Yellowstone and Teton National Parks (to Pinedale, WY)

For a National Park that's so well known, I really knew little about Yellowstone, apart from the reliable geyser of Old Faithful. On reflection, what resonates with me more than anything about the Park was the wildlife. Quite literally, they were everywhere. Elk, moose, deer, bears, wolves and bison...all readily accessible.

Add to that canyons, mountains, hot springs, geysers and plains, and you have a Park truly unlike no other.

We ended up spending seven days in the Park, beginning with Madison campground (and a sidetrip to Old Faithful that same afternoon). From there we rode 35 miles to Mammoth Hot Springs (including a wonderful descent through the 'Golden Gate', pictured), where we spent two days; another 22 miles had us at Tower Falls, on the eastern side of the Park; 17 miles and 2200ft of uphill (six painstaking miles at 7 per cent grade) then had us up and over 8859ft Danraven Pass (see next picture, below) and into the Canyon of Yellowstone.




We hiked a short distance up from the Pass towards Mt Washburn. The views towards the south and east, as I'm sure you can guess, were astounding. The Tetons beckoned to the south, serious shafts of granite heaved towards the sky millions of years ago, while to the east Absaroka mountains formed a wall along Yellowstone's boundary. It was in this area (more to the north) that a recent Grizzly attack occurred, where one man was mauled to death in the middle of the night by one Grizzly mum and her three starving cubs. A freak incident we're told but a sobering one as well. We're constantly reminded of this event each time we stay at a campground in this area - you're made well aware of not keeping food in or near your tent. Even water bottles can't be kept with you (they may also have food odor on them) - all of it goes into a bear box, a rectangular metal container often found in campgrounds. Not that this helped the person who was mauled as no food had been kept in his tent. Just very, very unlucky.




I'd heard a little of the Canyon as we neared Yellowstone. We've been lucky enough to see the Grand Canyon, so in some ways you guess no other canyon is quite going to inspire you in the same way. Of course, this is never the way to approach any sight; they're all unique. And with two thundering waterfalls at it's head, and soft yellow rocks coloured by the heat below (Yellowstone is essentially the sight of a supervolcano, hence the amount of geysers and hotsprings throughout), this canyon had plenty of appeal.



Probably the most awe-inspiring leg of the trip was the next day's cycle, from Canyon to Grant Village, in the south. This leg took us through the Hayden Valley, and hundreds of Bison (buffalo) who were engaged in their annual mating activities. The boys who had girls and children were sticking very, very close to them, as plenty of young men were on the prowl for someone to call home. Think George St in The Rocks late on a Saturday night. We had to ease our way through the valley, often using cars to sheppard us past these massive beasts . You would catch the odd glance from a male, full of menace and intent. Our heads went down, and we pedaled hard. Very bloody hard.


As a special bonus, a woman who took a great interest in the Park's wolf population (they were reintroduced to the Park in the 1990s) allowed us to look through her high-powered monocular to watch wolf cubs at play.


Yellowstone was special, no doubt. What isn't so special is the amount of traffic flowing through its veins. I get it - it's a place many want to see, most of all in the holiday months of July and August. What we don't understand is how the Park appears to cater too much for cars and over-sized RVs. What had us appalled was whilst the Park had the 'hiker/biker' camp setup (this is where they keep aside space for bikers and hikers in otherwise full campsites, allowing us to get in later in the day), a wonderful idea, many of the roads within the Park made it nigh impossible to get to these sights. Half the park had great shoulders for riding; the other half had shoulders about as large as those of a horse jockey. The official cycling brochure essentially attempted to discourage bicyclists from doing the entire northern section of the Park (others we talked to confirmed this same impression, one that was made worse when you saw that some of these roads had been recently improved but still left without a shoulder) - we just went ahead and did it, with plenty of thanks to the many drivers who slowed down when passing us. For the rest of them, well, what a bunch of inconsiderate so and sos...it's amazing, they'll stop dead in the middle of the road to see an animal, holding up traffic for minutes on end when they do, but when it's a person on a bike, well, who cares. And, of course, the attitude is often that oversized RVs are OK but a person on a bike is an impediment to traffic. Go figure. My hope is one day they ban cars from the central part of the Park, and have a bus system implemented much like that of Glacier. Add to this some bike-only paths, and what a park you would then have.

And before you say that this all costs money, please consider that people are paying $25 to enter the Park. Add to this the hit of stimulus money the U.S. Federal Government recently pumped in (long overdue from what I could see - it shouldn't have taken a recession to funnel this money in), and I'm adamant it's all achievable. Alas, the car dominates here, and until petrol prices reach the levels they are elsewhere in Europe, Canada and Australia, it won't happen.

Sorry about the rant. Now, where were we...



On a much more positive note, the Teton National Park was in stark contrast to Yellowstone. The main road which runs along the eastern flank of the park, highway 89/191, has a generous shoulder, and in the park's south they've recently built an eight-mile bike path from Jenny Lake to Moose. This latter project was the result of research undertaken by a group focused on rural transport - we met a few of them as they undertook a post-construction survey, seeing how many people were using the path. It was plenty, trust me - from families through to serious cyclists, all gliding along under the gaze of the magnificent Teton mountains. The Tetons are a climbing mecca, the sheer granite spires attracting climbers from all over the world. It was hard to take your eyes off them; their sharp and abrupt nature so different from many of the other ranges we had enjoyed.


We had three days in the Teton National Park, which is located just eight miles south of Yellowstone. We were officially back on the Great Divide trail although not for long. As we wanted to venture to the south of the Park, and onto Jackson Hole, it made no sense to head north just to get back on the official trail. Instead, we headed through the tourist trap of Jackson along 191, all the way to Pinedale, WY, where we are now.




Wildlife again stole the show. Male moose from 10 yards, in a town called Moose. Well, what else did you expect to find? Moose are more dangerous than bears, weighing three times as much, and when I talk impressive racks, please confine your thoughts to those that sit atop a moose's head.



More and more we're using the Great Divide trail as a guide only. We do try and stick to it as much as possible. Yet there are times when hitting the highways, many of which have large shoulders (particularly 191), makes much more sense, for us at least. You can travel further, and if you're lucky the scenery is still magnificent and there won't be too much traffic.

The stretch from Jackson (another 8 miles of bike trail from the town almost to the next highway junction) to Boudurant was particularly impressive, more canyons, more history of fur traders and explorers, and yet more mountain ranges complete with jagged peaks and glaciers. The Gros Ventre and Wind River Ranges were our companions on our 57 mile leg from Hoback campground to Pinedale. Another 8000ft pass aside, this time 10 miles of 6 degree-plus road, and most of the day was spent pushing into a slight headwind at 15 miles per hour.

Pinedale meant rest, particularly sought after following 14 straight days of camping and only a few showers here and there (although plenty of dips in local rivers and lakes, with a cake of soap discretely placed in my hand) and we've been here since Sat evening doing just that. And eating. Lots. We leave tomorrow for a particular tough and remote part of the trail; 220 miles to Rawlins, through the dry and barren Great Basin. All things going to plan we should be in Colorado by Monday next week.


Our fitness levels are certainly strong although each day is different, and it can still be tough getting the legs going. And even if the energy is there, headwinds and steep ascents can sap whatever you have very quickly. As a summary, we've travelled over 1822 miles (2915km) including Vancouver Island and the Rupert-Terrace leg. That includes 51 riding days (this excludes rest days). It's still hard to believe how we've managed to get here, to keep going, and to enjoy what we're doing. Thanks for all your kind words, they can certainly motivate us when times get a tad tough.

But never as tough as 'real' life. We received the terrible news that our close family friend, Lorne, passed away a week ago from prostrate cancer. It's for his reason Alia has started up a website looking for donations - of any size - for cancer research. Please visit www.gofundraise.com.au/becausewecan . Thank you.

Elkhorn Hot Springs, MT, to West Yellowstone, MT

It was something I briefly noticed from the corner of my eye. I looked back again, more intently this time. Something moving in the trees, about 100 yards away. Another deer perhaps. We had seen plenty of deer along the way.

But this wasn't bambi. No, this was much larger and bulkier. And it was moving fairly rapidly on all-fours.

"BEAR!", I exclaimed to Alia, just as she came up beside me. A lone Grizzly. With a strong headwind the bear wouldn't smell us, so Alia, remembering what we had been taught about how you should never startle a bear (this is when they're likely to get defensive and attack), starting ringing her bike bell. "Ssssshhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!," I blurted, totally ignoring Alia's sensible approach to the situation. "I think we can get by it if we just continue along the road," I said, half alarmed at my own suggestion. We set off. But the bear, which was essentially loping at a 45 degree angle towards a point in the road a few hundred yards ahead of where we were, was much faster than we had anticipated.

He was out from under the trees now, and getting closer to the road.

We were into our second day from Elkhorn Hot Springs, travelling along the 1860s trail that once linked Utah with the gold town of Bannack. This was also the route taken by the Lewis and Clark expedition of 1805 to find a way from St Louis along the Missouri River to the Pacific coast (see http://www.lewis-clark.org/ for more information on this amazing journey, set in train by President Thomas Jefferson). We had spent the night camping at Bannack, now a State Park complete with preserved (ghost) town. Bannack sits adjacent to Montana's (then known as Idaho Territory) first ever gold strike, in 1862 on Grasshopper Creek, and became Montana's first capital in 1864, a distinction it only held for only a short period.

We were close to nature in Bannack as well; a horned owl decided to do some hunting right next to our tent at around midnight; these are BIG birds, and the flapping of its 5ft-spanned wings sounded more akin with a helicopter than an animal. Combined with another two owls nearby, each screeching to the owl close to us (and us imaging a conversation along the lines of - 'Nooooo Bruce, the Aussies are in the bloody tent, not next to it'), we have to admit we were too afraid to stick our head outside to try and see it (we learned it was a horned owl the next day).





From Bannack, we then entered the most remote section of the route to date, a 57 mile stretch beginning just south of highway 324 through to 7 or so miles north of Lima, on highway 91. When I say remote, we were still riding on a fairly solid dirt roads through cattle-grazing ranch lands. People were thin on the ground though, and we only encountered two or three cars along the day's 43 miles of riding. We were climbing the entire day,from Bannack's 6000ft of altitude to the 8000ft Medicine Lodge/Sheep Creek Divide, and into the stiff headwind I mentioned earlier. It wasn't an entirely pleasant day, although the scenery was improving as we got higher. Until that scenery included a bear.










Well, deep, deep, deep down, seeing the bear was exhilarating. Particularly once it saw us and scooted up the hill away from us. From what I understand bears that haven't had any interaction with humans will generally scare easily, fleeing at sound or smell of us. When people tell you bears can run fast, please believe them. This one ran up a 10 percent slope at a rate of knots; they can reach speeds of 60km/hr.


Our day wasn't quite done yet. We had been warned about the mud in these parts, and how sticky it was. Something to do with its clay qualities. We had dodged a particularly harsh storm earlier in the day, only to discover the water it dumped on the road ahead of us rendered our bikes useless. We were only a few miles from our designated campsite, and from the crest of the day's ride when we hit three miles of the sticky stuff. You could only push the bike for 10 metres at best before you had the clean mud from the tires...it ended up taking us two hours to do around 2.5 miles, which included me carrying Alia's bike for a few hundred yards.





As if to emphasize the 'fine line between pleasure and pain' theme of our entire trip, the views from atop of the summit were incredible. Mountains to all sides, all draped in the soft glow of a setting sun, the odd 'mooing' of a cow reverberating through the valley stretched out below. Oh, and the almighty 'FXXXXX' coming from my mouth as I dragged Alia's bike to the top. Serenity.










With the sun beginning to set we made the decision to camp beside the road, just near Hansen Livestock Rd and an adjacent stream. We had just enough time to set our tent and eat our dinner, nothing more. We had travelled just over 43 miles, and we were exhausted.

Any fears of a repeat of the mud-choked roads we encountered the day before quickly dissipated the next day. The road was bumpy yet firm, and after a short ascent that morning we were quickly motoring downhill at around 18 miles an hour, wind at our back and sun warming us from above. After about 13 miles we entered a canyon that we would travel through for most of the day. We were following Big Sheep Creek as it wound its way out of the mountains and into the flats just north of Lima; the cliffs had me looking up for the most part, the reds and oranges of the rock adding some vibrancy after the softer tones of the day past.

Small towns, even those with under a 1000 people, always seem like metropolises once you've been away from it all for even a few days. And so it was with Lima. A motel/RV park, a gas station/grocery store, and a diner. That was it. But it was enough. We've actually found ourselves a tad lost in larger towns, with too many choices distracting us. Our needs are simple, and they centre on food and lodging. And beer, but you already knew that.

It was in Lima that we met four people hiking the Continental Divide trail. Talk about stamina. These guys would go without towns for up to 9-10 days at a time. They weren't travelling together; there was a couple from just outside Portland, OR (Kelly and David), another man from Chicago, and another lady from New York. It was Kelly's 35th birthday, and we kindly invited to their motel room to celebrate that fact. And to eat cake. Ehhhh. We later learned Kelly had recently been given the all clear from a cancer she had a few years earlier; the trip was their way of celebrating that fact. They had started the trek in April, and were travelling until September. I would suggest visiting their website - http://www.cancerhike.com/ to learn more. We enjoy chatting with fellow hikers and bikers, you almost always come away learning something, and you get to meet people who understand the need to sometimes throw in the job to do some travelling. It's a luxury being able to do that, I know, but it is also beyond many people's comprehension.

With the rain coming down overnight and into the next day, we decided to miss a notoriously muddy section of the Great Divide trail (the road north of Lima Reservoir) and instead head southeast along highway 91 (also Interstate 15) to Monida. From there, we headed east towards Red Rock National Wildlife Refuge, a site dedicated to the preservation of the Trumpeter Swan. Set up in 1935, a time when the bird was just about extinct, the site has helped play a prominent role in preserving these majestic birds. Ironically I only saw a few from a great distance (you're not allowed to get within 400 yards of them as they are known to simply desert their nest and young ones when they feel threatened), although I ended up seeing one up close in Yellowstone National Park.



The Refuge entails open grass plains and a two large lakes/swamps, all buttressed closely to the south by the mountains of the Continental Divide (and the Idaho border). We camped beneath one particularly impressive mountain, on the shores of Upper Red Rock Lake. That day, in which we travelled 47 miles, we had the pleasure of seeing countless Proghorns, deer-like animals that can run up to 70 miles and hour, along with two badgers, an animal we hadn't seen before. Think of a striped pancake on four legs, and you have a badger.

Of particular interest though were the mountains of Yellowstone, which could be seen to the east. We were close now; after following the Great Divide trail over 7120ft Red Rock Pass, we left the route via road 055 and highways 87 and 20, and headed to West Yellowstone, a town on the outskirts of the famous park. West Yellowstone was little more than a tourist town, a staging post for the Park. You knew that from the volume of traffic, and the $37 'going rate' for a simple camping site. But these towns serve their purpose, and that was preparing for Yellowstone.

Seeley Lake, MT to Elkhorn Hot Springs, MT

Well, here we are back in a motel again, although this time in southwest Montana overlooking the Pioneer Mountains. Washing decorates an otherwise featureless but somehow cosy room. Our bikes lean against a timber-veneer wall - you get the feeling they're enjoying the rest as much as we are. Dark clouds are brewing out yonder; there's some thunder overhead, and the rain drops slowly begin to thud into the hard-baked ground. We're in ranch country; most of the valleys we've traveled through of late are for cattle grazing, although most of the ridges are tree-covered, with peaks bursting through at regular intervals.




This leg of the trip began with a 60-mile jaunt from Seeley Lake to Missoula, a university town of around 70,000 in western Montana. Missoula allowed us to be tourists for a few days, and we ended up staying three nights in a campsite not too far from the Downtown. As luck would have it, the campsite was located behind a REI store - REI is an outdoor/adventure cooperative store, which includes a comprehensive bike section. Our bikes, needing a service, only had to be walked a mere few hundred metres in order to get the attention they required. And it was excellent service, I will add.


For the record, and for those interested in the bike-mechanic side of our trip, I required a new chain, cassette, rear brake pads, and a crank (bottom bracket) re-grease; Alia needed a new chain (but not a new cassette - he explained that once the chain becomes too loose, it creates grooves in the cassette that doesn't allow for a new chain to sit properly - Alia hadn't let her chain get to this point, while I had) plus some new rear brake pads. Both also had a general check of our spokes/wheels (both had slight wobbles that were fixed with some tightening of the spokes), and some general tightening of gears. My service (incl. parts) cost $120, Alia's $85.


The rain is now pounding down, slanted from the west. So glad we're holed up in this room. We've had excellent weather of late, temps around mid-80s (high 20s), and minimal humidity. Rain is welcome is these parts, and it does help keep the dust down on many of the roads we travel along (our 2,400 mile route had us on backroads 80% of the time).


Missoula was pleasant, it's Downtown laden with authentic 1900s buildings and charm. We visit the Adventure Cycling Association head office (this is the organization that plans the route we're on); they have a policy of taking your photo, and giving you as much free ice cream and pop as you want. You can also do some research there in a room set aside for bike riders. It's a very welcoming place.


From Missoula, which isn't on the 'official' Great Divide Trail, we aim to head to the mining town of Butte, around 130 miles to the southeast. This leg will have to be done via chunks of the Interstate Highway (No. 10), although the majority is along what are referred to as 'Frontage Road'. I'm sure the name tells you what they are; they are often remnants of the old highways that once linked towns, to be replaced by the 75-mile an hour highways that now criss-cross this massive land. Sometimes the roads get you far enough away from the Highway to soften the sounds of traffic. Other times they don't, and they literally sit adjacent to the Interstate. Still, the scenery is remarkable, Like the part that had us cycling through the Madison Limestone outcrops (see picture), and just gets better as we head south. Much the land we pass through is where gold prospectors tried their luck in the 1860s, or thereabouts - we pass many a ghost town. This overall leg was broken up into 30 miles to Beavertail State Park; 59 miles to the charming town of Drummond; and then the final 42 miles to Butte.


Pools of water are now forming in the gravel parking lot downstairs. The rain seems in a hurry. It's almost rushing to quench a thirsty ground. We had only just returned from a short walk to 'Ma Barnes General Store', about a half-mile from here. We were stocking up for our next leg, which will see us out and about for two days without going through a town. The lady who served us was a lovely woman, very intent on knowing what we were up to. She had sign a book saying we were passing through on the Great Divide trail. As we were leaving, she offered us a booklet on the Lord's teachings. Not my usual bedtime reading but I take it anyway, cautious not to offend. Maybe my indifference to this sort of literature brought on the heavy rain. Better see about a boat perhaps...


Butte was fantastic. A true mining town if there ever was one, it's entire Downtown remains locked in the late 1800s/early 1900s. The pace is slow, relaxed. The locals amble. It's hot but dry. The town is rimmed to the east by the Rocky Mountains, although even more startling is the open-cut mine that sits adjacent to town. Dubbed the world's richest hill, it's yielded massive amounts of copper, amongst other minerals, and many a man rich. There are two large open cuts, although only one is still active. The other, Berkerley Pit, was closed in the early 1980s, and has since filled with water. Now toxic water, as much of the minerals once dug up have since leeched into it. We're talking about a pit that's 5600 ft long, 1800 ft deep, and over 2000 ft wide. You can see it for yourself - it's now a tourist attraction, although charging people to see what is so obviously an environmental hazard doesn't make sense to me. But there we are, paying to see it, so how can I talk... The company has a plan to deal with the water once it hits a certain level, expected in 2023, and it's all monitored by the government. But few tourists who are with us at the viewing platform give much credence to the company's claims of how safe it all it is. Think BP, and you get the picture.


Our next three days have us climbing. The first, which sees us ride around 30 miles (and up 2000ft) to Highland campsite literally on the Great (Continental) Divide, offers majestic views back towards Butte. We pass through rock-strewn pastures, likely deposited by glaciers of many years ago. Much of the trail has us passing through tight valleys, often adorned by colourful rock ledges; from deep orange to soft grey. It's an imperfect landscape, rough and disorganized, and it's this quality that likely makes it more appealing to two Aussies used to the brown, hard land we grew up in, one that we consider so beautiful and captivating.









The next day sees us climb some, and then descend sharply to Interstate 15, before climbing to almost 8000ft (or 2000 ft over 12 or so miles on this part - Interstate 15 sits just under 6000 ft in altitude) just under Fleecers Ridge. Here we tackle the toughest part of the entire trail, a sharp but thankfully short descent down the side of the same Ridge. We're forced to walk the bikes down 0.25 miles of it, it's that steep. Loose stones make the walk treacherous, although we both make it down safely. The next 8 miles are downhill to the town of Wise River, where we camp for the night.


The next, and final part of this section, sees us travel on paved road along the 'Scenic Byway' of Highway 73. For the most part we have this glorious piece of bitumen to ourselves. It's initially a gradual ascent, although as we draw nearer to our present location it becomes tougher. Breathing becomes more labored, for me at least - that's the altitude, or so I believe. As with the two previous days, we're gaining 2,000 feet today, topping out at just under 8,000 ft near Crystal Park. We pass some meadows near the top, one of which is likely named after the moose that are no doubt present. The grass flows with the westerly breeze. Sharp, jagged peaks sit proudly to our east, the result of tectonic movements 70 million years ago. The mountains to our east are rounded, smoother - the result of being capped by erosion-resistant sandstone.


And, so, back to Elkhorn Hot Springs, which is where we hitched our bikes after a winding descent that began just after Crystal Park. Our next leg will see us enter Yellowstone National Park, somewhere I've always dreamed of visiting. We remain in good health, and apart from a few flat tires, the bikes continue to purr. Our muscles do ache most days, and our stomachs are rarely full, but we continue to savour the good fortune we have been presented with. Maybe I should begin reading that booklet, as a form of thanks to the Lord above? After all, the rain is continuing to fall...