West Yellowstone to Big Sky, Montana. Thursday, July 13, 2024.
I surprised myself in my college, which was all about science and technology, by falling hard for Shakespeare, particularly Shakespearean tragedy. We studied the four major tragedies and discussed how each of their heroes had a fatal flaw. Macbeth had ambition; Othello, jealousy; Lear, insecurity/egotism; and Hamlet, indecisiveness.
In my last post, I described how I went round and round about whether to take the Transamerica Trail home, or continue my journey to the parking lots of previously-hiked highpoints. Eric had ribbed me for similar indecisiveness at the Borah turn off. I finally said OK, let’s make a decision: the parking lots. And I sealed the deal with a couple of expensive hotel reservations.
I needed to top off the air pressure in my tires, so I stopped at the local bike shop, Freeheel and Wheel. I asked for advice about cycling routes, and they brought me up short. My planned route, up US 191 through Big Sky to Bozeman, was a nonstarter. Terrible shoulders, heavy traffic, lots of construction, they strongly recommended against it.
Huh. The reservations were nonrefundable. The alternative routes were hopelessly hilly and out-of-the-way. I was tossed back into indecisiveness. What do I do? Blow off the reservations? Take the Transamerica Trail home after all? I dithered on the sidewalk and finally decided, screw it. I’m skilled at cycling in traffic, I have a neon yellow vest, powerful headlight, reflectors everywhere, and a comically obnoxious rear flasher. I can do this. It’s not clear if Hamlet ultimately made the right decision, or if I did.
My nervousness on heading up 191 was soon dispelled by the beauty of the route. The climb up over Bighorn Pass, my highest so far, was doable, and the shoulders, though generally terrible, were wide when I needed them. Yellowstone Park spills into Montana a bit, and I entered it at a nontraditional place. The entrance signs are typically more elaborate, and always crowded with people taking photos.
Usually the trailheads are choked with cars, but the one for Fawn Pass was deserted.
I walked 30 feet on an actual Yellowstone hiking trail and had a snack under a tree. Only one gentleman came by, carrying a thick paperback, he walked to a bridge and sat there reading it. So serene.
From there, it was downhill all the way to my expensive motel at Big Sky. I kept my earbuds out, listening and looking for passing traffic, and kept checking whether blind curves or oncoming traffic made it unsafe for cars to pass me. I was prepared to run into the shoulder gravel if necessary, but it never was. It was only slightly hairy.
I crossed briefly into Wyoming, which closed a loop of sorts, I had touched Wyoming on the first leg of this bike ride, to Denver. So now I have biked to Wyoming from both coasts.
I had crossed the Madison and was following the Gallatin river, these were two of the rivers that formed the Missouri, which combined with the Mississippi is the 4th longest river in the world. The Madison drained Old Faithful and the other geysers. Flying down the hill right next to the Gallatin river was almost like white water rafting. The canyon it carved was beautiful, but I could only stop at the turnouts, which didn’t afford good photographs. It was just a stunning ride.
Another great barbecue, pulled pork this time, then in early to my motel. I had always wanted to see Big Sky, the largest ski resort in Montana. It was founded by Chet Huntley, the iconic news anchorman; all of you boomers out there remember the Huntley-Brinkley report and their classic sign off , “Goodnight, Chet. Goodnight, David, And Goodnight For NBC News.” Unfortunately, Huntley died at 62 of lung cancer, a month before the resort opened. The Big Sky was also a classic novel I read about the opening of the American West.
The bike shop guys warned me that this next leg, to Bozeman, was the most treacherous. I’m leaving at the crack of dawn, and will take every precaution. Wish me luck.
Distance 48 miles, 1,781 total. Time 6 hours with stops. Elevation gain 1,245 feet
©️ 2024 Scott Luria
The Ends of the Earth 