That Bull Moose is Some Cow's Beau!

Dane Eastlick, the Deep Sea Angler, in front of the Tetons on our first day as a trio.

Dane and Max riding up a hill at the start of Yellowstone National Park.

Old Faithful! Proving her loyalty. There were hundreds of people sitting eagerly nearby, awaiting the show. And, what a show it was.

They had the right of way.

Video interview with our newest member at the Yellowstone mud pots. Dane, never ceasing to amaze, invented and spoke a fresh language for the podcast (which has yet to be podcasted...)

Silhouettes in West Yellowstone.

While my guitar gently...rests beside a river in Twin Bridges, MT.

Biker gang collision... We ran into this Swiss duo, one of whom has been riding a bike carrying a load of 230 lbs for 14 months! And, he's not stopping until he reaches Cape Horn in May 2010... He showed us up big time.

The work of our friend Derek who put us up in Jackson while our buddy Dane made his way from Denver. We enjoyed several active days of yoga, rock climbing, photo shoots, touch football and drinking with our hosts Derek, Erin, Nicole and Leif. They were very generous having the bearded ladies occupy their living room for several days before Dane arrived.

Introducing the newest member of Cycle Vikings, a man hardened by building log homes in the Alaskan frontier throughout driving rain, trained in Materials Engineering in the shiny walls of California Polytechnic Institute, the Valedictorian of Etna, CA, the one, the only, the legend in human form...Dane Eastlick, appearing as we would have imagined, in jeans and a flannel.

On the road after our stay in Jackson. Dane purchased a violin at a pawn shop to complete the band's unique sound.

Dane making some minor modifications to his rig using prehistoric contruction methods and certified organic materials. It's science...

A view of the Snake River as we climbed into the heart of Yellowstone National Park.

Mud pot in mid explosion along a cooler stream coming off the adjacent caldera. The area was formed by the underground supervolcano hundreds of thousands of years ago.

A steamy mud pot in Yellowstone. All along the boardwalk water gurgled out of the ground at temperatures well over 100 degrees fahrenheit.

With three people now, the option of more intricate poses became available.

The bike camp in Twin Bridges, MT with a shower, sink and grill! Located right next to the river, we had a tremendous sunset and fell asleep to fish feeding on mayflies. The next day we had a steep climb out of town and descended into former boom town Virginia City for the local delicacy, Huckleberry milkshakes with a hefty dollop of whipped cream and a cherry on top.

Dane strikes a pose near beaverhead rock, an important landmark for the Lewis and Clark expedition. Dane had been working on his helmet tan throughout the day.

At last...the Adventure Cycling headquarters in Missoula, MT. After stopping there, we had the rare opportunity to see our friend Peter's new pad under construction. It had it's very own moat, fruit trees and shiny new tiles in the kitchen and shower. We were all very impressed at Peter's ability to design and construct a home while attending graduate school. His lovely partner Melissa treated us to Missoula's finest pizza operation where we regained our auxilary calories for the road ahead.
We were also treated with great hospitality by Kansas City native Emily and her roommates in a beautiful spot near a local park. They had a lush garden and fresh eggs for us in the morning. The men of the house, Dan and Charlie, headed out into the wilderness the next day in search of bear for a research project.

The inner workings of the Adventure Cycling headquarters, many of the bikes lining the walls had been ridden on extended tours.

After a tour of Adventure Cycling we sat down for some ice cream and soda. The organization had been founded by four riders after their Hemistour from Alaska to the tip of Argentina on ten speed bicycles. The front hall was lined with portraits of cyclists since the 70s, we recognized a few of the 2009 riders. Apparently each succesive summer brings record numbers of cyclists. This year the number is close to 700. We also purchased some more maps...

I'm goin' to Jackson

Byron, the Monk King Bird in his element sitting on his foldable chair, next to his dead mosquito and syrup art, drinking a beer.

The potter of Jeffrey City, WY. Byron, mentioned in the previous post, lives in this abandoned gas station across the street from the only other commercial property in town, a bar.

The new flat tire guy. Max changing a tube on an uphill right outside of Muddy Gap Junction, WY. The pump had been so overused by Kevin before he purchased his Schwalbe Marathon + tires that it literally exploded mid-flump. Duct tape saved the day.

classy...

The majestic Tetons.

Our first views of the Tetons during our descent from Togwotee Pass. Kevin is trying out the mid-ride photo shoot technique, cautious of oncoming cars on this windy downhill!

We pulled off the road out of some gnarly headwinds and a cold front into the parking lot of Longhorn RV/campground two miles from Dubois, WY, where we ended up spending the night. Within minutes, we were joined by this darling procession of riders, the Tribe of Judah gang. Surly looking fellows, but born again christians and super nice guys.

Tetons over water, just inside the Grand Teton National Park.

Descending from Togotowee Pass we heard there was some heavy construction. Apparently workers shuttled cyclists through a 7 mile mud pit. However arriving ourselves on a Sunday, we weren't as lucky.

The last few miles of the 90+ mile day. Not a bad way to close out the ride in the Grand Teton National Park on our way to Jackson Hole, WY and the abode of Derek and Leif (two transplanted Guilford-ites).

"You too, b*%&h!"

Sinclair, WY...aka the devil's domain. Frightening spires shot flames high into the sky at this oil refinery.

A bearded woman attacked us. She wanted money and booze.

Split Rock, a national historic site, was one of the checkpoints of the Pony Express. The Express was a horseback mail service providing "speedy" delivery from east to west and vv. Though popular when around (1860-1861), the telegraph quickly put the cowboys out of business.

An uncomfortable Kevin George after riding through the storm on the plateau above. Making our way to the rim of the Wyoming basin we faced the most severe headwinds and stinging rain of the trip. But, once in the basin, we were clear of all stormy weather and riding under clear blue skies.

Kevin riding the remaining picturesque miles into Lander, WY, where we stayed at the city park and showered at the local swimming pool. A pool supervisor enlightened us of the pronunciation of "Dubois" and "Popo Agie," respectively and phonetically, Doo-boyz and Perposia. Thenceforth locals, we took to the park and tried out our new slang on...no one. Lander was a great little town.

Our next destination and the latest edition National Geographic; an in depth look at the facts and conspiracies of Yellowstone's supervolcano and what would become of our Northwest territory if submerged in liquid hot MAGMA. The magazine was a coincidental find in Fort Washakie Grocery...two nights prior we stayed with the most colorful character we've encountered to date (Byron the 40-year-old hippie potter living in an abandoned gas station in Jeffrey City, WY he purchased for $5,000) who's often rambling monologues touched on dead mosquito art while inebriated, Nostrodamus' prediction of the end of the world and volcanic winter after Yellowstone blows. "We'll be killed instantly, thank god," he plainly stated of the northwest populace. "And all of you on the east coast will either die of hunger or revert to cannibalism..." Pleasant!

The next morning we awoke to what Kevin still attests to have been a nightmare...a Jeffrey City woman-on-the-brink. Bearing a striking resemblence to Evillene, the Wicked Witch of the West, she appeared as if in a plume of smoke and without missing a crooked stride threatened Max that she had an "Apache in my truck and I'll blow you off the road." She then turned to Kevin, who stood shirtless and stunned, and said, "You too, b*%&h!" If I recall it accurately she proceeded to fly away on her broomstick.

The road at times was filled with crickets which would jump in and off the bicycles. Sadly not all of them made the trip alive. Years ago locusts had plagued areas in Kansas, with swarms so thick the railroad couldn't run. The bodies of the crushed insects lubricated the tracks so much the engine couldn't pull the train out.

We came upon this sign in the Wind River Indian Reservation. The mountain in the back is Crowheart Butte named for when Chief Washakie danced around a victory fire with quess which part of a rival Crow Indian on his spear. The battle between the tribes was for hunting rights in the surrounding lands. Chief Washakie went on to become a great friend of the white settlers and trappers that later inhabited the area. He and Sacajawea of the Lewis and Clark expedition are buried in Fort Washakie up the road.

We'll be taking suggestions for the caption of this photo...the best will be posted in the next edition of Cycle Vikings.

Descending into this canyon we noticed the very flat mount in the center of this picture. Also seen is the beginning of the cloud cover that would become a storm that evening.

Kevin riding through a canyon of red clay. We had recently become targets of a drive-by bottle throwing. Thankfully it was plastic! We must haven been mistaken for a roving recycling bin.

Similar to the sand cups made in elementary school, the stratification of colored sediment persisted throughout the mountains. Amazingly the erosion that forms the peaks still preserves the patterns.

Riding along the Wind River we encountered another fierce headwind, almost forcing us to a stationary position. We pulled into an RV park and were quickly joined by a motorcycle club of about 20 people. Engines grumbling and leather squeaking their party was from all over the country. Their mission was the conversion of bad boy riders from the likes of Hells Angels to born again Christians. I suppose Kevin and I didn't look mean enough.
We ended up staying in the RV park which turned out to be there first summer in operation. It had shower rooms that rivaled those found in a hotel. Our neighbors were very friendly in their larger RVs, giving us wood, allowing us to use their cookware and even a tomato imported from their home garden in Iowa.

Holed up in "el tento de smello" Kevin and Max's knee ponder their situation. Waking up to very cold weather and rain, the duo had been informed by a local guide that there was snow expected on the pass they were to climb. With no intention of cryogenically preserving any member of their bodies, they decided to wait out the storm in lovely Dubois, WY.
It was hard to compare with the junior high school pool in Lander, but there was plenty of avocado chicken pizza and comfortable wooden chairs in the Library.

“There are those who look at things the way they are, and ask why... I dream of things that never were, and ask Wyoming?”

Kevin and Lucas pre-bar in the Denver Hyatt.

Checking the Crackberry in the Pinon Pine suite.

Lucas leading a lesson to a captivated audience.

Prantalope sighting.

A nice gazebo in the Walden city park, we didn't meet the mosquitoes until later.

We actually saw pelicans in this lake...mountain pelicans?

Our best imitation of the ubiquitous Wyoming Cowboy seen on the sign above and license plates.