July 27 - Across the High Desert
I spent a long time at the Buffalo Bill Historical Museum
in Cody, both last night and this morning. The place is
filled with memorabilia from all epochs of the American West.
For those fascinated by guns, there is a whole wing dedicated
to firearms. For those with an anthropological bent, there is
an extensive exhibit on the various native nations. If your
passion is for the minutia of life in the west in the last
century, there are many displays of clothing, furniture, and
accessories. They were exhibiting a special showing of
Remington's art in addition to their in-house collections of
Remington, Russell, and Miller as well as many others.
In addition, last night in the auditorium there was a
balladeer named Billy Bridger (yes he is related to Jim
Bridger) who gave 90 minute story (in verse) of the life and
times of Buffalo Bill Cody. It was very good.
It was difficult to extract myself from the museum, but I did
have a full half day of cycling to do.
The way was desolate
and very warm, and I again noticed that the thunderstorms were
brewing in the west. It is a good deal muggier down here, and
all the signs were that there would be a climactic event at
the end of the day. We were not disappointed. At about 5:30
a big wind came up, and there was thunder in the distance
but, once again the rain went elsewhere.
There is not much to be said about the countryside in this
area. The valley was very flat, the roads were dead straight,
the vegetation was sagebrush and tumbleweed. This was classic
Wyoming countryside.
The day's destination was Graybull, an oil town until
recently, and a town now wrestling with itself about the
future. Whenever I reach a town of any size, I am immediately
drawn to the historical society or the local museum. Today I
was focusing on the town library, in hopes that there was a
computer I could use, to download some photos from the last
several days. No luck, but there was a couple who are riding
a tandem across the country. Tandems are an immediate
socializing force. We very quickly "bonded" and arranged to
have dinner together at the only place in town. These two are
fairly serious about riding their tandem, and their
organizational skills make me look scatterbrained. We may get
to ride together tomorrow for awhile, and there are spots where
our intended destinations are close, so I may yet see them
again, They are riding from Salt Lake City to Appleton, WI
and maybe on to Maine if time permits. They have a plan for
dealing with tomorrow's big climb that they might let me in
on.
Babcock and Turner are enduring some problems up in Montana,
along the Yellowstone River.
Our rough, hazardous riding is now over and our machines
will probably not be put to any more tests, but we are
beginning to feel an affection for our noiseless steeds,
based upon companionship of over 1500 miles of rough riding.
From Billings we followed the south side of the river,
being obliged to wind in and out along the cow trails for
many miles. At a little section house we stopped for the
night, and slept not at all. There were no screens to the
windows, and the mosquitoes came from the river in
swarms and literally drove us out of doors, where we made
smudge of green sage brush and waited for morning. That day
we were neither of us in good spirits and we rode far
apart and kept pumping. In one respect we were happily
disappointed. We had been told that we would find very
poor water all the way into Dakota, but at every section
house, and nearly every ranch we found good ice water.
Where we stopped for supper the people used water from
melted ice for washing as well as drinking. The ranchers
along the lower Yellowstone have found it easier to haul
ice in the winter, when there is but little else to do, than
to secure good water during the hot summer months.
58 miles this afternoon, and a big hill staring me in
the face.
Getting my breath back, at 3800' elevation in Graybull,
Dennis
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Copyright (c) 1996 by Dennis Bell. All rights reserved, including the right of
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