THE NEXT PRESIDENT

The next president of these scattered states of America will not be sworn into office for another 16 months give or take, but after careful and honest reflection on our nation’s current condition, one the next president will inherit, it is hard for me not to pity the poor schmuck who must endeavor to undo the damage Obama has done, both domestically and internationally. It will be a daunting task to be sure; a staggering mess that will take someone with courage, someone who can humble themselves to the challenge and someone who is willing  to forego their legacy in order to re-pour the foundation for ensuing leaders can build upon. The next President will have to be a lot of things……..

The next President must restore the constitution as a valid, respected document and bring the executive branch back into the three branch government model established by that constitution. Obama currently runs rogue one man governance, ignoring the enforcement of laws he does not like, issuing exemptions to Democratic Party loyalists for the ones they don’t care for and using executive orders to illegally bypass congress for others, all of which are outside the president’s lawful authority. The next President must obey both the spirit and letter of the law.

The next President cannot be a racist. Race relations have devolved under Obama to a level not seen in the last 45 years. Obama has stoked the fire of racial disharmony by vilifying white people and law enforcement. He has embraced the black thug culture and befriended the nation’s most vile black man, Al Sharpton.  Obama has used the black culture’s institution of lies as motivators to tacitly approve, by his silence, wonton acts of well advertised  murderous violence against Caucasians and institutions tasked with protection of the public. He has shown zero support for the families of white police officers who were slain as a result of the disgusting hate speech of the black lives matter movement. He unabashedly proclaims that only pure devotion to his message and fealty to his administration will improve black person’s chances in  such a white racist culture. The next president must avoid racial obsessions and hold all citizens accountable to the same standards, regardless of race or ethnicity.

The next president must regain the status as a world leader. Obama’s devotion to Islamic cultures has created one of the most severe leadership vacuums for the free world in my lifetime. He backed the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt and almost ruined the country. He threw an innocent video maker in jail to use as cover for his failure to protect American citizen’s lives in Benghazi. Obama drew a red line in the sand and determined that Syrian dictator Assad “must go” as he was gassing, torturing and killing thousands, then backed down after Assad called his bluff. We are watching the results of Obama’s cowardice now as Syrians by the hundreds of thousands are fleeing their country and overrunning the European continent. Obama declared Yemen a model of success as the U.S. helped set up a temporary government two weeks before the country was invaded by Islamic radicals, forcing the US to turn and run. He referred to ISIS as a non issue and a junior varsity team not be taken seriously. Obama has alienated our allies and coddled himself up to despots, terrorists and dictators. We no longer have any real friends in the Middle East, having lost their trust by virtue of Obama’s behavior toward them. He has set the stage for a Middle East nuclear arms race and placed our nation’s children in the crosshairs of Iran as he has paved the way for global instability and possible holocaust as a result of his illegitimate treaty that 80% of this nation’s people do not want. Obama has destabilized the Baltic States and allowed Vladimir Putin to take his lunch money and pull his pants down on the international stage. Putin is now seen as the world leader and many of our allies now look toward Russia for support because none is forthcoming from America. The next President must be a true world leader who possess the courage to make the tough decisions, whose word is good and whose intentions transmit clearly to those who would do harm to us or our allies.

The next President must understand basic economics. Obama railed against Bush during the ’08 election for running up the nation’s debt and accused him of trying to bankrupt the country. Obama then immediately went to work; successfully spending us into more debt than all previous presidents combined and will have effectively dumped this fiscal nightmare squarely on the laps of the next several generations at least. There are now 90 million able-bodied Americans out of the work force. Obama completely refused to even mention entitlement reform and in fact solicited 47 million people to enjoy the benefits of food stamps. Obama went so far as to go on the radio in the county of Mexico and encourage Mexican citizens to come across the border and take advantage of our welfare program. Obama has also set the date for sunset clauses for health cares subsidies to HMO’s to coincide with his departure from the white house. Obamacare has become almost irrelevant due to non compliance, soaring costs and special exceptions that he and his Democratic Party members granted to their money backers. Obama funneled hundreds of millions of our money into failing green companies and turned his back on giant job creation projects while running around like a headless chicken screaming about global warning. It’s inevitable then that when the feds stop printing funny money and interest rates get back to the 4 to 5 percent range, another budgetary collapse will ensue. The next President must restore fiscal sanity to Washington DC. He must dispense with influence peddling, restore order to a lawless, out of control, corrupt congress, look forcefully at the broken tax code and it’s Gestapo collection arm, get rid of, or drastically reduce the power of the alphabet regulatory agencies who have ruined the lives of so many decent people and most importantly……regain the lost respect for the office of the Presidency.

As you watch the circus masquerading as a presidential election race on both sides of the spectrum, ask yourself this question; do you see a candidate who can take on such a daunting challenge? Is it even reasonable to believe one exists? 

WHEN TRUTH NO LONGER MATTERS

The tipping point for me came during a recent NFL football game. Several St. Louis Rams receivers came out of the tunnel holding their arms over their heads in a show of solidarity with the fat thug Michael Brown, who was killed by a white police officer last August. It was initially proclaimed by Brown’s homey buddy that poor Michael had his hands up just prior to being executed by the KKK Clan master cop and pleaded with him by begging, “Don’t shoot.”

“Hands up, don’t shoot” instantly became the rallying cry of rioters and protestors who went bonkers after a grand jury decided an indictment of the officer would not be forthcoming. The hiccup in the rioters get along however, resided in the fact that witness testimony and forensic evidence put to route any notion that any of that ever happened. The evidence produced a clear picture of what happened, one based on fact. Brown was killed as a result of his assault on a police officer. That picture just wouldn’t do for the left however. They had different plans.

The New York Times, who were feverishly campaigning for the white officer’s indictment would have benefitted greatly from at least a smidgen of empirical data to support their preferred narrative of a young black man gunned down needlessly by racist cops.

But as the fictional unsupported account eroded in credibility it non-the-less gained momentum among the criminal element who destroy and steal stuff and liberals, who love to forward sensational assertions to further their agenda, particularly on issues of race and sex, even when they are untrue.

Liberals will propagate a myth to generate outrage and activism and to create disparate grievances. These myths generally have about the same relationship to truth, accuracy and legitimacy as a Nancy Pelosi press conference. In Washington DC today there are thousands who make a solid living developing and implementing public relations campaigns whose sole purpose is to get you to do what they want.

A good example is the 2006 Duke Lacrosse case. Liberals rushed to judgment when they realized the “victim” was a black female and the suspected perpetrators where white males. The whole episode turned out to be a total fabrication, but the fallout from the liberal lynching’s that occurred destroyed lives.

Who can forget the black professor from Columbia who specialized in teaching racial “micro-aggressions.” She was under investigation for professional malfeasance when all of a sudden she discovered a noose hanging from her office door. She was eventually fired and it turned out she put the noose on he door herself. Racist graffiti discovered on the Oberlin campus last year served its purpose by causing an anti-racism campaign. Shortly after, the graffiti was revealed to be a left-wing “joke.

The black bag of racist puss named Al Sharpton used the Tawana Brawley rape hoax to gin up illegitimate racial animus in 1987, causing several deaths as a result of the ensuing violence he promoted. He now serves as Obama’s race relation Czar.

A militant leftist female reporter recently set a new standard of journalistic depravity when Rolling Stone magazine printed her earth shattering article of a gang rape incident at a University of Virginia fraternity house. The article caused the university to suspend Greek life on campus for the remainder of the 2014 year. Soon after the article appeared, several portions of the story began to fall apart. It was discovered this female reporter did not fact check one iota of information from her so called source. The story felt so good on a liberal level that facts became irrelevant for her. It now appears the incident in question never happened at all and Rolling Stone Magazine will probably and rightfully be sued out of existence in short order.

I could provide a whole volume on stories just like these. But does any of this even matter? Many liberals will tell you candidly that factuality is secondary to political import. The takeaway for liberals has nothing to do with facts or legitimately. It’s all about taking control of systems of power: particularly institutions historically resistant to the left such as police, fire and the military. If they can put forth a narrative, however fallacious, that discredits these institutions it provides the opportunity to alter them according to fashionable theories of equality and justice. In short, the details and facts of a controversial incident are completely unimportant as long as the “takeaway” is communicated and their moral posturing and empty gestures increase in intensity the further removed their narrative from the truth.

Case in point: Cornell University Professor Russell Rickford, a black man, earlier this month suggested during his lecture that whites should consider committing “race suicide.” It was captured on video and can be watched online. I wonder what the liberal takeaway would be if a white professor made the same statement about blacks?

The protestors walk with their hands up. The black democratic caucus members speak on the floor at the capital with their hands up. NFL football players take the field with their hands up. Liberal professors at elite universities start their classes by raising their hands up. These are compliant dolts who have endorsed the fictitious liberal narrative and passed along the “takeaway” in fine Jim Jones Cult fashion. When you hear Obama or Eric Holder speak, they will strongly hint to those listening that the takeaway from recent incidents must be that police change the way they do things. You must believe that. There will be no mention of personal responsibility among the black community, ever. It does little or nothing to further the narrative of the current culture in Washington or the shameful and destructive media machine.

The truth will always defeat liberal propaganda eventually. It appears to be happening more and more frequently and when it does liberalism is revealed, like so many of their stories, to be the hoax that it is.

IT'S THE CLIMB

I think it was Woody Allen who said, "If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans." Well I must have sent him into hysterics earlier this year when I planned a bike trip across the US. As we all know I was forced to return home roughly halfway through the journey and going back this year to finish was not a responsible option for me. Nuff said. 

On a scarier note, this means I may blow the carbon off the former bloviating balcony blog when the feeling strikes and thrust my verbosity at you like an angry gorilla with a handful of yesterday's meal!
The only diference now will be the lack of posting announcments when a new piece is available. Save the site to your favorites, have Google send you an alert or develop your own system, but after this announcement.....its all you!



********** This Sunday, Sept 21 I will enbark on a short(7-8 day) bike ride along the Northern California Coast. I will leave from Ashland Oregon after watching my son play football. I will not blog during this 600 mile trip; however, I have created a "Track my Tour" account just like the one you viewed during the Trans Am trip called  "Roller Coastal Tour." I'll throw out some waypoint breadcrumbs as I go in case anybody cares! The first entry will be this Saturday. I will finish the ride back here in Folsom after no later then 8 days because I have to take the garbage out.

Thanks to all who reached out during this crazy summer. I did not respond to everyone who sent their thoughts and considerations and for that I am truly sorry but know that your words were greatly appreciated.

Unexpected circumstances

I was hoping this day would not come.

On the evening of my last blog on June 10, after landing in Silverthorne Colorado, I was made aware of some developing circumstances back home. These circumstances are of a serious enough nature that I have been left with no choice but to indefinitely postpone the remainder of my trip and return home immediately. 

I put the bike and all the equipment in storage in Silverthorne yesterday(June 11) and this morning early I took a shuttle 100 miles to Denver Int'l Airport and flew home. The last couple of days have been quite an emotional drain.

Whether I will be able to return this year and finish the trip remains to be seen and will depend on variables not even known at this time. I am sad and disappointed at this turn of fate but can't help but feel somehow lucky for the opportunity I had while it lasted. 

However events lend themselves to evolve from here on, I want to thank each and every one of you who followed along on this trip with me. The daily show of support from so many of you was nothing shy of tremendous and I am so glad I had the opportunity to share some of my experiences and stories with you. I have saved every blog comment, every trackmytour app comment, every text message and every email from all of you throughout this adventure. They are a reminder for me of what great friends I have. Thank you.

If I can't get back to finish my trip, I am left with the choice of having the bike and equipment shipped back here, or.....................................One of you can fly up there, adjust the seat height and get her done!!

Thanks again. It may not have ended the way I planned, but it was still one of the greatest experiences of my life.

June 10, Day 35, Silverthorne Colorado - 60 miles

The only place to eat in Hot Sulfur Springs is a cafe called the Glory Hole. I walked in at the stroke of 7 AM and was surprised to see the place was packed. A group of cyclists and their support staff from Sweden were in Colorado to do some training in the Rockies. They  were all very nice people and most spoke English(I don't speak Swedish). They also had the odd habit of taking a picture of their food. There were probably 25 of them in the restaurant all together and not one of them was overweight. They must wonder what the hell is going on over here in America.

Riding with the Colorado River

I rolled outta town and joined the Colorado River and a set of train tracks set up against the steep walls of a canyon. The legs felt surprisingly fresh and lively and I guess I would have to credit the hot springs for that! The first 18 miles today finished the remaining gradual descent in a westbound direction down into the town of Kremling. It was a little odd biking toward California for 18 miles when Virginia is in the opposite direction! I corrected things with a southbound turn in Kremling and all was right again. After that it was 42 miles of gradual incline in the Arapaho National Forrest up to the the town of Silverthorne at about 8800 feet of elevation.

I had a couple of scary moments today along a section of elevated roadway which was winding around and above a lake. Road crews had closed one lane of traffic and were alternating the vehicle flow. When my turn came to go I got caught in a narrow gully with no room to go in either direction and a big rig was barring down on me. As he tried to get past me the roadway edge I was riding disappeared and became loose, deep gravel. My front wheel dug into the gravel as I braked frantically to stop, but all it did was cause my front tire to pull right and into the guardrail, which was the only thing keeping me from plummeting 75 feet down the cliff. I leaned my right thigh out into the guardrail and came to a stop. Not funny.

Coming into Kremling

An hour later I was going through a short but winding section of climb. A motorcycle coming from the opposite direction was going way too fast, caught the turn wide and was coming right me. He leaned hard right and I leaned hard right and we missed by each other by about two feet. I have had relatively few close calls so far and consider myself lucky. Some days it happens.

Entering Arapaho Nat'l Forrest

I reached the town of Silverthorne just as the forecasted dark storm clouds formed overhead. The weather had been picture perfect all day up until that time and I have been told by locals that PM Thunder storms are a common occurrence at this altitude, which was about 8,800 to 8,900 feet, depending on what part of town you were in. Silverthorne is a prominent winter resort destination, but they pull out all the stops to lure crowds here during the summer, which according to the hotel lobby guy is about two months long.

With views like the one below, I have decided to take a sight seeing day tomorrow. The bike stays in the room and gets a good chain lubing.

Mountain in Silverthorne

June 9, Day 34, Hot Sulfur Springs, Colorado-61 miles

Ate dinner last night at the same place I had lunch, The River Rock Cafe. The menu bragged about their Chicken fried steak and how it received mention in the National Geographic Travel Guide so I took a break from my pasta ritual and ordered it. Bad decision. Won't solicit Nat Geo for food advice in the future either.

Colorado Rockies

In the morning I walked out the front of my hotel room and discovered that nearly everything was frozen. It was 27 degrees outside! I slid back into my room, threw some more clothes on and got breakfast.

I thought I was about done wearing cold weather gear on the bike but I was wrong. Just before riding out of town I snapped this picture of the mountains while standing in front of a cemetery that was across the street from the hotel.

Today was about 60 miles. The first 30 were all uphill, leading to another Continental Divide and the top of Willow Creek Pass at just over 9600 feet of elevation.  Exactly at the point when I reached the summit, a two other riders coming from the opposite direction arrived also. They were a husband and wife team from England coming crossing the pond to attempt the TransAmerica Trail in the USA. We exchanged scouting reports for both directions and wished each other the obligatory safe trip. I enjoy listening to British people talk.

The Brits

The 30 mile descent down the other side was a beautiful ride filled with wonderful scenery as I followed the Willow Creek down the canyon. Open prairies backed by snow capped mountains made for picture perfect vistas.  Seven miles outside of my destination of Hot Sulfur Springs I transitioned west along a different state route and joined up with the Colorado River as it makes it's way toward the Gulf of Mexico. I followed the Colorado right into Hot Sulfur Springs and the end of the day's ride.

I walked into the Glory Hole Cafe for lunch. A woman named Nancy was the only other person there besides me and we talked at length about my trip. Nancy was completely fascinated with the whole "doing it alone" concept. As I went to pay my tab, the waitress informed me that Nancy had paid it already. She looked over at me with a grin and said she wanted to help make my trip enjoyable. She sure did.

Wonderful Nancy

I have never experienced hot springs before so I figured it was about time. Hot Sulfur Springs Resort has 12 different pools to enjoy, each one has a different temperature and/or some special mineral solution for your healthy soaking soaking experience. I wasted no time with the namby pamby warm pools and went directly up the hill to the hot, hotter and hottest pools! I plopped into the 108-110 degree pool first and had a chat with Pam from Ohio. Pam took her whole family except her husband(cant handle altitude) for a two week swing around Colorado resorts and interesting venues. She snapped this picture for me while we talked.

Next was the 110-112 degree pool. It was pretty dam hot but I worked my way in after the highly suggested 10 minute out of the water interval between soaks. The water was green due to chemical reactions to the sulfur at that temperature. Five minutes was good enough there and I went to the mother of all pools, the 112-114 degree pool. Nobody was in it, but three people were lying in lounge chairs right next to it and they all said they had gone in all the way. Well then that was that. I inched in slowly and painfully over a period of about a minute until fully submerged up to my neck. I managed about four minutes and got out. that was hot!

Soaking it all up

I returned to one of the lesser temp pools and finished my experience. I did come away very relaxed and I will be curious to see how my legs react tomorrow on the bike.

Tomorrow and the next several days are going to be tricky for me. I am ahead of schedule for my rendezvous with my wife on the 16th in Pueblo, Colorado. We are planning a four day mini-vacation around Colorado before I start off on the second half of my journey east. As of this moment I can't seem to make up my mind where I plan to have a couple of sight seeing days. I guess we shall see!

June 8, Day 33, Waldon, Colorado-50 miles

Sometimes one just walks into the wrong establishment. I did just that yesterday evening when I rode a mile down to the tiny town of Riverside and entered a bar called the Mangy Moose. My famous Spidey senses started tingling the second I walked through the front door. The bar was packed and everybody had a cigarette going, a cheap beer in their hand and looks on their faces that can only be derived from a lifetime of miss spent opportunities and questionable decision making. I walked over to the only open seat at the bar and sat, realizing that nearly everybody in the place was looking at me, and they were not looks of love.

After the bartender walked past me numerous times without even looking at me I figured that my presence here, for whatever reason, was not going over well with the regulars. Four particularly edgy looking looking blokes, sleeved out and leathered up were giving me some serious hard looks. I was just about to get up and leave when a rough neck looking person, whom I believed may have been female, walked up to my right and asked me if I was a cop. She said people around here don't trust cops and If I am a cop, this is the not the best place to be. I told her I was actually a bicycle rider passing through town, just looking for some food and maybe a beer. I pointed to my bike out front and asked her how everyone here feels about bikes that you pedal. She(I think) either didn't get my humor or didn't appreciate it and after a moment of reflection, I decided this was the wrong bar to be in. I gave the tough boys a smile and walked, half backwards out of the bar. Silver and I walked 50 yards down the road and into the only other bar in the area called the Bear Trap. Better clientele, non smoking and nice monitors to watch hockey. I ate a plate of pasta and downed two large Shock tops while relating my experience next door to the waitress. She told me everyone in that place has been in prison or will be at some point.

I rose bright and early to get going today, just like the last few days. The weather is a big motivator here for travel purposes and I knew that major and severe thunderstorms were slated to arrive in the early afternoon and carried the possibility of tornadoes. I was moving by 7:20 AM and decided not to mess around for the first three or four hours. I only had 50 miles to ride today but most of them were uphill. I rode hard and had the wind at my back so I made great progress. I also entered the state of Colorado.

I encountered a couple on loaded bikes coming the opposite direction and we met at a turnout. Kevin and Susan, two young adults from Kentucky were doing the majority of the TransAm route from Kentucky to Oregon. They related that they had camped out in Waldon the previous night at the city park, but they didn't realize that Saturday night was outdoor movie night and the while town came out to the park to watch the movie, "Frozen" on a huge outdoor screen. The noise kept them wide awake so they found a heated public bathroom at the edge of the park, went inside, put up their tent, locked the door and slept in the bathroom all night. Yuck.

Kevin and Susan, Potty campers

As I got within about 10 miles of Waldon, the air became very cold and I changed back into my cold weather gear. Low hanging ominous looking clouds began developing and the winds picked up significantly.  I could see some scary looking cloud formations over the area near Waldon and I wondered if I was going to ride right into them. I pulled the ponies out of the barn and turned it up a couple of notches in an effort to beat the storm clouds into Waldon. I rolled into Main Street just minutes before the rain and lightning started. By then I was sitting comfortably at the River Rock Cafe sipping hot coffee and warming up.

News reports were coming in at the restaurant that tornadoes had touched down in the towns of Aurora and Fairplay Colorado. It looked like most of Colorado was dealing with severe weather.

Colorado Rockies near Waldon

The town of Waldon is situated in an area of Colorado called North Park. At 8,200 feet in elevation, it is surrounded on all sides by high peak mountains and sits just outside the Arapaho National Wildlife Refuge and the Routte National Forest. Waldon calls itself the top Moose watching area in Colorado, but upon further investigation by yours truly, it is actually the Arapaho Refuge where most sightings occur. This area of Colorado is a popular rafting, fishing, camping, hiking and snowmobiling location. Today however,its just pouring rain.

Today also happens to be last day of the third 10 day riding section. The totals for the last ten riding days are as follows:

Mileage- 605 miles                        trip total- 1780 miles

Elevation gain- 27,373 feet            trip total- 80,040 feet

Calories burned- 45,706                trip total- 132,754 calories

Thus far there have been 30 days of riding and three days of rest for a total of 33 days.

June 7, Day 32, Encampment Wyoming-60 miles

Wyoming is rich with panoramic vistas and stunning mountain ranges in the west. It's beauty to the east lies in it's bare naked roughness and incredible geographic rock formations. Rawlins, Wyoming however, has nothing in any direction. I'm sorry to say that Rawlins is a dusty, dirty, windblown, barren pitiful looking town. I can't say it any other way. Rawlins lies right along Interstate 80 and heavily used train tracks. An oil refinery sits to the east and that's it. Fast food restaurants are the only evening fare options here. I ate at McDonalds.  To make matters worse, harsh winds blow continuously day and night. It dirt and shrubs. Its Rawlins.

I woke this morning to dark thunder clouds and high winds. I figured payback was coming after two relatively easy days on the bike. A cold system was coming down from Canada to lower the temps and the winds were supposed to be blowing from the NE. I suited up in my cool weather garb and got rollin by 7 AM. I figured the winds would slow me way down so I wanted to get out there and start sucking up some miles.

More wide open spaces

Today I  traveled for about 14 miles on Interstate 80 . This is a rarity for the TransAm route but there were simply no other roads going that direction until the southbound exit on SR 130. Truck traffic was heavy but the shoulders were wide and more or less clear of debris. The route today consisted of a long gradual climb to the town of Saratoga and more gradual climbing into my destination for the day, Encampment. For the next four or five days my routes will be uphill as I gain elevation heading toward the highest point in the TransAm route, Hoosier Pass in Colorado at over 11,500 feet in elevation.

It turned out  to be a rather uneventful ride for the most part. I saw no other riders today. The wind that looked to make me miserable early on let up significantly after only about an hour and was a non factor from then on. The clouds dropped a little rain then broke up and the sun took over.  I escaped again!

I made good time for most of the morning so I stopped in Saratoga for a late breakfast. The continental crap at the hotel just didn't get the job done. I ate at a neat little restaurant that had a patio area right on the North Platte River, which was only about two feet from flooding that very patio. Sandbags were lined up all around and nobody seemed overly concerned about get swept away in a torrent of water. The North Platte is about the width of the Sacramento River but carries much more water at a much faster pace.

I rode easy into the town of Encampment, which I quickly discovered was another ghost town. It did have the only hotel in the area and the sign said it was open but nobody was inside. There was a cell phone number to call but no cell service at all. The one couple staying at the hotel saw me and agreed to call the owners down the road in the small town of Riverside where cell phones work. twenty minutes later I was getting my room key and coughing up $40.00. That's the going rate for ghosts towns hotels. If I want to eat I have to ride a mile to Riverside, which has two bars that also serve food.

Trees!

The terrain slowly changed its look as I made my way further south today. The terrain got decidedly greener and trees returned. I think I will be transitioning into yet another climate zone when I enter Colorado tomorrow.

June 6, Day 31, Rawlins Wyoming-45 miles

****I added the pictures to yesterday's blog*****

The gas station and convenience store here in Muddy Gap did not open until 8 AM. The nearest coffee was 45 miles away at my destination of the day, Rawlins Wyoming. This did not sit well with me so I dressed bright and early, ate a Tweety bird breakfast of a muffin, a trail mix bar and a banana, filled my water bottles with bathroom faucet water and got the hell outta there. I knew with a relatively short day and my early start that I would be in Rawlins before midday. I didn't care............I wanted my coffee.

Climbing Rawlins Plateau, looking back.

The ride was pleasant and the wind was primarily at my back. I had one 6 mile climb up to the Rawlins Plateau at around 7200 feet and during the course of the morning crossed the Continental Divide twice more. I think I have crossed the divide now 7 times during my travels through the Rockies.

Early morning 

The scenery was nearly identical to the last two hundred miles but the uniqueness of some of the hills and rock formations kept me entertained enough to get through it. its hard to adequately illustrate with just small blog pictures just how vast and wide open this part of the country is. Harsh winters and constant winds make this part of Wyoming a challenge to call home, but some do.

I crossed paths with three more touring riders while traversing a long, never ending straight stretch of roadway. Kevin, a young kid out Fort Collins Colorado was a doing an 800 mile out and back trip to the Big Horn National Park. Shortly after, I encountered Phillip and Nash, a father and son team who also hailed from Fort Collins. Their goal was to bike from Colorado to the Oregon Coast. Nash had recently graduated from college and they decided to do this trip together as a celebration.

Kevin from Fort Collins

Phillip and son Nash

Thanks to all of you who have been inquiring about the state of my health lately. Do you know something I don't? Considering my age and the fact that I am held together primarily by scar tissue and rust, I'm doing quite well! No real injuries so far, just some bruises on my body from the day when I had to drag my bike through the snow for hours. I am fully acclimatized to the elevation and my physical conditioning is really starting to show itself as of the last several rides. I will utilize that conditioning after my four day break in Pueblo with my wife to get some miles behind me in Kansas and Missouri. My body weight has stabilized after a period of dramatic weight loss early on. It looks like I finally found a way to get rid of that spare tire!

Riverside Wyoming tomorrow.

June 5, Day 30, Muddy Gap-81 miles(June 4-rest day)

Today turned out to be an interesting and eventful  day on the TransAmerica Trail from start to finish. It had a little bit of everything and none of it planned.

Silver was back in fine form, sporting a new rear tire, a new chain and a general tune up that had her rearing to go.

I made quick work of the hotel's Continental breakfast fare and squirreled away some Otis Spunkmeir muffins and oatmeal packages for later. I intended on departing early so I was already dressed in my riding clothes. An Indian woman who was nearby came up and initiated a conversation with me regarding my trip and some of the specifics. She admitted to a fascination with some of the transcontinental cyclists who come through town and came off to me as a very social, engaging person; nothing like the treatment I received previously in the Cantina at Fort Washake. She was an Arapaho Indian and I enjoyed our brief but pleasant chat.

View from Beaver Rim

My ride today was 80 miles of cycling through some of the most remote areas I have ever seen in the United States. It was as if somebody picked me up and plopped me down on the surface of Mars. I had one long 23 mile gradual climb up to Beaver Rim where the views were stunnning and it was during the long climb that I saw the first of what would be three different transcontinental cyclists in one day, in one hour and within just of few miles; all out in the most isolated and barren country one could imagine.

The first was Zane, a 27 old college grad from Eugene oregon who quit his job to cross the country and figure out what to do with his future. I caught Zane on the climb and he did a double take when I pulled next to him and he saw how old I was. We decided to ride together, kind of like Dorothy and the straw man agreeing to go off together to see the wizard, Zane and I were headed to Muddy Gap.

Zane

Tony from Slovenia

Andrew

Not 2 miles later we crossed paths with another young man named Andrew who was going the the opposite direction, or west. After intros, Andrew, all of 26 years,  related that he was from Washington DC and was headed to Seattle Washington to relocate after a life altering event occurred for him that we didn't go into. He stayed at Muddy Gap the night previous and informed us that the, "hotel" listed on the map is nothing more then a trailer behind the gas station ad there was virtually nothing else there but a convenience store. We took pictures and said our goodbyes.

Not a mile later we encountered another cross country trekker on a three wheeled recumbent bike who was also heading west. He introduced himself as Tony from Slovenia and he was crossing the country and then heading into Canada. Tony had a sharp Slovenian accent and we were entertained with his description of his journey thus far in the United States. His three wheeler had specialized gearing that included reducers, which allowed him to climb over peaks and passes at speeds as slow as 1 mile per hour. he admitted to being very slow but said he made up for it by riding 10 hours a day! He looked like an older guy but it was hard to tell.

Nobody likes a snitch!

Zane and I finally got rolling again and 57 miles into our ride we entered a ghost of a town called Jeffrey City. We were both told the day before in Lander that there was a small bar/resturant that was open and had food. We found it becuase it looked to be the only building not boarded up and some beer sings were lit.

We walked in and sat at a table and announced our presence. Nobody was around. Aftr a few moments a short heavy man named Marving came out from the back. he said the cook was off dong other things today but he could make us something to eat if it wasn't too hard. Burgers and fries it was with a mason jar full of water. OH......Marvin was drunk.

We ate our food and left in short order. Marvin was starting to lament about past life decisions that resulted in his current situation working in a ghost town. Jeffrey City used to be a booming town for many years because of the discovery of Uranium in the surrounding hills. When the Uranium became depleted(pun intended) everyone left.

Zane and I rode the next 22 miles in relative comfort, a side breeze was present but not difficult and at the 80 mile mark we came to a T-bone intersection that we were surprised to learn was the town of Muddy Gap! One building, some gas pumps and a trailer on the side with a sign on it that read, "Hotel." Holy crap.

My room is the trailer to the left!

Kim, the manager of the station told us we could pitch our tents in the gas pump area after closing time at 9 PM for $10.00 or we could stay in the hotel room for $70.00. Zane decided to ride on for 11 more miles to a campground that might or might not be there. I talked with Kim for a few minutes and we agreed $50.00 was a mutually agreeable room cost.

Zane and I swapped info. He was a good kid who was looking for direction when his college degree didn't do him any good. I wished him all the best and we parted ways.

The signal is so weak here I cannot upload photos. I have some good ones that I will add tomorrow when I get back to the world.

June 3, Day 28, Lander Wyoming- 75 miles

A large sign on the outskirts of Dubois calls themselves, "The town of warm winds," which is entirely understandable considering the wind has not stopped blowing since I got into town the day before and it is warm here. I have entered a new climate zone. Everything in Dubois seems to have the word "wind' in it's name. The Wind River runs through town and meanders right into the Wind River Indian Reservation. Wind is big here in Wyoming.

After the usual widow maker breakfast plate and three cups of coffee at the Winds Cafe, I eased my way out of town. A movie crew is in the area making a film called, "Cardinal Matter." I know this because at the Outlaw Saloon where I had satisfied my daily two beer allowance last night, that's all the locals could think to talk about; and they were none too happy that the actors and crews were not hanging out with them in town. I rode past some of the crew members loading up a bus and some utility vehicles just outside of town at the entrance to a big ranch.

The winds of Wyoming were blowing at 7:30 AM when I left and never let up. Fortunately for me the wind was primarily at my back and I rode surfed for nearly 60 miles. I knew though that these winds were fickle and could turn on at any time without warning or any apparent reason so I just relaxed and enjoyed it while it lasted. It lasted until lunch.

Seventy five miles of this

The scenery in this part of Wyoming is beautiful but barren and almost completely uninhabited. I would go for an hour at a time without seeing a car coming or going. I was on the Wind River Indian Reservation. The view was endless and uninterrupted for a hundred miles in every direction. The Adventure Cycling Association strongly advised carrying extra water during this part of Wyoming so I stowed away  64 extra ounces of fluid in my panniers, in addition to the 60 I carry in my bottles. The weather was warmer here and I was able to ride with just my normal bib and shirt for the first time in a while.

I climbed a moderate bluff and descended down into another valley floor nearing the town of Fort Washake. My direction of travel changed just a few degrees but it had a dramatic effect on the wind direction. Now all of a sudden I was cycling into a 30 mph crosswind. I got spoiled for most of the morning and didn't care for this change one bit!. My body was telling me it was time for some hay and
I located a tiny Mexican cantina hiding behind a church in Fort Washake. It was open and I was hungry.

The burrito I ate was huge and cheap. It was surprisingly busy and with the exception of one other person, I was the only pale face in the place. Nobody was particularly cordial or polite to me and I wondered if there were some "issues" going on I was not aware of. I didn't ask, but when I left the tip on the table and started walking out of the restaurant, two older Indian woman who were seated closest to me barked out in a disinterested, mildy annoyed tone "the tip doesn't go on the table, it goes in the tip jar up by the counter."

And this

Now about the other person in the restaurant. PC warning here!!!! Alert ! Alert!  The other person sitting in the restaurant was a black male. I say this for one reason and only one reason. As an observation that I think needs to be made. This young man, who came into the restaurant with an Indian woman, was the first black person I have seen since I was in Eugene Oregon. I have not seen a black since May 10th. Not in eastern Oregon, not in the state of Idaho, Not in the state of Montana, and not in Wyoming up until today. No opinion, no comment, just an observation. Phew....

Things went screwy after lunch. The winds churned up to ludicrous speed and for the first 7 miles I could hardly keep my bike under control. The winds were coming at me from the right with brutal velocity and I was forced to lean into the wind in order not to get thrown into the highway. Several severe gusts actually caused my rear wheel to chirp off the pavement an inch or so which caused certain circular muscles in my body to tighten right up ! I looked down to my rear wheel and noticed my tire was losing air. I pulled off the road and discovered that part of my tire was actually peeling off and I could see the cords under the tire in one area. I had about half the air left in the tire and manually put about 25% of it back with a pump. I was about 8 miles outside of Landers. I knew there was a bike shop there because I had already planned to take Silver in for a check up.

I rode for about three more miles riding at a 5 degree tilt to the right when the wind just up and decided to change direction again and fortunately for me it was a tailwind again. I wasted no time getting my rumpus into lander and over to the bike shop. The bike guys asked me to sign their TransAm log and they took my picture. The techie looking over Silver glanced over at me with a look of amazement and commented that my rear tire should have detonated on me miles ago.

Chalk one up to luck. Fenders are a must riding long distance but they also tend to hide the majority of your tire surface from view and if you don't take the time to check regularly, which I didn't, then a surprise could be waiting. Another lesson learned.

Spending a day in Lander.

June 2, Day 27, Dubois Wyoming- 67 miles

leaving the Grand Tetons was not easy. I spent a good deal of time the evening before sitting by the marina and just staring at the majestic and strikingly bold mountain range. I will certainly return here with spouse at some point to fully experience this part of the country.

My route today was primarily a 20 mile rolling build up to a 3,000 foot climb up Togwotee Pass, which is the second highest peak along the Trans America route at roughly 9,600 feet in elevation. The other is waiting for me in Colorado. Togwotee Pass was about 1,000 feet higher then I have ever ridden a bike up to.( never end a sentence with a preposition like I just did)

Two minutes after pulling out of the resort area I saw another full pack rider standing along the side of the road taking pictures. I rode up and introduced myself and asked where he was headed. His name was Wally and he was 56. And he was headed to Alaska!! before I could ask where he started he flatly blurted out, " I started in Sarasota Florida back in March." Holy mackerel. Try to imagine me at a loss for words. Wally had been at it for about three months(winter months!) and figured he was approximately halfway.  told him where I was headed but it just didn't seem to carry the punch. I took a flick of Wally, my new idol, wished him the best and we parted. lesson in perspective complete.

The amazing Wally!

The climb to Togwotee pass took almost three hours but I eventually got there. I made yellow snow and started 25 miles of gradual downhill nearly all the way to my destination, Dubois(pronounced Due Boys) Wyoming, a windy little rough and tumble town with an edge. From the awe inspiring Tetons to Gun smoke in one day. I arrived on the precipice of starvation due primarily to having missed lunch. There was simply no place to eat for 66 miles! I managed to grab a Snickers bar and a frozen burrito at a RV park store 20 miles from Dubois but it was no where near enough calories to replace the gazillion or so I burned. Now I know why they refer to people like me as Clydesdale's. I need hay all the time!

Leaving Buffalo Creek Valley and starting the climb
to Togwotee Pass.

I checked into the Trails End Lodge and met the owner and his wife. The male half was a former cage fighter long ago and actually watched my son Jeremy fight Rob McCullough in Southern California years earlier. That connection got me the owner's special rate and a room right next to the WiFi antenna!

Togwotee pass was the last major climb that I will have to deal with for awhile. The terrain over the 200 miles or so is more subdued and the major element will be winds.

I am beginning to plan my eventual arrival into Pueblo Colorado mid month where my my wife and I will re-unite for two or three days. In order to time my arrival to match her scheduled arrival date I will need to stall for a couple of days over the next two weeks. I will use one such stall day after tomorrow when I reach the town of Landers. There is a bike shop there and Silver needs a physical and some loving attention. I need a haircut and a massage from somebody named Helga.

June 1, Day 26, Colter Bay Village, Wyoming-58 miles

I walked out of the Old Faithful Lodge and into the brisk 31 degree morning air at the stroke of 7:00 AM. I had no intentions on leaving this early but there was little else to do and the restaurant was not open for breakfast yet. Today was going to be a mixed bag of ups and downs while crossing the continental divide three times. The weather called for rain but at departure time it was dry. Tourists whom I spoke with the evening prior told me thee was lots of snow up where I was headed. Lots of snow.

One of three Continental Divide crossings

I didn't get to the top of the first pass before it started raining. The rain felt very cold and was probably more like sleet. Snow accumulations were already piling up and as I passed the 8,000 foot threshold I was fully surrounded by that wonderful white stuff and it was cold! The rain continued on and off over the next couple hours as I cleared the second and highest peak of the day. The temperature felt like it had dropped into the 20's.

After clearing the peaks I began my up and down descent down toward the south exit from Yellowsone and into the Grand Teton National Park. When the mountain opened up to the Tetons I almost passed out from the stunning views before me. I could not believe my eyes. With all the fabulous views I have been witness to over the last three weeks, these were the greatest ad most stunning. I don't think I went more than a mile at a time without stopping to take pictures or video. Unbelievable...........

Grand Tetons

After lunch at Flagg resort just outside of Yellowstone I caught up to a three person cycling group slowly climbing the last of the days hillls. They all stopped just in front of me and next to a mini van that was waiting for them.

View from the road

They were three young Asian adults who were on the same route as I and left Astoria three days earlier then my departure date. The parents of one of the riders were in the mini van and were travelling along with them the whole way as a support crew. We exchange info and promised to stay in contact as we both progressed across the country.

I eventually made it to Colter Bay Village, which sits on the lake in the shadow of the Grand Tetons. It is a gorgeous place.

Tomorrow I climb the second highest peak of the TransAmerica route, Togwottie pass. At roughly 9400 feet, it will be test my lungs and my legs. The weather forecast looks ok.

May 31, Day 25,Old Faithful, Wyoming, 31 miles

After an obligatory assault on the food related items at the hotel's free breakfast area, I put on my game face and made my way to the Yellowstone Park entrance where I has the privilege of paying  $12.00 just to ride my bike through the park. The ranger at the kiosk warned me about two storm systems coming through today, the second one, in the rangers own words, was, "hum dinger." Rain and lightning during the morning hours, followed by some clearing into the afternoon, then a serious system from the south(right where i was headed) was expected by mid afternoon that was slated to bring heavy amounts of rain and huge hail storms. Tornado warnings were also being issued in the north east portions of Wyoming and Montana. Yikes.

The first 8 miles into the park was relatively peaceful and I was now in Wyoming. I got to see some elk and a few Bison blocked me from getting through for a few minutes until they were satisfied that I was inconvenienced enough for them. Then the lightning started. Lightning so close my heart nearly defribrillated every time it cracked. I checked to make my tires were made of rubber and steadfastly move on. Then the rain came. Light and drizzly at first, then hard and heavy. I was gradually climbing and at around 7200 feet  the temperature starting dropping. The rain was cold also and I started feeling the first bit of body chill working its way in. I knew that did not bode well considering I had 70 miles yet to ride and another 1300 feet of elevation.

Old Faithful getting ready

At 30 miles the rain had stopped and I arrived at the exit to Old Faithful and the lodges there. I failed to get a room at either of the lodges there in spite of my repeated efforts over the prior week. They get booked a year in advance. I wondered however, if the inclement weather might force some to reconsider their visit to Yellowstone and cancel their reservations. Long shot I know but I promised my wife the day before that I would try.  Soaking wet and grungy beyond description, I waltzed into the opulent lobby of the Yellowstone Inn and stood next to tourists from all over the world who were checking out of their rooms. I sloshed up the counter when my turn came asked the host if they had a last minute opening. They did! I'll never complain about my wife nagging me again!

Good fortune saved me today from what would have been an ugly experience. I unpacked my panniers from the bike and stored them at the concierge because I could not check in for many hours yet. I walked outside just minutes before Old Faithful was due to go off and caught the event on my GoPro camera. I had a Bison burger for lunch and then on to the laundry room to clean the sopping wet clothes. The Snow Lodge behind the Inn had pay by usage WiFi and that is why you have this and the last blog!

had a burger made outta him for lunch

Tomorrow I head to the cabin where they graciously accommodated my reservation change. Now lets just hope the weather clears up some.

Everyday an adventure...................I'm too old for this.

May 30, Day 24, West Yellowstone-70 miles

If you want to know anything about small town history you are obliged to visit the local cafe at 6:00 AM to speak with the elders  as they gather for their morning coffee and chat ritual. And so it was at the Ennis Cafe that I  took my spot at the breakfast bar, clearly separated from the preset coffee cups and newspapers that adorned the areas for the regulars. It was from them that I learned Ennis was named after William Ennis.

William left his home country in Ireland when he 14 and came to the US where he worked in the freight trade. After learning of a gold discovery in Alder Gulch, Ennis and his wife moved to the area like thousands of others and he later purchased a large piece of land which would later become the town of Ennis. He worked as the postmaster util his death in the late 1800's. There you have it.

Madison Valley

After respectfully parting from the elders, I mounted up and started my 71 mile jaunt to West Yellowstone. The ride was gradually uphill the whole way in order to gain the 2,000 feet necessary to get to W. Yellowstone. The first 45 miles was beautiful Madison Valley, with open pastures and waterways to the west and sharp steep snow covered mountains to the east. The next 15 miles or so provided a starkly different view as I made my way out of the valley and into a canyon with steep sides and where the Madison River raged along its rocky crags and crevices.

Climb out of Madison Valley

At the top the canyon opened up into beautiful "Earthquake Lake." named so because it was literally created by an earthquake. Farther along the road saddled up to Hebgen lake and 10 miles of lake side views. I had the misfortune of riding into unbelievably thick swarms of gnats along the shoreline and proudly displayed a few hundred of them to the waitress at the grill where I stopped for a late lunch. They got everywhere.

I eventually arrived at my day's destination, West Yellowstone, a typical tourist town lying right outside the west entrance to the park. Overpriced bar and grills, T-shirt  and souvenir shops, park tour companies and motels made up the lions share of businesses. i checked into my hotel and began feverously making phone calls. I was desperately looking for some place to stay inside the park the following day and it became more urgent when I found out that the campgrounds I had previously planned to stay were not even open for the season yet, even though the Yellowstone campground phone recording said that they were.

Ram tough!

After two hours of being placed on hold or listening to voice mail after voice mail I gave up and figured that I was for the most part screwed. My only option was to ride completely through the entire park, exit the other side at the south entrance and hope that the campgrounds there were open and available. That meant roughly 84 to 90 miles of riding, with three peaks over 8,000 feet, forecasted storms and no guarantees. Not good.

While belly aching to my wife through text messages, I called one last place in the Grand Teton National Park called Colter Bay Village and a real human answered the phone! To my great relief they had an open cabin and I reserved it on the spot.

So there it was.....The following day I had quite a challenge ahead. Just under 90 miles to the cabin, three peaks to get over and a significant weather system moving in that was scheduled to bring heavy rain, hail and thunderstorms. I went to a bar and grill to eat and was overjoyed with the prospect of killing myself the next day. So much so that I didn't realize I had mindlessly walked into a lesbian bar! and not the feminine ones.  Whatever! The food tasted fine and I shared a few jokes with the staff and bartender. I wanted to get an early start the next day so I went back to the hotel room to write this blog but the WiFi that the staff was so darned proud of when I checked in didn't work a lick. They told me they were, "working on it." Too late to wait so I went night night. Big day tomorrow.

May 29, Day 23, Ennis Montana-71 miles

Amazing what just one day of rest can do for the body and the mind. I scavenged the hotel breakfast display and took extra food with me as I made my way out of town and started the days' 70 mile ride to Ennis Montana.

The first 28 miles were primarily flat and led to the town of Twin Bridges. I had a nice tailwind pushing me along and my speeds reflected it. In the world of cycling, wind can be a wonderful luxury and a sadistic hindrance,  and sometimes both in the same day. Today I would reap the benefits of the wonderful luxury in the morning, but in Twin Bridges I would be taking a sharp turn into a south easterly direction and quite possibly a strong headwind.

Terrain outside Twin Bridges

I arrived in Twin Bridges and turned south, perfectly willing to receive my comeuppance after 28 miles of biking bliss. The winds however were not what I anticipated and I had a relatively peaceful additional 26 miles into Nevada City and then two more into Virginia City. Both towns reflected the old wild west look and many original buildings from the 1800's were still up and some even functional. Just before the two towns I rode by an area called Alder Gulch. Dredge tailings from early placer mining activities can be seen for miles along the highway. This was a popular gold mining location for many years and some of the ancient mining equipment can still be seen abandoned by the river along with rock pilings and collapsed structures.

Nevada City

After Lunch in Virginia City, I had a nasty 4 mile, 1,500 foot climb to contend with. Tourists eating in the cafe alongside me questioned whether I could physically make it up such a steep pass on a bike. They informed me that their vehicles had a tough time getting over the pass. My mapping indeed provided a steepness warning about the climb but did not give any further indication that it was any more difficult then some of the others. As I got up and left the cafe, I was getting these looks of empathy buttered with pity and it made me wonder a little.

The build up was over blown. It had it's tough spots but they were short and sweet. I made it over the pass in 45 minutes and the next thing I knew I was clocking a trip speed record of 47 MPH descending a hellacious and dangerous steep winding downhill in a gusty wind! I was caught somewhat off guard and immediately initiated downhill survival techniques fine tuned during my experiences descending at high speeds in the Death Ride. It was also today that I discovered for the first time that my brakes are no match for a bike of this total weight on a descent of this grade. Fortunately traffic was very light and I was able to use the entire roadway to maneuver my way to the valley floor 10 white knuckle miles later.

Virginia City

I arrived at my destination town of Ennis and got settled. Ennis is a small but touristy town and is the last town before the 70 mile drive to West Yellowstone and the park entrance. That 70 mile length is my route tomorrow.