A Day of Nothing

After almost a week at Sturgis, we were talking about meeting up with Mark in a few weeks in Southern California. I thought it would be fun to bring him something he left at Sturgis. Mark always brought a kiddie pool to our campsite in Sturgis. When it gets over 100F during the day, nothing cools you off better than a little water. Well, along with the pool, Mark brought a little wind-up turtle, we later named Waldo. That would fit well on the bike, and it’s something Mark would remember was at Sturgis. Cool.

 

Paul, Mike, Tom, Deb, and I loaded up the bikes, and headed West into Wyoming, along I-90. Within a few miles of the border, the grass was mostly gone. The trees were gone. The ground was rolling hills, but they were rocky. Sage brush grows in the protection of the rocks. But that’s about all. Nothing. Above the nothing on the ground, the sky is a brilliant blue. It’s hard to describe, but it is really a different shade of blue than I had ever seen, and a much more open land. No wonder Montana is called “Big Sky” country. The sign on the highway says “Next services 60 miles”. And I thought farmland was ‘nothing’. Wow.

About 50 miles later, Deb gets word up to Paul that he’s low on gas. We slow down, to get better gas mileage. Just as we pull into the gas station, Deb runs out of gas. He rolls up to a pump.

We ride through Gillette. Coming from the Midwest, it is really cool to see these places that were names in the Western movies. This seemed like a fictional place until now.

We stop in the city of Buffalo, and prepare to head over the Big Horn mountains. While we put our leathers on, Paul tells me to take my time and get pictures wherever I feel like it. I can just meet them in the town of Ten Sleep, 60 miles away (with no possible way to get lost). It was really nice to know that there wasn’t pressure, and I really wanted to get pictures of this trip.

While the Black Hills are big, the Big Horns are bigger. The road climbs quickly after we get out of the city. The altitude and light air cause the bikes to run rough. I had been warned about this, and was assured that it would be OK. It just felt like the bike had little power to climb the mountain, and an occasional sputter.

The mountain range was fascinating. We climbed for several miles, with plenty of big curves. We came over a mountain to find a large valley. The road wound back and forth down the side of the mountain, then followed a river through a narrow valley. After many miles, the rock mountain walls get smaller, until they melt into small hills. We are in the town of Ten Sleep. For pioneers, mostly miners, this was a popular stop. But now, it is a small and isolated town.

Paul knows a shortcut to our destination for the night, the town of Greybull. We turn off the main highway onto a narrow, anonymous road. Instantly, we’re transported into desert. Where we had grey vertical walls of rock, we have gentle mounds of red stone.. We’ve only gone a few miles from Ten Sleep, but it is like riding in an entirely different part of the country. Desert in Wyoming. The road still follows the river, and train tracks aren’t far away. There are several farms and ranches that use the river for irrigation. We ride almost 40 miles before we merge back with the main highway, the first road we’ve seen since Ten Sleep.

Greybull is a busy town, as compared to the tiny remote towns we’ve seen since the Big Horn Mountains. There are two main highways that intersect here. Deb knows of a biker-friendly place to stay, the Yellowstone Motel. We get several rooms for the five of us.

After a week of camping at Sturgis, it feels like we’ve returned to civilization. It is really nice to see a real bed, shower, and flush toilet. There’s a small pile of old wash cloths and towels, with a sign inviting bikers to use these on their bikes and boots, rather than the clean towels.

After everyone has a chance to shower (WOW! Hot water!) we walk across the street to a trendy local restaurant. Real menus! Real food! I realize that it had been at least a week since my last nutritious meal. Several of us order the steak and salad. Wow. It was the best steak I had ever eaten. There is something to be said for being in ranch country.

After a great meal, it feels like a long walk across the street to the motel and a real bed and pillow. I sleep like a log.

In the morning, Deb is outside working on his bike, aptly named ‘Pins & Needles’. After cleaning the carburetor, he realizes that it was more than the altitude that was affecting his bike. The motel desk gives directions to the local auto mechanic, who also has a bike. Paul gives Deb a ride, but the mechanic is away at Sturgis (go figure). We decide to think over our options over breakfast at a local diner. We’re almost a thousand miles from Seattle, and he is certain the bike won’t make it. Rather than getting stuck miles in the middle of nowhere (and there is an abundance of ‘nowhere’ here), the only option is to leave the bike in Greybull. Since the plan was for me to ride with Deb to Seattle, its an easy decision to just put him on the back of my bike. While he goes to make arrangements to store the bike (the owners of the motel gladly store it in their garage), I take our camping gear to the Post Office and send it ahead to Seattle. This makes room on my bike for Deb, and we both have the clothes we’ll need for the next few days. While we still don’t know exactly what is wrong with his bike, it is safe, and we are still able to head down the road and continue traveling.

We ride to Cody, then head into the mountains on the Chief Joseph Highway, named for the Indian leader who helped his people escape the murderous US Cavalry by heading into the mountains. This is a wonderful stretch of road, with many twists and turns up and down the sides of the intimidating gray mountains. Eighty miles later, we turn a corner and we’re suddenly in a town.

Next: Around Yellowstone