I woke up in the park by the base of the tower. I groped around the tent blindly, attempting to find my phone so I could check the time to decide if I should keep sleeping (yay!) or wake up and attempt to make some headway west. I decided on an option somewhere in the middle. I brewed up some coffee in the jetboil and lazily watched watched an episode of something on my tablet. I left the tent door open so that the sunlight could stream in. Eventually I packed it all in and set out for the day, headed towards the famed Yellowstone in western Wyoming. On the way there as Im on the freeway comfortably cruising maybe 50 yards behind an 18 wheeler I hear a BOOM, actually I feel it as a tap on the chest. I scan the road ahead and see a belt of detached tire rubber flipping down the road in front of me. Its rolling predictably so avoiding it is not a problem. What is interesting to me though is that the semi did not slow down at all, just kept going. Maybe this is typical as there is some redundancy with 18 wheels, even so it was strange. I pulled off into a town at the halfway mark to feed. Fortune had me stumble upon a bbq place, jackpot! The food was fantastic and I ended up chatting with the bartender for a bit. It had opened 8 years ago and she ran it with her pops and a flock of employees. Started small and was growing every year, she said. Considering how the food was I can see why. After finishing I stroll back to the bike only to be greeted by a low oil light. I figure it was because of the incline I parked on, with the front wheel being slightly up the oil had sloshed backroom away from the sensor. Sure enough as a backed into level ground the warning subsided. Even so I put the bike up on the center stand so I could accurately judge the oil level. Sure enough it was a bit low. Perhaps holding 85 mph through the entirety of South Dakota had me working the little mill harder than usual. No matter, I made a funnel out of a sheet of paper and topped it off and got back on the road. One thing you notice in parts of the country where you can see for miles from the freeway is how thunderstorms really look. You can see where the rain is falling and which way its moving by looking at the shape. What I didnt know was wether or not the road I was on would lead me straight into one or not, as I didnt have gps on. Oh well, Ive got rain gear somewhere in one of these bags. Soon enough I was entering the eastern edge of Bighorn National Forest as the sun was slowly setting. I knew national forests typically have campsites but I wasnt sure where. Thanks again T-Mobile! Eventually I did see a camping sign pointing to a rough hard packed dirt road. The scoots isnt exactly an off road machine but whatever, it was dry and nothing looked too steep. I puttered down the road trying to avoid large ruts until I came to a clearing. There were 2 old all metal camping trailers parked in the clearing also, within yelling distance. This gave me some comfort I thought, because if I got mauled by a bear that night maybe a hero would emerge from one of those trailers. A hero named Cletus brandishing a sock full of quarters and a scattergun. Anyway, I set up camp in a flat spot with minimal rocks. After the tent was up I jetboiled another mountain meal. I dont mean to brag but at this point Im pretty great at boiling water! As I was finishing up it dawned on me that bears are always going after food spoils, and surely my empties would smell enough to attract SOMETHING. What did I do? I got out of my tent, walked for a bit and bucked my bag of refuse into the darkness. Id pick it up tomorrow, or what remains of it after the demon bears get done destroying it, as they no doubt would. I looked up at the sky for awhile that night. There was no light pollution so all of the stars were twinkling twice as hard. It got really cold that night but once again the bag did its job. I had survived another night. Bears be damned!
Posted on: Thu, 11 Sep 2014 23:33:04 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015