Eat, Sleep, Ride by Paul Howard

Author:Paul Howard
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: SPO110000, book
Publisher: Douglas & McIntyre
Published: 2010-12-26T16:00:00+00:00

IDAHO AND WYOMING

CHAPTER 16

.......................

NO ROOM AT THE INN

DAY 1 3

For some reason we made a slow start to the day. It certainly wasn’t the peace and tranquillity of the campsite that induced us to lie in. Just as dawn was breaking, a large motorhome had arrived and promptly performed the popular campsite slapstick routine of ‘how do we park this thing?’ Very loudly. As a result of this funny-were-it-not-so-painful performance, no prolonged sleeping had been possible.

Yet we were lucky to leave before 7.30 a.m. Maybe it was untangling the cord with which I had insisted we suspend all our odoriferous belongings to reduce their appeal to passing bears. With everyone else secure in the metal carapaces of their vehicular homes from home, the campsite (obviously the designation was a relic of the days when people actually camped) contained no bear bins.

Still, we had survived unmolested and, late as we were, we were soon rewarded with fine views of the western flanks of the famous Teton mountains. This, apparently, was their less flattering side, but it still showed up pretty well across the Idaho arable land through which we cycled.

‘My mom used to say that Tetons is actually the French word for breast,’ confided Stephen.

‘It’s true,’ I said, shamelessly implying a European linguistic superiority over my American host.

‘Yeah, she was a French teacher,’ Stephen added.

We both agreed that we had never seen quite such jagged breasts, but it was better than the original Anglophone alternative: Pilot Knobs.

After several miles of tarmac we turned onto the Ashton–Flagg Ranch road, also known as the Reclamation Road, though what it was reclaiming and from whom was unclear. Initially it was quiet but broad and straight and covered in dusty gravel. It felt as though progress should have been easy, but the gradient was deceptive. It was also hot. For the sun, though, we were still prepared to be thankful.

Another hour or so later and we departed our second state in two days. We left Idaho with considerably less fanfare than we had left Montana – partly because it had not required undue exertion to pass through, but mainly because of the volume of mosquitoes. They were so prolific that even stopping for a call of nature was hazardous. In fact, I suffered the indignity of being bitten in a very sensitive area while watering the last flowers in Idaho. Otherwise we would quite happily have celebrated our departure over-enthusiastically.

Our entry into Wyoming saw the road turn into a trail and become much tougher going. It was both rougher and steeper, and Per in particular struggled. It was clear that the pain in his knee meant he could no longer stand up to pedal when the gradient required. In fact, though he tried to hide it, he could scarcely tolerate sitting down and was forced to walk not by gradient or terrain but by the pain.

I was concerned I was becoming something of a curse. First Steve McGuire, then Jacob, then Ray – all had been constrained to stop shortly after I had caught them.

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