Pit Stop in Idaho
Fast Friends with
Girl from Walla Tribe
Sandy's Journal
Week One: What a harrowing but fantastic week. We made it..all 58 of us...with only one injury and that wasn't even on the official ride. One of the bikers was riding for an ice cream run and a woman opened her car door, smack - right into his chest. He brushed himself off and was on the saddle the next morning...what a road warrior...and by the way, he fractured two ribs.
Regarding other riders: the professional basketball player is mentioned above. He's trying to raise funds for one of the three orphanages that he and his wife founded. One is in China, another in Ghana and his most recent, in the Phillippines.
Another rider is riding with one kidney and is now undergoing treatment for leukemia.
Another woman from San Francisco is raising money for abused children.She's a nurse and works with infants with parents with addiction problems. This woman, by the way, is riding a Bike Friday, one of those foldable bikes, which is amazingly durable on these steep Cascade Mountain inclines and descents.
Another woman is a 30 year veteran of the U.S. Air Force, who was a mechanic on HVACs. Needless to say she is one tough woman.
Another couple, the husband just returned from Iraq, and they're raising money for injured vets.
The youngest rider is 19; the oldest is 72...What an amazing group.
Week Two:
Idaho Road sign: Slow Down....Eat More Potatoes (See pit stop picture above)
Entering Wyoming (See Snow-Covered Mountain Picture Below)
Yesterday we crossed the Tetons. What a thrill, an awe-inspiring, intimidating, fist-clenching adventure, soaring down twisted, vertical mountain trails...eek! I kept my mind on the road ahead, clenching my knees tight to the bar of my bike to hold the bike frame steady from the increasing acceleration...20-25-30-35-40-45mph. Hope against hope that I would not get a blowout in my tire..that would hurt...
The Day After
Too many mountains..My butt is filled with saddle sores and my legs are swollen and achy! Waaaaa...The Continental Divide is anti-climatic. As the name implies (with me anyway), the Divide separates not only the continent, it separates the mind and the body (and does nothing for relationships). The 17-mile climb up to the Divide was the real clencher and I found myself too cranky to be civilized. One thing I've realized on this trip...It's so easy to succumb to irritability and crankiness when in pain. The real hero is someone who refuses to let go of the positive human spirit.
Wyoming Thunderstorm (A Poem)
Sheriff sirens wailing...Rain funnels break along painted rock..Wind blowing words beyond our reach...Unable to talk...Colliding worlds that draw blood...fiery heavens shoot spears...Dashing through thunderheads...Splitting our paths...Perhaps we will hear the wisdom of the journey or succumb to the Wild West honky tonk.
The Day After the Day After
That Wyoming Day...Lots of red rock..rolling hills through the mountains, one side straited, the other, high desert...Wind River follows us while buzzards wave their black fringed wings overhead. Other birds trill morning songs through Wyoming breezes. (See picture of river below)
Larry's Story: When he was 32, he was thrown 40 feet into the air when he was struck by a truck from behind. Hundreds of leg operations later, Larry walks with a lazy gait, but his pedaling is far from it. He is 55 years old and this is his third time he is riding his bike across the country. His coda.."Pain early in life increases your capacity to love."
Scenery along the way to Burly: cowboy bars, saloons, boardwalks with carved names and initials, split rail fences..a place where every yard has a horse.
120 mile ride to Casper, Wy
Vast, desolate stretches of alkaline hills are covered in sagebrush tufts like the stubble of an old man's beard. I focus my attention elsewhere as the pain edges its way into my mind. I push it away, look at the empty road and the shaded hills to my right. Occasionally a bird will chirp a greeting and I'll smile in return. I shift a bit in my seat, arching my back, hearing a bone or two crack into place. I exhale and stretch my back the other way and continue riding.
Buffalo grass-spiky pale green shoots that wear on even the toughest of soles. Who is Buffalo Bill anyway?
Week Three-Four
Wending my way through the halfway point, I have the mind-set of the seasoned adventurer...Ha, ha. Right. I'm still scared out of my skin when I realize we have to ride through a busy intersection or a steep mountain pass. I am, at least, more familiar with that rumbling sense of terror. I read somewhere that you should try to scare the wits out of yourself at least once a day..let's you know you're alive...well, I'm alive and kicking.
A few words for the last two days in S. Dakota:
blazing heat,
thermal waves emanating from black asphalt,
heavy liniment scent over swollen, red knees.
Ride to Chamberlain, S.D. - The ride was a long aruduous one through crosswinds, headwinds, oppressive heat (105 degrees). Then nearing the end of the 82 mile day, we encountered two three-mile climbs. No amount of water dousing seemed to work. I drank my entire Camelpak, filled up my two bottles with water and Gatorade four times and still I found myself weaving into town, lead-legged and desperately seeking the shade of two wispy saplings on the side of the road.
See more pics below:
Losing My Mind From Too Much Time in the Saddle
Casper, Wyoming Rest Day
Following Wind River
Red Rock Sighting
Hoping he's in a good mood this morning
At the base of the Black Hills, where the deer and the buffalo roam, freely with no fences or barbed wire (eek!), Earl and I just happened upon this guy as the sun was coming up...That got the adrenaline flowing...I think I hit an all time record for skeedaddling.
120 miles? No problem.
Striking likeness to George
Mt. Rushmore. Black Hills, South Dakota. Now I can finally name the four presidents
Think we're dinosaurs? You're right.
