This is the eleventh installment detailing the bike trip that my brother and I took in 1971. Last week’s story is here. Each diary contains a link to the previous one.
June 24, 1971
After yesterday’s brutal ride against the wind, we decided to get an early start. We set out from Hells Half Acre and headed west on US Highway 20. Our tires were humming along the highway by 7:30, which was indeed early for us. Soon we realized that the conditions were the opposite of what we had been experiencing. For once, we were going downhill and with the wind! We rode hard, knowing that the weather gods could turn against us at any minute.
The store at Hells Half Acre, 2005 photo.
That part of the trip was a blur to me, because we were zipping along. In a mere three hours and ten minutes, we covered the 55 miles to Shoshoni. Average speed was over 17mph, compared to our usual 10 or 12. Patrick confided in me later that he needed to pee, but he did not dare ask me to stop while we were making such good progress.
Good thing the wind was behind us, because there’s nothing to stop it from blowing. 2005 photo.
We celebrated our good fortune over lunch in Shoshoni. Barring an awful turn of events, our destination of Thermopolis would be reached with plenty of daylight to spare. Highway 20 bent to the north and skirted along Boysen Reservoir.
I was intrigued by the 1971 color slide, left, as I did not know the location. Google Street View, right, shows it to be a view of Boysen Reservoir from the highway.
Rather abruptly, the wide Wyoming vistas transformed into a narrow gorge, Wind River Canyon. We enjoyed this part of the ride as much as we’d enjoyed the morning’s wind-assisted run. The highway hugged one side of the river while a railroad hugged the other. High cliffs soared above us. There were even some short tunnels, our first of the trip.
Emerging from a tunnel in Wind River Canyon, scan of 1971 slide.
Wind River Canyon, 2012 photo.
In a canyon, your eyes can play tricks on you. The road went generally downhill as it followed the river. However, there were some places where I’d have sworn the grade was downhill, but we were having to pedal hard to move along. Up and down are not always easy to discern.
Some fifteen miles later, the river valley broadened. Soon we were in the town of Thermopolis, home to one of the largest mineral hot springs in the world.
The park at the hot spring, 2012 photo.
Travertine terraces at the hot spring, 2012 photo.
The park surrounding the hot spring was supposed to have a campground. Patrick and I were in the process of looking for it when we were greeted by youths of varying ages who engaged us in conversation. Next thing we knew, we were once again being invited into someone’s home for the night. There were two brothers who were close in age to Patrick and I. Their friend was on the roster of the local baseball team. We stashed the bikes at our hosts’ home, and spent the rest of the evening at the baseball park. According to my notes, Thermopolis defeated Riverton 8-0.
Our day’s ride had been the easiest 90 miles of the entire trip.
June 25, 1971
Upon departing Thermopolis, we left the Bighorn River valley and headed straight up a long hill. Our legs got a good workout, and the day had just begun. At first the wind was slightly at our backs. We were willing to take any assist that Mother Nature might give us, because out here she frequently changed her mind.
The only town along the highway was the oddly named village of Meeteetse. Fortunately for us, the town had a restaurant that served a good lunch. Patrick ordered a milkshake to go with his meal. When I saw how big it was, I ordered one for myself.
I peeked at the jukebox and saw that, nestled among a long list of country songs was Emerson, Lake and Palmer’s Lucky Man. I’m not sure what the locals thought of our choice, but nobody gave us any grief.
Aerial view of the terrain along Highway 120. Looks pretty desolate!
The day was hot and dry, and our canteens were nearly empty. The water from the spigot had bits of organic matter floating about, as though it had come directly from the Greybull River (which was running high from melting snow). We didn’t have much choice in the matter. The water tasted good, and neither of us suffered any ill effects.
Ten miles beyond Meeteetse, a highway rest area beckoned. We spent about a half hour there, taking in the scenery of the dry countryside. Another 25 miles remained between us and our destination, and the wind became more uncooperative as we went along. We found a campground on the west side of Cody and settled in for the evening. We had pedaled 85 miles, on top of yesterday’s 90 mile ride.
Our route from Hells Half Acre to Shoshoni to Thermopolis to Cody.
As was the case last week, I might be out in the woods when the diary posts. If so, carry on as you usually do.
New Day Cafe is a daily community diary. We have a regular core group that shows up nearly every day, plus a few stragglers. Everyone is welcome; we’re always happy to have new folks show up. But please leave your attitude at the door. Personal attacks will be countered with scorn, and repeat violators will be flagged into oblivion.
Remember too: By group consensus, no pictures of Dear Leader are allowed here.
