Day 17 – Happy Fourth of July!

July 4, 2018

Day 17 – Dubois (rhymes with Joyce) to Riverton, WY – 79 miles, 1,251 feet vertical

The alarm went off at 5:15, then again at 5:30, and after hitting snooze a few times, the sun came up at precisely 5:43. “Hrmmmpf,” I thought, stretching.  “Morning already?”  I clicked on my Weather Channel app. 38 degrees.  Seriously?  Is that Fahrenheit? Are you kidding me?  Back home, I have an absolute floor temp of 43, below which, I go to the gym instead.

It looked like it would warm up gradually, and the forecast for our destination in Riverton was 80s.  So, this was a day for layers and for stripping.  Thank goodness for the vans and their perfectly timed “drop baskets”.  We could go on stripping all day to our heart’s content.

The early rollers were already geared up for their early departure (god bless them), while we headed next door to the Cowboy Cafe for breakfast.  Oh, right!  It’s The Fourth of July!  All the wait staff were loosely dressed in red, white and blue Americana of various sorts.  And when I say “loosely”, I mean that in every sense of the word.  

Breakfast was a “real” breakfast in this Wyoming cowboy town.  And that meant: huge portions of eggs potatoes, cheese and meats of various ilk.  Oh wait, I meant elk.  I followed Randy’s lead (see? not just on the bike) and ordered the “Yellowstone” skillet.  This was an enormous melange of eggs over-easy, potatoes, cheese, spicy elk sausage — our patriotic waitress recommended this over the buffalo. “Definitely, go for the elk!” she declared — and all this on a cast iron skillet, complete with a potholder. “Careful, honey, that plate is hot!” The coffee kept flowing non-stop and the sourdough bread was perfect.  I ate about half of the plate before I surrendered. 

Being Independence Day, — quick pop quiz: anybody remember which king we are celebrating independence FROM?  (Oops, sorry, I promised non-political.) — we were directed to wear our festive red, white and blue America by Bicycle jerseys.  This meant figuring out how many layers to put underneath. It was already in the low 40s and warming rapidly, so the trick was to stay just warm enough at the start and strip layers at the first opportunity.  I decided this would be a smart time to break out the long fingered gloves — finally. 

I was a little slow out the gate, and my hammer team left without me. Waaah. I figured, ok, easy ride today, no big climbs, mostly flat or downhill (emphasis on “mostly”), so I resolved to get back to Lawrence O’Donnell and ride solo.  About a half-mile out, … there they were, waiting for me! “C’mon Jeff, this is YOUR day.”  Translation: today is flat, you suck at climbs, but we need your cylinder firing in the paceline, and besides, we want to be in your pictures.  I held out my arms, “I feel the love!”

The opening section today was spectacular, with red rock cliffs, jagged abutments, rocky streams and photo ops everywhere.  It was so beautiful, the train actually stopped twice for a photo!!!  By now it was getting toasty and we all stopped at the Deana’s van and peeled off all the extra layers.  

We passed Jon at the 40-mile mark today.  He was pulled over at a rest area as we flew by. “Hey, that’s Jon,” someone yelled.  As we waved to Jon, Jon waved back at us and yelled out “You’re LATE!!” ‘Twas true. My fault. Sor-ry … 

At the second SAG stop, and after an all-too-short interval (I thought), the train was ready to pull out. “Ya coming, Jeff?” someone yelled (probably Randy).  “No thanks, I think I’ll fly solo the rest of the way.”  I love these guys, but fact is, I missed a number of good photo ops while on the morning train.  Not the big huge vistas that make everybody ooh and ahh, but the details, the small stuff:  the unique road sign (“WANTED: Antlers and Horns”), the quaint house nestled in a canyon, the Indian Reservation sign that reminds us who was here first.  And so on.  

I met an orthodox Jewish bike rider 12 years ago in Israel.  After waiting around an unduly long time for the day’s ride to start, I had a lot of trouble clipping into my pedals.  I finally realized I had forgotten to remove the protective cleat covers from the bottom of my shoes.  I felt really silly.  I sheepishly looked at him and sighed, “Details.”  He looked at me and held up a lecturing finger, “You will find god in the details.”

I pulled in to Riverton around 1:30 or so.  It was hot.  I checked the temperature.  The digits had magically reversed.  83 degrees.  In the shade.  

Tomorrow is our longest day at 119 miles and it will take us into Casper, WY for our well-earned second rest day.  

Happy Fourth, everybody.