Continental Drift

Twin Bridges, Montana, only has one bridge, but it is possibly the most bicycle friendly little town we have yet visited. With a population of 400, the town has managed to build a cyclist only campground, complete with showers, toilets, a sink and indoor area. All this for free and just for cyclists. A rare treat.

Bill White, the founder, came by to welcome us. He gave us a few tips, “watch out for the local Madison County deputy Sheriff, who likes to pull over cyclists and tell them off for riding on the road”, he said.
He also told us the bear story. The one we didn’t want to hear. A north Yellowstone bear and her cubs had attacked three tents in the park a few days earlier and killing a man. A survivor played dead and got away with only a broken arm. We suddenly felt like all the tourists who come to Australia and fear the native spiders, sharks and snakes. A few days later, we rolled into the world’s first national park, and were greeted at a campsite by one of the rangers.

“Store all your food in your car”, he warned. “This is BEAR country”
“uh.. what if you don’t have a car?”, we asked.

Unlike the other four million annual visitors to Yellowstone, who all have cars, we were petrified of being eaten alive by bears, particularly given the recent events. We even went to bed dreaming of throwing tomato sauce over someone else’s tent so they’d be eaten instead. Preferably one of the 120 boy scouts we were camped next to.

Thankfully we didn’t see the campsite’s resident bear, but Yellowstone was overflowing with bison, elk, deer and the most numerous beast of all, the RV.

We followed the RV caravan as it snaked out of Yellowstone into Grand Teton National Park. In sharp contrast, Grand Teton’s jagged mountains rise out of the ground so ferociously that it actually does take your breath away.

We knew we would have to go up at least one of peaks. We ended up crossing three that day and the continental divide with them! That makes at least five continental divides now. It was cool the first time.

Climbing out of the Tetons over Togwotee Pass at 9,658 feet would be the second highest climb of our trip. We decided to do half the 18 mile climb and stop at a campground on the way up so we could do the rest, fresh the next morning. The campground turned out to be non existent. Oh joy. So, with nowhere to stay, we pushed on and up, trying desperately to beat the sunset ( and the evil horse flies and mosquitoes) and find a bed for the night.

We reached the top at 9 o’clock, thoroughly exhausted and hardly able to take in the enormity of the mountains behind us. We were ready to coast down the other side. Murphy’s law prevailed and there were massive road works. We ended up being put in the pilot van, bicycles and all and were driven down the mountain 5 miles dodging the construction trucks. So, I guess we can’t say we’ve completed the entire journey by bike now, although a few wrong turns have certainly made up for the distance.
We made it to our destination well past bedtime, exhausted and elated. Ahead lay windy Wyoming.