Mood:  energetic

This should be a great day.  The weather looks good.  The distance is shorter than normal, only 50 miles.  And at some point I will be in Colorado, the fifth state of this journey.

My plan for the day was to start out early again, and get close to Walden, my destination, before the winds get too brisk.  Since there were no towns or stops enroute, I bought a sandwich at the grocery after breakfast, and hit the road.

The whole terrain was changing.  There is still prairie but the mountains are not distant anymore, and the flatness is changing more into hills, much like the terrain changes to hills soiuth of Indianapolis.

The country is pretty, and the miles go quickly.  Whereas I almost always see one or more touring bicyclers heading west each day, today I came across a touring bicycle group.  They were part of a "supported" ride which means that the organizing group plans the route, secures places to camp at the end of the day, does all the cooking and carries all of the gear.  There were about 30 in the group.

I crossed paths with a lady, not part of the aforementioned group, who had started in St. Augustine, Florida, and was headed for Oregon.  Her cousin was driving along as support which meant, of course, that the rider was unencumbered by carrying gear.   She seemed to be making good time, and I asked her how far she liked to ride each day.  It depends, she replied, but she had donw three 100 mile days, a 90 miler and an 80 miler.  So much for my measly 50-60 miles per day. 

Colorado State Line!  Another milestone.

 As I neared Walden, I could see in my mirrors a touring bicycler approaching from behind.  It was Slade.  He had a few too many beers last night, and started several hours behind me, yet still caught up.  A really nice fellow in his mid 20's, he was in great shape.  We rode into town together.  It was 2 PM.

Walden was much nicer than I expected and bigger than I expected.  It's population is only 734, but it seemed vibrant.  It gave all the appearance of being a bustling, prosperous community.

Around 5:30 PM I decided to get dinner.  I started walking down the street towards the restaurant that I had chosen.  On the way I noticed another touring bicycler who just arrived in town.  I walked over to see if everything was okay, and we chatted for few minutes.  Then I took leave and walked across the street to the restaurant.

Those of you who have followed the foibles and hembling experiences of this journey know that God has taken this adventure to both teach me some lessons and encourage me to be more accepting of what He desires of me.  In return, I promised to be more outspoken about His involvement in my life.  There have been so many things that have happened that I believe are His work, and what happened next is one of them.

To set the stage, let me say that several months ago, a Fort Wayne friend of my mother had emailed me about a fellow whom I went to elementery school with, Doug Rood.  I remembered he and his family, but never touched base with him even though Mother's friend had given me some contact information.  So the story continues.  A couple and I reached the door to the restaurant at the exact same time.  I held the door for them, and they returned the compliment with the inside door.  As we were waiting to be seated, I said "Where are you folks from?".  The lady turned around and replied "Well, I am from Indianapolis."  "Another Hoosier", I rejoiced.  "I knew there was something about you I liked!  I'm originally form Fort Wayne."  Then she said "Then you might know my companion.  He is from Fort Wayne."  It was Doug Rood.

We dined together and talked about many things from past to present.  He and his companion are expert birders and the area surrounding Walden is the Arapahoe Wildlife Refuge and is loaded with birds.  I don't know why God brought Doug and I together.  Perhaps there was something that He wanted me to learn.  Or perhaps for Doug to learn.  Or both.  But I don't believe that coincidences like that are really coincidences.  It was an enjoyable meal with some wonderful dining companions.

Tomorrow things get harder.  Trail Ridge looms two days away, possibly the most difficult bicyling day of the trip.  Just to get to a jumping off spot, I had a 70 mile day tomorrow ,including going over Willow Creek Pass, at an elevation of over 9,600'.  I would need all my strength to do Trail Ridge so I hoped I would not use it all tomorrow.

Will McMahan

Mood:  a-ok

Today is a trip to Riverside, a community 60 miles away.  From it I will jump into Colorado the next day.  Since I leave Rawlins heading east, my strategy for today is to start with a nice breakfast (assuming they have any restaurants on that side of town.  They seem to have a dearth of restaurants here).  Again I want to leave early to minimize the effects of the wind, although that didn't work the other day.  I would be going east for 22 miles, then take a right turn and head south toward Colorado.

I had to stop at a motel on the east side of town, and they directed me to the one restaurant serving breakfast (!).  I ate and was riding east by 8 AM.

The morning sky was clear.  It was going to be another hot, sunny day.  For the third time of this journey, I got onto an interstate highway, in this case, I-80.  It had a nice wide shoulder, and it was an easy ride for the 10 miles that I was on it (remember I rode I-90 for over 100 miles).  I exited and headed south.

This country is very pretty.  Vast prairie, with mountains on the horizon on all sides.  What is that?  Why its an antelope!  Oh look, there are some more!  You know, they do look like they're playing.  What nice country.  Ooh, that dead snake on the shoulder was pretty big.  The wind was light, the miles passed quickly and I'm getting hungry for some lunch.  The next town is Saratoga.  It should have some cafes.

Sure enough, it was loaded with them, but I picked the first one.  Inside was another bicycler, a young man named Slade,who I had chatted with a bit as he passed me.  He said "Did you see that big rattlesnake back there?"  I said I had.  He said "I thought it was dead so I stopped to take a photo of it."  Apparently it was very much alive, just warming up on the pavement.  He showed me a photo he took.  It was coiled up, looking for all the world like it was ready to strike at the camera.  I assumed he was standing back and zoomed in from afar.

The winds finally came, but with only 15 miles to go.  Psychologically, if you have headwinds at the end of the day, it is no big deal--you know that the end of the day's ride is near.  It is early in the morning that headwinds bade trouble--you don't know how long they are going to last.

I stayed at a cute, well maintained campground in the well maintained town of Riverside, population of 59.  While I could have camped, I chose instead to sleep in a small cabin over by the river.  It had no water or linens, but it was cheap and would suffice.  As I walked through the campground towards a cafe across the street, I spoke to some folks who were relaxing in the shade in their lawn chairs.  I told them it seemed downright sinful for them to look so comfortable.  They agreed that it probably was and invited me to sit down for a spell.  I did.  They were the vanguard of a pending family reunion of 15 or so people, and invited me to come back later.

When I did come back, one of the men had gotten out his banjo, another man his guitar.  They started picking, then singing.  The older of the two, in his mid-70s, had a beautiful soft voice, and sang a number of country and western songs.  I know none of them (although I liked what he was singing) but many of the family members did, and they often would chime in and accompany him.  It was fun and relaxing. 

I would be entering Colorado tomorrow.  Progress.

Will McMahan

Mood:  lazy

As usual, I went for breakfast early even though this was a rest day.  There were at least 8-10 motels within a six block stretch of the road, so there should be plenty of eateries.  There weren't.  There were three restaurants, one of which was Chinese food, but none were open for breakfast.   I stopped in a convenience store and loaded up.

The first order of business was to find a charger for my MP3 player so that I could listen to "Ivanhoe" once again.  There was a small radio Shack inside a Do-It-Yourself Center (kind of like a Home Depot), and I found one there.

My second order of business was to visit the "Old Pen", a nickname for a penitentury in Rawlins that was in use from 1901 through 1982.  In much of it, little had changed, other than the gift shop and tour.  A 6" thick metal pole was still there where unruly inmates were tied, then guards would whip them with leather straps.  A small window into the cell block was opened so that prisoners could hear the screams of the offenders.  The cells were small, and initially no heat.  It was decades before heat was installed.  We toured A,B, and C Blocks, as well as solitary confinement, and the section where the condemned were kept until killed.  The cafeteria still had original paintings from one of the inmates.  It was eerie to wander through the exercise yard and eye tyhe gaurd towers.  The tour took an hour, and it was an interesting view into how prisons used to be run.

After lunch, I visited the Rawlins Museum.  I love history and seeing how our forefathers lived, and this museum did not disappoint.  In fact, it was so chock full of displays and artifacts that I finally achieved sensory overload.

So I went back to my motel room and slept for an hour or two.

Dinner was followed by preparations for tomorrow's ride.  My plan was to leave early tomorrow morning, catch breakfast on the other side of town, and start early enough to get in some distance before the winds started increasing.

This would be a pivotal week for this trip.  After the fourth day, I would be in Estes park (I hope!), and through with the mountains, other than the ride to Boulder.

Rawlins, I found out, is loaded with all sorts of outside companies doing oil and energy exploration as well as mining companies and road construction crews.  All these workers (or at least the vast majority of them) were from out of the area, and that is why the motels were so expensive, and also why the motel owners treated me like a tenant instead of a valued customer.

With today's rest, tomorrow should be better.

Will McMahan

Mood:  energetic

It's just amazing what a full belly and a good night's sleep does for one's demeanor!  Today was going to be a piece of cake.  I was riding to Rawlins, 66 miles away, a fair sized town by Wyoming standards, around 9,000, and the county seat.  There would be lots to do there and I planned to take Wednesday off.

Furthermore, I rose early, had a large breakfast at the cafe, and had the new owner, who by now was warming up some, make me a lunch-to-go.  I ordered 2 ham and cheese sandwiches, a bag of potato chips, candy bar, and a can of pop.  $4.50.

Since the winds can be capricious it is smart to start early since they really pick up in the afternoon.  I was on the road by 7:15 AM.  Would have been earlier, but I had an interesting conversation with a railroad inspector.  The road was straight, the wind non-exhistent.  This was going to be a good day!

The wind started around 8 AM and continued all day.  It was mostly from the side but there was quite a bit of headwind.  How can the wind blow at 20-30 mph that early in the morning?  It made for a long, tiring day of pedalling. 

Heretofor, I had come across a dozen or so westbound bicyclers.  Today, I met nine more in four separate groups.  It is customary to stop each time swap information.  It is important and a courtesy, but it added 45 minutes to the day's riding.

The scenery was still very pretty.  It is true that beauty is in the eye of the beholder.  If you don't care to look for it, you won't find it.

I got passed by three young riders who were nearing the end of their third 100 mile (fully loaded) day.  They passed me like I was standing still.

I took a few pictues of landscape that I thought was interesting.  I also took a photo of Split Rock (thus the Split Rock Cafe and Bar).  It was a mountian with a clear, deep cleft in it that could be seen by travelers for several days away.  It was used as a landmark by the Indians, the Oregon Trail travelers, the Mormons and the Pony Express riders.

About ten miles out of Rawlins, the accumulating skies decided that they were carrying too much moisture, and decided to drop some.  It wasn't bad.  In fact it felt good, as long as the lightning kept its distance.

Rawlins is not what I had expected.  It can be disorienting to enter a strange city, and Rawlins is in the middle of a major downtown street project.  I was curious as to why lodging, that I had checked on the interet, was so expensive.  It seems that there is a shortage of apartment housing, so the smaller, cheaper motels offer weekly and monthly rentals, thus driving up the prices of the nice places.  One decent place was $90/night, and the rest were over $100.  I found a not-so-decent one for $59/night. 

I was tired.  Was I tired because of the head and crosswinds?  Was it the fact that this was my fifth straight day?  Either way, I was going to enjoy my evening, and walked across the street for dinner.  When I returned the power had gone out for a several block area.  No big deal.  I've got Ivanhoe on my MP3 player (thank you, Andy).  After a half hour of listening, its battery went dead.  I had forgotten to charge it up.  So my evening was spent reading and doing the crossword puzzle (with a headlamp) the entire Rawlins newspaper, including legal notices, obituaries, and classified ads.

Tomorrow would be different.  I was going to see what makes this town tick.  They are supposed to have a nice museum, and they have an interesting tour of an old Penetentiary built around the turn of the century.

Sleep came slowly.

Will McMahan

Mood:  a-ok

Today's trip had little to look forward to.  Just get from point A to point B.  Jeffery City would have little to offer of interest.

First things first.  I need to make sure my food and water stores are adequate.  Temperatures have been in the mid to high 80's in the afternoon.  So I went across the street to a convenience store to get a sandwich or two.  They didn't have any.  I asked the clerk at the motel if there was a grocery on the way out of town.  She said yes.  I never found it, and before long I was out of town, in the boonies, figuring on how I was going to make my meager food last until I came across the next store, which I calculated to be 39 miles.

This area is very pretty.  Lots of prairie, surrounded by mountains in the distance.  Streams abound.  It is very pleasant.  I met a bicycler or two coming from the other direction.  They feel that they are almost finished on their rides to Astoria, but, in reality they still have a third of their journey left.

I'm out of water now.  Not too far to the store.  Next to the store was a rest area.  I chatted with two lady bicyclers, whom I had met at breakfast this morning at the motel.  They had just finished their break and were talking with a couple from El Paso.  I took their place and had a nice conversation with the couple.  Suddenly, they saw me as an opportunity to get rid of a bunch of their junk food, and I couldn't disappoint them by declining, could I?

From there to Jeffery City, I had a nice tailwind.  Now, I am averaging 15-18 mph in comfort.   Before long I was there.

I did Jeffery City a disservice yesterday by calling the area desolate.  The area is actually quite pretty.  The community, like many small communities is on life support, with little or no industry.  There are buildings all over the place, but most of them are vacant.  The two  merchants doing business were the owner of the Jeffery City Motel and the owner of the Split Rock Cafe and Bar. 

Originally intending to camp, the idea of a motel room overruled that thought.  I have spent many a night in motels in low places, and this was no exception, except perhaps a bit lower than most.  Riding into it is sort of like driving into a ghost town where no upkeep has been done for decades. The florescent light fixture in the ceiling didn't  work.  Neither did the TV.  But it had a shower with hot water, a decent bed, and an A/C and heater that worked.  That's good enough for me.  I was famished and the cafe was calling even before I could shower.

The cafe was the most unique one so far in the matter of service.  There was a new owner, typically meaning friendly and abundant service.  This owner decided to try the opposite approach. With considerable effort I was able to put in an order, but I have to admit, the food was abundant and delicious.  Returning 2 1/2 hours later for dinner, the service was unchanged and the dinner food was again abundant, but not so delicious.  The left side of the building was the cafe portion, and the right side was the bar, with a connecting entry.  I inadvertantly spilled a large glass of ice water on the table and floor.  It took half a roll of paper towels, and a good ten minutes to get it cleaned up, and the owner never knew what had happened.

That night, I listened to more of Ivanhoe, then fell asleep by 8:30 PM.

Will McMahan

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

Mood:  a-ok

For all of the poor weather than I went through, this current weather system is making up for it.  The sun quickly raised the temperature to a comfortable level.  As planned, I left around 7:30 AM, and had a hearty breakfast of eggs, bacon, pancakes, juice and coffee.  I would need something for lunch, but the grocery next door didn't stock them.  So I went back to the restaurant and asked the cook if he could make me a sandwich.  He refused.  I guess lunch would be a peanut butter Clif Bar and a Blueberry Muffin.  Not much, but it's any port in a storm.

There is a fine balance between the food consumed, which supplies the energy used, to the calories burned while pedalling. (The same is true of water consumed vs. water perspired) So I was not thrilled with the idea of not having much of a lunch for this climb which would certainly need a lot of exerted effort.  Wait!  What is that ahead?  It's another restaurant and it's right before the climb!  I'll just have a quick, early lunch, and then I'll tackle the Pass with all cylinders running.  I went inside.  The restaurant was closed.

Jim Walton had said to expect Togwotee Pass to be a grind, but a beautiful one.  He was right.  It was very pretty.  The road just climbed and climbed.  I knew that the more it climbed the closer I would be to the top.  Just keep those legs pumping. 

About 4 miles from the summit, I was passed by another line of cars, this one being led by an RV.  I watched as the RV suddenly swing off the road into a turnout area.  As I neared it, I thought "Hmm, it is towing a Subaru Outback.  Could it possibly be Chuck and Joan?  It was!  My Scrabble-playing-Boulder buddies from a couple of nights earlier were on their way home, saw me, and decided to pull over.  They had ice cold water, banana bread, and most importantly themselves.  They are such a nice couple and so generous with what they have.  I could have stayed there a long time, but I know that it was far more important that they keep to their schedule than it was for me.  After 15 minutes inside their RV, we parted.  What a small world!  Thank you Lord!

A couple of miles from the summit, there was road construction.  They would not let me ride through.  Instead the contractors loaded my bike onto a pickup truck and drove me to the other side.  It was only another mile or so to the top and soon I was flying downhill.   Only 30 miles to Dubois.  It was mostly downhill so I got there quickly.

Tomorrow would be a long ride to Lander--77 miles.  Tomorrow was also Sunday.  In my motel room I studied the list of places to worship, needing to get to an early service.  Even then I would be starting out late.  Wait a minute!  Here is a Mass at 6:30 PM tonight!  I could shower, eat and still get there early.  At 6:10 PM I entered the Catholic Church (I can't remember the last time I attended Mass.).  I was directed downstairs.  At the bottom of the stairs, I entered a large room, set up for dinner.  The motel information was incorrect.  Saturday Mass was over.  It started at 5 PM.  I guess God wanted me to go to the Lutheran 9 AM service.

Back in the room, I worked on the bike a bit, watched "The Parent Trap" and listened to a couple of chapters of "Ivanhoe" on my MP3 Player.  Then slept.

Will McMahan

Mood:  a-ok

The morning sun glistened off the Teton Mountain Range as I departed Jackson.  With eternal gratitude to the Waltons for the use of their home, I needed now to get to a spot, about 45 miles away, where I could then ascend Togwotee Pass the next day. 

Jackson is at a lower elevation than my destination so there was to be a lot of climbing, but at a gentle grade.  In this case, it was an easy climbing ride.  I stopped for a bit to admire a lone male buffalo, grazing near the road.  With half of his winter coat shed, he looked a little the worst for wear.

It wasn't too long before I got settled in for the afternoon.  The campground did not have a restaurant, so I dined on whatever food they had left on their shelves in their small grocery.

Togwotee Pass was tomorrow's work.  It looked like it would be similar to several of the passes in Washington.  Ironically, they were still the hardest so far.  I intended to leave early.  There was a restaurant near the base of the pass at which I would have breakfast.

It is still cold at night, in the high 30's.

Will McMahan

Mood:  energetic

With a full day in Jackson Hole, there were several things that I wanted to accomplish.  After breakfast, I wanted to go to the Teton National Park Visitor's Center.  Andy, the night before, suggested it as a good place to understand the many physical aspects of the area.  On the way into town yesterday, I had passed a very interesting building that housed the National Museum of Wildlife Art.  That definitely was on my list.  Then I wanted to visit the Jackson Hole Museum and wander around town.

One of Jim Walton's notes suggested that I stop by the meadow below the house because a fox and five kits can be seen.  After breakfast, I was returning on my bicycle, when I noticed a number of photographers, with cameras on tripods, lined up by the meadow.  I stopped.  The kits were down an embankment, 30-40 feet off the road, playing rough and tumble with each other.  I heard the screech of a bird nearby, and saw a magpie, several hundred feet away, chasing the mother fox away from its territory.  Mama soon joined the kits.  Photographs were being snapped like crazy, hoping for that one picture that would be special.  Being an amateur photographer myself, I took stock of the equipment being used.  Between the 8-10 photographers, there was well over $100,000 of gear in use, not including whatever else was in their bags.  Some had huge lenses that retail for over $15,000 each.  One photographer went out into the street and stopped traffic when mama decided to cross it.   I guess wildlife and photographers have a symbiotic relationship, at least when in town.

The Teton Mountain Range is a very rugged set of pinnacles that are hard to match in beauty.  Part of the reason for their ruggedness is because this mountain chain is fairly new, geologically speaking, and hasn't endured the smoothing effects of erosion to the degree that most other mountain chains have.  Nine million years ago, one tectonic plate slipped under another, pushing up the one on top and collapsing the portion beside it, forming the valley that trappers called a "Hole".   The Ice Age started the formation of the present day mountains.  It is pretty spectacular.

The National Museum of Wildlife Art is my kind of art gallery.  I've never been able to see the depth in art that art critics see, especially in modern art.  But here, in Jackson Hole, the art is exactly what you see.  Every imaginable wild animal native to this area is displayed on canvas or in bronze casting.  With the assist of an audio player, I was mesmerized by the exhibits.  Wow.

After lunch, came the museum downtown, full to the brim of photos, displays and artifacts.  Stories of homestead families, old trappers and Indians permeate one exhibit after another.  The museum  is celebrating its 50th year, and it is something that I would recommend to anyone visiting the area.

If I am so lucky to return to this area, there are a number of activities that I would undertake.  One just can't imagine the plethora of wildlife here.  Certainly wildlife viewing and hiking would be on the list of things to do.  The National Park Service has all sorts of activities that they sponsor.  I watched some large rafts navigate the Snake River.  The water was not rough, and it looked like a wonderful way to spend a peaceful afternoon.  Fishing, boating, you-name-it:  if it has to do with the outdoors, you have it in spades in this area.

Tomorrow, Friday, I'll be back in the saddle again (Can you hear Gene Autry?).  Togwotee Pass awaits me on Saturday.  It is 9,658' in elevation.  I will stop tomorrow night near its base, so that I can ascend it the next morning.  Then it is a journey through the middle of Wyoming.  I anticipate a fairly bleak landscape for several days, with possible headwinds.  We'll see.  At any rate I will update this blog as soon as I get the chance.  It will likely be 2-4 days down the road.  At that time I will recount each day.

My special thanks, again, to Jim and Betty Walton, whose largesse has made this portion of my trip a very comfortable one.

God bless you all.

Will McMahan

Mood:  energetic

This morning started early.  I ate breakfast in the restaurant at 6:30 AM. 

Afterwards, as I was pedalling back, I noticed a man with a camera and a tripod over by where the foxes were yesterday, so I went over to take a look.  The fox family now were about 25' from the sidewalk, down a slope.  The kits were just like puppies or kittens, rolling all over, play-biting each other, preparing themselves for adulthood.  Mama decided to get some sun so she walked up the slope to lie down in the sun, next to the sidewalk.  She was some 40' away from me.  A crowd was starting to gather.  All went well until a man walking his German Shephard came our direction.  In all fairness, the dog was on a leash and very well trained, but the owner didn't realize why everyone was gathering.  The moment mama fox saw the dog, she sat right up, with her ears pointed to the sky, and made some sort of yip or bark at the dog.  She did this several times.  The owner had the dog lie down, and it was 50-75 ' away, but mama was not satisfied.  Finally the dog owner walked the dog out into the parking lot in a wide semi-circle and mama relaxed.  My one regret is not watching the kits, because they had vanished.  I'm sure that they ran for their den at mama's first yip.

My next-door-neighbor, Chuck Bell, was not going into the Jackson Hole area, but was headed directly over Tougethee Pass.  So, like two ships passing in the night, we probably would not see each other again.  After a short prayer, he took off.  I left 10 minutes later.  It was around 10:30 AM.

I had been told to be sure to stop by and look at the Jackson Lake Lodge.  So when it came up, five miles down the road, I turned in to see what was so special.  Clearly it was a first class facility with doormen, valets--services that , remarkably(!), were missing from the typical lodging of which I had partaken.  Upon entering, there is a very wide staircase going up to the second floor, which appeared to be the main floor of the Lodge.  At the top of the stairs, I stopped in awe.  Looking out through wall-to-wall windows was the most jaw-dropping panorama.  It showed Jackson Lake mirroring the snowy, rugged Teton Range.  Words cannot describe the majesty presented. 

After some photos, I had lunch and left at noon.  At the bottom of the driveway, some people were gathered, so I joined them, and watched a moose lunching on some greenery in a slough by the road. 

The road to Jackson, Wyoming, is considered a spur road by cross country bicyclers, though certainly not by the local populace.  It was a rolling highway with frequent overlooks, and educational displays about the formation of the Teton Range.  The Snake River winds its way through the valley.  From up high it is easy to see the differing plateaus signifying the width of the Snake River eons ago.

Lodging had become, for me, a major concern about the Jackson Hole area.  The previous Sunday, after finding out that favored campgrounds were closed and no lodging available in Yellowstone, I had called my new friends from the Jackson Hot Springs Lodge, Jim and Betty Walton, for advice on inexpensive and available lodging.  To my immense surprise, Jim insisted that I stay at their home.  He and Betty were going to be gone for a few days to a wedding, but he insisted that they wished for me to use their home as lodging in their absence.  It is very, very humbling to do a self-examination of oneself, and ask "Would I display this generosity to a stranger?"  There are a number of lessons that I am learning, and will expand on at a later date, but Jim and Betty have taught me one.

Access was to be provided by Andy Irvine, a young attorney in town.  Years ago, the Waltons lived across the street from Andy's family in the Tri-Cities area of eastern Washington, and they have "adopted" him since he has landed in Jackson.  I rode into town to the Town Square, and gave him a call.  Within 5 minutes, we met, and he showed me the way to the Walton's home, a mile or so from downtown.

There are a list of "instructions" in Jim's welcoming letter on the kitchen island.  If the neighboring cat comes by some cat food is under the seat.  The bag of dog bone treats is for "Marty" the dog next door, who won't leave his yard, but will bark, signifying that he would like a dog bone thown his way. 

I almost feel like a voyeur, seeing the interests, hobbies and activities that keep this active retired couple busy.  They personify  how to enjoy Life and living, during retirement.  Andy and I had a fine dinner in a Chop House.  When I hit the sack a little after 10 PM, I slept well.

Will McMahan