From 1804 through 1806, Meriwether Lewis and William Clark led the Corps of Discovery Expedition across the Western part of the nascent United States, through the newly acquired Louisiana Purchase and the Northwest Territories. Their route, both on the outbound and return journeys, passed through the areas where I was riding over the next six days. While not on horseback, my two-wheeled mounted adventure during these kilometers led me across terrain not much changed in the last two hundred years. To help with my imagining of what it must have been like, I had downloaded Stephen Ambrose’s “Undaunted Courage”, the classic (but dated) history of the expedition. It was at times surreal to be climbing through mountain passes while listening to the story of exploration, discovering routes over the Rockies and hearing about the trials and misadventures of explorers more than two hundred years before.
My only criticism of the book was that Ambrose failed to acknowledge the roles that the local indigenous people played in assisting the expedition at crucial moments during their journey. It was good to stop in Darby, several days later, to visit the monument to Sacagawea, the Lemhi Shoshone teenager, who traveled with Lewis and Clark (carrying her newborn infant), serving as interpreter and guide. I’d like to find a more modern history that avoids Ambrose’s romantic, western-centric interpretation of the Corps of Discovery Expedition.
Over two days I rode from the west side of Yellowstone, north to Twin Bridges, following the TransAmerica Route.
I had been told about a great place for cyclists to stay in Twin Bridges and it had always been one of my planned stops along the way. After a day struggling into a headwind and after a long climb, I was happy for a bit shorter day (only 71 km) from Ennis to the fabled Bike Camp. Rough weather was rolling in and there couldn’t have been a more perfect spot to stop for the night.
Bike Camp was originally created by the late legendary Bill White, a local guy who realized that there was a “gold mine” of tourists pedaling through the city but who were not stopping. Now, after his death, the town of Twin Falls maintains this special place where cyclists touring along the TransAmerica bicycle route can pitch their tents for free (donations accepted and expected) and, like I did, head into this sleepy “wide spot in the road” to spend money. The Bike Camp is located walking distance from town, across the Beaverhead River. There is a shower, bathroom and large indoor area with a sink and some couches.
Here is a great article from Adventure Cycling and Montana Quarterly about Bike Camp https://www.adventurecycling.org/adventure-cyclist/online-features/twin-bridges-rural-friendliness-pays-dividends/
I arrived just at the same time as Eloise, another rider who was pedaling east along the Transamerica Trail. We shared the space and stories/tips from the road, each of us riding off in opposite directions just after dawn.
I had originally planned to ride up into Bannack State Park and the Bannack ghost town, at altitude off of the pass on Highway 278 between Dillon and Jackson Hot Springs. However my Dark Sky app was warning that a big storm was going to roll in from the northwest later in the day, bringing rain to the valleys and snow in the mountains. So, I booked a room in Dillon for the night to get out of the adverse elements and rode up through the historic Beaverhead Valley, along the Beaverhead River under a threatening sky.
This valley, marked by the famous Beaver’s Head Rock, has been a historic crossroads for centuries. Captain Lewis wrote that it was here that Sacagawea knew that she was close to her people, because she remembered the rock from when she was a child. There were places along the road where it was difficult to see the mark of humans on the land and easy to imagine what it would have been like riding with the Corps of Discovery in 1805.
So, rather than climb up to the highest point that the Lewis and Clark expedition passed on their adventure, I checked into my warm hotel room and headed straight for one of the finer breweries in the region for a cold Porter and some Mexican food next door.
It rained and snowed during the night, which is when I like my storms to hit (rather than during the day while I’m balancing across the country on two wheels.) While the backside of the storm was still passing through the Hamilton Range of the Rocky Mountains the next morning, heading up the pass on Highway 278 was a tricky proposition. In the photo below, taken looking west from near Dillon up towards Harrison Peak, there are snow showers ahead above 2000 meters. I knew I was in for a long day of climbs and potentially bad weather.
Here is a shot at the summit, where it had snowed just a few hours before.
While on the bike, my Garmin can show the road profile for the two or three kilometers ahead. My eyes paid close attention to my screen while climbing the two passes this day, always waiting for the moment when the relentlessly upwards line would turn turn downwards, indicating that the pass was near and road would turn downwards. This photo below, of my Garmin, was taken at the same time as the photo above, just before the top of the grade and the anticipated descent towards Jackson Hot Springs. Nothing like riding on a cold day with the prospect of a nice soak in the hot springs as incentive to push onwards.
On the way down the mountain, I was pelted by the most curious type of snow, ice and hail that I learned later that day, over a hot bowl of chili at Jackson Hot Springs Lodge, as “graupel.” Here is a cool video that explains what graupel is, but basically it is a snowflake that falls through freezing rain. Kind of “puffy hail” that still hurts like hell when it hits the skin at 50 km an hour on the descent.
I'd stayed before at the Jackson Hot Springs Lodge, several years before while touring through Montana with Adventure Cycling. The town is small, but has several options for touring cyclists. There are rooms and rustic cabins at the Lodge, a small campground across the street and shared rooms in Harwood’s Bunkhouse Hotel. I opted for a small cabin with a shared bathroom/shower a short distance away, which gave me free access to the wonderful hot springs pool.
My next day’s ride was going to be my longest so far in this trip, all the way from Jackson Hot Springs to Darby, a lovely little town on the descent from Chief Joseph Pass in the Bitterroot Valley. I had already contacted Curtis Bunton, a Warm Showers host, who was anticipating my arrival that afternoon, 122 km away. But, when I woke up, there was a light cover of snow on the ground. Luckily it warmed nicely during the day, the winds were light and sometimes following, and after a great breakfast of pancakes in Wisdom at my favorite little spot, the Crossing Bar and Grill, I rode well all day.
I’ve always enjoyed the Big Hole, an amazing landscape in Western Montana, just at the northern border of Idaho. These great open lands, full of history both sad and inspiring, have been a magnet for me over the years. This photo is from the top of the pass, at the start of the most marvelous descent out of the mountains and down the Bitterroot Valley. A mostly gradual descent that lasted two days.
And, on my final ride of this six-day stretch from Yellowstone to Missoula, I rode along the Bitterroot River for the final 101 km from Darby into the metropolis of Missoula, Montana.
The last time that I had ridden most of this route was in 2016 during the Montana Bicycle Celebration, which coincided with the grand opening of some of the final segments of the route. While it is a gradual descent all along the route, the winds were not cooperating and turned what could have been a leisurely pedal down the valley into a bit of a slough.
Next up: After several days in Missoula, up through Glacier National Park to the railhead in Whitefish.
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