Day 9
We wake up before the sun at about 4am. Headlamps strapped on, Em takes care of the tent, I make breakfast. Coffee and oatmeal with coconut oil, raw honey, cinnamon, and blueberries. We chug water mixed with "green juice" packets. I also make some chia seed pudding for us to eat on the road. We've got our nutrition down hard and aren't messing around. Each morning we envision a quick get away, like we do this morning, but something happens- we still can't figure out what- and suddenly 2 hours pass before we hit our first pedal stroke. By 6am we are watching the sun come up as we listen to music and ride down a long country road outlined by beef cows and grain headed towards the highway we will take 83 miles into Dubois, WY. There is no wind, we are well rested, and we dance on our bikes a little in excitement. Around 10 miles in we stop to drink, snack, snap photos, chat and then are quickly back on the bikes. A mile later I hear Emily yell for me to stop and turn around. She is about 800 feet behind me on the opposite side of the road crouched down over something. I really want to keep moving forward and consider "not hearing" her, but that's just not how we do. I shimmy over and see something many others may be shocked by, but not me, not with Em. She has spotted a freshly dead owl, a beautiful one that has no sign of injury or distress, and is (her quote, not mine) "extracting the feathers to give to friends." Emily works on the owl for about 15 minutes as I rapid fire video recordings to friends and family documenting what is happening. My Dad responds immediately saying, "it seems you've both pedaled enough- time to come home." What he doesn't realize at the time is that it is his Leatherman is what Emily is using as her main surgical tool. Thanks Pa. A few miles down the road we take advantage of a local general store in Fort Washakie on the Wind River Indian Reservation. While waiting for breakfast burritos, Emily consults with a local about the morality behind her "extraction". He ensures her that it is a moral act and they discuss possible causes of death. I head to the produce section for more avocados.
We get back on the road and smile through the miles and miles enjoying dramatic landscape changes, beautiful weather, and nature- just lots and lots of beauty in nature. We stop midway at a gas station in Crowheart to eat and almost immediately fall on respective benches in front of the gas pumps. For about 30 seconds I feel too aware of passerbyers to fall asleep, but 45 minutes later I wake myself up snoring. I wake Emily- it's close to 3:30 and we still have 40ish miles to ride. We are all packed when Emily begins having trouble with the air in her tire. Two handpumps, 4 men from Texas, a cash donation to our Open School fund, and 45 minutes later, we are back on the road again.
The headwinds are present again now making each hill feel steeper than it looks and our bodies are working at max capacity. By around the 65 mile mark I feel myself getting hungry and losing energy almost every 20 minutes. About 3/4 of the way through the ride (20 miles to go), we spot a river running along side the road. Sweating with achey muscles, we drop our bikes, strip down, and jump right in. 10 minutes is all it takes and we are rejuvenated. Back on the road. Later with only 10 miles to go, we have now seen the sun rise and set on our bikes. We are so close, but still consider pulling up to a home we see on the side of the road and asking for water and their backyard to camp in. Somehow we press through and finally enter Dubois at about 8pm and in the dark. Our bodies are logging off quickly, and to make matters worse I have burning eyes that I can't see out of and what feels like a sinus cold from getting suntan lotion in my eyes during our river swim. The bugs are out in a big way too, I've eaten at least 7 and Emily pulls three out of her eyeball. We pull over and spot a local bar. We decide to get a beer and chat with the locals about where we could camp the night. We barely get back on our bike seats when a man pulls up and asks if we are on the TransAm Trail. Yes, yes we are. I look like I'm crying hysterically from teary burny eyes due to to the lotion, but the man doesn't seem to think I'm too bizarre because he then asks if we need a backyard to camp in. We are again given the exact gift that we need in the exact moment we need it. The man- Steven- gives us directions to his place and we arrange to meet after our drink. We head to the bar where a cowboy asks me why I'm crying and who broke my heart, and the bartender gives me Visine, Sudafed, and a Guiness.
We make our way to Stevens, set up our tent, and shower. "Don't mind the dirt in the shower," he says, "I was washing off some mushrooms I hunted earlier." We then hang in his living room where there are two hikers from the Continental Divide trail that are camping in Steven's backyear for the night as well. In Steven's living room, there are mostly two things- vinyls and mushrooms. Tons and tons of vinyls and mushrooms. Porcini's, portabellas, morels, shitakes- the whole gang is there. He makes a living "hunting" them while hiking through the mountains and then sells them in Jackson Hole to chefs. We stay up listening to music and hanging as long as we can until our bodies officially shut down and we head for the tent. Not sure what tomorrow will bring after a record breaking ride for us, but thankful to be showered, fed, and feeling safe in our portable home.
We wake up before the sun at about 4am. Headlamps strapped on, Em takes care of the tent, I make breakfast. Coffee and oatmeal with coconut oil, raw honey, cinnamon, and blueberries. We chug water mixed with "green juice" packets. I also make some chia seed pudding for us to eat on the road. We've got our nutrition down hard and aren't messing around. Each morning we envision a quick get away, like we do this morning, but something happens- we still can't figure out what- and suddenly 2 hours pass before we hit our first pedal stroke. By 6am we are watching the sun come up as we listen to music and ride down a long country road outlined by beef cows and grain headed towards the highway we will take 83 miles into Dubois, WY. There is no wind, we are well rested, and we dance on our bikes a little in excitement. Around 10 miles in we stop to drink, snack, snap photos, chat and then are quickly back on the bikes. A mile later I hear Emily yell for me to stop and turn around. She is about 800 feet behind me on the opposite side of the road crouched down over something. I really want to keep moving forward and consider "not hearing" her, but that's just not how we do. I shimmy over and see something many others may be shocked by, but not me, not with Em. She has spotted a freshly dead owl, a beautiful one that has no sign of injury or distress, and is (her quote, not mine) "extracting the feathers to give to friends." Emily works on the owl for about 15 minutes as I rapid fire video recordings to friends and family documenting what is happening. My Dad responds immediately saying, "it seems you've both pedaled enough- time to come home." What he doesn't realize at the time is that it is his Leatherman is what Emily is using as her main surgical tool. Thanks Pa. A few miles down the road we take advantage of a local general store in Fort Washakie on the Wind River Indian Reservation. While waiting for breakfast burritos, Emily consults with a local about the morality behind her "extraction". He ensures her that it is a moral act and they discuss possible causes of death. I head to the produce section for more avocados.
We get back on the road and smile through the miles and miles enjoying dramatic landscape changes, beautiful weather, and nature- just lots and lots of beauty in nature. We stop midway at a gas station in Crowheart to eat and almost immediately fall on respective benches in front of the gas pumps. For about 30 seconds I feel too aware of passerbyers to fall asleep, but 45 minutes later I wake myself up snoring. I wake Emily- it's close to 3:30 and we still have 40ish miles to ride. We are all packed when Emily begins having trouble with the air in her tire. Two handpumps, 4 men from Texas, a cash donation to our Open School fund, and 45 minutes later, we are back on the road again.
The headwinds are present again now making each hill feel steeper than it looks and our bodies are working at max capacity. By around the 65 mile mark I feel myself getting hungry and losing energy almost every 20 minutes. About 3/4 of the way through the ride (20 miles to go), we spot a river running along side the road. Sweating with achey muscles, we drop our bikes, strip down, and jump right in. 10 minutes is all it takes and we are rejuvenated. Back on the road. Later with only 10 miles to go, we have now seen the sun rise and set on our bikes. We are so close, but still consider pulling up to a home we see on the side of the road and asking for water and their backyard to camp in. Somehow we press through and finally enter Dubois at about 8pm and in the dark. Our bodies are logging off quickly, and to make matters worse I have burning eyes that I can't see out of and what feels like a sinus cold from getting suntan lotion in my eyes during our river swim. The bugs are out in a big way too, I've eaten at least 7 and Emily pulls three out of her eyeball. We pull over and spot a local bar. We decide to get a beer and chat with the locals about where we could camp the night. We barely get back on our bike seats when a man pulls up and asks if we are on the TransAm Trail. Yes, yes we are. I look like I'm crying hysterically from teary burny eyes due to to the lotion, but the man doesn't seem to think I'm too bizarre because he then asks if we need a backyard to camp in. We are again given the exact gift that we need in the exact moment we need it. The man- Steven- gives us directions to his place and we arrange to meet after our drink. We head to the bar where a cowboy asks me why I'm crying and who broke my heart, and the bartender gives me Visine, Sudafed, and a Guiness.
We make our way to Stevens, set up our tent, and shower. "Don't mind the dirt in the shower," he says, "I was washing off some mushrooms I hunted earlier." We then hang in his living room where there are two hikers from the Continental Divide trail that are camping in Steven's backyear for the night as well. In Steven's living room, there are mostly two things- vinyls and mushrooms. Tons and tons of vinyls and mushrooms. Porcini's, portabellas, morels, shitakes- the whole gang is there. He makes a living "hunting" them while hiking through the mountains and then sells them in Jackson Hole to chefs. We stay up listening to music and hanging as long as we can until our bodies officially shut down and we head for the tent. Not sure what tomorrow will bring after a record breaking ride for us, but thankful to be showered, fed, and feeling safe in our portable home.