Iowa #4!

It's pretty enthralling to be in a small town full of hawkeye fans these days...the black and the gold exploding out like fireworks. The Hawkeyes are 8-0 for the first time in their long college football history and ranked 4 in the weekly ratings, coming from behind it seems like every week. I don't know what's happened, I've been pretty ambilvilent in regards to sports since I stopped playing them, but lately I've found myself not being able to sit I'm so damn wound up, stomach turning wanting to look away! Where did all that come from? It was a real good game Saturday as they beat Michigan State on the last play of the game, I'm feelin like a Hawkeye!



Had a great time down in Dyersville visiting the Field of Dreams. We got there and there were some kids playing catch! I ran over to the minivan and asked their dad to borrow a glove, he gave me what I assumed to be that "aren't you a little old to be trick or treating" look.



He did let me use the glove though, and as Em and Joan took pics of the grandstands I ran out to left field full sprint. Already feeling like the only kid in the freshman locker room with chest hair I cringed as I saw the younger brother take a pop fly off the tip of his glove and pop! right in his eye...a good thump...he kept wanting to cry but I kept patting him on the back "you're allright, let me look at that...oooh that's gonna be black. Your tough" I will embarrassingly admit that I was worried he'd run in and cry and get us in trouble and we'd have to quit! Like we done somethin wrong! Everything was ok though and we got a good game of catch in and even some ground balls in the infield. Felt good to be on the ole diamond!





We took some Corn Stalk shots and went on our way.






















We then went over to Joan's co-worker's family homestead. Claire jr. was waiting there with her purse that was an old binocular case and a star wars light saber at the corner of the old farm waiting for us on the lonely Iowa 2 lane backroad. She must be 9 years old and real sweet, showed us her cats in the laundry basket. Cindy is her mother, and Cindy's parents Claire and Merle live in the house that was originally lived in by Claire's parents. Claire Sr. hugged us and led us down to the basement to show off her summer bounty which happens all at the end of summer, they laughingly refer to it as "divorce week".


LISTEN!

Canned Goods - Greg Brown








I guess Merle loved gardening but would love to leave the canning up to the mrs. Anyway she had the booty down there! From the diced tomatoes to the tomato salsa to the tomato sauce. They had peas and beans and everything in between...pickled beets, raspberry jam, carrots, etc. They shared the tricks they use to get the kids involved, and made me plug my ears as they shared the tricks they use to make their men feel useful too (I knew it musta been good, little Claire was giggling and giving me a look of pity). They had a big box of potatoes that will last them through the winter and enough fresh apple cider and rum to keep em warm.











After Merle led us through the garden we piled in the van and waved to Claire sr. and went over to their friend Ted's cottage and studio. He's a wild welder, wood worker, artist, bohemian, metal artifact collector etc. I was in the corner of his cabin next to the pot belly stove looking for a poker stick to stoke the fire, as he asks me across everyone "you like weapons?" I turn around to him holding what I believed to be the poker for which he let me know was an ancient ritual staff forged in Africa. He then showed me a samurai sword he forged...took it out of the sheath his buddy made for him, it was awesome! The cottage was full of neat iron work, tools, muskets, candle holders etc. His son was getting the fire in the fire place stoked with black walnut for a little cooking later in the evening with some friends. Ted told us some pretty funny stories of the friends he has that are revolutionary war re-en-actors. They come over and stay at the cottage every summer when they are in town for the mountain man rendezvous http://www.fortbridgerrendezvous.net. He said he'll come over to the cottage and the family's are in all their regalia; the men are outside cooking a full turkey over the fire looking like pilgrims, the women are in the house knitting in the rocking chairs, the teenagers are outside shooting bows and arrows, and the kids are at the table playing with wood blocks! Then they say, "ah let's go shoot some muskets!"








This story makes a little more sense when we go take a tour of his welding shop where he and 3 or 4 employees make metal art pieces and commissioned furniture. He walked us through and showed off the old tools and machinery. Huge hydraulic metal pounders from the turn of the century, old coal/wood cast iron stove that heats the metal working shop (probably 2000 sq. ft.). In the wood shop he had tools I have never seen, like the big "multi-tool". It was run by a big electric motor with huge belts that ran each individual tool...the table saw (to adjust blade height you needed to raise and lower the table), pull lever at floor to engage another belt which ran the band saw, do it again to engage belt that runs planer, again to engage the joiner. The thing was probably 8 ft. long by 5 ft. wide and was from the early nineteens. His shop was cool!

Whoa! We're in Iowa!

Been here in Marion, IA for a few weeks now. Emily's dad drove out the 12 hours to Casper to capture us from the blistery weather. We said our goodbyes to Carla, T.A, and the cat crew and went on our way. Of course the drive through Nebraska was in the 50's and sunny, we already missed the road. All along we have looked forward to arriving in Iowa and watching the big screen t.v and the glowing leaves fall from the ash and maple trees. Gary and Joanie have kept us at least a little busy with some projects around the house, meanwhile Em and I try to figure out what's next. As I write this, and listen to the literary narrator tell the little story, "figuring out what's next" sounds awful romantic, doesn't it? I hear the wonder and unknown in that phrase, gets me all fuzzy inside. It seems stress of the unknown though is sometimes as persistent as the need for more mystery. Feeling really happy to have some projects to work on. Planning to go to Dyersville tommorrow to see some country and check out the field of dreams diamond, and cook chili and watch the undefeated Iowa Hawkeye football team play Michigan state (on the bigscreen). Monday We will drive to Iowa City and Fairfield to look at the Maharishi University of Management (mum.edu), I have been interested in learning TM (Transcendental Meditation) for a few years now, and am excited to see a university that utilizes it as a foundational component to the curriculums.

HitchBiking in Wyoming

This post should be a thank you to all the folks in Wyoming that have been helping us out: Bastion, Chuck and Karin, Reed, Ben, Chris, TA and Carla, that one guy that I can't remember the name of, and probably more to come as we haven't made it out of Wyoming yet. We've been hit with a small bit of challenging weather since arriving in Jackson, WY and are still moving forward (to race the snow) but with less bike power and more rides in big Toyota Trucks.





When we arrived into Jackson we were sweaty and in shorts but within the following 24 hours the temperature dropped to un-bikable conditions. We had been warned since about mid-Idaho that we were going to see some weather so we had already planned to bunk up in Jackson for a couple or few days. On our second day in Jackson the foothills that surrounded us collected a cover of fresh snow, the first snow of the season. Cold to bike near but even worse that we were supposed to be headed up and over a 9000 ft. pass, Togwotee about 60 miles from Jackson. The temperature in Jackson was running between 20 and 40 but up on the pass the daytime highs were running 20 or below.



After the first snow we tried to make a quick "run" for it -- as there were rumors of a second round of wintery weather headed our way. We were actually beginning to joke about wintering over in Jackson -- seems like a touristy job would be easy to come by. But we refused to give up and made a push on bike in our wintery gear. I froze.







About 20 miles into the ride I had lost feeling in my toes; not a biker-friendly condition. We ended up 35 miles out of Jackson at an RV Park just outside of Moran Junction hoping to get a ride over the pass from a friendly motorist. But the rumor was that the east side of the pass was icy and snowy so there wasn't a whole lot of traffic headed in our direction. After 2 hours of Fox news Kiel made the call back to some folks in Jackson, Chuck and Karin, to see if their offer still stood. Chuck was working at the clinic out by the Junction so he stopped by the RV Park and drove us back the 30 miles or so to Jackson. We were really grateful to be headed away from the RV Park although it was hard to backtrack. While Chuck was driving us back to a warm home, Karin was in the kitchen whipping up a warm soup meal for us to feast on. As if the drive back to Jackson, the warm house to call home for the night, the kind company, and the soup were not already enough... Karin also had Pumpkin Cheesecake to offer Kiel -- he had been talking about pumpkin pie and pie in general for the last month.





Further, just to point out the extreme kindness of those who we meet on the road, Chuck packed us up in the morning (forgoing his daily morning Elk hunt) and took us up to the Hatchet Resort where we would wait for a ride over the pass after breakfast and a coffee. It took us an hour of thumbing before a young man, Reed, pulled over to get gas and offered us a ride all the way to Dubois. The pass was a mess... gritty, slushy, all torn up for construction, and cold. Reed's car felt like the right place to be.



We got to Dubois and had a quick lunch with Reed before attempting to get a ride in for the day. But by the time we were actually along our way on the road the day was getting old. We put in a short ride, maybe only about 5 miles before we decided that we might've embarked on a foolish mission. We were pretty certain that we couldn't camp out comfortably for the night and the closest REAL city was Riverton, still 60 or more miles away. We pulled up a spot on the side of the highway and re-evaluated our decision to leave Dubois -- to go back or to stick our thumbs out again? In the spirit of trying to beat the weather we decided to committ to 20 minutes of hitching... if we were not successful we would head back to the safety of the small cowboy town, Dubois where Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid hid out from the law.

Lucky for us we were rescued by an older man, Ben, on his way to a Pool competition in Riverton. He was quite the character, a champion storyteller and pool competitor (apparently). As we were hopping in the car Kiel asked Ben why he had decided to pick us up (Ben had driven by, then turned around to come back to us)... Ben's answer was short, "Get in the car, I'll tell you a story." His story started with words that questioned our pressence in the car, "...I hate bikers..." OH?? Ben is a truck driver and he drives one of the most challenging routes in possibly the nation, over Togwotee Pass which offers poor visibility, super windy roads, and obstacles like us -- bikers. He told us the story of a time when he nearly hit a biker during a questionably icy day -- the biker was riding in the road instead of on the shoulder.

The ride was a pleasant one though. Ben got us safely all the way into Riverton and we were grateful.

Jackson, WY to Riverton, WY Not sure how many miles... maybe 130 or more...

Waking up in Riverton was good. We knew that there wasn't much between Riverton and Casper, WY so we needed to cruise out as quickly as possible -- another 120 mile day that we couldn't bike all of unless the conditions were perfect. We got another late start -- we had to wait until you couldn't see frost on the ground. Around 10 am we got out window to leave so we headed north to Shoshoni. Kiel had read the other day that Shoshoni had the BEST Malt Shop so he was counting down the miles and minutes until we rolled into town. We were happy to be back out on our bikes and in the country.

22 Miles of pedalling led us into town and we hunted down this Malt shop. First we found that the whole main street of town had been boarded up and shut down -- it was a tragic looking site, the beginnings of a ghost town (we hear that we will be seeing more of this soon). In fact the building that used to contain the malt shop had been closed down too -- the malt shop had moved down the street to a dingy un-inspired fast food looking joint down the road. We stopped despite the exterior and enjoyed a couple of treats... no malts though so the verdict is still out, but they had posted on the wall their record high malt sales as 729 in one summer day in 2005, must be doin something right.

After eating we started to make our way west towards Casper. We didn't have a whole lot of hours to make 100 miles but we decided to put a couple of hours of biking in before trying to hitch. I guess we only made it about 15 miles, in a headwind, before Kiel's rear tire blew a flat (the count is Kiel:2 Emily:4 ... but we had been doing so good since Oregon). While stopped for repairs I stuck out my thumb... we knew we would be hitching soon enough, might as well give it a try while we look in need while making repairs. The trick worked :) The first real line of traffic brought us Chris and his big ol' truck. We popped our bikes into the truck and ignored the flat for the time being.

The second blessing about Casper, besides being carted there in a car so easily, was that we had a home lined up with TA and Carla thanks to my brother. And we are hanging out again -- as is the theme with Wyoming and potentially the rest of our trip, we'll see. It's been about a week since we have put in any serious biking so we're beginning to go a little stir-crazy.

But tomorrow we are going to hit the road again. It looks like we will have about a 4-Day window until another Rain/Snow storm somewhere in central Nebraska. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that it will be our last one until we arrive safely and warmly in Marion, IA.


on the trails we traverse
roads paved and reflecting bounding raindrops and stop lights, flashing
underneath clouds the clandestine covers
we sink in as two trapped travellers
stuck in the mud of gods back yard
but life aint that hard
just our minds that might make it so
and as we lean to and fro
to avoid rolling over rumble strips
she puts her finger on my rambling lips and asks me to shut up...
with a kiss
oh the wind and the rain
and in the comfort of our tent is a miraculous event
but up on the tetons its all glistening white and shining of a feeling burning fresh and alive.
them "race goats" sure glad to be alive
Today we were alive
as the coldness crept in all over us
but it will never escape us
love has been poured all over us

two little feet to get me 'cross the mountain
two little feet to carry me away into the woods
two little feet, big mountain, and a
cloud comin' down cloud comin' down cloud comin' down

I hear the voice of the ancient ones
chanting magic words from a different time
well there is no time there is only this rain
there is no time, that's why I missed my plane

John Muir walked away into the mountains
in his old overcoat a crust of bread in his pocket
we have no knowledge and so we have stuff and
stuff with no knowledge is never enough to get you there
it just won't get you there

a culture exploded into knickknacks and memories
Eagle and Bear trinkets I don't think it's good
old man what am I trying to say it's a
it's a messed up world but I love it anyway

two little feet to get me 'cross the city
my little hand to knock upon your door
my little thing for your little thing
and a big love to lift us up once more to the mountain
lift us up

tumble us like scree let us holler out our freedom like a
like a wolf across a valley like a kid lost in a game
no time no name gonna miss that plane again
and I'm gonna stay here with you baby and kiss you to a good dream
I'm goin' kiss you
kiss you like you like it

I got two little feet to get me across the mountain
two little feet to carry me away into the woods
two little feet big mountain and a
cloud comin' down cloud comin' down cloud comin' down

D | Fm | G | A

Two Little Feet - Greg Brown



but now we watch from behind this house's windows at the wind and the rain
the grey wet roads arent beckoning us anymore
with a constant wind at 12 mph this is the 5th windiest city in america

(http://web2.airmail.net/danb1/usrecords.htm)

We are holed up again
waiting for weather to let us pass
i feel like a sailor intrepid in an unknown harbor watching white caps and wondering what is safe in a world of unknowns, when do you go out in the waves and allow the wind to be your way. We have been left to be the sole judges of our own decisions in such matters as our own level of comfort amidst potentially uncomfortable circumstances, an interesting endeavor knowing our own judgements to be not only a subjective opinion colored by our current feelings but also a hinderance in fullfilling our desire to be close to the spirit that moves in all things. As rumi says "I am wary of the things I want."
To make matters more interesting is that we are practicing compromise in such situations, to not only be attentive to our mission but also the eachother's vision.
Watch pride strut by. bye bye.
Hence she has called on her dad to come rescue us from the cold winds of Casper Wyoming. Soon we will be safe for a stint from our need to make decisions, we can put on our sweatpants and put our feet on the dashboard and listen to the nightime radio as we roll at 70 through Nebraska and Iowa.
I wanna laugh as I thank him for saving me from being a man!

Where is humility taught to us as something courageous, something bold and true. How does one remain un attached to outcomes and remain active in the decision making processes of relationships. Just dancing. Love for the dance.
"I know Im stepping all over your toes dear, just stay with me for one more song?"

Before we left the farm in Hebo I was driving the backroads feeling filled with resistance, filled with what-ifs, filled with ideas of what this journey will look like...I drove by a sign in that serendipitous kind of way that said in capital letters;
BE PREPARED TO STOP
All the preparation to be warm dry and fed
Now I prepare to be un-prepared I said
seems to be the best preparation I can do
I can hear every man say
I dont wanna be scared with you
Just tell st. christopher that we've rode on our way

Are we prepared to stop?
to end our bicycle tour to Iowa
all I can say is that everyday is new and the mission was to venture into the unknown

We will be here in Casper until Thursday afternoon and leave Friday morning I assume. Safe travels Gary, I will go buy us some travellin, road ramblin tunes. No worries, we aint yet got the travellin blues, we should still be decent company!

Idaho has Come and Gone

What they say is true: Time flies when you are having fun. I wake up on most mornings and open my map and am amazed by the path that we have journeyed thus far. Somehow we have practically leaped across Idaho and landed right into the foothills of the continental divide... looming hills and 9000 foot passes (thankfully we currently stand at over 6000 feet in Jackson, WY). Surrounded by beauty though. I am a mountain girl... there is no greater scenery than that of a winding river through rocky canyons and mountains. I am enamored with this place.

But how did we get here... hmm...

I think we last left off in Mountain Home, ID after we had taken a short bump up the road to avoid Interstate biking. I think it was about noon before we actually got on the road with our bikes all in order and our legs madly pedaling. We had a destination picked on our maps -- Fairfield -- about a 60 mile day. Folks had been telling us that we would have a bit of a climb into Fairfield then Idaho would level out and we would get to coast the following days all the way to Idaho Falls on fairly flat plains.

The "bit" of a climb seemed to go on for most of the day (at least in my opinion) but it did feel good to be back on the bike and putting some distance between us and Boise. We were fairly well-rested so the miles passed by quickly. It was a tricky ride though. We expected "this" hill to be the last hill of the day. Every big upward climb was followed by a downward joyride... but seemingly always with another hill off in the distance mocking us.



Not too far into our day we ran into another group of bicycle tourers -- a mama and her two sons Cedar and Zion (lots of respect to them and their big journey which had started in Maine this June). They were headed westbound but we jumped across the highway to exchange cheers and stories. For me it was revitalizing to run into another woman on the road -- even though we were headed in different directions it was just good to know that another woman was out there facing the same joys and struggles. Check their blog at; ourdailyped.blogspot.com

Soon after that we learned a new lesson: water is precious. We were carrying a fairly small amount of water in the overall scheme of things but it was backed up by a water filter so that we could pull from rivers and lakes. A fine system for Oregon but Idaho was a new game. I'm not sure if the boys were getting as nervous about water supply as I was but it felt like the more my water bottles emptied the thirstier I felt. After quite a few miles of unsuccessful water-scouring we saw a Pepsi sign off in the distance (I did for a few seconds question if the sign was real or a mirage) and scored some fluid, gratefully. At our water re-supply we were told by a kind gentleman that we were looking at our last hill -- FINALLY.





Not really though. Soon after summiting our "last hill" we sat at the foot of a monster hill. Bummer, right? We took it slowly and were rewarded with a great view of Idaho. After that Idaho was flat, very flat. We could cruise. And occasionally we were blessed with a little tail wind to push us right along. We were moving quickly for Fairfield even after I was stung by a bee that bounced off my helmet directly into my arm and Kiel took a little fall on his bike after our panniers played a little "kissy kissy" game. Tough kids we are.



Boise, ID to Fairfield, ID about 100 miles (I think... hmmm?) and a big climb.

The rest of Idaho breezed by. Some of you all may have recieved updates about our journey and know that we already are living it up in wintery Wyoming (arrived in Casper, WY today). So the short version...





Fairfield led to Carey, ID and given our wonderful and comfortable night at the city park in Fairfield we decided to celebrate Kiel's birthday by taking an easy day and cooking up some good fresh food in the Carey Fairground -- we had been told by the biking family that this was a fine place to camp for the night. We arrived in town pretty early and grabbed some food from the limited small grocery store. I'm not sure where the people of Carey get their fresh food because most of what they had to offer was in a can or frozen -- But we managed.

Just before we exited the grocery store an older man came in and said, "you must be the owner's of the bikes out there." We proudly took ownership of our transportation vehicles and the older man offered us a trade -- he had a truck. Really the man, Bill, was just super intriqued by our journey and wanted to talk to us for a bit -- apparently his son had done a bike journey many years earlier. As we said our goodbyes he invited us out to his place in the morning for coffee (from Costco -- which he guaranteed was the BEST coffee).

Dinner was enjoyed greatly and we set camp for the night. Before we all went to bed Kiel asked a neighboring buisiness if we were safe from the sprinkler system in the park. They gave us the 'thumbs-up' so we figured we were good for a long night of peaceful sleep...

You know where this is going...

I don't think I had even fallen asleep before the first round of sprinklers went off. Kiel has been describing the sound of the sprinklers as the sound of gun shots... it was loud and we were right in the strike zone. Kiel jumped out of the tent, carefully avoiding a round of 'sprinkles', and looked for new ground. We ended up moving the tent right up against the fence and prayed for a dry night. We only got about 10 minutes of peace there. The next round of sprinklers poked out of the ground and sprayed us once again. Both of the boys were running around saving gear -- Cory was diverting the sprinklers while Kiel pushed our bikes to the dry field across the street. Eventually it was time to move the tent again... one last time for the night. This was one of those events that at the time we couldn't find much humor in the situation...

Fairfield, ID to Carey, ID about 45 miles and flat.

In the morning we watched for Bill's home as we started out on our bike ride for the day, another short one with a layover for lunch at the Craters of the Moon National Park. Luckily Bill had given us a fine description of his home... the real give-away was that he had mentioned that someone had driven over one of his chickens, roadkill that can't be missed from a bike's viewpoint. Feathers were everywhere... it really looked like a pretty horrific hit.

Bill jumped out of his door pretty quickly as we were observing the crime scene. He invited us in for a chat and a coffee. Bill was a kind soul who had been through some rough times... his face and hands were weathered and his eyes held some sadness but he seemed pretty pleased that we had stopped by for awhile. We probably spent about 30 minutes at Bill's house and as we tried to leave he showered us with gifts of food... or at least tried too. I think he would've given us everything from his cupboards had we had room on our bikes. We ended up leaving with just a Cantelope cut up into a ziplock bag and tucked away from the sunny day on Kiel's bike.

We only made it about 1 mile down the road before Bill's car rolled up right in front of us. He jumped out of the car with a grocery sack full of food, "You all aren't vegetarians are you?" -- all fingers point at me. Well Bill had packed up a frozen steak for us to take along with 3 idaho baking potatos. Reluctently we took the package (which Corey strapped to the top of his panniers to thaw in the hot sun) and said our goodbyes to Bill once again. We thanked him and he told us that we had "truly inspired" him.



Just a few miles down the road we entered the Craters of the Moon... what a desolate place! The ground was covered by old and hardened lava for miles in all directions. All of the black surfaces were collecting the heat of the day and cooking us poor bikers. We stopped in the park for our lunch break and talked to a ranger about the stars. He told us that the Craters was in the top ten darkest national parks -- great for star watching.

We camped out in the city of Arco, ID later that night at a RV park... enjoyed a nice warm shower... cooked another fresh dinner on a grill as we listened to the crowd and firework booms from the neighboring homecoming football game... and relaxed into a dry night in the tent.

Arco, as we learned the morning we were leaving was the first town in the world powered by nuclear power. Along this road in the middle of nowhere there are uranium mines and auspicious looking gated "laboratories" crafting things all nuclear...its' fascinatingly spooky.
Carey, ID to Arco, ID about 45 miles, mostly flat -- some hills.

I've been singing this song from the first day of our trip and it always starts with these lyrics in my head, Ive been wanting to share it.

Three days in the saddle
you know my body hurt
it bein summer, I took off my shirt
and tried to wash off some of that dusty dirt

Grateful Dead lyrics from Me and My Uncle

Me And My Uncle - The Grateful Dead

Me and my uncle went ridin' down,
South Colorado, West Texas bound.
We stopped over in Santa Fe,
That bein' the point just about half way,
And you know it was the hottest part of the day.

I took the horses up to the stall,
Went to the barroom, ordered drinks for all.
Three days in the saddle, you know my body hurt,
It bein' summer, I took off my shirt,
And I tried to wash off some of that dusty dirt.

West Texas cowboys, they's all around,
With liquor and money, they're loaded down.
So soon after payday, know it seemed a shame;
You know my uncle, he starts a friendly game,
High-low jack and the winner take the hand.

My uncle starts winnin'; cowboys got sore.
One of them called him, and then two more,
Accused him of cheatin'; Oh no, it couldn't be.
I know my uncle, he's as honest as me,
And I'm as honest as a Denver man can be.

One of them cowboys, he starts to draw,
And I shot him down, Lord he never saw.
Shot me another, oh damn he won't grow old.
In the confusion, my uncle grabbed the gold,
And we high-tailed it down to Mexico.

I love those cowboys, I love their gold,
I loved my uncle, God rest his soul,
Taught me good, Lord, Taught me all I know
Taught me so well, I grabbed that gold
And I left his dead ass there by the side of the road.

We stopped over for lunch along this barren trail under the protection of the only shade we could find, which was a half buried corrugated metal hay barn. We sat against the barn door and felt the cold air against our backs from inside the barn. We made it a quick lunch, everyone out seems to be packing and wary of freeloaders squatting on their land.

Rolled into Idaho falls around 5. Corey pointed out the local Olive Garden where he had been holding on to a gift certificate. We set up camp at the local KOA and cleaned up for a carbohydrate all you can eat fest. It was awesome!



Arco, ID to Idaho Falls, ID about 65 miles, some hills

Today we planned to seperate for a day from our fellow biking companion, Cory. We decided to avoid going up and over Teton Pass by skirting around the mountains to the south along the Snake River. We all biked the first 40 or so miles together into Swan Valley stopped off for chocolate malts and french fries, Kiel;where the sign read "Best shake in town" Em said with sass as we entered the diner "Was before I got here." We wished each other well for the next section. Kiel and I then watched Cory start his climb towards Victor, ID then up and over Teton.



We hopped on our bikes and had a beautiful ride along the river -- the leaves on the Aspens were changing to yellows and oranges and the river had a teal sparkle to it. It was probably one of the most scenic places that we have biked yet.

Idaho Falls, ID to a Campground near Alpine, WY about 80 miles, hills after Swan Valley.