Mood:  smelly

There was no getting around it.  If I went to church this morning, it was going to be a very long day.  So here was my plan.  I was going have breakfast around 8 AM. get all packed up, pick up some lunch at the convenience store, then go next door to the Mount Calvary Lutheran Church.  I would jump on my bike after the service and hit the road.  This is all predicated, of course, on the Mount Calvary Lutheran Church wanting me to be there.  So, first things first:  at 8 AM, I called the church.  The pastor answered the phone.  I explained my concern about being dressed unconventionally for church, and asked if it was still okay to worship there.  He assured me that my appearance mattered not at all.  Notice I didn't forewarn him that my clothing also stank.

When I rode my bike up, one of the church members walked over to welcome me.  A number of people welcomed me as I entered the church building.  What a great group of people in Dubois!  After the service, in fine Lutheran fashion, there were treats and juice downstairs.  Finally, I had to leave.  Just before entering the road, I thought that maybe I should make one more stop in the restroom.  So I went back into the church.  As I was leaving, the second time, a voice called for me to stop.  I turned around and a man stood there with a bag full of cookies for my ride.

Generally speaking, the topography between Dubois and Lander was downhill but not all the time.  I left the church at 10:30 AM, and covered 18-19 miles in the first hour!  In fact, I didn't take a break until the 37 mile mark, a service station, the first one since leaving Dubois.  The was a good time to eat lunch.  Another bicycler, going the opposite direction, was also stopped for lunch.  I had passed a rider earlier, fixing a flat tire, and he, too, pulled in.  We all sat down, ate, exchanged information, and ate the whole bag of cookies.

I forgot to mention that the whole terrain had changed in the last day.  Yesterday I was still in the Teton Range but once over Togwotee Pass, the land on my right was still green with lots of trees.  The land on my left was green to the bottom of the hills then was barren of visible vegetation.  It was eroded much like the hills in Arizona or New Mexico, with the strata being alternating colors of red and white.  Once I left Dubois, the right side of the road became similar to the left.  Later still, the only mountains on the right were in the distance, the Wind River Mountains, I think.  They were wooded, with lots of snow still on them.

Since the other bicycler, Jason, seemed faster than I, after lunch, I took off early but was soon passed by him.  Later, I passed him back when he stopped to shed his bike vest and apply sunscreen.  We both took a break at the top of a long steep climb.  Jason took the lead then, and soon was out of sight until about 20 miles out of Lander when I passed him trying to deal with a slow leak in one of his tires.

Riding this funny looking bike, this recumbent, I get all sorts of reactions from passersby.  So it was little surprise when a car slowed down passing me and the passenger yelled something uninteligible.  I yelled back that I could not understand her.  She said they would meet me on the bottom of the hill. 

When I reached the bottom, they were nowhere to be seen, so, deciding that they had changed their mind about whatever they wanted to talk about, I pedalled on.  Up ahead was a service station, and a man was walking out to the road.  This must have been the driver of the car, which was parked nearby.  As I got close, I recognized Jim Walton and his wife, Betty. (It was in their home that I stayed in Jackson, WY)  They were just returning from the wedding in Colorado, took this route because it was more scenic, and possibly might cross my path again.  It was an exciting reunion, but shortlived.  Jason, the other bicycler, came in with his rear tire looking low.  The Waltons, who had been on the road for 5-6 hours, with 3-4 hours still to go, immediately offered to turn around, and take Jason and his bad tire into Lander before the bike stores closed, a 32 mile round trip.  Another lesson in generosity.

Tomorrow, I will be headed to Jeffery City.  It is not a city.  Not even a town.  I suspect it is a building or two, but the only stopping place between here and Rawlins.  From what I have heard, it is a fairly desolate area so this journal will be not be updated until I get into Rawlins.  Rawlins is also a scheduled rest day.   I contacted the president of their local Rotary Club, and he will help keep me out of trouble during my stay there.

Will McMahan