Today was a successful day, with great scenery and a decent amount of effort. It seemed like forever before I could get out of Dillon, since everything was moving slowly and the town was packed with fair/rodeo fans. I stopped at a sporting goods store, looking for a hat and gloves. The salesmen tried to get me to buy a raffle ticket for a new rifle they were giving away. I explained that I was on my bicycle and it would be awkward to carry a rifle. They said not to worry, people mount them on ATVs all the time, and they even sell mounting hardware. I let my chance at the rifle slip away, but got what I was after and soon I was on the road headed north.
For awhile I was moving at warp speed with a strong tailwind and a big wide shoulder. I ate up 10 miles in a hurry, but then the shoulder disappeared and the road narrowed. The white line was painted on the edge of a dropoff, the speed limit was 70, and there was limited sight distance. Anxiety increased. The night before, Google Maps had shown me a cutoff route which I had determined to be unsuitable. All of a sudden, it seemed like a much better idea. The deal was sealed when I passed some touring cyclists going the other direction and shouted across the road "is there any shoulder up there?" They shook their heads in misery as trucks rumbled by. That was it, I turned onto the gravel road and I didn't care if I had to push my bike 30 miles through ranchland.
It turned out to be OK. The road surface was variable, with some loose gravel and potholes and soft earth from last night's rain. But there were hardly any vehicles at all. Occasionally a rancher wearing a Montana-sized hat would drive past slowly in a Montana-sized pickup, and we would wave. I think you'd get by in this country if you had two heads and gigantic tentacles, as long as you waved at everyone.
After 30 miles on gravel (bless my tires), I got back to the two-lane road which hadn't gotten any wider but was less busy. I cruised through Virginia City which is an old ghost town with lots of tourists. I find that I am often the main tourist attraction when I wheel by. There was a tourist bus driving along with kids waving at me instead of listening to the narration.
An unnamed beefy 1900-foot climb at the end brought me up and over into the Madison Valley, with the Madison River and the Madison Range coming into view. The range presents a huge panoramic wall of peaks as far as the eye can see. Tomorrow I ride south through the valley and into West Yellowstone, which is 71 miles away.
In Yellowstone, there is supposed to be cyclists-only camping, which I am excited to check out. There are also supposed to be a lot of bears. Tony, the cop I passed a few days ago, said he sprayed a bear from his bike. He proudly showed me his bear spray can which mounted in place of one of his water bottle cages. He said that if it wasn't for the bear spray, he would have been lunch. I acted interested but I can't see myself going that route for a variety of reasons. I need my bottle cages, and there's just no way I'm going to ride around spraying bears.
Tonight I am camped at the Ennis RV Park, which is really big. There are probably 100 RVs here but it's very quiet and it's a beautiful night. A German family pulled in next to me in a rented RV and we chatted. Dad's name is Herman, and his teenage boys are Alex and Michael. They seemed pretty amazed that I was riding my bicycle around. They said they are headed to the park tomorrow. I've been dreading the ineptitude of all the RVers driving around Yellowstone. Being from Germany, Herman is probably safe.
Dinner-plate sized moon is coming up and the Big Dipper is above, but the smoke in the air still hangs like smog.
View Larger Map
For awhile I was moving at warp speed with a strong tailwind and a big wide shoulder. I ate up 10 miles in a hurry, but then the shoulder disappeared and the road narrowed. The white line was painted on the edge of a dropoff, the speed limit was 70, and there was limited sight distance. Anxiety increased. The night before, Google Maps had shown me a cutoff route which I had determined to be unsuitable. All of a sudden, it seemed like a much better idea. The deal was sealed when I passed some touring cyclists going the other direction and shouted across the road "is there any shoulder up there?" They shook their heads in misery as trucks rumbled by. That was it, I turned onto the gravel road and I didn't care if I had to push my bike 30 miles through ranchland.
It turned out to be OK. The road surface was variable, with some loose gravel and potholes and soft earth from last night's rain. But there were hardly any vehicles at all. Occasionally a rancher wearing a Montana-sized hat would drive past slowly in a Montana-sized pickup, and we would wave. I think you'd get by in this country if you had two heads and gigantic tentacles, as long as you waved at everyone.
After 30 miles on gravel (bless my tires), I got back to the two-lane road which hadn't gotten any wider but was less busy. I cruised through Virginia City which is an old ghost town with lots of tourists. I find that I am often the main tourist attraction when I wheel by. There was a tourist bus driving along with kids waving at me instead of listening to the narration.
An unnamed beefy 1900-foot climb at the end brought me up and over into the Madison Valley, with the Madison River and the Madison Range coming into view. The range presents a huge panoramic wall of peaks as far as the eye can see. Tomorrow I ride south through the valley and into West Yellowstone, which is 71 miles away.
In Yellowstone, there is supposed to be cyclists-only camping, which I am excited to check out. There are also supposed to be a lot of bears. Tony, the cop I passed a few days ago, said he sprayed a bear from his bike. He proudly showed me his bear spray can which mounted in place of one of his water bottle cages. He said that if it wasn't for the bear spray, he would have been lunch. I acted interested but I can't see myself going that route for a variety of reasons. I need my bottle cages, and there's just no way I'm going to ride around spraying bears.
Tonight I am camped at the Ennis RV Park, which is really big. There are probably 100 RVs here but it's very quiet and it's a beautiful night. A German family pulled in next to me in a rented RV and we chatted. Dad's name is Herman, and his teenage boys are Alex and Michael. They seemed pretty amazed that I was riding my bicycle around. They said they are headed to the park tomorrow. I've been dreading the ineptitude of all the RVers driving around Yellowstone. Being from Germany, Herman is probably safe.
Dinner-plate sized moon is coming up and the Big Dipper is above, but the smoke in the air still hangs like smog.
View Larger Map
Bumpy ride, lots of hills and sand traps but no traffic
This old beast was parked at Nevada City ghost town. Lots of old rail lines met there.
Tours of Nevada City
The thrilling descent into the Madison Valley
And in anticipation of Yellowstone, allow me to share my favorite Youtube tourist-trampling video. I've watched this dozens of times and it never gets old. Notice how the guy first threw a rolled-up newspaper at the buffalo to start the action.
