beside the trail.

The pickup truck chasing him stopped next to me as I was still trying to regain my breath. The passenger greeted me with a "you carryin' right?" I replied negatively but mentioned that I had the pepper spray she shot right back with "You bes' turn youself right round and get back to town as you ain't go no biness out here without something that shoots bullets" although I was unnerved enough at my Mutual of Omaha moment I felt no need to comply as she had fewer teeth than a jockey pulley and gave the distinct impression that she never went anywhere without some type of firearm. Keep in mind that I was in Wyoming where even convicted felons are allowed to carry rifles.

Although I didn't heed her advise, I did ride with the pepper spray fire extinguisher in my pocket and never touched either the granny gear or the ground until I hit paved highway 25 miles later. This stretch included the famous Aspen Alley which was beautiful when I hit it right as the sun was starting to go down

Because of the late start from Rawlins I had a beautiful 15 mile rolling descent on asphalt at dusk among aspen to the town of Slater, where I wandered into what appeared to be an abandoned mobile home park. I set up camp and ate dinner and while I was preparing for bed an old man appeared behind me and just wanted to make sure that I knew where to find the water, bathrooms etc. He was the camp host and hadn't intended to surprise me but didn't know where his flashlight was.

I slept well and in the morning I took a long hot shower and washed off most of what I had thought was a tan. I rode on from there all the way into Steamboat Springs and the route took me through some beautiful high valleys eventually dropping me onto Elk River Road which leads into town.

After a big ice cream cone and a quick spin through the town I settled on the surf and turf special at Johnny's Diner (Fish sticks and a rib-eye with potato salad) as I was eating, Mike, the owner, went off on a rant about "anybody who rides a bike on Elk River Road from June through September is asking to die" I mentioned that I had just come down that road with a bob trailer and indeed had a few close calls with motorists.

He bought us some beers and toasted my outstanding fortune to have arrived alive. After supper I had a look through the local book shop and purchased a book about Amundsen and Scott's race to the south pole the woman working there bro'd me out with a new t shirt, mine was getting pretty funky.

I camped in Lincoln Park by the river and slept peacefully until I was woken by the sprinklers, I'm becoming much better at going back to sleep while the outside of the bivvy sack is being drilled by rain birds. After the sprinklers went off I packed and headed for the most crowded diner in town had a big breakfast at Winona's and me a couple of born and bred locals. I ended up eating with Chula and her mother Gigi who were fascinated by the trip and had designs of their own on a long distance cycle tour.

From Steamboat I rode up Rabbit Ears Pass which is a 7 mile long 2,500 climb, popular among some of the more masochistic locals, many of whom rocketed past me as I was slogging up the hill at a whopping 5 mph. Which, by the way is not fast enough to outpace the flies that are un-affected by mosquito repellent and bite, hard.

It was a long day in the saddle to get all of the way to Silverthorne where I had a roast beef sandwich a couple pints of Guinness and fell asleep in the lawn in front of the bar. This morning I woke up and while was still packing, I got a call from Wendy and Al Jewsbury, long time friends who live near Denver, they offered to pick me up and drive me back to their home for a day of rest. I of course agreed and I am now sitting in their living room writing to you fine people.

I will be deposited tomorrow back where I left off this morning to regain the trail and continue on my way southward, but until then I will enjoy the luxury of a home for the evening.

-Scott

Post#9

Rawlins, Wyoming

Guten Tag all-

I ended staying an extra day in Jackson and treated myself to four or five hot meals, beer, espresso and a load of ice cream. I saw An Inconvenient Truth and it's a little scary but still leaves you with hope, go see it, my earth is at stake. Because it's by, for and about Al Gore. It's a bit self serving but as a professional politician and that's his job.

I also visited the bike shop for a new pump (mine died) and installed the new derailleur hanger (happy shifting). I left Jackson and headed for Pinedale and it was a nice day on a beautiful road with a good shoulder, there were some threatening clouds with lightning in them but I stopped for a long, leisurely lunch before I got to them and they passed by harmlessly and cleaned off the road for me.

In Pinedale everything was closed as it was Sunday night but the KOA campground gives a $5 discount to cyclists. Monday morning brought mail and I really felt birthday'd, somehow opening boxes just does that. New Shorts! thanks Mom & Dad! I didn't get out of town until around 10:30 but there was a nice road section before the trail started. I stopped for a deep fried lunch at a truck stop and hit the dirt. Rather I hit the sand I should have realized from the name of the road (Big Sandy Rd.) that the going would be rough, and it was. There were numerous sections either so sandy or so washboarded (and sometimes both) that they were truly un-ridable so I got to push for those sections (some up to a mile long) in deep beach like sand, or ride in the ditch alongside the 'road' for the washboard sections. I lost a water bottle on one of the washboard sections and the bottom of the Bob has started to fall out but I made it through and all the way to South Pass City ("population: about 7") where I camped next to a small stream. After I fixed the Bob up with some straps (thanks Dad!) and bailing wire I set off again with a full load of water (almost 3 gallons.) It was immediately apparent that it would be a long, hot, dry ride.

I made about 65 miles through a high desert and saw no water, three cars, and dozens of antelope. I camped next to what was supposed to be a stream but was just a dry sandwash with a couple of confused looking cattle. Big thunder and lightning storm during the night with a flash flood that dried up by morning, no water refills.

At daybreak I rode on to the dot called Lamont and had the lasagna lunch special which was billed as 'homemade' but I think it was Stouffers, either way it came with fruit and milk and was pretty good. While riding down the highway to Rawlins I got pinned down by a big storm so I sheltered up, took a nap and it was gone in an hour. I packed back up and rode into Rawlins where I had a huge steak dinner and much beer.

I slept on the lawn in front of the Sheriffs office figuring that I couldn't be less conspicuous and probably wouldn't be bothered as I was clearly not hiding anything. I wasn't, save a big storm during the night but my bivy sack kept me dry, and Tyvek shielded my bike from the driving rain. I woke up this morning to a sprinkler head right next to my head and got up quick. I've been waiting around for the library to open and here I am..

When I leave here I'm headed for Steamboat Springs, Colorado which I hope to make by Saturday. Keep sending the replies, they keep me going.

-Scott

Next mail stop will be Silverthorne, Colorado 80498 on Monday, July 17, 2006

Post #8

Jackson (no hole), Wyoming

I wake up every day of the year and don't think "I wanna do a century today!" I woke up yesterday and again didn't think that same thought but by the time I had gotten off my bike I had ridden 100.23 miles, oops..

I left Ashton, Idaho too late in the afternoon to really get anywhere and then got pinned down on the side of the road by a full-on storm only 17 miles out of town. I cut my losses and sheltered up for the night.

In the morning the sky was clear and blue and after a pot of coffee I got on with it. It's an odd thing to wake up 30 miles away from a mountain range (the tetons) and say to yourself "I think I'll have lunch on the other side of those hills." The road was well graded for the most part and the big hill was fairly gentle. I rode towards Yellowstone and lunched at Flagg Ranch. From there I rode along the highway and somehow all the 'Drive America' RV renters avoided hitting me.

There was a big jam on the road where a brown bear sow and cubs were visible from the road (hopefully that's the last I'll see). while working my way through the knot of RVs and SUVs triple-parked in the road I nearly got doored twice and ran over an oblivious man's foot with the trailer wheel. He yelled at me but I rode on, how he managed to look right through me I may never know.

At Moran Junction I opted to head for Jackson. I had to yell at a moose to get out of the road, I think they're fairly dumb creatures. I arrived in good time and had ridden over a hundred miles, almost half off-road. I dined at the bar in the Silver Dollar Saloon and people kept buying me beer, and I kept drinking it. I camped in the town park and slept like a log. I rose with the sun and drank much coffee. I found out that today is Saturday (I thought it was Friday) which means that when I arrive in Pinedale I'll have to wait until Monday for mail. So I can relax a bit and criuse in this afternoon, hang out Sunday and get gone after mail on Monday.

As I ride further south the motorists are becoming less friendly, the Albertan's stop to chat, British Columbian's yell "Halloo" from the window and wave, the Montanan's waved enthusiastically, Idaho-er's wag a finger as if admonishing me for being on their road and the Wyom-o's ignore you. 28% of motocycle riders wave in some way (I counted)

Also, for some reason Utah people slow down to my speed and then accelerate past almost every time, even on the highway in motorhomes. I don't know why they can't just pass like everyone else (maybe they're slowing down to see if they know me) it drives me crazy.

When the only thing you have to do all day is ride and eat, life is pretty easy and this whole "ride your bicycle across the country" nonsense is much simpler than it seems.

I may have lost my mind as I have begun singing to myself even though I don't know any songs.

I think I'll go for a bike ride.
-Scott

Post #6

I know it's been a few days and that some of you are concerned (particularly my parents, whose faith in me seems to have been completely depleted.) But I have been having a great time and have had no major troubles. Let's start back in Helena, Montana...

After sleeping late in a big bed and feasting on the continental breakfast at the hotel I got something of a late start, and climbed out of town into the surrounding hills. Somewhere in there, I met my parents for a picnic lunch and my Dad almost rode off on the bike, if the saddle had been a tad lower he might have gone right on to Mexico.

A little further on, the trail was closed to motor vehicles but the map showed a way around the closure, I opted to go the distance with them but we soon ran into some technical sections, which put the rental car through it's paces and concerned my mother greatly. She seems to believe that the entire trail has been technical remote, singletrack when in fact this was the first bit of trail on which I would hesitate to drive a Honda Insight (aside from that bit in Alberta). In an effort to save my mother's rapidly fraying nerves, I rode in the car all the way into Butte (even though this precludes my ability to register as officially completing the trail, I believe it to have been worthwhile.)

In Butte, we checked into another hotel and had dinner at a restaurant/casino/lounge and failed to grasp Keno, but my father's steak was much better than the previous one in Helena.

In the morning I woke earlier than my progenitors and headed for the continental breakfast which included biscuits and gravy as a 'Local Specialty' I returned to my room and headed back out to have coffee with their breakfast. At breakfast, they presented birthday presents of new shorts and a can of bear pepper spray. Although, I'm sure that it's a smart thing to have, I'm ambivalent about the pepper spray. I packed up my whole mess while Dad installed new tread on my shoes (I had killed the original tread in the last three years but thanks to Sundance it's all there again.)

After a stop at the gas station air hose to swap to fresh, knobby tires (I started out with nearly-worn-out file-treads which were now slicks) I hit the road again. My parents met me outside of town for final goodbyes and wished me luck with tears in their eyes. They seem infinitely more concerned than confident.

The trail lead through high Alpine meadows and I paused at a mountain top for lunch and to let a storm pass. It wasn't much further until I ran into a couple who had passed me earlier going the same direction, they warned me of a road closure ahead but didn't seem worried in the least about how I might get through it. A few hundred yards later there was a gate across the road and a sign proclaiming that if I continue further, I would be "arrested and prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law" which I assumed was a stiff one for trespassing in Montana. I attempted to contact the landowner and in spite of the efforts of Special Ed he could not be located so I went on through his land with an eye out for angry, gun-toting ranchers. I made it through to the other side and inquired at the next town about the ferocity of this rancher, apparently "He's a Mean Cuss" and regularly chases people off with guns, also there is a legal easement across his land but he doesn't like it.

I made it through though and feel bad for all the other great dividers who'll run up against him. I rode on to the town of Wise River where all of the campgrounds were full so I rode on down the route to the next campground which had only three sites and no water supply, but a quick stream in which I bathed.

Dinner-Sleep-Big Storm-Sleep -Coffee and on down the trail which lead through more Alpine meadow to a double-lane, recently graded, loamy seven mile descent into Polaris. On the way, I met an anti-social guy named Bruce who was also riding the Divide trail, he's doing it on his '95 Pro-Flex complete with Girvin fork and what appeared to be OEM tires. I feel sorry for him. I continued on, riding on the highway to Bannack State Park and across the Bannack Bench, which is a desert like prairie, and skirted past an on-coming storm (the sky is big enough that one can see them coming and go around.)

I had planned to camp in the town of Grant, but upon arrival a sign announced that the 'town' was "Closed for the Season". I got the impression that it had been closed for quite a few consecutive seasons.

I rode on to an intersection where I met two ranchers, Gene and Tom, who were familiar with the Divide trail and recommended a common Divide rider campsite in the ditch by the road. I camped there and slept well.

When I awoke in the morning, I startled the cattle and they made quite a racket. I started riding sans breakfast and headed along the highway towards an RV park lookinbg for coffee, donuts, and a small store. The RV park had been closed up and abandoned. No food. I rode on towards the town of Dell but had to stop along the way for a Clif bar (thanks Biff). A passing motorist offered a Propel which was ice cold. In Dell I had a quart of coffee and a whole Box of Lil' Debbie coffee cakes (breakfast of champions).

From there it was a short spin into Lima (pronounced Lyme-uh) and I arrived just in time for the Independence Day Parade which included kids on tricycles, riding mowers, pack animals, and tractors. A few people invited me to the town park for a pot-luck lunch after the parade. I changed into some normal clothes and headed over. In the park I met Alan Martinell who introduced me to a host of other kind people who all tried to feed me. The fire department grilled burgers and they were served up with all kinds of side dishes and a big slice of berry pie for dessert. After lunch, I headed up the Centennial Valley and found out that Mr. Martinell owns about a third of the valley and has about two thousand head of cattle on that land. Montana has happy cows too.

I camped in a wetland area that had so many birds that insects were not a problem.

I woke in the morning to honking swans and cattle lowing from across the valley. Much coffee and rode onward. The mosquitoes in this region are large enough to cover a dime and they have a pronounced bite. Onward and crossed the Divide/ Idaho State line. A few miles on this side, I stopped at an RV park to do laundry and a photographer traded me a $5 shower for some pics of me riding, I whored it up, and the shower was as hot and long as anyone could want.

I got back on the bike all loose and limber and spun easily to the highway, so easily in fact that I missed a couple of turns and ended up a few miles further down the road than I had expected. I didn't care and cranked into Ashton just before sundown. It was an 88 mile day (58 off road, 30 on) so I ate a gluttonous dinner of Blue cheese double cheeseburger with a pile of tots and milkin the diner at the edge of town and camped in the town park.

I rose just after dawn and wandered into town in search of the coffee shop with all the old men. The Trail's Inn did not disappoint and I quickly fell in with the local octogenarians for a gallon or so of hot coffee with some eggs. I've been wandering around town waiting for the Library to open so that I could send this message and I'm going to try for Teton National Park for this evening. I'm making long days of it and plan to take a day off in Steamboat next week but I'm still shooting for the under 40 day trip (rest days not included) and should be at the southern border in the first week of August.

Still on the bike and doing just fine despite my parents' fears and misgivings,

Scott

Postscript:

I'll be making a mail stop in Pinedale, Wyoming 82941 in about four days. Please nothing heavy or bulky (baked goods excepted)