riding with the swiss

After a few cups of ranger coffee, the three of us took off to see the southwestern portion of Yellowstone.  Today would only be a 40 mile day with a little hiking, and we’d be riding unloaded.

We took a bike trail to see Ojo Caliente.  No one was really out there because all the older visitors don’t want to get out of their cars.

Closer shot of Ojo Caliente.

fairy falls

This was nearly a two mile hike to see a waterfall.  On the way out, Dylan and I joked about Jerry Springer and phrases that confused Europeans, such as ‘how ya doin’.  I challenged him to ask other hikers ‘how ya doin’, but he was intimidated and hated the sound of it.  I just told him to throw a cowboy accent on it, like he saw in the movies, and he would have it down.  Clementine just laughed at how stupid it sounded and avoided sounding like an idiot.  Every time we passed someone, I greeted them with a different ‘American’ salutation:  howdy, ’how ya doin’, and ‘hello there’.  Really cheesy and really shitty sounding.  I loved it because Dylan and Clementine hated it.  They probably wanted a bear to eat me.  Brian, my annoying persona, had made a come-back.

Fairy Falls was a nice little remote waterfall.  It was only about a 50 foot falls, but the water was pristine.  Out of sheer excitement, we kept changing Jerry Springer phrases, such as ‘you are gay, you are gay’ and ‘you suck, you suck’.

grand prismatic spring

The bike trail took us to the back of Grand Prismatic Spring, a huge, colorful spring that was littered with people.  Luckily, no one was out on the bike path.  To get a better view, we hiked up a hill.  It was definitely worth it.

old faithful

Going to Yellowstone, I had to see Old Faithful.  I wasn’t that excited about it because I knew there would be thousands of people out there.  And there were.

It went off every hour and a half.  Dylan, Clementine, and I went and browsed the $50 sweatshirts and $10 coffee mugs that feature American names like Bob, Jason, and Ricky.  I begged Clementine to buy me one.

Soon enough, the geyser exploded and I got my pictures. Ohhhhhh.

Ahhhhh.

lone star geyser

Jack, my pal from Teton Village, had told me that if I wanted my own private geyser, I would have to go out to Lone Star Geyser.  After seeing the people-plagued Old Faithful, I was excited to go out to see this one.  The bike path was 2.6 miles, and the lot was void of any of cars.  We would be the only three people out there.

We got to the geyser site and learned that the geyser goes off every 3 hours.  There was a log book that informed us that the geyser had blown about 30 minutes ago.  That would put us at an 8:30 PM show, giving us only 30 minutes of light to get back to camp.  We decided to stay.

Dylan and Clementine gave me some French lessons while we waited under a tree in the rain.  Evidently my French was really poor and it was destroying their eardrums.  Sorry guys.

After a few hours of bad harmonica and even worse French, the geyser blew her top.  I would have to say that Lone Star was much more impressive than Old Faithful.  The eruption went on for about 15 minutes, and it later turned into a massive storm of steam.  Meanwhile, the rain turned to snow.  Pretty impressive.

Stupid tourist.

Hot guy in steam.

stranded at old faithful

We started back towards camp on the bike path in pretty good spirits.  Well, this changed quickly when it started snowing hard.  The air got cold very quickly as the sun went down, and my hands started going numb.  I wasn’t prepared for this, and Clementine gave me a pair of socks to place over my hands.

We were only able to get a few miles before it became too difficult to cycle.  The snow was coming down hard, and it was incredibly cold.  We decided to pull into the Old Faithful Lodge and beg for a ride.  We tried approaching people in trucks and vans, but they drove on by.  Dylan was really bothered by this.  I didn’t care.  I just wanted to get out of the cold.

We parked our bikes and went into the lodge.  Dylan sweet talked the front desk employee, and she said she’d talk to security.  We kept our fingers crossed while we walked to a fireplace in the lodge.  We met a few rich folks in the lodge, and I tried to put together a good sob story.  No one bit my sob story bait, but a lot of people were interested in our pathetic situation.  This young girl by the name of Helen took a sincere interest in me and my phone number.  She said, “Does your phone work?”  Helen wanted my phone number, I think.  Maybe not.  Maybe she just wanted to talk about phone service.  It was a really weird situation because:  1) She was 15, 2) Her grandmother was standing next to her, and 3) Dylan and Clementine were next to me smiling.  She was ‘wow’d’ by our trip and said, “I should do something like that,” pointing at her stomach.  I said, “Well, you can go on hikes.  You have the ability to do that here.”  No compliments from me.  Should I have said, “No no, you look great!”  That would have been odd coming from an older guy.  Clementine later commented that it was pretty funny that I told the girl to just go hiking and cycling.  She also made fun of my awkward situation.  Helen was nice, and I enjoyed talking to her.  She was one of the few in the room really interested in our trip.  Thanks Helen.

Half an hour later, a security employee named Zack walked up to us and said he’d be glad to give us a ride.  Our hero.  We were considering sleeping in the lobby next to the fire and riding back in the morning.  We were pumped to get a ride back.  I talked Zack’s head off during the car ride.

The ride back was long and slow.  There would have been no way we could have cycled back.  Dark, cold, wet, and snowy.  Clementine cooked up some spaghetti, and we crawled into our cold tents.  Dylan and Clementine’s love kept them warm.  My solitude kept me cold and ugly.

babysitting Aden

I climbed out of my tent around 8:30 AM to loud RV generators and children yelling.  Ugh.  I ate breakfast and packed up.  Meanwhile, two older folks and their grandchild rolled up in an RV to the adjacent campsite.  Their grandson, Aden, took immediate interest in me and my bicycle.  He came over and I spent about 30 minutes with him putzing around the campsite.

In this picture, we were collecting earthworms and talking about the little worm family.  I told him they like spending time together.  I personified the worms because he kept trying to take them to his tent, where they’d inevitably meet their doom.  He told me he would punch a bison if he saw one, but I told him they were nice and scared of him.  Poor little bison.

His grandmother commented on my ability to connect with her grandchild and told me I’d be a great father.  It made me want to have a ‘pokeball’ device that I could throw down and out popped a child.  Whenever the child would get hungry or want me to buy it something, I would banish him back to his pokeball.  Maybe I wouldn’t make a great father.

mud volcano

I rode out to Mud Volcano.  On the way, I saw a few bison chilling by the road.  The rangers told me that they are 3,000 lbs and can run up to 30 mph.  They are very unpredictable animals and often gore people.

I arrived at Mud Volcano.  The features were really muddy and smelly.

Stinky Churning Caldron.

I did the robot dance at Mud Geyser.

And I posed at Black Dragon’s Caldron.

I left Mud Volcano and passed Sulphur Caldron.  Apparently the waters are 10x more acidic then lemon juice.  I think.  I wanted to leave pretty quickly because 8 French people crowded around my bike and were taking pictures.  They saw my Swiss socks and probably thought I spoke French.  To clear things up, I said, “How ya doin’?”  I’ve learned that Europeans have no clue how to respond to that.

After Sulphur Caldron, I passed Hayden Valley.  Bison were everywhere, and if I was going to see a grizzly, this would have been the location.  Unfortunately, I just saw bison.

shirtless guy at lower falls

I finally got to the Upper/Lower Falls area…the Grand Canyon of Yellowstone.  I was super excited to see Lower Falls from ‘Artist Point’.  The view was incredible.  I asked an old lady to take my picture.  It took her about 20 times to get the right shot.  I felt terrible for having to ask her to redo it over and over…and over.  She wouldn’t even get the Lower Falls in shot.  A French couple sat on the side watching it unfold before their eyes.  They were just laughing it up.

Scott, my dear friend from Cartoon Network, had given me a message to put on my bike board.  As soon as he sent it to me, I said ‘shit’ out loud.  I didn’t know where to ride with it.  Definitely not Wyoming.  The message was ‘I miss my stalker’.  Scott also nicely requested that I be shirtless in the picture.  OK.  Only because I like you Scott.   

At Artist Point, there were literally hundreds of people.  How was I going to do this?  Where was I going to do this?  I was already trying to avoid talking to people about the message on the board.  Aggggh.  I couldn’t even hike off from Artist Point to get a good shot of the falls.  I looked around and saw that there was some hiking to the northeast of the falls.  There was another point called ‘Sublime Point’.  It was only a few miles to hike it, and ‘Sublime Point’ had to be sublime.  Otherwise, Yellowstone lies to people.

I started my hike.  Awesome.  No one was walking.  It would delay getting to the next campsite by an hour, but I figured it would be worth it.  I finally got to Sublime Point which overlooked the huge canyon and river.  Pretty awesome.  I took off my shirt, did a little dance, and partied it up for Scott.

I pouted a little bit because Scott wasn’t there to dance with me.

And then lightning.  No!  And then came the pouring rain.  No!  No no no no no!  I was going to be soaking wet by the time I hiked back.  That was bad, but what was worse was that I was carrying a huge metal tripod.  On the highest point of the canyon.  Without a shirt on.  This was not a good situation.  I sat down for a minute trying to think of what to do.  What would Scott do?

I walked over to the ledge.  Should I just jump off?  Would Scott approve?  Should I place the sign perfectly into frame before I jump?

I finally decided to wait it out under a very tall tree.  Looking back, it was probably pretty stupid, but it was better than carrying the tripod.  The storm calmed for a minute, and I figured that was God telling me to hike back.  OK.  Will do.

I got back to the parking lot soaking wet.  The comments started rolling in pretty quickly from all the old visitors. 

I bet you weren’t expecting this…Huh?

A little wet?

That doesn’t look like fun.

This was the comment that really pissed me off:  “Seeing you on that bicycle makes me happy I’m in a truck.”  I quickly responded, “Seeing you in that truck makes me happy I’m on a bicycle.”  She was with her husband, but that didn’t stop me.  I was annoyed and angry.  She noticed the comment pissed me off and tried to back pedal.  “Well, I have kids in the car, so I guess you’re in a pretty good situation,” she said as she forced a laugh.  I didn’t say anything else and turned away. 

A guy walked up to go to the port-o-potty where I was standing.  I was trying to dry off under some sort of shelter, but it really wasn’t working.  Standing there, I knew I was going to get a comment about me being wet from him.  I was just waiting for it…

“I bet you didn’t predict this,” he said smiling.  I gritted my teeth.  He looked like a nice guy and probably didn’t mean harm.  “Yep,” I said.

hitching it

It was still pouring.  The guy came back out of the port-o-potty and struck up a conversation with me.  He was interested in what the hell I was doing on a bike out in the rain, so I gave him the story.  He told him I was trying to get to Madison but wasn’t sure if I was going to make it.

“I think we’re headed that way.  You could throw your gear in the truck and we could drop you off,” he said.

My eyes lit up.  YES!  The negative raincloud dissipated, and I felt a huge rush of positive energy.  He helped me load up my bike, and I hopped into his truck.  His name was Kent, and his wife’s name was Susan. 

For the next 20 minutes, I talked their ears off.  They were probably ready to dump me off at the campsite.  Actually, they were very nice, and we spoke a lot about their home and family.  Before dropping me off at the Madison campground, they gave me trail mix, twizzlers, and a bag of Doritos.  Susan and Kent made my day.  Otherwise, I would have been pedaling in the cold, pouring rain for 2 hours.

the floridian, the brit, and the swiss

I got to Madison around 4 PM.  I was super happy I had time to set up my camp and fix up a nice meal.  Well…as nice as it gets for me.  Mac and Cheese.  I walked to the hiker/biker area, which happens to be behind the ranger station, and to my surprise there was a huge tarp set up over a few tables.  It made out to be a great shelter from the rain.

A park employee from Florida walked up to me, and we started talking.  He had set up the area in order for bikers/hikers to keep dry, and he told me I could pitch my tent under the tarp.  Superb.  Lenny was a cyclist from Florida that works at the park in the spring and summer.  He offered me a cup of coffee from inside the ranger station and told me to give a knock if I ever needed anymore.   The emloyees evidently offer coffee and tea to all hikers and bikers. 

A tall lean chap came walking up to me out of the brush.  Where the hell did this guy come from?  I looked around and saw his touring bike along with his camo tarp and bivy sack.  Bill was doing a cross country trip and only had a 90-day visa.  He was only in Yellowstone and was approaching 2 months.  He was taking his time and seeing stuff, which is what the tour is about.  We spoke for a while about his home and his touring setup.  Lenny, Bill, and I sat under the cover of the tarp and spoke for about 3 hours before Bill decided to turn in for the night.  Bill would wake up at 6 AM and go to bed at 8 PM.  

Around 8 PM, a couple cycled up to the station to pay for their camping.  I was pleased to see that it was Dylan and Clementine, the Swiss couple I had met the day before.  I spoke to them for a while, and we agreed that we’d cycle the southwestern portion of the park the next day, leaving our panniers at the camp.  I was pumped and excited to cycle with other tourers.

4 AM…uh, no

I had set my alarm for 4 AM, and so it went off.  I looked outside my tent.  Completely dark and completely silent.  No thanks.  Wildlife will have to wait.  I went back to sleep only to rise at 8 AM.  Good enough for me. I packed up and made my way to Yellowstone National Park.

Cycling out of camp, I passed a couple from Switzerland touring the United States.  Dylan and Clementine.  I loved their setup.  I envied their trailers, and they envied my panniers.  I envied their love.

I was pretty excited to get to the park, but the ride there was going to be uphill until I saw anything cool.  On the way, I rode along Jackson Lake.  I had an incredible view of the Tetons just to my left.

traffic, muffins, and zombies

I started up a pretty long hill and came to an unexpected traffic jam.  Good enough.  I’ll ride through it and laugh at all the crying motorists.

Wrong.  I couldn’t pass through the construction zone due to heavy machinery.  Rich, the guy directing traffic, offered me some muffins.  Chocolate and banana nutbread muffins.  “Have ‘em all,” he said.  I hesitated at first, but after I saw one that he had thrown on the ground to feed a chipmunk, I devoured four big muffins.

The sign of the day was brought to you by Heather Hazen of Popcap.  The message was to promote a really popular zombie game Popcap had recently developed.  I figured it would lead to some pretty awkward conversation later that day.  I got some pretty odd looks from people sitting in traffic.  Whatever.  Rich yelled to me, “The zombies are already here!”

I had to get trucked past all the construction by a pilot car.  Unfortunately, it was only half a mile, and I lost about 45 minutes of the day.  I cycled quickly to Yellowstone.

I got to the entrance and hit it hard with the pictures, hiding and kicking at zombies.  People didn’t know what the hell I was doing, but the foreigners really enjoyed watching me.  A few asian children really took interest in my bike, so I spent about 5 minutes talking to them.  Their parents really liked the fact that I was entertaining them, so they took a few pictures of them with me.  Stupid me forgot to ask them to use my camera too.  They took off, and a minute later, I noticed they left their really expensive tripod.  I sprinted about 100 yards to catch their RV, which was stuck in traffic.  They were incredibly grateful.  I was incredibly tired.

south entrance

I got some incredible views of area coming in through the south entrance of the park.

Here’s the canyon carved out by the Lewis River.

And here’s pretty little me smiling by Moose Falls.

I hung myself off a 20 foot bridge to get a funny picture with Lewis Falls in the background.  Probably not the smartest thing to do.  I was hiding from the zombies.  And I was falling for the falls.  Bahahahaha.

I made my way north going along the Lewis River until I got to Lewis Lake.  Big portions of the lake were still frozen, so I stopped by to ponder my solitude.  I cried for a little bit and moved on to West Thumb Geyser Basin.

craven shit

While cycling to West Thumb, I was really taking in the scenery.  A raven was flying along with me by the road, zig-zagging back and forth.  Ravens are brilliant birds.  They have the ability to open zippers on your backpack to get food or work in teams to open bear boxes.  Those are damn hard to open, and I can’t imagine opening them with a crappy little beak.  I later heard that they pick up rocks and throw them at campers until they scare them off.

Looking to the sky, I was admiring this craven that was traveling with me.  He flew over me and matched my speed.  Cool.  I was connecting with the wildlife.  Suddenly, a big chunk of white crap exited his butt and dropped towards me.  He was about 8 feet off from hitting me right on the head.  Damn.  These ravens were malicious.

stupid mean fat ‘artist lady’ at West Thumb

West Thumb is a smaller ‘thumb’ lake of the bigger Yellowstone Lake.  The western tip sits along the caldera boundary, which is home to the West Thumb Geyser Basin.  This geyser basin was so cool because the eastern landscape was a huge body of water.  There was an elk chilling in the middle of the basin.  At one time, it charged in front of a few people, towering above a few small children.

I eagerly hopped off my bike and started my way along the boardwalk to the basin.  At the time, it was raining nicely.  Suddenly, I hear this woman holler out at me, “Are you leaving your bike?”

Uh.  Of course I am.  No lady.  I’m going to sit on this fence all day long alone with my bicycle.  Evidently, she was drawing what was behind my bicycle, and the bicycle was obstructing her view.  I figured she was just some lazy, fat, annoying wife who didn’t want to get dragged out of the car in the rain to see the geyser basin with her husband.  She wanted something ‘cool’ to do to prove to her husband she was having a good time with nature.  That was my fantasy I conjured up anyways.  Then she said,  “I’ve been drawing around you, so if you’re leaving your bicycle, move it.”  I didn’t feel like arguing with her, so I just shook my head and laughed.  I moved my bike three feet and walked away.

I looked back at what she was drawing.  I expected it to be something cool.  No.  Nothing was cool about it.  It was just a tree.  To her left, she had a ton of great geothermal features, but here she was drawing a tree.  Lady, you could have sat your ass at home and drawn a tree from the comforts of your motorized fat person wheelchair.  You can probably tell that this really pissed me off.

west thumb geyser basin

I really enjoyed this geyser basin.  The hot, steaming water was pouring into the lake after being pushed out of the ground.

Getting shots with Heather’s message was going to be tough, but I stuck it out.  People kept asking me what the sign was about, and I just said, “The zombies are coming.”  One guy walked by me, turned around, and stared at me for about 10 seconds.  Other old people looked at me like I was some ‘end of the world’ freak show.

bridge bay and the attack of the rv’s

I pulled up to Bridge Bay in the pouring, cold rain.  I grabbed a hiker/biker campsite and set up camp.  It was already getting pretty cold, and I fantasized about one of the hundreds of RV owners in the park to offering to join them by their camp fire.  Firewood was $8, and I couldn’t justify making a fire for that much.

There was a fat young couple who were right next to my campsite.  I tried being friendly with them, and they shrugged me off like some new age hippie.  I could hear their conversation the entire evening.  They argued about what they were going to eat that night.  Chicken tenders or hot pockets.

There I was, eating apples, peanut butter bagels, and instant potatoes.  I hated them.  It was cold, and they had fire, chicken tenders, and hot pockets.  The husband kept ordering the wife around to get him things from the RV.  I was pretty annoyed that I had to be camping beside these people.

As soon as the sun went down, I crawled into my smelly, damp tent and went to sleep.

freebie morning

Jack and I headed to get some coffee before I took off for the Tetons.  I wanted to prolong my time with Jack as much as possible.  He was fun to be around and a great guy.  He told me about a coffee shop that morning offering free coffee and bagels to cyclists.  Off I went.

More coffee and three free bagels were had.  The town of Jackson has a government-funded operation that promotes bicycling in Jackson.  Pretty cool to have monies from the government for bicycling.  I killed an hour talking to the folks manning the operation there before heading off to the park.

The ride to the park was about 30 miles and went along a scenic highway.  It was a nice morning.  Clear skies and sunshine.  It would be the last blue sky I would see for the next four days unfortunately.  I stopped at the ‘Welcome’ sign and became a stupid tourist.

I couldn’t think of a witty, funny message for Kim.  She wanted something supportive for those in their fight against cancer, since she was a cancer warrior herself.  ’Fight the Good Fight’.  Most of the old people going into the park really liked it and gave me a thumbs-up.

Eventually I entered the park…for free.  The guy at the entrance station let me go on in.  I guess he pitied me so much he wanted me to spend my $12 on peanut butter.

old rich people with mean comments

With a little hesitation, I went into the visitor’s center near the park entrance.  I had seen the buses emptying hundreds of people into the parking lot and wasn’t sure if I wanted to be shoulder-to-shoulder with someone staring at stuffed bears and photographs.

Sure enough, there were a ton of people there.  I looked at a few uninteresting ‘fun facts’ and left.  I sat down outside next to my bike and ate the three free bagels I had gotten earlier.  The hundreds of rich, old people started pouring back into the buses.  As they passed, a few commented on my load.  It really annoyed me.  Mean people.  This is the one that pissed me off the most:

You either need more bike or less stuff. – Rich, old guy with a mustache

I am saying these people were rich because that makes me feel better about disliking them.  If they were poor, I wouldn’t mind too much.  They’re poor.  I’m poor.  I’m ugly.  No harm done.  This one guy really pissed me off.  I told him, “No, I’m doing just fine thanks,” not even making eye contact.  I packed up my stuff and got out of there.

I headed on a bike path up toward Grand Teton, the king mountain of the park.  A cloud was covering the peak, hovering there for hours as if it were the mountain’s crown.  Just next to it was Mount Teewinot.  I took a few stupid pictures on a dirt road and headed towards Colter Bay, my end destination of the day.

colter bay

I remembered Jack telling me that the Tetons in French meant ‘tits’.  To the early explorers, the mountains looked like a bunch of boobies.  Thus, the range was given the name Tetons.  Hmm.  I decided to incorporate this into my sign and wipe away the message from earlier.  I was so happy that I did a few handstands on the rocky, pine covered beach of Jackson Lake.  Feel those Tetons, ladies.  Examine them.

I went to a cool Indian arts museum in Colter Bay Village.  I wanted the necklace made out of grizzly claws, proving an Indian warrior’s courage and skill as a hunter.

quiet camp

The hiker/biker camp at Colter Bay was set away from all the other sites, and I had the whole place to myself.  I ate dinner (instant potatoes) in silence.

I prepared everything for an early morning departure for 4 AM.  I wanted to get up early and see some wildlife, and the best times to glimpse animals were in the early morning and later in the evening.

operation hitchhike

Jack’s friend Paul invited Clement and I to dinner.  The only problem was Clement and I had to find a way from the southern portion of Jackson to Teton Village.  22 miles.  I was going to cycle the distance, but that would leave Clement hanging solo hitchhiking.  I figured hitchhiking with him would be an adventure in and of itself anyways.  And it was.

We successfully hitchiked to Teton Village in about an hour.  There were multiple turns along the way, so that meant hitching with four different people.  I was pretty happy with our luck.  It was raining too, and I think people felt really sad for us two pathetic hitchers.

Here’s a shot of an ugly, wet cyclist trying to make drivers aware that he’s a really nice guy.  “Hi there!  I won’t kidnap you!”

And here’s Clement being French and trying to romanticize the drivers.  “Hello ladies!  Want to french kiss with ze french fries in ze mouth?  Yes?”  In all fairness, we probably got rides because Clement was better looking.  Look at that cool scarf.

Eating at Teton Village was the easy part.  Hamburgers and brotwursts were had.  We also had some other treats.  YO JACK AND CLEMENT…YOU GOT BROWNED!

After dinner, Jack was able to drop us back off in Jackson.  That left us about 12 miles to hitchhike.  This is where the fun started.

world’s shittiest police chases:  jackson

Clement and I had been warned by Jack that hitchhiking was illegal in the state of Wyoming.  Clement had already been warned by a cop days earlier.  Oh well.  This was a new day, and Clement was with me.  I am Lady Luck in ugly bicyclist form.

We hopped out of Jack’s car and headed for the nearest intersection.  We set up our post about 50 feet past the light so we could target vehicles with waving and smiles, giving them time to pull over. 

I remember that the cops in Jackson were in white SUVs, and there was a white SUV coming right by us.  “This is probably a cop,” I said to Clement, half jokingly.  I continued to stick out my thumb and wave.  The driver had already seen us anyways, so I’ll keep on keeping on.  The white SUV continued towards us, and I was anxious to see if the word ‘POLICE’ was written on the side of the door.  

It was.  Shit.  I laughed and continued to wave at the cop.  “Oh shit,” Clement said.  He sped down the road 100 yards and put his left blinker on.  NO!!!!  I didn’t want a $50 ticket.  “Clement, let’s duck into the grocery store across the street and get off the road,” I said as I crossed the road peeing myself.  Clement was busy hiding behind a metal pole.  Damnit…quit playing around Clement. 

I don’t know what was going through my head.  Maybe I thought I was Jason Bourne trying to escape the CIA.  I think Jason Bourne at the age of 4 had better stealth tactics than I did.  I ended up being a pretty shitty Bourne because the cop saw us enter the grocery store.  I continued inside anyways.  Maybe I’d lose him in the magazine aisle…he’d never find us there.

We had almost made it to the magazine aisle when a loud voice boomed behind us.  “Gentlemen,” the voice stated.  I pretended not to hear it.  I knew it was the cop.  I just wanted to buy some time for some sort of explanation to develop in my head.  “Gentlemen,” the voice boomed again.  We turned around.  The hunt was over.  No escaping the police this time.  This was officially the shittiest police chase in Jackson history.

“I wasn’t born yesterday, gentlemen.  Let me see some IDs.” – Policeman

“Sure.” – Ryan

“You do realize hitchhiking is illegal in Wyoming, don’t you?” – Policeman

“What?  Really?  I guess as soon as we saw you we just wanted to clear the road and save you any trouble.” – Ryan

“Yeah, it’s illegal all over Wyoming.” - Policeman

“We were just trying to get 12 miles down the road before it got dark.  I’m cycling cross-country and not from around here.  We’re headed into the Tetons and Yellowstone tomorrow.” – Ryan

“Oh, you’re camping just south of here?” – Policeman

“Yeah, we’re staying close to Game Creek.” (I didn’t want to tell him we’re in a nice house…I wanted some sympathy) – Ryan

I continued to play the part of Georgia good ‘ole boy who is a tired, desperate cyclist.  I have found that using this persona is really effective in creating a good vibe with strangers.  I managed to get the cop to smile a bit.  He ran our IDs and let us go.  I asked him if he could give us a ride.  Negative.  He laughed though.

I left the grocery store feeling like a stupid teenager.  Where did I think we were going to hide?  We would have to be walking down the highway at some point in the evening.  We would have gotten busted even if we could have momentarily turned invisible.  I guess I just wanted to get off the road to avoid a fine.  It wasn’t like I was evading arrest.    

There was no way Clement and I would walk 12 miles and get back to the house before dark.  It was already 8:30 PM.  We walked a mile outside of the developed areas and pinpointed solo cars.  After 20 minutes, a nice guy named Allen gave us a ride the rest of the way.