Jackson, Wyoming

The Continental divide is marked by a small green sign at 9,658 feet on Wyoming's Route 26. It sits below two towering rock ramparts that look like castle tops, just past a glassy mountain lake frequented by fisherman and road-trippers. And tired bikers.

Yesterday we rode over the continental divide from Dubois (pronounced DOO-boys by the locals) in to Jackson. I swept with Elle. The day dawned bleak, with clouds and rain showers, and 50% chance of thunderstorms, all day. According to all the locals we talked to, this was TERRIBLE news-- we would miss the storied "300-mile view" from atop the Rockies, and the ride would be marked by muddy work zones and irate RVers.

Thankfully, all that talk was unfounded. When we left, the weather was indeed funky, with scattered sprinkles and a mountain-y bite to the air. But we had bellies full of good coffee (thanks to "Kathy's Koffee" in Dubois) and everyone in front of us seemed giddy and ridiculous, always a good mental state to be in when you're about to climb over the Rockies on a bike.

The first 30 miles were almost entirely uphill, and we had to be ferried over a 4-mile stretch of intense construction (absolutely NO bikers allowed, so we didn't feel like big cheaters). At about mile 30 we officially hit the continental divide, at the top of Togwotee Pass. We had cold pizza for lunch under a "BEAR AWARE" sign warning us about over-friendly grizzlies and then got ready for the descent.

Note (forgive the hyperbole, it's the only thing that works): for much of this ride I was overcome with an overwhelming, transcendent euphoria. It was probably the altitude, some 4,000 feet above our starting point, and the lack of food, and the residual caffeine in my system, but I was never desensitized to the surrounding landscape. I've seen big mountains before, but these were unreal. When we crested the pass, the valley opened onto the Grand Tetons, a vast purple wall in the distance. Most of us thought they were clouds at first. It was funny; I forgot my camera in my duffel in the morning, so I didn't have it with me all day, but I'm almost glad that I went without. It made me scrutinize the environment more than I would have if I'd been peering at it through a 2" screen. I was totally consumed by the Tetons, the jagged teeth in the "maw" that I mentioned a few days ago. It was staggering. Pictures don't work. Words don't either, apparently.

All that said, I'll be stealing pictures from other riders. And I'll be back here again, I promise.

Elle and I had a great sweep tenure, helping with flats and sharing chocolate and waiting for the van with a big ol' group and Lauren, who'd fallen on the way down from the pass because her seat bolt freakin' sheared off. It's a 1-in-10,000 flaw, I think, and we're all profoundly grateful that she emerged with a touch of road rash and nothing more severe.

The rest of the ride was mostly downhills and flats, cruising through the Snake River valley and into Jackson. From the valley floor the Teton Range marches southward. The mountains are close enough to loom but far enough away to resist comprehension. Valleys and peaks and snow-filled couloirs all seem tossed together haphazardly. The Tetons tumble up into the sky until they're lost in the low-hanging clouds. Tourists fall out of minivans at view spots, stare agape along mountain flanks, then clamber back in for another mind-numbing stretch of road. We bikers were lost in the landscape, specks in the tourist flood.

Our build day today in Jackson was great-- we worked on two Habitat homes in Jackson's South Park neighborhood, about 10 minutes south of downtown. The median home price here is $1.7 million. Habitat builds 2-4 homes a year, with an average cost (land/supplies) of about $150-200,000, a whole lot more than other cities. But in a place where a 1/4-acre lot can go for over $100k on the open market, that's pretty damn good. We worked alongside Americorps Vista volunteers, fellow college- and post-college students working for a year or two in the area on service projects. They were great, and our boss Trace was also great-- as Tommy put it, he had the "walking around, cracking jokes, and making everyone feel good" thing down, which is essential for Habitat crew-chiefs. We did some finish work and driveway-forming on a house that's being dedicated next Tuesday and most of the ladies in the group worked on a "Women's Build" site across the way.

We were also pleasantly surprised by a visit from Ken and Lisa Pelotti, who we'd met in Lander a few days earlier. They're the owners of Muscle Works (www.rebuild2.com), a sports/training supplement company based in Texas, and after they heard about our trip they both encouraged Elle, Bronwyn, and I to try their muscle recovery and electrolyte boost pills/powders. Today they pulled up to our build site with two boxes full of freebies, an invaluable gift for us, and for our muscles. I'm excited to see how the Rebuild helps with my recovery-- I'm expecting big things. Ken and Lisa: you guys rock!

According to Tommy, tomorrow will be our definitive climb-- we're going up about 4,000 vertical feet in 5 miles. For those of you who'd like to simulate this experience, try this:
1. Find your heaviest rolling pin.
2. Straddle a well-used sawhorse.
3. Start bouncing up and down on it.
4. Pummel your thighs spiritedly with the rolling pin for about an hour.

5. (Advanced) If you really want the whole package, have a friend flick flies into your mouth as he pours hot, salty water over your head.

Just kidding.

Kinda.

Once again, I'm creepily exhilarated to go up another honest-to-god mountain.

Wow, this post just crossed the line into loooooooooong territory. Sorry for the reading fatigue-- I'll upload more pictures shortly and I'll also be sure to fill you in on the spaceship-like organ from my previous post. That was quite the night, let me tell you.

All the best from 6200'

-Sam