Chapter Thirty-Eight
Al's Lycra Causes a Stampede
May 26, 2009—Devil’s Tower to Prune Creek: At our campsite, we woke with Devil’s Tower framed by the door of our tent.
I had heard what I thought was a wide variety of birds, but when I got out of the tent, I saw that most of these different tunes were coming from a single starling.
I decided to go on a long bike ride, and Lena decided to stay at the campsite. With two long sleeve jerseys and a jacket I was very cold whenever the sun went behind a cloud, but it was an excellent ride, with rolling hills, smooth pavement, and bracing air. Although the speed limit was 65, there was very little traffic, and the shoulder was wide.
A good biking road need only have one of the following: Low speed limit, wide shoulder, or infrequent traffic.
This picture was taken when I was 18 miles from the tower; you can see it on the horizon.
The cows along the route were apparently not used to seeing this weird bicycle/human-in lycra-thing. One herd ran along the fence with me for a half a mile. Another herd took off in panic and tried to jump a barbwire fence. One calf got stuck, but was free when I came back.
My worst dog experience happened on this ride. It was bad not because of the dog but because of its owner. I was chugging up a long hill, and the dog charged at me out of his yard. I used my preferred technique—I got off the bike, and put the bike between Rover and me. It was a struggle to keep him from getting around the bike, and into my flesh. Sometimes it seemed that he was going to succeed. This was a vicious dog, out for blood. But here’s the bad part about this encounter: The whole time, the owner stood on his porch making no attempt to rein in his dog, but simply enjoying the show. The dog eventually lost interest and went away.
I turned around after 25 miles, and got back at lunchtime. Lena had packed up everything. We took off, found a cafe, and I ate a 1/3 pound buffalo burger with homemade fries and a beer.
We arrived at the Bighorn Mountains very abruptly, and headed up over the pass. About halfway across Wyoming, in the Bighorn National Forest, we started looking at campgrounds. We were at 8,000 feet again, and the first campground we came to was closed, and very snowy and wet. The next was Prune Creek. It was also snowy, but open and nice. Apart from the camp host, we were the only ones there.
On the menu was bangers and mash—that is, Aidell's chicken apple sausage and mashed potatoes (from a mix—very good). The wood from the camp host was soaking wet in parts, but after a while we had a nice warm fire.
We went to bed around 9:30 and slept well. On this trip we sleep even better than at home, since we’re worn out after each day’s packing, driving, sightseeing, and unpacking. The mattress has done great now that we’d learned to pamper it by putting a blanket under it.
Some adventures are coming up: We camp in the crater of an active volcano, and a huge (2,000 pound) mammal comes into our campsite to give Lena the fright of her life. Stay tuned!