Ennis

Cycle Greater Yellowstone, Day 6: Dillon-Ennis

Another rider arrived as I was parking my bike. “What did you think of that road?” he asked. The road was fine, it was the drivers that were a problem. “I'm done,” he replied. “They can SAG me to Bozeman tomorrow.”

I walked past the information desk as another rider was sharing his feelings about today's route. He was a local, from Livingston; I'd chatted with him a few times.

Headmistress Jennifer was on the phone with the highway patrol, making arrangements for some support tomorrow morning.

But I've gotten ahead of myself.

It was chilly this morning, with a threat of some rain (which, luckily, never materialized).

I started rolling shortly after 7 a.m., and was nearly two miles down the road when I realized I hadn't yet started recording my GPS track. By now you'd think I'd have this routine nailed.

Our first stop was near a famous limestone outcropping known as Beaverhead Rock, another critical landmark tied to the Lewis and Clark Expedition of 1805. Here they sought (and found) Sacagawea's people, the Shoshone. We also learned that prehistoric creatures (titanotheres) grazed in these fields some 30 million years ago, their fossilized remains having been found in the 1980s.

We were encouraged to take some time to see the sights along the way; it promised to be an easy day, and we would pass through a pair of historic gold mining towns, Nevada City and Virginia City. These days, they're both tourist attractions.

Piles of broken rock litter the landscape, evidence of the hunt for gold.

I was glad I stopped first in Nevada City, where I picked up a large ginger cookie at the Star Bakery. [The cookie was embossed with—you guessed it—a star.] Nevada City had a more rustic feel; Virginia City was crowded with tourists and souvenir shops; biking safely through there commanded full attention.

The trouble had started much earlier, though. We needed to travel on Highway 287 from Twin Bridges to Ennis—about 45 miles. And so did everyone else.

The shoulder was more narrow than a bike lane (when there was a shoulder). The headwind was ferocious; the crosswinds were worse. The winds alone challenged me to keep the bike upright, but the mightiest challenge came from what I'll call the “wash” (or “reverse draft”) of tractor-trailers traveling at 70+ mph in the opposite direction: generating a massive blast of air. I realized that the prudent solution would be to stop the bike and step off the road if I saw a truck approaching (and, sometimes I did). It was also a challenge not to get sucked into the lane with the draft of the trucks that passed alongside us.

Some of this problem was just bad timing: We were on this stretch of road in the afternoon, when drivers are particularly impatient as they feel pressed to get wherever they're going. Slowing to pass cyclists, or giving us a little more room, was not factored into their plan for the day.

Climbing out of Virginia City wasn't bad; the road was engineered with a second (slow) lane for the climb, so we finally got a break. Once I reached the top, well, I knew what to do. [Go fast. Go really fast. Go as fast as I possibly could, down the hill. Go go go.] Even that was treacherous, as I was buffeted by the crosswinds. I made myself as aerodynamic as possible, hung on for dear life, and hoped for the best.

Last night, one of the EMTs had mentioned that this area was known for strong winds, and he was surprised at how lucky we'd been so far. [Indeed.]

I made it. 72 miles, with 2,565 feet of climbing.

After gathering my things, I realized that Ennis was the town where I'd managed to book a cabin located right next to camp. I could just walk there.

Sweet.