Welcome to the West

I must apologize profusely to people who've been following this blog, or who may have stopped due to lack of updates. It's been increasingly difficult to get reliable internet access since we've entered the West proper. When I last posted I was in the middle of Iowa, resting comfortably after a short ride into Ames. Since then, we've finished Iowa, trudged through Nebraska, and are somewhere near the center of Wyoming. Thankfully, there wasn't much to report in Nebraska at all, except to bellyache about the bad riding conditions and monotony.

There are two Nebraskan natives on our trip, Peter and Ashley, who we have affectionately merged into the single unit Pashley. They had described Nebraska as "a harsh mistress". They were right. Nebraska's gust made the winds of Illinois, previously our windiest state, seem like a gentle breeze. On our ride into Valentine I reached a personal low of riding seven miles per hour on flats, a mere mile or two out of the town. I've decided that strong winds just outside of our destination are the worst, it's really such a tease knowing you're so close. The lack of scenery in the state was another low.

I'll admit that Nebraska holds a certain beauty, with a landscape that seems at times to be a scrubby desert and a horizon that extends forever. But it's the sort of beauty that captivates for maybe an hour, if that. After the initial awe wears off, you're really just angry that there's nothing blocking the 45 mph winds that are pushing against you for the whole time. It's even more frustrating to see another cyclist going the opposite direction who is barely pedaling, if at all, and going several mph faster than you. But I digress, that evil is all behind me now because we've finally reached the West!

Western Nebraska was a pleasant change from the rest of the state, with a number of rocky buttes and foothills that seemed more characteristic of Montana. If Nebraska had any redeeming factor, it was that it ended and turned into Wyoming, which is infinitely better than its neighbor. Here in Lander we've not quite hit the Wind River Mountain Range, but we're within view of them. And that view is spectacular. I may just have to retire in this town.

I'm so hungry for mountains after what feels like years of the plains. In a few short days, we'll be tackling the Teton Pass outside of Jackson Hole and entering into the Rockies. The Rockies... I still can't really believe it. From there it's just the Cascade Range and the relatively short haul to the coast. We're getting close, less than twenty one days of riding remaining to us. I've a feeling that the rides are going to be a lot more breathtaking in the next few days, I'll be sure to give my camera a workout. Hopefully I'll be able to blog a bit more as well.

Until then, I hope this post satiated a few of you; if not, I've been keeping a real journal, complete with artistic pictures and a myriad of maps and scrap book fodder. Hell, there might even be some poetry in it by the end of all this. It's a lot less narrative and a lot more personal musings, but I'll be happy to show it to anyone after the trip is done. Until then, peace out hombres!