June 24, 2019
Day Fifteen: Dubois, Idaho to West Yellowstone, Montana
I woke up refreshed, and ready to ride.
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I decided not to backtrack to the truck stop for breakfast, but instead ate a few things from my snack bag and headed out. The first 20-ish miles of the day were a long, steady climb on pavement. Except for some cattle haulers who were apparently transporting a large number of cows from one of the ranches miles away, there was minimal traffic.
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There was supposed to be tiny "community store" a mile off my route. I almost never ride off my route to see natural splendor, no matter how beautiful or awe-inspiring, but I'm always ready to go out of my way to see potentially quirky stuff, and meet interesting people.
The Kilgore Store did not disappoint.
It was a jumble with an incredible variety of stuff. A friendly dog lay on the floor, "trolling for belly rubs", the proprietor, Arlynne, told me as I entered. I obliged the dog, bought some snacks, then sat and talked to Arlynne for twenty minutes or so. She was a font of knowledge about the area. I asked her how she kept track of everything in the store, and she said she had it memorized, although occasionally she'd notice any empty spot on a shelf, and had to think for a while to remember what she needed to reorder.
I got back on the route and immediately onto fifteen miles of gravel. The occasional cattle hauler was now annoying because of all the dust they stirred up.
I rode through a nice tree-lined section, a pleasant break from all the sagebrush.
At one time I saw movement ahead of me, and briefly was convinced that it was a bear. When I got closer I saw that it was an ATV.
I was also convinced that I was lost, when, for the first time on this trip, my directions didn't match what I was seeing. And Google Maps was completely wrong.
When I got to a more populated area, a local bushy-mustached, cowboy-hat-wearing man in a pickup truck set me straight. I'd been expecting to make a turn four miles sooner, for some reason.
When I did get to the turn, though, I was confused again, and wasted valuable time trying to find "Old 191" Finally I found it - it was a narrow gravel lane accessible only through a gas station parking lot.
Now that I'd identified the route to West Yellowstone (or so I thought), and it seemed likely that I'd reach that ultra-tourist-town today, I started making calls, trying to find a place to stay. It took a while, and required calling the Camber of Commerce, in order to find the last room at a modestly-priced (by West Yellowstone standards) motel.
Now today's adventure started. The route I was following was designed to keep me off the deathtrap of US-20. I followed a series of gravel and bumpy low-traffic roads, until my directions said I should "turn right."
I looked more closely at the directions, and found that I had to ride seven miles on a "rail trail" that was "very rugged", which was possibly an understatement. It started off so soft and sandy that I struggled to keep the bike upright. I took a quick break to look at the elevation profile and realized that it was going to be a nonstop climb. I also realized that if I stopped, it took no more than 2 seconds for the mosquitoes to swarm me.
Later the soft surface became rocky.
The surface continued to deteriorate.
It started to rain around the time I began wondering if this trail was ever going to lead me anywhere.
I finally reached the end of the rail trail, made a turn onto a forest road, only to find that it was even worse than the trail.
I was becoming convinced that this "road" could not possibly lead anywhere when an ATV approached. I flagged down the rider and he confirmed that if I followed the rock-strewn, giant-mud-puddled road that I would eventually reach West Yellowstone.
"Does the road get any better?"
I observed his facial expression as he considered his response.
"Well... It's about the same, I guess." Clearly he didn't want to give me the bad news that it was actually slightly worse.
I rode on, grimacing every time I rode the bike into, and over, the millions of large-ish, sharp rocks. I eventually gave up and started riding through the middle of the giant mud puddle, instead of skirting their edges.
And then, after a mile or so of mild gravel, I arrived: West Yellowstone.
I quickly found my motel, where the kind lady I'd spoken to earlier expressed some concern about my mud-soaked appearance, and my well-being in general (I looked pretty bad), and confirmed that she had not sold my room to someone else despite my late arrival.
After I cleaned up I walked to the busiest supermarket in memory and bought some snacks, took them back to my room, consumed them, then decided I needed a day off to regroup, and extended my stay by a day.
Today's ride: 85 miles (137 km)
Total: 1,212 miles (1,951 km)
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I'm pretty darned sure that I warned you about the rough surface on the rail trail leading into West Yellowstone. Because I have ridden it. And it is better now than when I rode it. It could be a destination trail if it were improved - - but then it would be crowded. Best - J
3 years ago
Yes you did warn me, haha!
The worst thing about it was the mosquitoes, actually, closely followed by my (perhaps irrational) fear that a bear would eat me on the trail.
The next day of riding included that ultra-busy section in Yellowstone that you definitely warned me about. I *almost* wimped out there and hitched a ride, but eventually fortified myself to ride it.
Jeff
3 years ago