This trip started at JFK NY. Having last time taken a more southerly route down the old route 66
(The old two-lane highway still exists in places as a service road to the interstate. It is not
serviced and trees grow up the middle of it, but it is passable on a bike.), I headed north
through up state NY towards Niagara.
Camping in all sorts of strange places, I ended up in the KOA site near the falls. Did the
best thing and went on a tour (about $50). This is definitely the best way to see the falls as you get to jump all the queues! Do go up the tower (on the French side) if you ever get there as the view is spectacular.
Next day, headed off through Canada towards Michigan. Crossed back into USA on the ferry at
Algonac a few days later. One of the reasons I wanted to head north, was to avoid the spectacular continuous cornfield that is the mid-west of the USA. However, there is not avoiding it
completely and so I headed out over the flat featureless landscape,punctuated only by grain silos, until I came to the shores of Lake Huron at Bay City.
Heading north, I crossed over to the peninsula over the five mile Machinaw Bridge.Funny story:
You cannot cycle over the M.Bridge as it part of highway 75. So, for the princely sum of $2 a guy in a pickup truck comes and drives you over.
So, you call the bridge people ($4 for the call on a payphone!) and wait by the bridge. Duly, said pickup truck arrives.
I asked the driver, as he seemed like a local, if there are many bears in this part of the world? (as I was illicitly camping in the woods most nights). He said, "Oh, sure there are bears out there, but you'll never see one." He paused and continued,
"In my whole life, I have never seen more than…." He hesitated. "Oh, forty bears". Immediately I felt quite alarmed."Forty!" I said, "that's quite a lot isnt it?".
He consoled me by relating that they were only black bears, and they would leave you alone, if you left them alone! Camping in the woods is a strange thing if you have never done it before. At night, its unbelievably noisy!.
It takes a while to get used to it. Every rustle and crack is a Grizzly Bear! Anyway, I had made a habit of giving the people I met a native Indian name, my driver for the day became forever known as "Forty bears". I headed off into
the wilderness of the Northern Peninsula soon to become Wisconson.
Niagra Falls
The lakes of Winsconson gave way once more to endless the cornfields of Minisota.
I figured that half way across way the border with South Dakota.
The mid-west of the USA is truly astonishing. More so on a bicycle. It takes weeks of pedaling to cross this ocean
of corn.
Often,
towns on the map would have populations of less than ten!!.
Occasionally less than zero! As I head on down the road,
I am curious to know how people can live in these remote places, hundreds on miles from the nearest city. However they do and the people I do meet,
tend to be without exception curious,generous and friendly.
The first Indian reservation I hit was that of the Crow around Fort Thompson (SD). Strange places Indian reservations,
the only occasion I ever felt ill at easy. Being a stranger,
I was not sure of the people politics in such places, but it seemed to be the same story throughout most reservations. I am not sure if I was
suspicious of them or they were suspicious of me. It just felt a little sad.
Mount Rushmore
Perhaps one of the best aspects of cycling in America is that it brings home the shear scale of the country. Everything takes on a new perspective. A days journey in a car
is a week on a bike, but it really puts you in the middle of it and being in the middle of the Badlands, South Dakota, is not such a bad place to be!. Half way across the US and the landscape starts to
get interesting. The Badlands
are no exception. Dry, hot and like being on Mars.
I had been looking forward to the Black Hills. Spiritual home of the Native Indians and tribal lands of Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull. My first port of call was Mount Rushmore.
I had no preconceptions about this monument to Americas greatest Presidents, it does impress. The steep climb up to the mountain and the huge marble visitors center leaves
quite an impression. There is a sense of irony however, regarding the location of such a monument. At another site in the Black Hills the native
Indians are currently carving a huge statue of Crazy Horse and though having been offered, have turned down funding from the US government and though having been offered, have turned down funding from the US government.
Cycling in the Black Hills is spectacular! Constant ups and downs! Met another cyclist going the other way who told me I hadn't seen anything yet and related his experience of the Bighorn mountains. I visited the Tropical Reptile
Gardens outside Rapid City which was fun!.
Somewhere in the Black Hills.
Big snakes, spiders, aligators and a very rare Commodo Dragon. Sailed on to through old mining town of Deadwood and then a spectacular descent down out of the hills and into Spearfish.
Needing to change a tire, I popped into town to find a bike shop. Whilst there, I spotted
"The Knights cellar" describing itself as an "Olde English Pub". This was almost too good to be true and I subsequently spent a hilarious drunken night with Alan the manager and his locals. Being in no fit state,
Alan kindly allowed me to camp in his Garden that night. Top night!!. If you are ever in the area, I can recommend it folks!
As I crossed the border into Wyoming,I looked forward to my next port of call, "The Devils Tower". Americas first ever National Monument and star of "Close Encounters of The Third Kind". As night closed in I found a
cheapy camp site with two other occupants. They were a couple
of really cool guys who were going to climb the Tower the next morning. They were on a cross country mountaineering trip with virtually
no money and got 100 mile a gallon out of their truck by turning off the engine when they went down hill.
They shared their tea with me and showed me the gear (little bits of wire!!) they used to hang vertically off precipices. Complete lunatics!!. After the Tower they were
off to the Grand Tetons.The Tower is quite a sight especially in the morning light. Once I had taken my pictures and had a cup of coffee. It was off to my next waypoint, "Little Big Horn".
The devils Tower.
The Battlefield site
is further north and into Montana.
To get there I had several days crossing the desolate open rolling prairie. Town like Broadus and Ashland.
A huge mountain to climb (with nasty road works reducing the road to grit!). At one point, an extremely cute
Indian girl who was working the stop sign, gave me a bottle of cold water in the blistering heat. Then more
prairie and then LBH. Last Stand hill marks the location. There are little white grave stones where they buried
the soldiers where they fell!. On the crest of the hill is Custers grave stone (now interred at West Point).
The park rangers give an excellent talk on the events surrounding the battle, with points of view of both Cavalry
and Indian. My feeling was that in this vast expanse of open land, why was it felt necessary to corral the Indians.
It must be possible to wander around this vast wilderness for years without any body knowing of your existence. It seems that the prairie exists much the same today as it did then. All in all,
LBH is a very impressive site and was one of the high points of the journey.
Last Stand Hill
Heading back down into Wyoming, all roads led to Yellowstone. My route would take we through Red Lodge, the North
Gate into the park over the BearTooth pass. Camping at the KOA site at Red Lodge, I headed off at 6.00am to head
up the pass. This would be the biggest
climb of the journey, up to the peak at nearly 11,000 feet. On my last trip I went over Independence pass in Colorado
(12,120 ft) which was higher but not as steep. The road up the mountain pass switchbacked endlessly.
There is a viewing
platform at 8,000 ft with stunning views. At this point, you think the worst is over.
More fool me. Even though the road is less steep above that, the wind is incredible! At times I
could hardly stay on the bike. The remaining 3,000 ft takes you five miles and is so exhausting I
nearly gave up!! Two hours later, at the top, there
are stunning lakes and views to see
if you can stay on your feet!! The road down is a fabby 4,000 ft descent into the park. Without doubt the
high point of the journey!!!
A windy Beartooth pass:
10,947ft
Yellowstone was everything I expected. Buffalo,
roamed, hot springs
srung, Geysers burst forth
their hot steam but there
wasn't a bear in sight! Despite all the signs at every campsite and rest point. Nothing. At one other
campsite by the Yellowstone river,a bunch of folk from Virginia invited me to have
dinner with them. Now this was camping!! Spaggitti, bombfires, beer, fishing stories, bear stories. Excellent! Another top night! At one camp site in the park
(where they only charge cyclists $2.00!) the rangers gave the
usual instructions on how to avoid The Grizzlies.
"Don't leave food in your tent, etc". In passing I asked the warden when the last time a bear had been seen in the campsite. He hesitated before admitting that
it had been a couple of years since anyone had seen a bear.
This however is a good thing, as when the bears get too
familiar with the human travelers, they have to be put down if they persist. Most of the grizzlies live way in the back woods and are rarely seen from the road.
The consolation was that buffalo wandered freely amongst the campers and their RV's.
Yellowtsone Park
Now my time was getting short. I had arranged to be in San Francisco by week seven to stay with my sister who lives in Berkley. Out of the park,
over some more big mountains and into Idaho.
In the more less densely populated states in the US you are allowed to cycle on the hard shoulder of the interstate, which gets you to where you want to be, be isn't the most fun.
Sometimes there are simply no other roads. The road took me south to Twin falls. This is largely flat, uneventful (except for some interesting stuff at Massacre Rocks) and into the wind!.
At TF, I headed South to Nevada, where the land gradually turned to desert. The town of Jackpot and its Casinos appeared out of nowhere. After a full breakfast I headed off once more
into the desert. The interstate across Nevada took a whole week to cross.
This area is called the High Desert and I was glad I was crossing it in September and not a month earlier. Even though the nights were bitterly cold, I had crossed the Mohave before in the height of summer,
and appreciated the cool 90 degrees during the day. The desert however is fun and quite spectacular,
though you do get some strange looks from people on a bike.On the 11th of September I arrived in a town called Winnemucca, booked into a motel and watched events on TV.
Yosemite
I finally came to Carson City and the end of the desert. Crossing over the border into California road once
again turned steeply upwards as I hit the Sierras. I took the stunning highway 88 over
the huge Kit Carson Pass
(another 8,000 footer) and then the incredible freewheeling descent to sealevel and San Francisco.
My parents had arrived the day before for a two week stay. We went to visit Yosemite (and the big trees!), the
fabulous Lake Tahoe (Stayed at Harrahs for some late night gambling and drinking etc) and the obligatory visit to Alkatraz.
In all the trip took seven weeks and covered a distance of some 4,120 miles with only five punctures!.I would
like to thank all the fab people I met along the way who offered food/a campsite/a bed/beer/insect
repelent/conversation and helped to make the journey as amazing as it was. Here are just a few.
All pics by Andy Drudy (except pictures that other people took!).
