The blog. Web journal. Updates. Recent announcements. Whatever you want to call it, this is where you can find it.
This journal will be the best way to get an inside look at my journey. You can see photos of small town USA as I stroll through them. See the locals as I chat with them and explore the cities as I do. I will try my best to make it feel like you are on the road with me.
Read as I roll through cycling disasters and amazing discoveries. My number of entries will depend on the amount of public libraries or generous strangers I encounter. But hopefully, you will keep up with me and keep in touch. Email as often as you can! And I will respond as soon as possible :)
You can subscribe to my journal which will let you know anytime I add a new post! How easy is that?
posted Nov 18, 2011 3:39 PM by Seth Buller
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updated Nov 21, 2011 11:13 AM
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posted Nov 18, 2011 3:08 PM by Seth Buller
 So with a slightly abrupt change in plans, I needed to hitch a ride up to Missoula at 6 AM so I could then catch another ride up to Glacier National Park with a new friend I hadn't met yet, Brian. I wasn't quite sure what I was in for. A 4 day trip up to Glacier to meet up with some Bozeman friends? Backpacking in the park? Waterskiing? Bah. Who knows, I just knew I had a ride up North.
WHAT?! Oh geez oh geez oh geez. All the tradition. All the history. All the people. All the significance that I knew NOTHING about. What if I did something that offended them? I was sure I was going to look like that one white kid that tried to dance at a deep south soul dance party or gospel throw down. I got myself so worked up with trying not to disrespect any of the people there. I didn't want to just look like an outside spectator. He had never gone to a sun dance either, so we had no idea what to expect and at least could be nervous together.
But how do I even begin to explain what happened here or what effect it had on me? The fact that I've been sitting here erasing my past 5 attempts of putting it into words, I think it's telling me that there is no way I CAN put it into words. I feel like I am cheating you as a reader as leaving you out of an experience that I will remember for the rest of my life.
I was giving the honor of taking a peak into the history and tradition of the Blackfoot. They welcomed me into the crew. Put me to work. Included me in ceremonies and gatherings. Treated me as a friend and not as an outsider white kid. 
I guess this experience is just one that stays with me. My gift for putting myself in these 'anything can happen' situations.
I don't think there's any smooth transition into the rest of my stories, so I'll just make a sharp cut to my time in the park and the rest of my Missoula stay. Glacier National Park..Is it real? Take these photos, look at them, and then accept that their beauty and magnificence (yes I said magnificence) is only 1/100th of what it is like in real life. If you are alive and don't make an effort to go see this place, I will come snatch the eyeballs out of your head and throw them into Saint Mary Lake. Please go. Please please go.
After the breathtaking and super memorable adventure up to Glacier and the reservation, we were headed back down to Missoula.I decided I was going to stay in Missoula for a week or so to get a feel for the town. I had heard good things about it, and being the location of University of Montana, I figured there was lots to do. I was right. The headquarters of Adventure Cycling Association. Home of 3 craft breweries. Bicycle co-ops and house shows. Old theaters and rivers to float on. Coffee shops and karaoke bars. Scoring a place to stay with 2 other touring cyclist and their fine lady friend, I wandered around with them and their shenanigans until it was my time to leave. It was a very interesting week or so, but something from the West was starting to pull at me hard. Onward! To the coast!
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posted Nov 17, 2011 2:09 PM by Seth Buller
So with a fresh tan and a pack of food, I hopped back on the bike. My knee and elbow were healing up fine with more or less full mobility. I was first going to split out of Bozeman and head towards a new friends house in McAllister to help out cleaning her barn for a few dollars for the road. Even though I just came off a break, my 3 days there was very relaxing with a spectacular view of the surrounding Tobacco Root mountains while sitting in the Madison Valley. 
Riding through Ennis ("fly-fishing capital of the world") and then to Virginia city (a once extremely booming gold rush town of 10,000..now a registered historic landmark and ghost town of 132 tourism loving residents). Not knowing I had jumped on the ACA's trans-am bike route, I rode up to 3 other touring cyclists, 2 going my way and one going the other. We chatted for a bit and then started riding together towards Twin Bridges. With the wind in our favor, we cruised our way to Twin Bridges.
Lunch time for me, but quitting time for them. The county fair was going on in Twin Bridges and they (one being from Scottland) wanted to experience a good ol' Ameracun demolition derby. Guess I can't blame em', but I wanted to cover some more ground. I ate a typical lunch down by the river as I watched hollering kids float by on tubes and catch an occasional whiff of nearby dog poo. Besides the promise of crazy fried objects at the fair, I was very ready to hit the asphalt. I had about 10 miles to get North of town, then I knew I would be turning onto a dirt road to catch "a shortcut". I knew it would be gravel and about 10 miles of it. Emmmm, nope. Turned out to be 20 miles of heavy heavy loose hilly gravel open range country road. All of those words together are not good for a bicycle. This stuff was even bad for full suspended trucks. Very easily I could have taken the long (paved!) road and made it there before I was done with my gravel road short cut. Ya live and ya learn I suppose. But...It was pretty.
Met high school kids jumping of a bridge into the river (their beloved summer was almost up), spotted Ospreys (i think) and Eagles, held my breath as I rode through herds of brainless cattle staring at me like I was riding a giant black banana instead of a bicycle ready to attack at any moment. But instead of attacking, they ran. Never letting me pass and be out of their life. So I followed this herd of 10 skittish cattle about a mile while swerving their home made pies until they were able to take refuge in an open grass field or up the unattractive rocky hillside. That was a new experience for me.. So I wont go into the gory details of this 20 mile road, but lets just say it ended up at me yelling at things that could not yell back at me. That BIG rock that made me tip off my bike. That set of 3 hills I saw in the distance after I thought things would finally be flattening out resulting in a very loud "Are you f*$% kidding me??!" Remind you that I was anticipating 10 miles, thinking every "around the next corner" was the last. Meh, it was rough and I was very very tired after this day. But I survived the 85 mile day and made it to the Divide Bridge Campground. Because it was actually an excellent campground, I didn't even skip the bill and paid for my camp site. I bathed in the Big Hole River and hung out with nearby retirees on a RV/fly fishing vacay. The hailed from NC and knew places I knew. They fed me apples and pimento sandwiches and eventually kicked me out so they could go to sleep after I took to long to eat my sandwiches. I slept very soundly.
 The ride along the Big Hole River to Wisdom was what makes Montana Montana. Uhhhh you can't pay to see stuff like this. A winding river 50 ft down to the right of me. Canyoned walls on either side of me. Wildflowers, hardwoods and conifers, peaceful fly fishers, birds of prey, steady climbs or descents, the works. The road spit me out on the other side of the Beaverhead National Forest and I had a fairly easy slightly tailwinded (and of course sometimes headwinded) ride into Wisdom.
I stopped for a moment when I hit my 4,000th mile and thought about my 3,o00th in Boulder, my 2,000th somewhere in Arkansas, and my 1,000th in Knoxville. Wisdom was also on the Trans-am route, and even though it embraced the route by setting up a shelter for cyclists, they obviously didn't embrace it as well with the politeless-ness of the employees and customers at the local bar/pizza joint. Eh.
I ate a whole pizza with 3 other chaps that were heading the other direction the next day. It was frozen in Wisdom, but I decided to make it consecutive day 4 that I bathed in the nearby river. The morning was frozen as well and I bundled up and headed for my last pass over the continental divide at Chief Joseph Pass. I followed the Bitterroot River along the Bitterroot mountains into Darby, MT.
Caught a beer and burger with 3 other fellow tourers and then chugged myself up to Hamilton and where I would find a place to stay for the evening. Striking out at the bike shop, I snagged a few numbers offline at the library and then struck gold with Cassie! She took me in last minute, took me on a little field trip to see the farm that she gets her CSA vegetables from, and cooked up a killer curry. What a lady. 
After finding out I needed to get to Missoula a whole day earlier to be able to catch a ride upto Glacier, I managed to find a ride early the next morning. But that is a whole lot to take in, I'll let you chew on all that for a little bit. |
posted Sep 24, 2011 2:01 PM by Seth Buller
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updated Sep 26, 2011 9:50 PM
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 It's odd to write about a time that happened so long ago. Here I am in late September writing about mid July, but I'll try my best. Bozeman was intended to be one of my semi-substancial stops. More than 3 days/less than a month type thing. From my sister spending a semester here and hearing good things from everyone, I really wanted to spend a little time here and get a good feel for it. And a bonus that a good ol' family friend Theresa has now living there and welcomed me into here lovely home for the length of my visit. I arrived to Bozeman and the very next day flew off back to the East. It was beach time! Pawley's had arrived. I won't bore with the stories of Pawleys Island 2011, but in short, it was the highlight of the year just like every other year. A magical week. 
I made a stop into Charleston to catch up with some old friends and then back to Richmond to fly back and resume my trip. Bozeman, Montana. Land of Montana State University. Students were gone for the summer, but the city still buzzed. My first day back, headed out on a mountain bike ride and came home with a bum left knee and a bum right elbow. I'd be nursing these wounds for the next 2 weeks. Opting out of stitches, it healed slow and left some impressive scars. Why didn't I take pictures of them!? So having these new injuries put some hinderances on what I was able to do for the next 2 weeks. Wasn't very mobile or flexible, but I was still able to see the city and leave with a wonderful impression.
Bozeman is in a gorgeous location in the valley surrounded by 4 or so different chains of mountains. The weather was ideal and the people were friendly! I had some great home cooked dinners, tasty local brews, sloppy nights out on the town, relaxing movie nights, hikes in the woods, bike rides, just good ol exploring. Theresa and Jo treated me like a celebrity and showered me in big meals and cold beer. And of course, it was a pleasure to catch up with a old family friend. Through the next couple hundred miles, Montana would become one of my favorite states to bike through...So...I'll be back Bozeman! 
Before I'd ship outta Bozeman, I would meet back with Wesley and go on a short 2 day trip through Yellowstone. Always a pleasure to traveling around with that lady. I think the 6 months of sharing a futon has strengthened our relationship. We saw a buffalo swim across a river. Waited an hour behind a bison pile up. Ate more ice cream. Picnic-ed. Smiled and stuck our heads out the windows. Ah yes. But it seemed like as soon as we arrived, we were already heading back to Bozeman.
I packed the bike and made my way to Missoula. What lies ahead?
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posted Aug 1, 2011 5:06 PM by Seth Buller
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updated Sep 24, 2011 2:00 PM
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 Ah well, to Mammoth. Today wouldn't be too bad of a day, no exception climbing or anything. There was Dunraven pass, but at 8,859 it wasn't anything I hadn't seen before. Slow and steady and it went just fine. Met some folks up the way that were very impressed of my climb and rewarded me with photo ops, bananas, and water! I continued through the pass and to the north side of the ridge. A half mile or so on the descent, I was pleased with running into Mr. Dietrich Holzaepte from East Germany! I believe he was in his early 70's if I can remember correctly, looking like a cute little German in sandals and a big suitcase strapped to the back of his bike. We chatted in broken English for 15 minutes and then we both told each other to enjoy the downhill. This downhill lasted a good 2,000 ft and 20 miles. Cruised into Tower for some ice cream and then a fairly uneventful ride up on the Blacktail deer plateau to Mammoth. Mammoth was quite full. It is home to the old Fort Yellowstone and current park headquarters. There were a few hotels and ice cream/burger joints. I of course had to try out some more ice cream so I got myself a double scoop of moose tracks and found some shelter from the incredible wind. I was considering riding to Gardner 7 miles away, but the wind changed my mind. I rode my bike around looking for someone to ask where and how much the campground was.   This is where I ran into a wonderful family that offered up their basement (which was of one of the super old officer quarters from the fort). I spent the evening with them and their out of town family talking about the park and my journey. I slept in the basement in a room next to the laundry room. This would be the first time I ever thought I would actually see my first ghost. Ah yep! Their was a very sporadic mechanical screeching noise coming from the other room in the basement. And yes, I sat there for at least 15 minutes with my headlamp on telling myself that the next time it made a noise I would get the guts and go up to see what was going on. Ok, the next time, Ok the next time. I sauntered over in my boxers with a little light attached to my head. turning on every light switch as I reached it. Could it be? I was actually hoping that Yes! This would be the first time Id see a ghost. The famous drying machine ghost of Fort Yellowstone.
I pushed open the door while my heart was practically coming out my ears, and! Nothing. Turned out the dryer was pretty much shorting out. Both the on and off buttons were halfway pushed in, causing it to have short bursts of squeals. I depressed both buttons and opened the dryer door to keep it from coming back on, and headed back to sleep halfway disappointed I didn't meet the 200 year old previous army officer.  SO! Where was I. I left Mammoth and headed to Bozeman, where I was going to stay for the next week or so. The next day would not be the most enjoyable. The first 10 miles was a pleasant light tailwind, next 20 were normal, last 10 to Livingston was the reason for the title of this post. The headwind began, if you have read any of my previous posts you will know how much I despise headwinds. It turns you crazy. And so what did I do? I started pedaling harder! Screaming at the wind to bring it on! Then instantly telling it I was sorry and if he could please give me a break. There are many times where I wish I had a 3rd party recording me on my ride so I could see a man with his shirt open, yelling obscenities at the wind and pedaling his heart out.
I made it to Livingston to see Wesley at her new farm! She treated me to a burrito, a big salad, and a piece of chocolate cake. And a beer! Needless to say, I was content to accept a ride from my friend in Bozeman. There was lightning striking on Bozeman pass, and since I don't want to die, I accepted the ride. Goodbye Wesley of Livingston and hello Theresa of Bozeman! Phew finally made it to Montana! Read on if you dare.
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posted Jul 28, 2011 2:42 PM by Seth Buller
posted Jul 28, 2011 1:35 PM by Seth Buller
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updated Aug 1, 2011 5:06 PM
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 3 nights I would spend in Jackson. Not a horrible place to do it either. The town had a lot to offer. Lots of t-shirt shops, lots of stumblin tourists, lots of cheap western goods, bars with horse saddles as stools. These may all sound not so great, but the good things in this town far outweighed the bad. The view of the mountains, the Snake River Brewery, the mountain biking, the proximity to the Grand Tetons National Park. MMmmmm hmm.
Night one was filled with beer and food from Snake River Brewing Company. A top notch micro brewery, go there or buy some if you can. Chris introduced me to some friends (again, good to be around young folk again) and then off to bed. The next day was a maintenance day. Blog, phone calls, cleaning bike, route planning, etc, etc. I got out later in the day to check the lay of the town and caught some local Mexican flavor. A pleasant and easy day. I woke up early the next day and headed to Fitzgerald’s bikes to rent a mountain bike for half the day. I squeezed in 5 hours of riding until I had to take it back to the shop. No wipe outs, good views, a work out! It was a good exhausting day. We ended the day with some Thai food and then back to prepare for the ride tomorrow. I was sad I didn't get to spend a bit more time in town, but unfortunately I had a little bit of a schedule to keep. Bah. I said I'd be back.
 The next day, Chris (who worked in the Teton NP) rode with me to the entrance gate on his way to work. Got a free pass! Thanks bud. Right away, I could feel the massive presence of those mountains. Amazing. Truly amazing. There are no other mountains like it. I can't say much more about them, you just need to see them for yourself. I couldn't keep my eyes on the road. The whole day was a marvelous blur. The traffic was fair. The weather started cloudy but cleared up to get good view
s of the peaks of the mountains. I ran into someone that knows my family in Richmond...weird.. I ran into Chris at an old home in the park he was helping restore. Then jumped into a convince store to grab a root beer...turned out the guy who rung me up is the same guy who gave me a camp hammock in Knoxville when I was going around to shops putting up my stolen bike flyer....weird.. He convinced me to stay at that campground. We didn't end up getting together after work like we were hoping to, but I camped next to 2 other bike tourers. We shared beers and stories and talked about the chance of grizzlies in the night. Carlos and Harvey. Those guys.
The next morning, we headed to the road together, then went in different directions. Carlos south and Harvey east. Me. West. I had a place set up to stay through couch surfing way up in Canyon. 85 miles...better scoot!
From the south entrance to Yellowstone to north of Yellowstone lake...nothing special. I was afraid I was going to be disappointed by Yellowstone. It was just a road with a thick line of pines on either side. No views, nothing to fascinating. Even the lake...it was ok. I think I was bitter because that’s when the wind picked up. But then! I started riding down the Yellowstone River. Spectacular.
Yes, consistent with popular belief..there is a LOT of traffic.
 Annoying at times, well most times. But what can I do. My version of a middle finger was being able to pull off and take pictures on parts of the road that cars were not capable. Following the river, I headed toward Canyon Village. The river started getting deeper and deeper leading to 2 falls. SO MUCH ENERGY! With the long snowy winter, there was a tremendous amount of snow melt and the river was very very full.
Resulting in 2 impressively powerful waterfalls. Again, you had to be there. Shortly after the falls, I hit Canyon. It was a long day and I was happy to meet Suzanna and have a shower and a bed to sleep in. She was working at the Inn and took me down to the employee pub. I enjoyed me some beers and cheep pizza and then off to rest up for my ride to Mammoth.
A free breakfast at the employee cafeteria and a trip to the shop for some post cards and I was off.
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posted Jul 28, 2011 11:52 AM by Seth Buller
 Ah! No place to stay yet in Rock Springs. First stop? Bitter Creek Brew pub. Always a good start I suppose. After a long hard day, unfortunately water was the first thing on my mind. But very quickly I convinced myself that I was now hydrated enough to try some brews. And so the story goes...Through fellow barstool sitters (I'm sure they were initially curious by my awful odor) conversation came up about my bicycle tour. There weren't too many in the place at the time, so I caught the attention of a handful of employees, bartender and manager included. I told em my story and lack of roof situation, and in minutes I had a place to stay and plans for the evening. They even convinced me to stick around for an extra night. It was a nice relief to hang out with some kids my age again after being virtually alone for the past 60 hours. We played silly games, cooked out, talked about our pasts and presents, and spent a very pleasant day at the Flaming Gorge. Gorgeous! Wading in the water, lying in the grass, drinking cheap beer. Wahoo! It all turned out to be a very great and unexpected stay in Rock Springs, Wyoming. I do hope I run into all the Bitter Creek folks again in the future. Vegas baby!
Not wanting to spend July 4th in the middle of nowhere, I...got...a ride. :( Yeah yeah. To make up for the extra day I spent in Rock Springs, I hopped in a truck with Kari lee and sped up the road. Pinedale, Wyoming! I got into town way early, cruised around on bike killing time until the town cookout started! A giant town potluck, stocked with 30 kinds of potato salad, a few "Betty's famous *insert vegetable here* casserole", baked beans! baked beans! baked beans! red/white/blue sponge cake things, and flavor lacking burgers. It. Was. Wonderful. I ate in next to my bike in a very noticeable area of the park hoping I would have interested hosts come up and invite me in, but no... A number of nice folk, but no takers. Oh well. Step 2!
With the rain starting to get heavier, I moved over to the main street and dipped into the outdoor shop. Again, very nice people but no one popped the question. Next. The brew pub! Wind River Brewery. At the bar, Ken starts chatting. General exchanges, then the question comes up! "Hey I know someone that may be up for letting you stay for the night" After one more beer and much more talking and familiarizing, we head over to Barbara's little ranch on the hill.
Greeted by a massive German Sheppard (the dog of course) and the smell of fresh bread, Barbara pulled us both out of the house and we started our walk down the hill with the pup. We got to know each other, made our way back to the house, shared some beers, and eventually put down a locally raised t-bone steak.  How’s that for treating a guest? I had just gone out to pizza with Sana and Steven (2 new friends from Rock Springs), but I was up for the challenge. After gazing at the fireworks from her back yard, I retired to my basement bedroom. To Jackson tomorrow.
Barbara and I shared coffee and breakfast in the morning, and then I started to pack it all up. She rode with me on her sporty Raleigh out of town and then I was off. A short meeting, but I hope we keep in touch.
Nice flat riding, one mini pass, not too much wind, and a lot of things to look at. Wind River and Wyoming mountain ranges, wildlife! and an approaching storm! Nothing looking too bad yet, but enough to make me pick up the pace a little. Jackson is quite lower than Pinedale so I spent most of the day cruising downhill next to the Hoback River and then to the Snake River. The canyons and the larger Snake River really started to make me feel like I was in wild Wyoming.  And started to think about bears...then quickly tried not to think about them.
A pretty hairy road with lots of river boat guide buses escorted me into Jackson.I passed my sign of relief (Welcome to Jackson") but a storm was a brewin. I need to take cover somewhere until Chris (fella who I was staying with) got home from work. To the brew pub! Snake River Brewing Co. Top notch, but...Chris called right before I went in. I pedaled to his house, but we would come back later that night. More on this later...Read on! |
posted Jul 27, 2011 1:12 PM by Seth Buller
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updated Jul 27, 2011 2:31 PM
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The day started on a very good note. A steady tailwind pushing me along at 22 mph on my way to Craig. I would be to Maybell in no time. The 25 miles to Hayden was practically effortless. A slight downhill and a tailwind. Very ideal.
 Then within seconds, the wind went from pushing west to pushing directly east. Very not ideal. There was a monster front coming in. I checked out the radar at the library and then muscled my way the next 18 miles to Craig. Still nothing to unbearable, so I pulled into town for lunch. It looked decent outside, but I knew I was heading into no mans land, so I ran across the street to the newspaper office and asked them what the forecast looked like. Well..."damaging winds, quarter size hail, lightning". BUT, a 25 mph wind in the direction I was riding! Convinced the wind would carry me along to Maybell before the hail came in I rushed my way up the hill outta Craig.  The one hill I would face between Craig and Maybell. Well, turned out to be quite a hill and about half way up that hill, a very mean black cloud the size of Wyoming started laughing at me. I started to doubt my help from the wind and realized I would not be able to make it the 30 miles before being beaten with hail. A truck passed me and then pulled over onto the shoulder. Assuming he was stopping for me, I pulled up to his window. "Ya know there’s a bad storm coming in?" After giving my hopeful cause for trying to beat out the storm, he convinced me to pull over and take shelter in the dinky workshop we had pulled next to. He said he knew the old man who worked in it and we wheeled down to see if ol Man Wilbur would let me shack up til the storm passed. Straight out of a movie. Wilber was and old weather skin and bones man who wouldn't let age hold him down. When we came in he was in the process of mounting a new tire for his then defunct tractor. Looking around his shop...everything you could ever need to fix anything. Out of date technology, big clunky tools, dust floor, and a system of organization only this man could decipher. I thought about pickin this mans brain and hearing his history, but I just let him work. I hope that when I'm his age I have the knowledge to do the things he did keep tickin along. Oh Wilbur.
Once the pings on the metal roof slowed down I the wind slowed down, I got suited up in my rain gear and headed off outta Wilburs shop. He had left 20 minutes earlier. Without a word, we walked out to his truck (thinking he was just going to get a tool) but he started and just drove off. I liked that. Doing his thing. The rest of the ride to Maybell was easy and I got to the town park in the middle of town and set up camp. A good nights sleep and off to Irish Canyon the next day.
I packed up as much water as I could and headed north. I swallowed hard after I passed the sign that read "No service for 120 miles." Yikes. GO! Time to start conserving water.
Road construction up the road came in handy for the days ride. Each side of the road was stopped for 15-20 minutes until a pilot car lead them through the repaving area. There would be no cars driving on my side of the road for 20 minutes, and then a rush of 30 cars would all pass me in a matter of 1 minute. So I just pulled over for the minute and let em zoom by. I quite liked it. It was a pretty ride. But each mile the scenery was shifting to desert highlands full of red rocks and steaming roads and zero trees.
I shoved off of my paved road and started my 25 mile stretch of dirt road till the Wyoming border. Of course I couldn't go as fast as I did on the paved road, but it added a bit of excitement and puzzle solving as I swerved from one side of the road to the other looking for smooth patches and trying to find the hardest packed gravel. I reached the sign for the Irish Canyon, which meant I was close to my campsite. 3 more miles of super rocky loose gravel, I hit the circle of campsites. As I was entering, a man who had just got done eating lunch was leaving. We chatted and then before I drove off I asked if we happened to have any spare water. Now when I look back on the day after, I realize how crucial it was that he had some water to spare. I was able to refill all water containers I had. Clutch! 
I played with the echo in the canyon, listened to the radio, ate a warm dinner, and managed to get to sleep even while the sun was still out. It was a lonely night...I knew there was no one within 60 miles from me. EEEKKK! Relieved that it was morning, I started my way into Wyoming and towards Rock Springs. I was relieved to be back on a paved road, but I had a long road ahead of me before Rock Springs. Up and down up and down. Rollers! I hate rollers.. They eventually eased up and I got to a point where I was riding slightly downhill with a slight tailwind for the next 40 miles. Wild horses, antelope, birds of prey, coyotes, crazy rock formations, and open road.
But of course the day couldn't end all positive, the last 1o miles into Rock Springs was a relentless headwind. WHY! Why couldn't you just hold off for 10 more miles? The 45 minute ride turned into an hour and a half. But...I eventually wheeled into town and began the search for a bed. This post is long enough so I'll go through my Rock Springs stay later. Read on!
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posted Jul 27, 2011 12:45 PM by Seth Buller
Onward! To Grand Tetons!
Well it would still take about 8 days of riding until I reached my next National Park, but I knew it would be worth it. I headed out of Grand Lake for my next bed in Kremmling, CO. The ride between was surprisingly beautiful. I didn't think anything in the next few days would compare after riding through Rocky Mountain National Park, just a different kind of beauty. First off, I rode by Colorado's largest and deepest natural lake, Grand Lake. 12,000-13,000 peaked mountains in the distance reflecting off the lake in the morning. ah geesh.
Riding through Granby was pretty uneventful. Sampled some buffalo jerky, fell asleep in the grass in front of a pizza joint, chatting with a biker gang. Riding towards Hot Sulfur Springs was full of endless views of sagebrush covered rolling hills. Actually very beautiful. Hot Sulfur Springs was a bit of a wash. Literally. Everywhere along the Colorado River is flooded. After I bought my customary banana milk shake at the local Freeze Hut, I was disappointed that the town's Pioneer Park was completely under water..along with their 9 hole disc golf course. Oh well. I moved outta town and rode through the highlight of the day. Byers Canyon. Stocked with high winding colorful canyon walls, rushing Colorado River, accompanying railroad and old power lines. I just wish there were wider lanes so I could really go my own speed and look around. Very fun. If you go to Hot Sulfur, skip the springs and check out the canyon instead.
Putted through the dusty no-nothing town of Parshall and battled an aggressive headwind my remaining miles into Kremmling. I got real excited when I saw my first fellow bicycle toured, looking fully loaded so I knew they were trekking across the country. Then 2 more, then 2 more, then 3, so I knew something was up. Finally a lady in the group pulled over offering the second half of her Subway sub to me. She told me they all hooked up through Adventure Cycling Association and were riding the TransAm route. A great lady, but as she talked about the trip, it solidified the feeling in me that I would not like such an organized ride that that. Different strokes I suppose.
Well, after surviving a buzz by a big ol pick up truck where it felt like his mirror skimmed my arm hairs, I made it into town and started the search for a place to stay. The mosquitoes are nuts in Kremmling! Why?! After some searching, I hooked up with John who owned the towns "bike shop". A multi-purposed store with a multi-purposed owner. John was nice enough to lend me a nice patch in his private back yard, a shower, and plenty cups of coffee and chatter about politics. I shuffled over the tavern in search for cheap super cold beer. Feeling like a city slicker yuppie in my Chaco’s and goofy bag strapped around my shoulder, I drank Miller Highlife in a room of strong Bud light connoisseurs. What’s the deal with that? Bud light? Why drink beer at all? I know I was only drinking highlife, but I feel like I keep a bit of my dignity when I drink champagne. Anyhow. Watched the University of South Carolina baseball win their 2nd National Championship in a row, and I stumbled home to my lovely lonely tent.
  Into town, I was on the hunt for a bed. No luck, but good conversation, at all the bike shops. I began riding around town. A fella in a jeep pulled up next to me and asked about my bike and where I was headed. He said he was on the warmshowers network, when I asked..."are you Andy?". I had called Andy earlier that day seeing if he was able to host me for the night. He said he got my call but didn't answer because he didn't recognize the number. BUT, ended up staying with him anyway! We ate dinner and talked about our tours (he rode the Trans Am route years before). After discussing some possible routes for my ride to Jackson, I went to bed and got ready for my ride into NOWHERE!
Off to Maybell and the Wyoming high country. Yippee!
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