Day 43, July 27 Lander, WY to Dubois, WY

The night passed uneventfully. When we rose, we met fellow biker, Jay, a VT architecture student, doing the the TransAm going west solo, and with the least amount of gear of anyone we've met. The kid doesn't even have a tent. He just has a bivvy (sp?) sac for his sleeping bag. He also sometimes rides over a hundred miles a day, on a double. Crazy.

The three of us wandered down to the grocery store, Mr. D's, to get some food for the day and have breakfast. Andy's lip is split open, he's getting a sty in his eye, and his glands are swollen, so we loaded him up on cranberry juice, with supplements of day old pastries, bananas, peaches, breakfast burrito and coffee.

Jay escaped to explore Lander a bit more, and we rode off towards Fort Washakie through the Indian Reservation. Apparently Chief Washakie was a smart fellow and saved the best land for his tribe (the Shoshone I believe) because there was more water on this land than we had seen in many many miles. The houses looked a bit like a shantytown though and some just looked totally abandoned. Their were also several knicknack stores which we refrained from entering.

From their we went to Crowheart, through hot desert, following the Butte River along some pretty interesting rock formations.

If only we had decided to stop at Crowheart and camp behind their gas station. The first 45 miles had taken us a little under 4 hrs, the next 25 miles took us 5 hrs. The Wind River became our guide and it was so aptly named. We though Kansas had wind, but that was nothing compared to this. In almost our lowest gear, occasionally standing up even going downhill, we passed beautiful striped red bluffs, herds of antelope, and happy people driving in cars. We were desperately trying to enjoy ourselves, but we both would have hopped into the back of a pickup truck for the remainder of the ride, if it had been offered.

We stopped once at a fishing inlet on the river to get off the road and soak our feet in the chilly stream. Our toes did not catch anything, but some of the stress seemed to flow outwards. We took a million pictures, because any excuse to stop was welcome.

We did, ultimately make it to Dubois. The Cowboy Cafe seemed like the place to eat as it was absolutely packed. After briefly waiting for a table, we plopped down in our chairs. Another older couple was also waiting for a table, and we offered them to share ours if they wished. They accepted, and our ensuing conversation totally rejuvenated us. Dougald and Virginia, currently of Northern California, had just celebrated their 25th anniversary with all their kids and grandkids (a sort of a Brady Bunch gathering) up in Yellowstone and had a blast. He is a retired biologist, although I don't think you can actually retire from that, and she a retired psychotherapist (which you probably never really retire from either). They gave us the rundown on the NPs and inspired us with their energy and tales. The food at the cafe was also really, really good. A little pricey for our budget, but the maple pecan pork chops and the toffee pecan pie (apparently we wanted pecans) were scrumptious.

Our plan had been to head another 9 miles up to this bicycle hostel, but the thought of getting back into a yelling match with the wind did not appeal, so we shelled out the $22 for the KOA in town, which was more than satisfactory. We were able to do laundry, swim, take showers, and sleep peacefully surrounded by a moat of warrior RVs.