USNA 1973 Ride-2-Remember

Day 21, 24 August: Moran to Dubois, WY

Today was momentous – not easy by any means – but momentous.  The day started at 0620, 30 minutes to sunrise.  It was the chilliest start we have had.   A very crisp 46 deg; fortunately, little wind.  Everyone had on cold weather gear.  I even considered wearing my new Give’R gloves.

You will hear a lot about the beautiful sunrise, gorgeous fields of green, bubbling Wind River just off to our right, the tree covered vista’s meshing into the mountains as we climbed out of the valley.   Ya da ya da; for me, most of the 20 mile climb at 4 to 6% grade was a lesson in the “10 yard rule”… head down, focused 10 yards ahead – to give enough time to react to debris on the shoulder, the “devils invention” rumble strips; concentrating on staying on the shoulder outside the white line but slipping inside when the shoulder got dicey after a quick check of the rear view mirror; and feeling like a kid knowing he is doing something he shouldn’t…

About halfway up, near a pull-out, we came across a VMB (Visual Message Board) flashing a message something to the effect, “Do not stop for bears, Leave the bears alone, Let wildlife be wildlife”… well, if there had been a dozen bears doing a square-dance in the – very pretty – field alongside the road – I would not have noticed.

The climb just kept going, and going, and going; 20 miles at 5 mph takes a while.  The sun was just coming up but it was still cold – but the effort was causing me to sweat… wet chill… but just keep moving because while stopping may give the legs a chance to flush some lactic acid, the chill made it one of those James Bond decisions – “…and just HOW would you like to die, Mr Bond?”

Enough about me; well almost.   I knew my “fellow idiots” were going through the same sufferfest I was; but somehow, at the time, I felt it a bit unfair that fellow Hardcore ’24 Company mate, Tom was powering up the pass on bionic knees (plural, as in both).  He has been a machine and I can’t help thinking that there might be a bit of antigravimonium mixed with the titanium in those joints… compared to the 100,000+ miles my original issue knees have on them.  But I digress… but still about me. After all, I didn’t have Tom’s benefit of training in the Oregon mountains since I was restricted to the eastern flatlands and foothills. But that excuse doesn’t work either, because somehow Bill, from Virginia, still makes it up these grades (he claims it’s the bike, not him).

Mark and Sally have shown the patience of a saint and today was no different.  Mark’s encouragement, and occasional holding my bike so I did not fall over at a Support stop, was the “shining light on the hill” I kept aiming for – 10, then 5, then every 2 miles.   

It was about halfway up that the view seemed to become clearer, more crisp.  I also noticed my breathing was becoming more labored.   Then I realized we were nearing 9500 ft elevation – and the air was thinner.   Fewer Oxygen molecules to get in the way of a grand view.

It was about this time I realized that I needed to do the proverbial “bear in the woods” activity.  I pulled off at an Observation Point where Mark/Nick/Barley were waiting.  Without too many details, and considering my brain was fogged, I recognized I had to get far enough down the slope to avoid being easily seen by a family stopping to take in the view – BUT – I could not risk getting TOO far down the slope for fear of not being able to make it back up.  Sure enough, Mark admonished me to be “more strategic where I did my business”… apparently a car DID stop, but he intercepted them with something about a friend puking down the hill.

That’s the prelude to ANOTHER anecdote to this “momentous day”.  As we all – finally – reached the summit of Togwotee Pass at 9560 ft; Sally summoned us all for the obligatory photo.   All present… except Dave, who was nowhere to be seen.   We knew he wasn’t far because his bike was still there.  After calling him a couple times, we heard a “I’m coming” from further down the hill off the road.  He had been doing his own “bear in the woods” activity, unbeknownst to the rest of us.  We put our jackets back on and waited for Dave to make the climb back up.  He was MUCH more “strategic” than I was.

What goes up must come down; and down we did go.  Dave was in his element and charged off with a gleeful shout – not to be seen again until we pulled into the Stagecoach Inn.  Despite Dave’s exuberance, downhills can be tense.  Especially if your fingers are still somewhat numb and your brain – i.e., reaction time – is as well.  Again, the eternal vigilance between white line, rumble strips, narrow shoulder, debris, trucks, etc. applies to downhill as well.  You are just doing it at 30 mph rather than 5 mph.

We did get a glimpse of a fly fisherman along the banks of the Wind River, and the dead trees all along the slopes devastated by the Mountain Pine Beetle; but no bears.

We arrived in Dubois, spread out, between 1115 and 1145.  Another day in the books.

Now the momentous part:

We crossed the Continental Divide 9560 ft… intact.

We have completed 55% of the climbing for the entire trip.

We have completed ⅓ of the total distance.  The Plains of Wyoming, Nebraska lie ahead.

Ron Bowman