Messages from the Pale Blue Dot

Quarantine 2020: 100 Indoor Streaming Workouts in 100 Days

After more than five decades of training non-stop season after season for one sort of endurance event or another, the Pandemic brought an enforced pause for me, as it may have for many of you. Little did I know that when I abandoned my late-winter self-contained tour in Tupelo, heading up the Natchez Trace from New Orleans and drove back to NYC for quarantine, it would be the best thing I could have done for this tired bod.

Each year, since I was in my teens, there was always a track meet, marathon, 10k, triathlon, century ride, road race, or bicycle tour to prepare for. Yes, I’ve been a serial masochist since running track at Berkeley High back in the 60s. Season rolled into off-season and back into a new season, broken only by the occasional unplanned injury, hernia repair, or cycling accident, which kept me off the bike or running path only long enough to recover but no longer. That damn lower back thing, and that damn shoulder thing and those ever tightening damn hip flexors just turned into lingering aches and pains that we have all lived with as a consequence of leading a wonderfully active life.

Outdoor cycling in NYC, while possible during March, April and May, was risky with 20k people dying in and around the Bronx. And, the last thing I figured an ER doc wanted to see was an old GOMER with a busted collarbone or something worse, if I could find an ambulance that would scrape me off the road. However, my favorite neighborhood yoga studio was offering online classes and I signed up for a package, thinking that it couldn’t hurt to spend some time on the mat. My new job as a bicycle tour leader wouldn’t start for a month or so and, if I couldn’t ride and since running had gotten too painful over the last few years, I could at least work on my flexibility.

After arranging the furniture, and setting up the camera and monitor, my den was transformed into an online yoga studio. Don’t worry.. no scented candles or eye pillows… just yoga blocks and a strap to help me reach my feet while bending. Day after day, as bodies were being stored in refrigerated trucks and waves of horrible news oozed from the TV, I retreated into one and often two daily yoga, stretch or strength classes online. Maybe it was the mindfulness, maybe it was the lithe bendy bodies on the screen, but I kept at it for one hundred days from mid-March through the last week in June.

An amazing thing happened. Week after week, my nose kept getting closer to my knees. That assortment of knots at various places along my spine (rhomboids and lats mostly) melted away. Spending time in twists, I could feel those extensors, obliques, flexors, and connecting tissues that had been in some form of spasm for years starting to relax and lengthen. Off the mat, ambling around the house trying to stay out of my wife’s way while she was finishing her most recent book, those nagging lower back pains were gone. Little things, like emptying the dishwasher or even rolling over in bed, were no longer an opportunity for agony. I’m not sure of the anatomical parts, but the visible step-down on the top of my shoulder, the result of a shoulder separation, went away as the acromion (I’m guessing) found its way home in my AC joint.

The aging body is still very plastic, it seems. We don’t own our injuries, but have only been renting them. With time, patience and persistence, it is possible to home PT yourself back to a much younger body. Now, I’m not saying that all parts work as they used it. (We can wish!) I won’t ever be able to hold 300 watts on a long hill or convince my mitochondria that they should be Krebs cycling like they did in my prime, but I am sure that the lingering aches and pains that I thought I would live with for the rest of my days could be given an eviction notice.

That tour leading job has been pushed back, but hopefully the outfitter will survive until roaming groups of cyclists are no longer considered two-wheeled disease vectors coming to infect small towns in beautiful places. For the time being, I’ve set up the Tacx Neo 2 with the Pinarello and am growing mitochondria at home using TrainerRoad. Who knows, with this factory-refurbished body I might strap on the Brooks and facemask to see if I can get in a pain-free run someday.

Bottom line: If I could tell my skinny-ass 16 year-old self one thing, it wouldn’t be to buy Apple or whether to take the red pill or the blue pill, it would be, “Don’t forget to stretch.”

Private Kit: An app that could tell you if you crossed paths with someone who has coronavirus and respects digital privacy rights

In the coming weeks and months, as we come out of lock-down, how can we use smart tools to keep ourselves safe from...

Posted by Kimo Goree on Friday, March 27, 2020

An Argument for Mobile Phone Tracking of Individuals to Prevent Post-Peak Resurgence of COVID19

 

An Argument for Mobile Phone Tracking of Individuals to Prevent Post-Peak Resurgence of COVID19 Dr. Fauci often refers...

Posted by Kimo Goree on Saturday, March 21, 2020

Abandoned Natchez Trace Ride in Tupelo due to Coronavirus Pandemic

On 11 March, after a slow start getting out on the road in Houston, Mississippi, I rode towards Tupelo heading to the home of my Warmshowers host, Rufus. The weather forecast was for showers in the afternoon, starting between 1:00 pm and 2:00 pm. Wrong. I didn’t beat the rain and almost made a bad mistake in not checking for the current forecast.  In short, I got caught out in the open and almost ended up in some trouble.

The rain started coming down pretty heavy just as got about an hour south of Tupelo. My weather app, Dark Sky, alerted me just minutes before the rain started, so I was able to get on my Showers Pass rain jacket and boot covers. The temperature at the onset of the storm was warm enough so that I could ride in the rain with my cycling shorts and jacket, but then things started to get really weird. As the front swept past, the temperature dropped and lightening started to strike around me. I needed to find some shelter and there was nothing along the Parkway other than picnic tables in the turnouts.

Google Maps showed the Natchez Trace RV Park about fifteen minutes up the road. As the rain intensified and the seconds between lightening flashes and the thunder claps were getting shorter and shorter, I rode hard while holding out my thumb when any flatbed or pickup truck would roll past. Yes, I would have abandoned my “Every Fucking Inch (EFI)” attitude and thrown my bike into anything moving faster than 20 km/hr. Just as things got dangerous, I turned off the Parkway on Pontocola Road, dashing to the office of the RV park.

I was that blue dot, with two severe weather warnings aimed directly towards me; the heavy rain and lightening alerts above.

I was lucky. The rain was really heavy and the lightening strikes hit all around me. This was the kind of electrical storm that fries cyclists if they are not careful. As the outside temperature dropped and my core temperature also plummeted as soon as I stopped riding, I pulled the down vest, long warm waterproof pants and waterproof gloves out of my “holy shit” frame bag. (My “holy shit” bag is a waterproof Revelate Sweet Roll mounted between the drops on my handlebars that is there for easy, fast access when the weather changes from nice to awful very suddenly, causing me to exclaim, “Holy Shit” and reach for its contents.)

After an hour or so as the deluge abated, I bade farewell to the RV Park manager, who was very kind in letting me use his porch but treated me like I was an alien who had fallen out of the sky. But, this was a trailer park in rural Mississippi, the kind of place that serves as a breeding ground for Jerry Springer show guests. I was glad to be heading down the road to "civilization", as it is, in Tupelo. After having ridden for five days without a break, my plan was always to take a rest day in Tupelo. However, with the growing coronavirus threat, I did not want to push the limits of hospitality with my Warm Showers host. Rufus was very gracious, taking me shopping at the local Walmart (always a cultural experience in this part of the world) and providing a perfect landing spot in town where I could shower, cogitate on my situation and make plans. Sketching out my next moves were complicated by a nasty forecast of rain and headwinds for the upcoming weekend, combined with a rapidly deteriorating public health crisis. The region was stuck in a weather pattern that funneled a lot of moisture across the area where I was riding.

Although most of the people who I had spoken with in Tupelo, and the folks on the local news programs were far from taking the pandemic very seriously, I had been listening to podcasts and watching the national and international news. Sadly, most of the people in this region get their news from Fox News, which had been downplaying the severity of the impending health crisis and had not be warning its viewers to avoid contact with others, maintaining social distance or even the importance of testing and handwashing. No one was panicked in Tupelo.

But, I knew that there was a possibility that if I were to head off along the Parkway, headed to Nashville, there was a chance that the situation could change and leave me far away from home with no place where I could "shelter in place." Even worse was the possibility that the states up the road, either Alabama or Tennessee, could enact Italian-like measures that prohibited cycling. Also, the weather for the next week was lousy, with the possibility of thunderstorms and possibly tornados.  I used some of the Marriott Bonvoy points and checked into a local hotel for two nights to rest and evaluate. During that stay, I decided that the prudent thing to do was to head home to New York where I could shelter with Pam at home in case draconian measures were put in place.

On Saturday morning, 14 March 2020, I rented a car one-way back home to New York. After loading my bike and bags, I drove up to Cave City, Kentucky to spend Saturday night. On Sunday morning I took the Historic Tour at Mammoth Caves National Park and drove over the next two days back to New York City.

I’ll be back to Tupelo to ride the rest of the Trace, maybe when the coronavirus runs its course. This road is simply one of the best bike roads in the world and I still have another 321 km (200 miles) to ride into Nashville. Although I drove the Parkway from Tupelo north, it just wasn’t the same as doing it on two wheels.

And, in addition to finishing up my bike ride, I also need to return to Tupelo, specifically to the Neon Pig for another chance to eat the best burger I have ever had in the world. The Belvis Burger (coarse ground hamburger meat with pimento cheese, pork belly, sweet and savory sauces and soft ciabatta bun) was fantastic.

Tupelo, I will be back… if not to cycle, at least to eat this scrumptious thing again.

New Orleans to Nashville: Cycling through Baton Rouge and up the Natchez Trace

On 29 February, I left New York on the Amtrak Crescent to New Orleans with my bicycle. As I have shifted most of my online posting to Facebook, rather than here on my blog, below are links to my public postings for this trip.

Here are my postings from March 3 through March 11, after riding from New Orleans to Tupelo. Mississippi.

After a long Amtrak ride from New York to New Orleans, and a short night at the Hosteling International hostel, I've...

Posted by Kimo Goree on Tuesday, March 3, 2020

After a long Amtrak ride from New York to New Orleans, and a short night at the Hosteling International hostel, I've...

Posted by Kimo Goree on Tuesday, March 3, 2020

March in the American south can be stormy. Today I cut my ride short and am staying with a Warm Showers host north of...

Posted by Kimo Goree on Wednesday, March 4, 2020

I've arrived in Natchez, Mississippi for my first layover day to rest up, shop for food, and explore this historic town...

Posted by Kimo Goree on Friday, March 6, 2020

As I leave tomorrow to cycle up the Natchez Trace, I'm reminded how I first heard about this 10,000 year-old indigenous...

Posted by Kimo Goree on Friday, March 6, 2020

If it were warmer or colder than it was today, cyclists would complain! Damn near perfect blue-sky weather riding...

Posted by Kimo Goree on Sunday, March 8, 2020

For the last two days, I've pushed to the northeast, crossing rural Mississippi on one of the best cycling routes in the...

Posted by Kimo Goree on Tuesday, March 10, 2020

the Norwegians have a saying that there is no such thing as bad weather... only bad clothing. That may be true, except...

Posted by Kimo Goree on Wednesday, March 11, 2020

Part V Lander to Whitefish: Across the Big Hole and Down Bitterroot Valley to Missoula

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.

Part IV Lander to Whitefish: Bison-filled Layover at the Yellowstone Forever Institute’s Buffalo Ranch in Lamar Valley

The rain ended, thankfully, at some point in the middle of the night but a heavy damp fog dripped from the trees. I was not a happy camper… sections of my cool Nemo Tango Down Comforter were soggy from falling off the edge of my sleeping pad into the small pond of rainwater and condensation on the floor of my tent. My Anker 20000mah PowerCore Power Bank was out of juice, as well as my laptop and phone. It was not freezing, but just barely and that Big Agnes Fly Creek HV UL1 was feeling very confining. I needed to get out of my tent after almost twelve hours hiding from the rain, wearing as many pieces of my wool and water-resistant down to stay warm during the long night.

It was a short bike ride to the Canyon Lodge, where I found a wall outlet for charging, a warm fire to chase away the bone chill and some slightly-less than boring industrial US National Park concessionaire breakfast food, overpriced and under-spiced. But I chatted with tourists, posted some photos and arranged with my friend, Joe, arrival arrangements that afternoon at the Yellowstone Forever Institute’s Buffalo Ranch, nestled up in the remote Lamar Valley. All I had to do was to climb a little from 2400 to 2700 meters, drop down past Mt. Washburn and through the Devil’s Den, along the Yellowstone River to Tower Junction for lunch, and then turn east up along the Lamar River.

My panniers must have held an additional eight kilos of water-soaked clothes, ground cloth and tent for the climb. But the day cleared as I climbed and exercise put even more heat back in my body. This panorama shot below is, I think, of Mt. Washburn, heading north on Grand Loop Rd, around the Washburn Hot Springs Overlook.

This is one of my favorite shots, taken by some tourists from Riverdale in the Bronx, who I had met at breakfast. Over my left shoulder you can see the Teton’s, where I had been just two day’s of riding ago.

The descent was 21 km long, all the way down to Tower Junction, where the road branches west towards Gardiner and the North Entrance to the Park, and eastward towards Montana and the Northeast Entrance. But at the bottom of the hill is Roosevelt Lodge, where I stopped for lunch before heading up the Lamar Valley. The ride down got really hectic around the Devil’s Den, where the road drops along Antelope Creek and Tower Creek joins the Yellowstone River in an area called The Narrows. Between the cars, RVs, tourists crossing the road and lots of people and confusion, I rode through without getting any photos. However, I did stop just past The Narrows and took this photo of Yellowstone River.

My first tour with Adventure Cycling Association in 2012 was around Death Valley, where I had the chance to meet Joe Loviska, one of our two tour leaders. We have stayed in touch over the years, touring together and bumping into one another from time to time. Joe has worked over the years at the coalface in the important intersection between the environment and education, training and teaching others about the natural environment. In recent years he and his friend, Katie, have called the Lamar Buffalo Ranch, part of the Yellowstone Forever Institute, their home.  Nestled up in Lamar Valley in the northeastern (and most remote and least commercialized) quadrant of the Park, the Ranch is home to scientists, naturalists, botanists, and guests who come to learn about the ecosystem. Katie and Joe hosted me for two nights in one of the cabins on site, where I dried out my wet gear and hung with the bison wandering the campgrounds.

This was my cabin, with my bike on the porch and a friendly curious bison. All the guests at the Ranch were warned to walk cautiously around the grounds, checking before rounding a building or coming out of a doorway. One morning, coming out of the shower/bathroom, I peered out the door and saw a bison not two meters away, grazing on the verbena.

Katie and Joe were wonderful hosts and we had a fantastic night out in Cooke City at the Miner’s Saloon. No big deal in the West to drive an hour to dinner outside of the Park. Distances are so stretched out in this part of the world.

Thanks Google Street View

With my gear all dried, clothes cleaned and chain lubed, I was ready to push on towards the Big Hole and Chief Joseph Pass. Joe was driving up to Missoula, with some backcountry camping along the way, and offered to drop me just outside of Yellowstone Park. My experience so far with the narrow roads and distracted drivers in big cars had not turned me into a fan of bicycle touring inside Yellowstone National Park. I gladly accepted the offer and motored over some of the roads I had ridden before. After three days of riding in Yellowstone, from the southern to almost the northeastern gates, I was not at all relishing navigating any more hectic Park roads with no shoulders.

Now that I know what I know, I think that I would recommend touring cyclists on the TransAmerica Trail Map sections 4 and 5 to avoid Yellowstone. Rather than riding the segment between Moran, Wyoming and near Earthquake Lake (at the intersection of Highway 87 and 287) west of Yellowstone National Park, I would suggest going over the Teton Pass Highway, using part of the TransAmerica Teton Spur. I think that this is the route that commercial operators use with tour groups, since they are not allowed to pass through Yellowstone National Park. Maybe an option would be to route around the park but through West Yellowstone, where you could arrange to leave your bike and take National Park public/tourist transportation into the Park. This would be very doable if you can live without your bike and don’t mind hauling your panniers/camping gear on buses from hiker/biker campground to hiker/biker campground. 

Next section: Bike Camp in Twin Bridges and through the snow and hot baths across the Big Hole and down the Bitterroot to Missoula

Part III Lander to Whitefish: Leaving the Grand Tetons and Into Yellowstone

On 14 June, following a lovely pancake breakfast at the Climber’s Ranch and a spectacular sunrise and cap cloud over the Tetons, I rode north into Yellowstone

The route north from the Grand Teton Climbers Ranch went up past Jenny Lake on Teton Park Rd, which is a much better alternative to getting back out on 191 through Moran. While starting off on the bike path, I took this photo of my bike and some flowers in front of the Teton Range. (The bulge in my right rear pannier is due to the long tent poles on my otherwise marvelous Big Agnes Fly Creek UL-1 and one of the reasons that I have just upgraded to the Big Agnes Copper Spur HV UL2 Bikepack tent with the shorter poles.)

This is the magnificent panorama alongside Jackson Lake

And finally, I was up the road and in Yellowstone National Park.

Due to road width issues (and the fact that motorists in Yellowstone are looking for bears, bison and caribou and not paying attention to cyclists) a lot of riders and all cycling tour groups will bypass Yellowstone, heading down through Jackson Hole and up over Teton Pass Highway, leaving the TransAmerica route, rejoining it west of Yellowstone. I’d never been in Yellowstone before and was heading to Lamar Valley, so this wasn’t an option. But, if I were to do the TransAmerica route again, I would take the bypass and avoid the narrow roads and drivers who might not be aware of how wide their RV really is.

Many of the US Park Service campgrounds have a special “no-turn away” policy for cyclists and hikers. When I pulled into Grant Village campground there were “ALL FULL” signs everywhere, but I parked my bike, waited in line with those people with reservations, and was given a campsite for about US$5.

The following day the weather changed for the worse. With cold rain coming forecast for the late afternoon, I rode to only as far as Canyon Village with the plan to set up camp before the rain began. Well, that was the plan.

Every opportunity has a price point. It looked like the rain would be heavy all night long and there was a hotel in Canyon Village with some empty rooms. However, there was just no way that I could justify spending around US$400 to enjoy the luxuries of a night indoors. The delay, talking with the staff at the Canyon Lodge (and accessing email and web using their wifi) was my big mistake. I should have just gotten my campsite, set up my tent and then gone to get food and find the internet. But, I dawdled and the rain started coming in. As soon as I got my campsite location and headed over to drop my gear and find a flat spot, the drizzle turned to a downpour. As fast as I could I got my footprint down, staked up the tent, got what I could off of my bike and inside the tent but things got wet and somehow there was water inside. It was chaos. I pumped up my air mattress, which served as an island in the middle of a little lake inside the tent. And the rain didn’t let up all through the night. Luckily I had just enough juice in my portable battery to recharge my GPS and keep my phone going through the night, listening to audio books. It was on that night that I decided to buy a two-person lightweight tent for my next big trip, just so that on long wet nights inside I’d have enough space so that I could have thrown in my panniers and set up my bedding in a dry space. It was a long, long miserable night.

This was a picture inside my tent… condensation. Self-condemnation. Remember.. always get your tent up before the rain begins.

Up next… across Yellowstone to Lamar Valley!

Part II Lander, Wyoming to Whitefish, Montana Self Contained: 11 June–3 July 2019

Fedor and I bid farewell to our Warm Showers hosts, Mike and Dannine, riding north and west along the TransAmerica trail as it climbed gradually from 1700 meters to the town of Dubois at 2159 meters over 119 km and 965 meters of climbing. It was a lovely cool day with a pleasantly unusual tailwind that quite benefited us but enraged the TransAmerica racers who we encountered along the road. Some of them had expected a big push as they headed to the southeast, gradually downhill across Wyoming, and a respite from the mountains between their start in Oregon and here.

We ran into this guy racing the TABR from Australia, who was suffering from the altitude and glad to be heading down to lower elevations.

His meal of Cheez Whiz and bagels was the norm for most of the racers who we had met. They just wanted to inhale calories as quickly as possible and get back on the bike.

 

 

It was my birthday, June 11, and I treated myself to a motel room in Dubois. The Chinook Winds Motel, located on the southeast side of this small town, was the perfect little cycling motel and there were some TABR riders (who came and went during the night) and a few other casual TransAmerica riders who were also staying there.  My Russian friend, Fedor, shared the room and joined me for dinner. We dined at the Cowboy Cafe, one of my favorite spots on the entire trip. Just plain friendly folks and, when Fedor mentioned that he as paying for my meal since it was my birthday, the waitress told us that my meal was already free since it was my birthday.

This photo of Cowboy Cafe is courtesy of Tripadvisor

 

Fearing the next day’s climb up and over Togwotee Pass, this piece of rhubarb strawberry pie with a big scoop of vanilla ice-cream was offered up as a sacrifice to the coming effort.

Dressing for the next day, I set up my bear spray, moving it from my front bag to a prominent position, strapped across my chest. We were heading through grizzly country and the last thing that I wanted to do if confronted by a bear was to have to fish the spray out. The bear spray canister remained very easily accessible for the next weeks as I moved through bear country. However (or maybe thankfully), the only bears that I saw were surrounded by tourists in Yellowstone, although I did “smell” a grizzly near the road climbing to Chief Joseph Pass coming out of the Big Hole a week later.

Riding out of Dubois early in the morning was the last that I saw of Fedor. We had agreed that if he was way ahead of me at the top of the climb, he would ride on. Fedor was a stronger rider and he was very gracious to ride with me on my birthday, but I could sense that he could have ridden harder (although he said that he had exhausted himself riding hard the previous day before we met in Lander.)

It was a long, exhausting slog up Wyoming Highway 26 to the top of Togwotee Pass, the highest point that I would reach on the entire trip, topping out at 2944 meters (9659 feet). While the grade was never more than 10%, it was relentlessly between 4% and 8% and the twenty-five kilos of clothing, camping gear, equipment, food, water and electronics in my panniers were always a constant presence during the climb. How slow could I go without falling over? There was not a lot of oxygen at that altitude and I was working hard for five hours from Dubois up to the col.

 

On the climb to the summit there was an ominous electronic traffic sign with the message, “BEAR ON ROAD, REMAIN IN VEHICLE”. Well, that is little help if you are on a bicycle.

The owner of the Lava Mountain Lodge, close to the Pass, said that a Grizzly boar (male) had killed one of a sow’s (female) two cubs the day before and she was now on a rampage. The sow would not mate with the boar while she still had cubs and this was his way of resolving the situation. (I’ve told this story several times since the ride, and there is a predictable female response to hearing that the male would commit murder if thought that it might help his chances of getting laid.)

With my bear spray on the ready, I descended quickly down the pass. It was my first view of the Tetons off to the west, my destination for the day.

It was a long day and I just missed lunch at the Hatchet Resort (five minutes after their lunch hour and they were not flexible.) I had to ride on another 35 km to Moose, WY to get a late lunch. This photo below was taken at the entrance to the Grand Teton National Park coming into Moran, WY.

 

The road from Moran to Moose is spectacular! This is the view…

It was a long day.. lots of climbing at altitude

 

I’ve been in a lot of bars over the years, but none with the view from the stools inside the Dornan’s Pizza & Pasta Co. in Moose.

 

The Grand Teton National Park is located on a spur off of the TransAmerica Trail, a bit off of my route from Lander up through Yellowstone. I think that one of the reasons that many cyclists don’t take the spur is because it is difficult to find camping in Jackson or economical lodging. However, the Adventure Cycling Association GPX file for the “Teton Spur” of the TransAmerica Trail included a reference to Grand Teton Climbers’ Ranch located inside the Park, just to the north of Moose.  I contacted them a few days before and reserved a platform in one of their bunkhouses.

This was my home for two nights, hanging out with the “dirtbags” who come every year at the beginning of the climbing season to work for free for one week as they maintain the camp, making it ready for the season. This is what US$27 a night gets you at the Climbers’ Ranch (non-member rate). 

There is a certain connection between long-distance cyclists and mountain climbers. After all of the RV parks, motels, and even camp grounds, this was one of the best places that I have ever stayed. I was in total awe of the climbers and listened with fascination as they told stories of routes and pitches that they had climbed over the years. They, in turn, wanted to hear all about my ride across the US earlier in the year and seemed genuinely impressed that I had ridden my bicycle, fully-loaded, over Togwotee Pass. It was great hanging out with these wonderful men and women.

Although I’d planned to ride on the bike path down to explore Jackson, my better angels argued that resting my legs after two days of hard riding and visiting with mountain climbers was a better choice. I did return to Dornan’s, about 8 km away, for a huge late lunch/early dinner and to purchase some food for the next push north through Yellowstone National Park.

Next: Riding north through Yellowstone and into Lamar Valley

Lander, Wyoming to Whitefish, Montana Self Contained: 11 June–3 July 2019 (plus getting there and getting back) Part I

Well, the big adventure riding across Wyoming and through Montana, visiting three of the most outstanding national parks in the US, actually begins in New York City on 30 June. I’d been home for a couple of weeks in May after riding fifty-nine days from San Diego, California to St. Augustine, Florida (the Southern Tier) and was still feeling pretty frisky and looking for a bit more adventure. I’d signed up to take the Adventure Cycling Association Leadership Training Course in Denver from 6-9 June and was figuring out how I might expand that trip into a continuation of my two-wheeled rambling around the US.

I decided to take the train to Colorado, influenced somewhat by the Swedish movement called “flygskam” or “flight shame.” I have been trying to cut down my air travel as much as possible. By this time each year over the last five years, I’ve probably averaged about 150,000 kms in the air by mid-July, but in 2019 I’ve only flown 67,300 km on a business trip to Beijing and Nairobi, and a quick flight to Dubai and back for the World Governments Summit back in February, as well as a flight out to San Diego to start my ride across the country. I still hadn’t been on an airplane for five months until taking the United Bicycle Institute course in September! That is some kind of record.

When I was planning my train trip to Denver, I stumbled on the announcement of an Adventure Cycling Bike Travel Weekend that was being planned for Chicago over the first weekend in June. The grand plan started taking shape. I’d take the train to Chicago, spend the weekend riding out to the Indiana Dunes State Park, return to Chicago, head off to Denver on the train, take the Leadership Training Course and then ride my bike north to Whitefish, Montana to take the train home to New York City.

During the last week of May, I finished work on my Seven Cycles touring bike, replacing the chain and cassette, mounting the racks and organizing my needed gear. One of the lessons that I had learned from riding from California to Florida was the need to keep all the necessary crap organized so that I didn’t spend extra time looking for stuff every day. I organized my stuff into a set of packing cubes:

I had a cube for:

• All of my electronics, which contained a waterproof bag to keep the necessary chargers, USB power banks, extra battery for my headlamp, small power strip with USB ports and bluetooth devices nice and dry;
• My grab-and-go shower stuff, with lightweight towel, hard bar shampoo and soap, toothbrush, razor and stuff that I’d need as soon as I got into camp each day in the shower;
• A miscellaneous cube with “spares” that included my bear-bag and rope, some bolts and washers, lock-tite, extra tube, chamois cream, some emergency stuff like waterproof matches, lighter tinder;
• A “health” cube with prescription meds, my antibiotic cream in case of saddle sores, NSAIDs for those nagging back muscles, sunscreen, insect repellent;
• My cycling clothes that included three jerseys, three bib chamois, wool Rapha cycling sweater (very useful), cycling vest, sleeves, Showers Pass jacket;
• the “Aprês Bike Clothes” that contained my heavy padded cold-weather pants, Merino wool t-shirt, swimming trunks, short pants, underwear, Royal Robbins long sleeve travel shirt;
• gloves, socks and misc;
• my rain gear, including my faithful Bear Grylls jacket, Showers Pass rain pants, lightweight Pearl Izumi warm rain pants;

All very organized.

I’d also replaced my old Revelate Designs non-waterproof handlebar bag with a new Revelate Yakataga Dry Pocket waterproof bag, since I had always had to use ziplock bags inside of the old one to keep important stuff dry in the rain. Excellent addition to that important space between the brake levers.

The bike was tuned up (thanks to John and Yee at Conrad’s Bike Shop) and ready to roll.

 

Ready to load into the luggage car on the Amtrak Lake Shore Limited for the trip from New York Penn Station to Chicago.

Our train arrived in Chicago on Friday night and I burned some Marriott (Bonvoy) points to stay at the Westin Chicago River North, to compensate for spending eighteen hours in coach class, overnight across Pennsylvania, Ohio and Indiana. The trip out to the Indiana Dunes was fairly uneventful, except for some lousy camping and bad food. But I survived and rode back into Chicago on Sunday night to the Westin, where I was greeted by some cool hotel staff who I had met on Friday and were waiting to hear my adventures on my return. The next day I boarded the Amtrak California Zephyr for a very long and delayed trip across Illinois, Iowa and Nebraska to Union Station in Denver. The flooding across the Midwest had taken its toll on the railroad infrastructure and we had to go through a flooded train station in Davenport, Iowa on the banks of the Mississippi:

We were further delayed by a derailment of a freight train due to flooding as we crossed somewhere in Eastern Nebraska. We finally arrived in Denver about thirteen hours behind schedule. Little did I know that freight trains get priority over passenger traffic on the rail system in the United States, so we had to wait for several freight trains to proceed before us over the repaired tracks. It was a long, long trip to Denver.

I had a great time staying with Bob and Michele Perchonok at their home in Denver, before joining the Leadership Training Course (LTC), which began on Thursday evening at Cherry Creek State Park. I may write about the LTC at a later date, but leave it to say that I was not impressed by the content, structure, scope or instructors, although I did complete the course and got my certificate. There is certainly room for improvement in how Adventure Cycling does “leadership” training.

However, now that the course was out of the way, I was free to ride my bike. Pam, my wife, had found a new apartment for us to move into and move-in date was not until 1 August, which meant that I didn’t have to get back to New York City until the start of the UN High-Level Political Forum on Sustainable Development on 9 July, which gave me a window of four weeks to ride north to the Canadian border.

One of the other participants in the course, Mike Lowham, offered to give me a lift in his cool van, up to his home in Lander, Wyoming about 500 km northwest of Denver, along the Transamerica Bike Trail. Getting dropped in Lander meant that I could spend some extra time taking the Grand Teton spur down to Moose and Jackson Hole, before heading up to Yellowstone and could skip over about four days of beautiful but not that scenic stretch in Northern Colorado and Southeastern Wyoming. I was anxious to get into the mountains!

Mike and I drove out on Monday morning, dropped off some of the other participants at Denver’s Union Station, and then headed over to Wyoming State Highway 230 heading north towards Saratoga, west along Interstate 80 and then north from Rawlins. Our plan was to drive in the opposite direction as the lead riders in the Trans Am Bicycle Race (TABR), which had started the week before from Astoria, Oregon headed to Yorktown, Virginia. The TABR is a self-supported ultra bicycle race of 6,800 km and riders usually average more than 300 km per day, sleeping when they can in bivvy sacks or in cheap motels, consuming huge amounts of calories and finishing in sixteen to twenty days.

Using the TABR mobile app, we were able to track the riders so that as we drove north and they were pedaling furiously south, we would stop to cheer on each rider by name and hand them cold cans of Coca-Cola. Needless to say, the riders were thoroughly exhausted, starved for human contact and eager to inhale a cold soft drink.

Mike and I stopped and chatted with about fifteen of the riders, all the time looking for my friend Brantley Tindall, who was eight or ninth place in the race at that point. However, we must of missed him while going through the town of Rawlins, where we stopped to buy Big Mac hamburgers to pass out to him and other riders.

 

In Rawlins, Mike and his wife Dannine, cooked up a great dinner and gave me a comfy bed to sleep in for the night, before I took off the next morning to begin my bike ride.

Another cyclist, a guy named Fedor from Siberia, also stayed at Mike and Dannine’s place that evening. They are Warm Showers  hosts in Lander and Fedor had just ridden in from Rawlins about the same time that Mike and I arrived in the evening.

Next up… Part II The Ride Really Begins in Rawlins