TOP: "Arnold of the Tetons" in full regalia
2nd: Cliff, Lumpy, Gill with Teton Lake in background. Note that my stomach is bigger than cliff's whole body
3rd: Benjie in front of the "Grand Teton"
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We arrived in Jackson, found another campground (this one the worst KOA in history, we'd have been better off staying in the Wal-Mart parking lot with our fellow RV'ers), cleaned up, and headed into Jackson for dinner. We found an incredible game restaurant (The Gun Barrel, check it our if you're ever there), where we partook in delicacies like moose chops, elk stew, caribou steaks, and buffalo prime rib. The food was incredible, and after a week of protein deficient diet, we put on a show that was worth filming for the biggest loser.
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Sunrise came quickly, and Karen, John, Ben (now named Gump, after Forest for his meandering biking style) and Jerry headed out at sunrise for the massive climb up through the Teton mountains, and then over the Continental Divide, not once, not twice, but THREE times up in Yellowstone. The rest of us slept in and found a pancake house; clearly we were famished after that measly dinner the night before.
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The road crew is cycling through Tetons, and they put Karen down for the big climb, with plans to get her in about 20 minutes up the climb. They wait a couple of minutes, and when they go to start the car, they can't get it out of park again. They work on it, rocking the car, turning it on and off, trying everything, to the point where the battery finally dies. So, here's Karen, climbing this mountain solo, with no hope of pickup, and no way to contact anybody...did I mention that neither our cell phones nor our radios worked here? After about an hour of mucking with the car, John decides to take off after her, as he's the best climber of the 3. He loads up with water (probably doubling his meager weight), and starts riding. He comes upon a hells angel motorcyclist taking pictures along the roadside, stops and tells him our story, and asks him to track down Karen and tell her what is going on. I only WISH that I had a picture of that exchange. Then, he rides a bit further, comes upon an older couple stopped taking pictures, and does the same with them.
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Meanwhile, Karen just keeps on climbing...out of food and water, but slogging along up the mountain nevertheless. Incredibly, the hells angel motorcyclist flags her down, tells her the story, tries to strap her on his bike as his bitch, and then carries onward. She decides at this point that she might as well keep riding until she gets to the summit. Good move on her part, as it allow John to chase her for another hour or two...he really needed the work. Then, the older couple flags her down with an update. And who said pony express was dead!
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Hours later, Cliff, Gill and I come through with the RV, completely miss seeing jerry waiting roadside with the broken down car, and are driving the RV up the mountain at our usual 5mph...windy curves and tourists stopped for pix everywhere. We get to the summit, and who do we come upon but Karen hanging out roadside. OK, this is interesting....she tells us the story, and we then go off in search of John, who by this point we figure is lost again and probably somewhere in Manitoba. We track him down, and discuss options.
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It looks like the best option to keep forward progress if for us to put cliff on the road (remember, we're at the top of the continental divide at this point), let him ride the mountain down for "a while", while we go back and try to resolve the car situation. So, we load him up with water and powerbars, and send him on his way with orders to "call us when you get to montana". Really.
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We go back, muck with the car for a while, and thanks to benjie's incredible mechanical prowess (why don't you just jump it from the RV?) we get it going. John and I decide to drive it to Bozeman, MT (the nearest real city) and trade it in, while the rest of the crew chased down cliff in the RV, and then rotated through the rest of the day. Good plan; tough execution.
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Turns out that it's kinda-sorta really difficult to make any progress through Yellowstone on a summer afternoon. As in 10mph for hours kinda progress. It takes us almost the whole day to get to Bozeman, and meanwhile the RV is plodding along through the park for hours upon end. They finally get out of the park at the Montana state line, and still no cliff. Finally they get a call from him; he's 110 miles away from the start, still riding downhill, with no end in sight. They speed up and reel him in, but not before he's ridden basically a 130 miles downhill!!!! Oh woe is me, if anything ever called my name...
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They rotate through the evening, arriving at "freakin'-nowhere" montana and bed down for the night. Meanwhile, John and I have swapped cars, and are chasing them down...chasing, as in 120mph on a montana farm road, at dusk. Ok, maybe not our brightest move. I'm alternating watching the GPS so I can tell him road curvature, and looking roadside for animals. He's hunched over like he's riding a supercross race (john used to be an off-road motorcycle racer). Suddenly, a fawn comes bounding across the road, and we brake heavily, just missing it. That brings us back to reality, and we leisurely coast into freakin'-nowhere and rendezvous with the crew a couple of hours after sunset. A beer never tasted so good.
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"death by deer" lumpy out
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