Day 13 – June 29th

Bob, the newest member of our chaotic team, drove us 35 miles east of Riverton, Wyoming (the exact spot where we had stopped yesterday) this morning and kicked us out of the SUV with nothing but our bikes and our ever decreasing ego’s. Before we could get a single pedal revolution completed, Mother Nature sent an emissary our way. Moving with the grace of complete freedom, a buck deer eyed us from a distance of 100 yards. Silhouetted in the early morning sunlight, we could make out his majestic stature as he slowly advanced our way. Soon he had halved the distance and his proud antlers posed over his ever alert ears became visible; antlers shrouded in velvet. His coloring was akin to the gentle brown seen on a young oak sapling. Showing no sign of hesitation or fear, he approached even closer; soon no more than a dozen yards away from our surprised eyes. Watching this silent creature, with horns that could put a hole through my torso, I was momentarily struck with one of the oldest of human emotions; fight or flight. With his weapons attached to his crown, as well as his ever capable hooves, I had no valorous ideas of tangling with this mighty creature; luckily he harbored on such thoughts of heroics either. After checking us over for a few moments, he made his way back into his domain and was soon out of our lives.

The ride today was a modest ride, when considering some of the previous rides we have completed. We ended the day in Glenrock, Wyoming; approximately 109 miles from our point of origin. The view along the right was very similar throughout the entire ride; a mixture of subtle browns, yellows, with the occasional patch of green. Scattered in the foliage, were antelope, deer, and coyotes.

At mile 84 we reached Casper, Wyoming where we rallied with our support expert for a quick bite to eat. After the pit stop to refuel the tank, we left the friendly ghost behind and 25 miles later were pedaling into Glenrock. The hotel we are staying in tonight is an old time beauty. Built in 1916, the Higgins Hotel has an ancient nobility all about it. It’s the type of hotel that you would have expected a President to slumber in during the buildings glory days; such as the old moose Teddy R during his many trips to Yellowstone. The rooms are large, the beds comfortable, and everything in it has an antique story to it. Stepping through the doors, you feel as if you just entered a portal to a time lost in history. Of all the places we have stayed, this historic monument is my favorite. It is gem of a hotel, snugly hidden in the hills of Wyoming.

Before I finish my rambling for yet another day, I wanted to take a moment to answer a question a few people have asked me in regards to this trip. “What do you think about when you are on the bike that long?”

There are a vast amount of thoughts that flicker across my mind while I am in the saddle. Some secure only a second or two of my time, while others may cause me to ponder for long stretches of road. Often I take a few moments to concentrate on my body, and try to see if it is telling me something that I am failing to hear. Is my shoulder getting tight or fatigued, which means I need to change hand positions? Are my thighs and hamstrings unusually tight? I especially pay attention to my calves. Often times my calves are the first to indicate if I’m about to start facing a serious problem. My calves are great indicators if I am getting close to dehydration, or if my sodium and potassium levels are becoming low. I can’t explain the feeling, but am thankful I am able to minimally understand the messages they send.

Other times I reflect on a number of inquiries; religion, politics, economics, Indian reservation law structures etc. I also dwell upon topics that all of us find ourselves thinking about at some point during the day; such as relationships with friends and family. All of these thoughts can cascade through my head in a matter of minutes. The oddest questions can also appear; what would it be like to be a cattle rancher? What would I have done had I tried crossing this land in a covered wagon 150 years ago and I blew an axle or my oxen perished? Why did the Sand Creek Massacre occur? (I saw a sign today directing to the site of the massacre.) As you can see, a number of random thoughts can spontaneously appear, and disappear, quickly.

Yet, there are times that cycling is almost meditative. I cease to think and experience only the joy of being alive and moving under my own power. I am sure that many athletes can attest to such a clear and clean sense of release that occurs during their sport of choice. I can’t entirely explain it, but I am thankful for it. So I guess there is no one clear cut answer to that question, for my solution to it changes every time I climb into the saddle.