Post 23: Tuesday 26 July, from Ennis, Montana

Dear all

Montana's nickname is Big Sky Country

 Apologies for the radio silence since Muddy Gap last Wednesday. Since then I have had five long riding days, averaging nearly 80 miles each - and during two days I had significant headwinds. These factors have meant late arrival at my destination each evening, leaving no time to catch up on this Blog.

Looking South down the Wind River

 The corner of Wyoming I have been through is renowned for its winds. For more than a day I followed the Wind River (with the mountain range of the same name alongside). I now understand how it got its name! (And, when I mentioned the wind to a guy in a convenience store, he said "That's why we all have same hairdo!".....)

Indeed I have coined a new verb: to "wyome" (noun: "wyoming"); definition, to struggle against a headwind.....

Snow on the Wind River Mountains, seen from Beaver Rim

 Wyoming may appear welcoming and hospitable in the summer. But folk tell me the winters are harsh, with long periods of very low temperatures, and much snow - which, where it is windy, creates huge drifts. A lady cafe owner told me they have 600 inches of snowfall a year (I make that more than 15 metres - but she added that the snowploughs keep the roads open, and school kids simply don't have 'snow days' off!). It can snow even in late June and did so this year, which is why there is such a wonderful profusion of wildflowers along the roadsides and in the grasslands. They add yet another ingredient to the beauty around me as I ride....

Green meadows and the Tetons

 Indeed each recent day has been spectacularly beautiful. The Wind River valley became more lushly green as I went up it, and red cliffs and 'buttes' more frequent. The approach to Togwotee Pass - about which I was nervous - was beautiful, and certainly eased the climb to 9658 feet.

A rest before the Togwotee Pass

 Then, descending the other side, I had perhaps my biggest "wow!" moment yet, with the sudden view of the majestic Teton mountain range. With no foothills, they rise with breathtaking steepness; the highest peak - Grand Teton - at 13,700 feet is 6000 feet above Jackson Lake.

First view of the majestic Teton Mountain range

Jackson Lake and the Grand Tetons

 That day's riding was the best yet, for its sheer majestic beauty. The following day, riding through Yellowstone National Park was disappointing by comparison,

Old Faithful geyser, I couldn't wait for it to go off

 at least until I joined the Madison River flowing westwards, into Montana. I followed that yesterday too, in wonderful riding conditions - a gradual descent of 2000 feet, and a strong wind on my back!

The Madison River flowing out of Yellowstone

 The Madison River is a fly fisherman's paradise,

Especially for David and Shane!

and there are lots of (doubtless expensive) fishing lodges on the route I have been following. Ennis, where I am now, is a fishing centre - complete with statue!

There has also been a lot of history. On the day from Muddy Gap I was close to the route of the Oregon Trail, one of the main wagon routes for pioneers seeking opportunity and wealth 'out west'.

Some half a million people travelled it in its heyday. The area of Wyoming it traversed was the best option available because there was a daily supply of water, pasture for the pioneers' animals, and the gradients were less severe than further south.

Buffalo Fork River, with the Tetons

One famous landmark on the Trail was Split Rock, a distinctive cleft mountain, visible for miles in both directions. I could see it clearly even 20 miles past....

The cleft in Split Rock in the distance

 Another aspect of history concerned the Indians/'Native Americans'. Back in Encampment, when I was still with Julia and Ben, I asked about their numbers from a guy in the museum there. He didn't have a figure for their total population in, say, 1850. But he did tell me that the Spanish explorers and missionaries, who came up from Mexico, kept lots of records about the Indians. (Unlike the early settlers from Britain, who sought religious freedom, and therefore didn't attempt to convert the Indians, or indeed have much to do with them, the Catholic Spanish did. Anyway, there is a record dating from 1598 of the various Indian tribes then in existence. Comparative studies were carried out four hundred years later, in 1998, and it was established that in that period no fewer than 755 Indian tribes had vanished. Astonishing.

This wasn't all as of a result of the white man's expansion, nor of the diseases he brought. The Indians weren't exactly charming to each other.

Crowheart Butte

 The apparently attractively named 'Crowheart Butte', which I passed the other day, was called that because there was a battle near there in which the Shoshone defeated the Crow Indians, thereby gaining control of the hunting in the Wind River basin. At the war dance afterwards, Chief Washakie, the Shoshone leader, displayed on his lance the heart of a Crow brave he had killed......

The lands around there are now an Indian Reservation, the first I have been through. It looked to me much the same as any other part of SW Wyoming, but the town I stopped in, Fort Washakie, had a depressing air. I talked to the man, an Arapaho, who runs an Indian artefact and curio shop (mostly tacky, I have to say). I had assumed that only Indians could own property in a Reservation. Not so, he said, others can buy land and ranch. "So it's not really yours then?", I replied. "No," he said, "they give it to us, then they take it away."

That said, I saw nothing in the Reservation which denoted an attempt by the Shoshone and Arapaho who live there, proudly to maintain their different traditions. They drive the same pick-ups as the whites, buy the same food stuffs, and drink - often to excess, I gather - the same liquor.

It depressed me. It is undoubtedly a complex set of issues, which I have only skimmed very superficially. But I can't help wondering, as I have said before, if it needed to turn out like this for the peoples who have lived here for thousands of years.

Let's get back to the less complex matters of cycling....

Mountains like this beside me for most of the day

 I rarely encounter east-bound TransAm riders now that I am this far west. They would have to contend with the fierce August heat of the Great Plains, and the awful humidity suffered by the east coast at this time of year. But yesterday I did meet two young guys, laden with camping gear and even a guitar (!), aiming for New York City. As I have already mentioned, I was enjoying a downhill day and a following wind, and I felt keenly for them contending against both wind and gravity.

Manny

My days, though, do intersect sometimes with west-bound TransAmmers. I met up again last week with Sandy and Leo, whom I last saw in Pueblo, Colorado, and I have also kept bumping into Manny, a 21-year old from Ohio. (Unlike me, who had to plan this trip over a long period, Manny took it up on an impulse. An internship he was booked on fell through, so next day (as one does!) he decided to cycle across America, and bought a bike. He hadn't ridden a bike for years. Ah, the limitless possibilities of youth.....!)

 There hasn't been as much wildlife to see as I expected. This despite warning notices in Yellowstone National Park.

A bit rude, calling us cyclists wildlife!

I did though see one bison close to the road. A park ranger there suggested I moved on as the beast came closer, so I don't have a photo of it for you. But I did photograph some farmed ones grazing hay the day before....

I saw a road sign to "Bison Basin". That set me wondering how an Australian would pronounce that name....... Shane?

Wildlife that I could do without has been mosquitoes. In some areas, especially the Wind River basin, you have only to stop your bike and instantly they land on your legs, arms, shorts, anywhere. I have so many painful bites they sometimes wake me at night....

I am now in Montana, State no 8, with over 3,000 miles (three-quarters) completed. I have also crossed the Continental Divide eight times, with one more to go.

6th Crossing

7th Crossing

 Altitudes are reducing too. Here in Ennis I am at - only - 5000 feet. It's far from being downhill all the rest of the way, but the highest I have to climb again is never more than 8000 feet.

All told, I have 16 more cycling days to go, and I am just daring to think about reaching Janet - and the Pacific - on 13 August! That will be an emotional moment indeed.....

This is a long Post, I know. Thank you for sticking with it - and me - thus far. Hugely appreciated (as is Julia's work as Art Editor). And thank you for the continuing supportive emails from so many.

Near the marina at Colter Bay

With all best wishes,

Ken