The trip can be made in two long days - if one sticks to the most direct route. But I have trouble with that. No, actually, the route I'd planned is more "direct" than I-90, the quickest way. But it would take me over several high mountain passes - two of them unpaved! These "shortcuts" would certainly take longer. For that reason, I'd added half a day to the plan, and done something I've never done before on a multi-day cycle trip. I left home after 11:00 a.m.
Heading slightly southwest over the Black Hills, I crossed into Wyoming after riding through Jewel Cave National Monument. The other option would have been an immediate stint on the aforementioned I-90, to the north. But two hours of two-lane is a much more pleasant way to begin a journey. There'd be plenty of time for some super slab later.
I'd made a few small changes to my luggage system since my last big trip to the Arctic - most recently on departure morning. My method for carrying drinks had never worked well, so the old camera case in the photo above was Plan B. When I left the house, I hadn't yet employed the purple cord around the bottle neck. The "lid" of the case had flapped around so much in my mirror, however, that something else had to be done.
Also in this shot, you can see a key lock installed in the center of the fuel jug. I'd had them last year (one for each side) but hadn't yet figured out how they work. They should make it harder for ne'er do wells to steal my extra gas. Not that that has ever happened in 3+ decades of moto touring. But there's a first time for everything, they say.
My first fill-up was in Newcastle. It's just a tradition of mine, I guess - to take a photo at the first pump. Doesn't Ryker look nice? I'd recently hand scrubbed it for the first time ever (two years) - took me hours. But I had to do it to prep the surfaces for the new stickers! There are two in this view, but the angle's not good. Oh, and you can see two more in that first shot. Watch for close-ups later.
I haven't mentioned the weather yet. Obviously, it was sunny. In fact, I was quite happy to be hanging out in the shade for a bit. At the house, it had been in the mid-80s. Then, it climbed into the mid-90s, before dropping in the Monument (higher elevation). But down in Newcastle it was in the 90s again. Summer is not my favorite season. And this one was heating up faster than usual, it seemed. But most backroad passes in the Rockies are snowed in before then. You do what you have to do.
I continued on Highway 16 to Moorcroft, where I finally joined up with the interstate to head west. Shortly after merging onto I-90 and getting up to speed, the left side of my face shield completely popped out of its socket and began flapping wildly! The same thing had happened in Canada last year - to the right side. But I hadn't been on a controlled access freeway then. I couldn't believe I'd let it happen again by not ensuring the bolts were tight before setting out.
I reached up with my left hand and grabbed the shield, holding it as close to the correct position as I could. I slowed some, but decided to try and make it to an exit, rather than merely pull onto the shoulder. I had to go nearly five miles that way, but was able to get off the interstate and onto a side road before stopping to assess the damage.
Like last year, the retaining bolt for that side was completely gone. I'd have to find a replacement. But also like last year, I had plenty of duct tape in my tank bag to facilitate a surprisingly strong emergency repair. And yes, I did check the tightness of the opposite side before continuing on. As Kim's grandfather would have said, "I was born at night - but not last night."
I exited again - for gas this time - in Gillette. I'd decided to wait until the following afternoon to try and find a hardware store. I'd be near Missoula, Montana, by then. And success would likely come easier.
Then, I glanced over to my right. Hardware Hank was only steps away!
Not only did Hank provide the bolt and washers I needed, he'd also offered a break from the heat and a refreshing cool beverage and snack. And I gladly took him up on it!
At Buffalo, I ended that day's utilization of I-90 (about 95 miles) and rejoined 16 for my romp through the Bighorn National Forest. I pulled over at Powder River Pass. At over 9,600 feet, you're really up there - 3,000 feet higher than the highest paved pass in the Black Hills. I was well on my way to the spine of the continent - the Continental Divide. But I wouldn't cross that until Day 2.
The last time I was here had been with Kim, in our old Nissan X-Terra. We'd hike up a small peak from the pass - but not that one behind Ryker. The one we'd chosen was less... technical. Still, it had been a similarly beautiful day. And we'd lingered for quite a long while.
On the west side, the highway heads down Ten Sleep Canyon to the town of Ten Sleep, WY. It was so named, they say, because of its distance from Fort Laramie - 10 days of travel. Ryker could probably beat that. But we weren't going that direction.
Somewhere near here, Kim and I had gotten out for another hike that year. But I'd stick to the road this time. You can see from my custom-installed thermometer that temps were already rising again, after having dropped into the 60s on the pass. Stunning country though.
Hadn't included a self-portrait yet. Now you can see who you're chatting with. Well, you may still not recognize me if we bumped into each other at the supermarket. I don't generally wear all my cycle gear there. But my mother can tell it's me. And the selfies are really for her.
From Ten Sleep to Manderson, the road was pretty rough. It's a cutoff to save time over going through Worland, but it wasn't always pleasant. There was even some flood damage in a spot or two. And it was HOT.
I got gas for the last time in Greybull, then turned west onto 14 and into an extremely strong wind. It wasn't quite a headwind - would have been better if it was. I could have just ducked behind the windscreen and been okay. But it was more from the northwest, and by the time I'd completed the 50+ miles to Cody, my neck was quite sore from the struggle to hold my head up.
It was a relief to finally pull up to my motel around 7:30 and check in for the night - eight hours on the road. I was glad I hadn't bit off an even longer day. The first one is always one of the toughest. Riding a three-wheeled motorcycle uses a different set of muscles than writing books about it in my home office.
I couldn't help but notice the yellow and green logo across the parking lot. That would do nicely for a cool-down walk to supper!
But first, I wanted to unload the necessary luggage. And a parking space right in front of my room door on the ground floor is impossible to beat. It was looking like rain, but so far it had held off.
The wind was still blowing, but not as strongly as before. I'd intended to eat inside, but the youngsters employed there were having a lot of ruckus fun. It had been difficult to speak loudly enough to make my order heard, in fact. Don't I sound like the old fuddy duddy? But I'm 53 now. So, if the shoe fits...
This outside table was much more conducive to relaxing reflection on the day's ride. I even texted with Kim some, my father, and a friend I planned to visit on my way home. Oh, and despite all his distractions, the kid had somehow made a great sandwich!
Back at the room, I learned it was definitely supposed to be raining by morning. I deployed Ryker's travel cover and went inside to take a shower and get ready for Day 2. I never saw the rider of the cruiser next door.
I'd covered 390 miles so far - out of approximately 1,400 total to Tillamook. The following day would be around 500, I thought. And a little rain would be nice.
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