Grand Teton Nat Pk, WY, USA - The 'snapped-off branch in question' aka 'the culprit' deftly decorated with a small wad of my hair from the injury (I sawed the branch off afterwards, sorry US Federal Government)

Courtesy of www.SladeRide.com

(Gallery at bottom of post & 2 videos below)

I value the top of my bonce, my head, my noggin, my tete, my skull, my scalp.

So, why is it that I stabbed a broken, dagger-like tree branch (still attached to pine in question) into the top of it?  Yup.  And I wasn’t even riding my bike at the time!

Picture the scene: having just ridden some amazing descents through construction areas on dirt roads, cranking the top gear, grinning wildly at the road crews as they waved me past, having seen the Teton mountains (gorgeous) for the first time, having met and chatted to some lovely people along the route and then not failed to notice a truly enormous proper mountain storm developing overhead, I’m part elated part anxious to get to the campsite quickly and pitch my tent before the maelstrom unleashes its wrath and fury from overhead.

15 miles, I have to go 15 miles.  I can feel the growing head-wind, smell the rise in humidity (what am I some kind of wild animal now?!) and see the clouds building and the lightning arcing on the horizon, getting…closer.  Time to crank again, I push hard as there’s nowhere nearby to shelter at all.

I make it, just, for the hail starts almost as soon as I’ve pitched my tent and am packing the metal ‘bear-proof box’, but then as I stand and start to walk toward the tent I feel an excruciatingly sharp jab on the top of my head and I fall instinctively to the ground.  Swearing ensues.  Oh yes.  Now being tall (6′ 5″) I’m unfortunately used to hitting my cranium on ill-designed fixtures and fittings at various locales.  Like most would I check for bleeding and, thankfully, 99 times out of 100 (like I say its an occupational hazard for the tall!) there’s nothing, just a bruise.  Not this time.  First a spot on my fingers then my hand is covered then I can’t see out of one eye from the goo dripping down my face…seriously!  Expletives!

Grand Teton Nat Pk, WY, USA - Biblically proportioned storm approaches...now starts the race to get to the campsite (15 miles) & pitch the tent before the impending maelstrom

Aside from getting to water my first thought is: bears.  The shock must have addled my logic slightly since  for a brief moment I think that they’ll all sprint down from the hills (calling up their bear mates on their bear-phones no doubt) as they sniff the intoxicating perfume of the plasma oozing from my skull, ready to maul and devour me, feverishly (more of this fear later).

They don’t (of course) but I do try to concentrate and tilt my head away from my body in an attempt to keep blood off my clothes as I make it to the campsite’s restrooms leaving a globule-trail of red along the sandy ground as the hail squalls around me.  Wow head wounds bleed a lot don’t they?!

I wash under the tap and a kindly chap in the loos helps out, passing me a wad of toilet tissue with which I apply pressure.  After about 10 minutes I seem to have stemmed the bleeding as he then heroically applies some antiseptic and a band aid but not before saying something like ‘Man that looks a bit narly, maybe you should get that looked at’.  In the confusion of it all I’ve forgotten his name but if somehow you’re reading this, thank you

At this I walk to the RV of the lovely Jim and Faith the campground-hosts who kick into action and call up ‘dispatch’ – within a couple of minutes Ranger no. 1 appears, a very nice lady who has some First Aid training (she’d been giving a ‘Ranger Talk’ on the campsite and had heard the call on her radio).  She defers to an ‘EMT’ Ranger who is apparently in the area on his way to a fire caused by the lightning storm – he’s able to stop off and check me out.  His prognosis is that the wound looks on the cusp of needing more attention.  So, another radio call and Ranger no. 3 arrives, Miriam (she is Ranger, Police Officer and Paramedic in one) or ‘Super Ranger’ as I have decided to dub her who very kindly offers to drive me to Jackson hospital, negating the need for an ambulance to be called (remember, topically readers, this is the USA…!).

I’m sure I’m talking jibberish in the truck as she drives the 20 or so miles but in my mind it was a lovely chat.  I try not to stare at the shotguns that sit between us in a rack.

It must have been a quiet night in Jackson for I’m seen straight away (those who know admission / triage may tell me that head wounds have a priority) and given a much needed Gatorade as I feel positively dehydrated after my long ride which ended more than 3 hours ago at this point.

Nr West Yellowstone, MT, USA - Hawks' nest (those look a bit big to be babies don't they? Kids! They're all the same, think you've got rid of them and they're back, treating this nest like a hotel!)

“Ooh thats a nice one” says Dr Thomas.  4 stitches later, my first ever (despite numerous tumbles, crashes and wipe-outs whilst mountain biking especially as a kid, somehow I’ve reached the age of 34 never needing stiches) the inch long gash is closed-up (sorry, bit graphic) although not before the bleeding started again in earnest!

After chatting to Dr T and fellow Doc about my ride (they know the Dalton in Alaska so are somewhat intrigued) and saying goodbye to Nurse Kim (thanks all), Miriam, who has been able to wait for me, drives me back to the campsite.  I think I may have made a bit more sense on the return journey.  Miriam you were fantastic, thank you

I let Jim and Faith know I’m back and ok at which point they insist that I come and eat dinner with them – its now around 9pm and I haven’t eaten since about 5pm (granola bars!) and in spite of the shock of the assault on my bonce I’m famished.  The kindly Texans give me some good home food and we chat about life.  Thank you ever so much both and Rangers 1 and 2, too.

(The next day Jim talks to me about getting a Ranger to come and remove the low-lying branch in question at which point I try to avoid the topic for I had already put my Leatherman to work and sawed-off said ‘dagger’ partly in revenge (!) and partly to stop it happening to anyone else…that said, it being a National Park, damage to trees is in fact a Federal Offence, oops!)

(In all seriousness, bears are a risk in the ‘Greater Yellowstone Area’ with an average of 14 people per year being killed by them.  Having been in ‘bear-country’ almost constantly since late May I was realising at this point in the trip that maybe I was growing tired of the daily precautions and in spite of some education, resignation and acceptance, of the unavoidable ocassional fear.  I awoke one night in my tent whilst in the Tetons hearing what was, incontravertibly, a growl.  I’m pretty sure it was a dream but it showed me what was on my mind if I didn’t know already.  That morning Jim told me that a couple of backcountry campers had only last night been run out of their site by 3 bears, just a few miles up the mountainside – I’d been hiking just a mile away from that area only the day before.  Spooky.  On thinking through my future route and considering the approach of winter, when bears commonly come to lower ground to ‘stock-up’ I found myself ‘reasoning’, sensibly around the concerns but I won’t deny they’re still ‘there’, less apparent but there nonetheless.)

Before I left Helena in Montana I’d crossed the Continental Divide 4 times in 3 months and reached a maximum of 6200 ft.  In the last month I’ve taken that total up to 10!  8262 ft, 8391 ft, 7988 ft, 9658 ft, 6720 ft & 7174 ft,!  All of these were in Wyoming where I was regularly above 6000 ft, often 7000 ft whilst camping.  A lot of it has been on ‘High Mountain Plains’ – I haven’t really felt like I was Clint Eastwood.  Oh no, not me

(Admittedly the highest of the above crossings included 500 ft of ascent in a ‘Pilot Car’ through major construction work, despite my protests with the driver that I wanted to ride it!  I met another cyclist later who told me he’d heard about the ‘Brit who wants to cycle everthing’ from the driver…oh dear!  Actually it was quite cool sitting in the back of the truck with Charles looking at the view…I still want to ride everything though!)

I also chose to go via the Snowy Mountain Pass (10,847 ft) in southern Wyoming – whilst some of the aforementioned passes were tough (the highest having 3000 ft of height-gain) this one was in a different league.  It had over 4000 ft of ascent,  a rocky track across a field at the start where I found myself out of the saddle in order to balance the bike and stop it from falling sideways, squalling thunderstorms at the top, a definate case of mild hypoxia (unexpected since I’ve previously been almost twice as high but it taught me some lessons about cycle-touring at altitude) and absolutely stunning, huge granite cliffs towering above windswept lakes.

And the descent, oh my oh my oh my!  10 miles, uninterupted, flat-out with a tail-wind only braking twice, once for the second of two tight hairpins / switchbacks and then for a cattlegrid.  Thank you disc-brakes!  I did it in 15 minutes!  Thats averaging 40 mph!  On a bicycle!  Without a doubt, this was one of the best day’s riding I’ve done in a long long long time and if I ever doubted why I’m doing this, its for days like those ones!

(and to think that one reason for doing it was that I wanted to do a 10,000 ft Pass – proud fool!)

Snowy Mt Pass, WY, USA - 10,847 ft & just incredibly hard with hypoxia & frequent 'pauses' near the top but wow was it worth it to see, this

I’ve had brutal headwinds in southern Montana but amazing tail-winds in Wyoming pushing me to 25 mph on the flat, seen the bonkers ‘Great Divide Basin’ (like ‘the moon but with shrubs’ I’d say) where the spine of the Rockies splits in two (go figure), almost ridden over 2 Rattlesnakes (I know!), seen Autumn / Fall approach as the leaves turn, been reminded that Winter is just a snowstorm away (I had a few inches of snow on my tent last week and rode through a near white-out whilst climbing to 8000 ft to reach the Colorado border), visited the only prison (now a museum) to house both Butch Cassidy AND Billy the Kid, met more lovely and fascinating people including an increasing number of cyclists doing the ‘Trans-Am’ route across the USA (hi to Trevor and Nick from Ohio) such as the couple with 4 kids on 2 Tandems and one Single where one of the Tandems had…a kiddie trailer, more Store owners giving me free-camping and great Campsite hosts (hi Dave and Chris from Lander) AND been joined by Derek the Jackalope my new ‘Navigator’ (he and Charles are now in cahoots on all sorts I’m sure).

(thanks again to Chuck & Pauline for dinner in Centennial, WY)

In Yellowstone I treated myself and took a vehicle tour to cover the hundreds of miles of parkways and then spent a few days riding through the park seeing some of the thermal wonders (which were great) but I think I’d like to come back in winter to see those Bison covered in snow, breathing steam into the air (thank you David Attenborough for presenting me with this image!).

Somehow I’ve also had a large number of rest days too.  Hmmm.  On one of those I think I gatecrashed (unintentionally!) an amazing Rock Climbing Film Festival at the University of Wyoming in Laramie ( highlights of which for me were Alex Honnold ‘Free Soloing’ Half Dome in Yosemite plus some Patagonian Base Jumping – see Reel Rock ).

I’ve reached the outskirts of Denver.  Its rained for the last 3 days and there is heavy snow above 9000 feet.  I’m taking a couple of weeks off the bike to meet friends and chill-out…more about this soon

Take care all and thanks for your ongoing support.

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Nr Maligne Lake, Jasper Nat Pk, Alberta, Canada - Alvin gives us a turn...

Courtesy of www.SladeRide.com

(Gallery at bottom of post)

“What do you mean you ‘don’t take tents’? You’re advertised as a campsite and the road signs show a picture of A TENT!!!” say I, incredulous in the least.

“I’m sorry but we don’t take tents, we’ve had some trouble with vandalism from ‘tenters’.  There’s a site which does take tents 15 km out of town, I can give you directions.”

I: “I’ve ridden 90 miles to get here on a loaded bicycle, I don’t think I can ride another ’15k’, can’t you make an exception as it’s just me on my own?”

(by ‘loaded bicycle’ did I mean ‘loaded’ like a gun?)

RV site lady: “I’m sorry there’s nothing I can do.”

Me: “I’m not happy, I’m really not happy, this is not on – you should take down the signs 5 MILES OUT OF TOWN WITH A PICTURE OF A TENT ON THEM!!!”

(in hindsight I realise – thanks Nancy – that at this juncture, with a queue of eager but undoubtedly somewhat embarrassed RV-ers building behind me that I was no doubt compounding the view held by ‘RV site lady’ that tenters were aggressive, surly vandals)

I retreat, tail between legs – what could I do?  If I’d persisted the Mounties may have been called (I’m in Canada here, Grand Prairie, Alberta having come from Dawson Creek, BC that, long, day).  ‘RV site lady’ softens somewhat when I tell her I’m sorry to hear of the trouble she’s had but I’m just very tired and was really looking forward to a night somewhere with ‘amenities’ (the site was bang in the middle of town) and suggests that I could try camping in the City Park…

…to which I first go, only to find upon arrival that the area she means is quite clearly the domain of a few dozen down-on-their-luck homeless people, the irony being that for that night at least, I was too.  Yes, I know, I could have splurged on a motel for $100 (there were no hostels in town) but I was so into ‘camping mode’ at that point (going nearly 50 nights during this part of the trip sleeping in a tent) so it only briefly crossed my mind.  As lovely a time as I’m sure I’d have had with the park-dwellers (normal people fallen perhaps on hard times, I’m sure) I chose the other campsite, ’15k’ out of town.

One of the reasons I was so hopeful (and then forlorn) about the first campsite was that it had a cinema (multiplex no less) literally opposite – for those who know me I kind of like films (a lot!) and after many weeks without I was chomping at the bit for some celluloid-action.  Undeterred (read: stubborn as a mule) I bought a ticket for the 8pm showing of the Hangover.  I checked my watch: 7pm.  I had to ride 15 kms each way (not to mention find the site called ‘Country Roads’, which turned out to be very apt, being located in the sticks on a dirt track) between which I needed to put my tent up.  And all of this in 1 hour.

I just did it (numb nut!) in 1 hour 10 minutes (somehow taking a detour via the very grand, Grand Prairie Country Club) and settled down in my seat to be entertained.

No trailers.  Hmmm.  The film seemed pretty well progressed, like to the point that I had no idea what was going on (ok ok its hardly cerebral art house stuff but I’d been on the road for 10 hours!).  And, then, it, struck me (no pun intended…) I’D ONLY GONE AND CROSSED A BLOOMIN’ TIME ZONE!  ‘My 8pm’ was  actually 9pm.  I guess I was expecting a sign on the road.  Bugger bugger bugger bugger.  Bugger.  Bugger.

(Bugger).  I stayed to the end, mule that I am.  And then as I left I thought, I want to see a whole film.  Any film!  So (and sorry to the Cineplex Grand Prairie, the staff of which are excellent lovely people by the way) I sort of went into the film next door if you know what I mean (and he’s telling everyone this on THE INTERNET!).  ‘Ugly Truth’ was its name.  Somehow that seemed quite fitting.  I rode home in the dark (using a head-torch as it was properly pitch black) and got to bed at 1am.  I’d cycled 116 miles, 100 with full-load.  Not ‘loaded’ like a gun you understand – although, I am still carrying Bear Spray but would never use it anger at an RV Park, of course

(later on, spending an extra day in Whitefish, Montana, USA to wait for a drive-train overhaul I DID stay at a campsite opposite a cinema – in 3 wet rainy days I watched all 4 films that they had showing and in their own way, loved them all!  Karmic retribution perhaps, although I’m not sure what my ‘good deed’ was…)

Columbia Icefield, Jasper Nat Pk, Alberta, Canada - yes, its as pretty as they said it would be!

Wow, on top of the above this part of the trip has been a busy one.  After Grand Prairie and a search in vain for a new rear tyre (I’m after a specific one) I cycle back up into the Rockies (on the map this looked like the most direct route) toward Grand Cache and with temperatures soaring into the high 30s  (celcius) again plus a headwind I make slow progress and spend a somewhat dehydrated night by a river at a ‘user maintained’ campsite (tents allowed, plus it seems any and every unsilenced quad / ATV and dirt bike known to man, ridden by hyperactive children at insane speed ALL NIGHT through the camp) convinced that a brace of young giggly english women bicycled into camp at 1am.

(they didn’t, no other cyclists did, I was a bit delirious but got better with heavy fluid-intake – I learned a lesson and am far stricter with myself now in both taking on fluids and seeking-out opportunities to speak with giggly young english women)

At Grand Cache (a BIG climb up from the Prairies over 2 days) I happen upon the Death Race and play ‘Rocky’s trainer’ cycling along the road beside some, chatting, much to the confusion of the photographers along the way (“Who is that guy?  Is that a new take on a ‘team car’?”).  I see the bloke who eventually wins and he has THE most efficient running style I have ever ever seen – its textbook perfect.  I should say that the Death Race is 125 km goes over two 6000 ft mountains with many exposed ridge sections and some do it solo, in 24 hours! (and part of me was jealous…! oh dear…)

I camp in the local park (intentional!) with many of the competitors and spend a lovely time with Dan, John, Brette & Tiffany chilling in what was a very cool place  – to mark the race event there is also a bit of a music fest so I catch a bit of that too.

Heading toward Hinton I get caught out in the biggest hail storm in which I’ve ever ridden – the ‘stones’ scythed their relentless way through the slats in my helmet smashing onto my poor cranium.  As I stopped to put on wet weather gear I had to ‘pull myself together’ as I began to shiver – there was no cover barring straggly pine trees for 25 miles each way.  With the option to pitch the tent as a back-up I decide to ride on into the maelstrom to keep warm (the 
temperature dropped 15 degrees C in minutes) with lights and reflective clothing well and truly fastened to bike & I.  The ground went white and all around was approaching ‘white-out’.  During a brief let-up a Harley biker & I in a lay-by compare notes on the nutcase in the ‘semi’ (‘artic’) who careered past us, teetering on the edge of aquaplaning off the road whilst doing at least 45 mph downhill into a bend.  Maybe he just got caught out by the weather.  Despite being lit up like a lighthouse I was a bit exposed I know.

(I find out later from a local that the area is renowed for some of the worst storms in the whole of Alberta due to the proximity of plains and rising  elevation)

Banff Nat Pk, Alberta, Canada - They built a road through THIS! Half of me would like it to have remained road-less & truly wild, but, the other half is thankful that its there!

Jasper.  Lake Louise.  The Icefields Parkway.  Stunning stunning stunning stunning.  Yup, stunning.  It really is as outrageously beautiful as everyone says.  I had to stop every 5 minutes and just look and sigh in awe.  I’ve been lucky enough to travel to a few great places around the world and this is well and truly ‘up there’.  Whilst there are no trucks the RVs must be breeding as there are kazillions of them

In Jasper I spend a few great days and camp with Tom & Sabrina from Belgium – they ever so kindly let me ‘tag along’ in the car with them as they visit some of the more remote areas in the north of the National Park.  Thanks guys (and I hope you saw bears…in a good way!) – and order and pick-up my new rear tyre  (Schwalbe Marathon Plus if you’re interested).

At Lake Louise I go all purist (‘go’?!) and cycle all the way up (and back) with my gear.

My 3rd Continental Divide crossing since May was back into BC (Canada) and through Kootenay National Park where I saw a small Grizzly along the roadside (I have a photo of its rear!).  And then the rain started.  From Radium Hot Springs (where I said hi again to Tom & Sabrina) for the next week it was wet and thundery, sometimes all day.  Blessed relief from the onslaught came from Cate and her folks who gave me a wonderful dinner at their  house.  Thank you

At the border I treated myself (thanks very much C for the very thoughtful envelope of Canadian dollars on my leaving the UK) to a MOTEL!  And an enormous  Mexican feast (well, I was in, er, Montana, after all).  Aside from a lovely stay in a ‘rustic’ YHA (no running water or electric! hi to Fred, Jayson and Kim!) at Beauty Creek I’d spent almost 50 nights in a row camping.  It was heavenly to have a bed and a bath and Charles, my bike, was allowed in the room with me (but don’t be getting any funny ideas…we had separate beds).

Nr Jasper, Alberta, Canada - Hmmm. Hmmm.

In Montana I’ve met some great people: Border guards giving tourist information (!), kindly store owners letting me camp on village greens, awesome bike shop staff (hi Glacier Cycles, Whitefish!) and some cool-as other cyclists including the ‘Florida 4′, Nancy & Matthew (a Kentucky-ite & Ozzie from Sydney with whom I spent a lovely day or so and hope to see soon) and Andrew & Martyn Finn (both riding in aid of Cancer Research and hoping to see soon), all riding various parts of the Continental Divide ‘off-road’ trail, of which I rode a small part with Nancy & Matthew.

Montana itself is also beautiful and after 2500 miles of forests (pretty much) its great to have some open grassland for a change in this the Big Sky state.

As an aside, I’m conscious of the seasons and have been since the start – what might at times seem like hasty progress is an attempt to ‘optimise’ (sorry, ‘work’-y word) my time in the Rockies (which is after all the 2nd longest mountain range in the world at 3000 miles in length) so I need to balance resting-up, with heading south.  To bring things into perspective the Banff area (from which it took me about 10 days to ride) had a dusting of snow last week and the area that I’m in currently will quite often have snow in early September.  I’m planning to stay high (elevation) across Wyoming & then into Colorado where 10,000 foot passes are quite common.  Eek!  Obviously being slightly further south those states will normally hold onto the last vestiges of summer for slightly longer…but not forever!

That said I’ve also realised that I’m punishing my body big-time and whilst my fitness is (I hope!) pretty good I can’t ride 116 miles and then expect to do 40 miles of climbing back up into the Rockies the next day without the risk of feeling some ill effects (dehydration on that day was probably exacerbated by the ordeals of the previous day).  So, I’ve thrown in a few shorter days (30 milers) and the odd proper (sleeping!) rest day too.  Balance.  Thats the name of the game I’d say.  I just need to learn how to achieve it!

As ever thank you so much to everyone both on the road that I’ve met and those back ‘home and abroad’ for your continued support, good wishes, e-mails and website comments.  It all means a huge amount and I’m a very lucky guy   Take care

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