Livingston

Cycle Greater Yellowstone, Day 1: Bozeman-Livingston

I watched enviously as a couple of the other guests at our hotel pedaled off to the park. Despite repeated phone calls, the rest of us waited 1 hour and 15 minutes for the shuttle that was supposed to pick us up around 6:00 a.m. We were not off to an auspicious beginning. Taking advantage of the hotel's free continental breakfast was a wise move; by the time we got to the starting line, most of the camp had already cleared out and been packed away.

Once we were underway, it was a nice ride; climbing very gently for the first 20 miles, past the Bridger Bowl Ski Area and cresting Battleridge Pass before heading downhill (woo-hoo!). The roads were in excellent shape, compared to our local California Bay Area roads. Montana gets weather (ice, snow), and we don't ... go figure. This being a Sunday, I wasn't surprised when local motoring enthusiasts passed us (one Ferrari, trailed by a Corvette and assorted muscle cars). Roads that are fun to bike are also fun to drive.

Rumble strips were commonly carved into the center line of the road, as well as along the fog line. Rumble strips are not friendly to bicycles, but I do appreciate that they help to keep motorists safer. The shoulder was often quite narrow—less than the width of a bike lane—and strewn with loose gravel. The fog line rumble strips, fortunately, were not continuous; when the road was clear, it was easy to dart in and out through gaps as needed.

Montana is a “personal responsibility” state. For example, there is no helmet law for motorcyclists, and many choose to ride unprotected. Personal choice is fine with me, as long as the consequences are also personal (i.e., don't count on the taxpayers to foot your medical bills).

Eager Girl Scouts served snacks and refilled water bottles at our second rest stop, the community center in Sedan, an area settled in 1885. Out back was the tallest slide I've ever seen—tall enough to make helicopter parents swoon, for sure. I was tempted, but didn't risk it; I have too many miles of riding ahead.

Throughout the day, I passed people (and of course, got passed). A light cloud cover kept the temperature manageable, but as the day wore on some tricky crosswinds developed. Livingston, I'd heard, could get quite windy. Turning south offered some relief ... a headwind is easier to handle than a crosswind.

Camp was set up alongside the Yellowstone River, near a statue honoring Sacajawea “whose loyalty, courage and devotion were instrumental in the success of the Lewis and Clark expedition of 1803-1806.”

Despite the challenging conditions, I managed to average 14.3 mph over 68 miles, with 2,300 feet of climbing.

Cycle Greater Yellowstone

The Greater Yellowstone Coalition has been running a multi-day cycling tour for the past few years. They choose a different route each year, always covering some portion of the Greater Yellowstone ecosystem. The map this year showed participants from nearly every state, as well as a few international visitors.

When this ride crossed my radar screen last winter, I took notice. While it was primarily arranged as a camping event, they would also run shuttles to a few chosen hotels in each town to accommodate non-camping-types (like me). Even though they offer a “tent sherpa” option, where they provide, set up, and tear down a tent for you, I expected that I would not be a happy camper. If you don't get a good night's sleep, in the morning you still have to climb onto the bike and pedal.

The gray sherpa tents were tightly packed in neat rows; good luck if your neighbors snore ...

I walked over to the coalition's headquarters early enough to claim my bicycle, just as they were loading trucks to transport gear to our starting location at Beall Park. I was the first to park in the “bike corral;” later I would learn that the preferred technique is to loop the handlebars over the rope.

There were all sorts of bicycles: road bikes, mostly, but a few mountain bikes, tandems, and full-on touring bikes with fenders. I didn't see any recumbents, but there was at least one Roundtail. A curious concept, for sure.

Our encampment was fully established, the corral packed with bicycles, by the time I returned for the first evening's festivities (dinner and announcements). Our leader, who I came to dub Headmistress Jennifer, was a stern taskmaster. Heed her directives, or else ...

I sat on the fence for months before taking the leap last spring and committing to Cycle Greater Yellowstone. While the route would not entail much climbing, each day's ride would be long. If it rained, that would mean a lot of misery. We would also be riding for seven straight days without a day off. I wasn't sure I could do this.

If I didn't try, I would never know.

I signed up and navigated the logistics of booking nine reservations with the right hotels on the right nights in the right towns (including pre- and post-ride adventures). Pro tip: Track it all in a spreadsheet.

This rock in Lindley Park puts it all in perspective. The plaque is inscribed: “This boulder marks the trail of the Lewis and Clark Expedition 1805.” Two hundred eleven years later, I'm just here to ride a bicycle.