Sometimes things work out in your favor and sometimes they don't. My hands are cold right now, but the coffee keeps my bones thawed. A lot has happened since South Dakota so let's get caught up to speed.

South Dakota:

The question has to be asked: So did you go to see Mount Rushmore when you were in South Dakota? No. We didn't. We got close, but we didn't see it. Our second rest day since leaving Chicago we spent in Hot Springs, South Dakota. It was a small tourism based town in the southern part of the Black Hills. Mount Rushmore was a good 50 miles away which would have meant our rest day would have been a 100 mile round trip with lots of good hill climbing. Instead we settled for drinking 6 packs of beer in our motel room's mini-refrigerator, watching basic cable, and going to Wind Cave National Park.

Wind Cave National Park:

There isn't any way to talk about “caving” or “spelunking” or sticking oneself into the earth's tight orifices without making copious amounts of sexual innuendo...that being said I now feel obliged to riddle my summary of the cave with raunchy humor.

Ryan and I decided there needs to be a new society. It's called the American Spelunking Society. The inaugural president is Harry Bumgardner. When one goes caving there are proper precautions and necessary gear required. First rule: never go spelunking by yourself; always have a partner. In fact four people is the preferred amount for cave exploration. If one person gets injured than one person can stay with him or her while the other two think of a rational story to tell the authorities. When it comes to equipment there are a few necessities. Always have multiple sources of light: headlamps work great and glow sticks can be okay but get messy when they break. Knee pads are also important. You will most likely be crawling around and getting yourself into tighter places than you find comfortable. Be sure not to hurt yourself. All that crawling can also ruin your clothes, so if you chose to wear some make sure you're not worried about getting them all muddy. A ball of string is a nice addition to caving if you are doing so in uncharted territory; just unwind it as you reach new passages to get a better understanding of the cave's anatomy. Despite what you may have read on Internet forums, gerbils are not and never have been used by professional spelunkers; that is a myth started from tragic rumors involving Richard Gere.

I named this photo Colonostocave

In actuality all of the rules and equipment mentioned above (minus the gerbil nonsense) was what I learned from the National Park Service Ranger leading our short tour of Wind Cave National Park. On Ryan and my day off from riding we took a short 15 mile ride from Hot Springs up to Wind Cave. There were three different cave tours offered. Each one was no more than one mile of the cave's 130something miles of explored cave. The amazing thing about Wind Cave is that it is not even close to being fully explored. Some researchers believe only around 5% of the total cave passage has actually been explored. It was an awesome experience to go 200+ feet into the earth's surface surrounded by nothing but rock and just marvel at the natural structure it can take. Wind Cave is home to 95% of “box work” rock formation in the world.

Ryan staring at some fine Box

During the tour Ryan, the German tour group down there with us, and myself listened as Ranger Jeri overfill us with facts and figures about the immensity of the cave. It is the 4^th longest cave structure in the world. At times she would get a little corny and I couldn't help but feel like a 6 year old. She would say things in a high voice like, “Now, can you imagine what it must have been like to be a cave explorer in the 1800s? Do you think it would be to scary? Exciting?” I couldn't make up my mind, but I kept thinking of the most creative ways to take camera shots in a low light setting without the use of a tripod and unable to touch the cave wall surfaces. I guess being a bonified cave crawler at Wind Cave would be exciting. I would get to stare at box all day. But if I wanted to do that I could just go to a nightclub.

By the time the tour was over I was all caved out. Ryan and I thought about walking around the prairie trails above ground and in the park, but it was supposed to be our day off. We rode the 15 miles back to town, did some laundry, and bought another six pack of beer to drink while further numbing our minds to prime time TV. We kept the cave/darkness theme alive in the motel by drinking beer and watching the reality show Dating in the Dark. If you haven't watched it, please don't start on my account.

Wyoming:

After leaving Hot Springs we hauled ass to the Wyoming border. Wyoming is the first completely western state we have reached on our return trip. At the border a Welcome to Wyoming sign greeted us and a caption underneath read: “Forever West.”

At times Wyoming shockingly reminded me of Nevada. The way the hills rolled slowly over long stretches of land; no towns within 50+ miles; mashed rattlesnakes on the shoulders of the highway; endless summer road construction project; dry; desolate; like home. At one point on our way towards Lusk, Wyoming we had to throw our bikes in the back of a pilot truck leading traffic through a construction site for around two miles. We rode in the back of the truck with our bikes, bags, and a white bucket filled with a small tarantula spider the construction workers found on the side of the road earlier that morning. While we loaded our bags back onto our bikes the guy that gave us a ride gave us an informal crash course on Wyoming. It is the least populated state in the US and Lusk was the last city to make prostitution illegal in the state. He told us more, but I forgot. He said there was no other place to live, and that while some of his friends still live in California with $500,000 mortgages, he told the real estate office to keep all there paper work and plopped a check for $27,000something on the desk; paying for his ¾ of an acre of property and his home. I thought it admirable, but I also prefer more company at times than rattlesnakes and tarantulas. That is why I like Nevada; rattlesnakes, tarantulas, whores, and tourists.

I don't know if this has anything to do with Wyoming's former prostitution industry but it is suspect

But also like Nevada, Wyoming does not have a state income tax. In Nevada the bill is footed by a large section of the gaming industry, but in Wyoming it is the energy industry. Oil and coal are the main contributors, and this became clear as we rode through the state. One night we camped on a dirt country road about 8 miles east of Evansville and Casper, Wyoming. For those of you who don't know, Casper is where former vice-president Dick Cheney is from. This explains a lot. Let me explain. We rode past the energy company Halliburton on our bikes in a town (Evansville) with a population of 22,000 people. Casper is next to Evansville with 50,000+ people. Together these two areas account for about 15% of Wyoming's entire population. It is my belief that Cheney could never get along with anyone when in office, because he never had to – there is hardly anyone here. He never learned that lesson in life.

I wanted to test my theory and see if Dick Cheney was man or machine. Whether his heart had been replaces by a motor that pumped crude oil through a mechanized body, or he was still predominately of flesh. So I thought that even if it is a stab in the dark, the best place to wait for him to show up is the IHOP near a mile or two from Halliburton. When I saw a parked limo I got excited. I expected to see a smiling Dick inside wearing a Hawaiian shirt, eating macadamia nut pancakes, and listening to the Beach Boys with the rest of us. But alas, it was not to be. There was no dick. After finishing up breakfast it was clear that Ryan and I needed to get a move on. Our lack of motorized transportation was making the locals suspicious. So we rode off into the high desert sun in our steel horses while big trucks with mud flaps reading “cowboy up” covered us in a thin layer of dust.

Grand Teton National Park:

The question has to be asked: So did you go to see Yellowstone when you were in Wyoming? No. We didn't. We got close, but we didn't see it. We have hauled ass since leaving Hot Springs, SD. In the last 5 days we have rode 492 miles and summited a 9,658 foot mountain pass (Togwotee Pass) with bikes weighing nearly 100 lbs. By the time we summited the mountains we were greeted again by construction work, so instead of being able to enjoy the entirety of rushing downhill we had to toss our bikes again in the back of a pilot truck and be escorted through the construction zone. South of Yellowstone, we spilled out into the Snake River Valley; shadowed beneath the Grand Teton mountains to the west.

Again, we did go to one national park, but not the one that is as highly publicized. In a way it makes sense. Yellowstone is so huge that to fully explore it on bicycle would take way longer than we want. Personally, when I think of RV's and RVing I think of Yellowstone, Mount Rushmore, etc. Yellowstone is too sprawled out. Don't get me wrong, I will eventually go. But I will save it for another trip.

Hey Wyoming! Nice Tets!

By the time we got to Jackson, Wyoming we were ragged. All we wanted was some affordable lodging. But affordable and tourism don't get along too well when you are near National Parks. The only place not wanting to charge us over $90 for a room was a hostel that was entirely booked up. There was a KOA in town that we could tent camp at, but we have been screwed by KOA prices before so we didn't even want to ride to it. Besides that there were some places for RVs to camp but tents were prohibited. We couldn't even get pissed at the given situation. It just felt a little ridiculous. So guess what I did...

I bought a 24 oz. Pabst Blue Ribbon and drank it out of a brown bag in front of Taco Bell – keeping it classy. We waited for the sun to set. I washed all the chain grease off my hands and freshened up in the Taco Bell restroom. After it was dark we set up our tent behind the closed real estate office next to the dumpsters used by Taco Bell.

We woke up before dawn, packed up, and headed to the gas station nearby to drink coffee and wait for the day to start. That is where I am writing this post. This is where I am listening to a fellow drifter talk about his hate for Truckee, California. A place where he got stabbed one and one half years ago. A place he were he racked up six accounts of drinking in public. A place not more than an hour's drive from my home. If we waited until Wednesday there was a free meal at the church he said. We told him we planned on leaving today. After shaking his hand and wishing him farewell we got on our bikes and got ready for Idaho.