June 29 - 38 miles to Idaho Falls - An easy day acros the potato fields of eastern Idaho - the easiest on the trip. Lots of time to rest up for the big trip over the Tetons.
June 30 - 90 miles and 5,600 ft. of climbing, from Idaho Falls into wyoming to Jackson. Over one large hill and two passes, Pine Creek pass and Teton Pass, the latter with a top at 8,400 ft. and 10% grades for the last 3 miles. One of the most difficult days on the trip, but the scenery was fantastic throughout. The screaming, 5 mile descent off Teton Pass was a blast - I got over 50 mph, which is downright scary on a bike.
July 1 - 87 miles and 4,200 ft. of climging, going to Dubois, WY. One of the most beutiful rides in America - past the Grand Tetons and then over the continental divide at Togwotee Pass (9,658 ft), litereally the high point fo r the trip. Another sreaming, 12 mile descent, then more sceney riding into quaint little Dubois, WY. While the ride was beautiful, by the end everyone was exhausted, in view of the hard Togwotee climb coming the day after Teton Pass.
July 2 - finally an easier day - 83 miles, much of it down hill, to Riverton, WY. Lovely views of the Wind River Range for most of the ride.
Thoughts:
One thing that nearly all the riders on this ride does is
talk to strangers – tourists, locals, hotel clerks, whomever we come
across. We do this on breaks at
roadside stops, in bars in the evening, or wherever the chance arises. Even introverts like me do this. This is in addition to the constant and
invariably upbeat, friendly and helpful interaction between group members. After long hours riding alone (like
after hiking or any long solitary activity) it seems that we riders, like
people in general, crave social interaction – within the group and, to get some
external energy, with outsiders.
Proving once again that humans are social animals.
The conversations with outsiders follow a predictable
pattern. They will ask where are
we going, where we come from, and after hearing of the coast to coast plan,
they will ask why. Then, after
some further small talk and inquiry into the who, what and where of the
outsider, they will almost invariably comment something to the effect of “you
must really be in great shape.”
Then shortly thereafter, as time is usually quite limited, we part, a
bit happier for the interaction.
So, are we in great shape? To meet most members of the group, you would not think
so. I think we look and act like
an ordinary group of mostly older people, rather like what you would meet at a
Lions Club meeting. 4 are over
70. Maybe 10 or more others are
over 60, and all but 5 (of 52 riders) are over 40. Some have a good bit more baggage around the waist than
recommended by Fitness magazine.
Perhaps 20 or so are cancer survivors, and a few have the lingering
effects from serious injuries. No
one has bulging muscles or would be considered a top athlete. For sure, some of the group were
excellent athletes in their younger days – often marathoners, (some, like my
roommate George, age 70, with sub-3 hour times) but now, their athletic days
are long past. And yet, we have
managed in 4 days to ride 380 miles over 3 good sized mountain ranges – a feat
that many would consider possible only by strong athletes, if not simply
insane.
I am reminded of my climb up Mt. Kinabalu, on Borneo,
several years ago. For 2 days
hiker-tourists like me hiked up some 8,000 ft and 13 miles to the 13,500 ft.
summit. It was steaming hot and
humid at the base, and close to freezing at dawn on the top. At night, we slept in lodges at about
11,000 ft., and were able to buy food and supplies (and of course, T-shirts) at
a café. There were no roads up,
and no helipad or even mule paths, so all supplies for the lodges and café,
even the propane tanks for the stoves, had to be carried up. This was done by tiny, middle aged
Malaysian women, never more than maybe 120 lbs. They would put 60 to 80 lbs of supplies in a basket, then
put a cloth over their foreheads and around the baskets, and off they would
trudge, step by step ascending the 10 miles and 5,000 ft from base to the
lodges. We tourists, carrying not
much more than water, a sleeping bag and coats, would break frequently for
rest, while the women would continue on, passing us, talking amongst
themselves. I was told they would
do the trip 4 or 5 times a week.
Ordinary women doing the extraordinary, just to make a living.
Riding across the endless spaces of Oregon, Idaho and
Wyoming, we criss-crossed the Oregon Trail many times. In some places we could still see the
ruts from the wagons. In the same
context, I could not help but think about pioneers, 1 ½ centuries ago, crossing
the plains, Rockies and Cascades.
We are riding on (mostly) smooth roads, using finely tuned machines
designed to optimize energy use.
They walked 10 to 12 miles a day, for months, through heat and cold, in
poor fitting boots, over rough or non-existent paths, along side their wagons,
coaxing the oxen on, often carrying their children. They had no firm concept of where they were going, no motel
beds at the end of the day. Food
was often scarce and water always a concern – both supply and purity – so they
were often hungry and sick.
Sometimes, as we saw in the Cascades, the trail was so steep that they
had to disassemble their wagons, carrying everything – supplies and wagon parts
– up or down for a half mile or more, then put it all back together before
journeying on. But they were
ordinary people.
The human body, even for ordinary people, is capable of
doing the extraordinary, and the human spirit even more so. All we need is the resolve to do
something, reasonable preparation and opportunity (or necessity), and then we
can go off and do it. The body
will, more often than not, rise to the challenge, and when the resolve wavers,
we humans, being social animals, can draw on the support of a group to restore
the spirit. Ordinary people can be
extraordinary. There are many
wonders in this world, but none more marvelous than this.
John Keith
