This was our last few hours in TRNP. We did not double down on the previous evening's trip and star gazing. A few too many clouds and we were tired. We had about 4-5 hours of driving ahead of us so we opted for a bike ride on the east side of the perimeter road (the flat side) heading out for a few miles before breakfast. One last hurrah for TRNP!
It was a beautiful morning. Cool in the early morning sun, little wind. No traffic, pavement smooth like "budder". Just a few miles of pedalling before having a bowl of granola, packing up and moving onto Montana. Bunch of prairie dogs over here, couple of horses over there. Head down, hunched over. The legs make little circles, and wheels make big ones. The road rising gently. We can see the steep hills in the distance.
A guy in a car coming towards us flags us down to tell us there are bison ahead. Couple dozen head. One in the road. We thank him and move on.
We rounded the corner, and boom they are all there. I thought like maybe off to the side, but no, the entire herd on both sides of the road! Big males, and mothers with calves. It is just me and Sweetness and Marsha on the Hopeville Flyer, with a roadway strewn with animals and bison dung. And there are like 50 of them!
Now with our previous magical experience of parting herds with the car, we figured we could move slowly but deliberately and make it to the other side. The one thing the car insulates you from is the huffing and grunting of the animals. This was up close and personal. There was no mistake that we were not wanted, no matter how gentle our pace, how peaceful our manner. And it was a bunch of them that took up the menacing the chorus, especially the Mom's. Stoically we peddled on and got through.
About 10 minutes later the road rose sharply and granola started sounding awfully good. A good trip back down to the campground, all flat or downhill would be the reward. The bison were sure to have moved off, right?
Wrong! Far from moving they had settled in for the morning, right where they had been. Another white knuckle, heart in the throat ride, slowly observing and listening for bad intent, riding with gears ready to sprint like a time trial champion. Once more through the gauntlet, successfully.
We ran into the guy who flagged us down coming back up the road on a bike. Turns out his is a middle school tech coordinator in the Chicago area. We had a nice conversation, pedaled on, then broke camp, and headed off to Montana.
It was a beautiful morning. Cool in the early morning sun, little wind. No traffic, pavement smooth like "budder". Just a few miles of pedalling before having a bowl of granola, packing up and moving onto Montana. Bunch of prairie dogs over here, couple of horses over there. Head down, hunched over. The legs make little circles, and wheels make big ones. The road rising gently. We can see the steep hills in the distance.
A guy in a car coming towards us flags us down to tell us there are bison ahead. Couple dozen head. One in the road. We thank him and move on.
We rounded the corner, and boom they are all there. I thought like maybe off to the side, but no, the entire herd on both sides of the road! Big males, and mothers with calves. It is just me and Sweetness and Marsha on the Hopeville Flyer, with a roadway strewn with animals and bison dung. And there are like 50 of them!
Now with our previous magical experience of parting herds with the car, we figured we could move slowly but deliberately and make it to the other side. The one thing the car insulates you from is the huffing and grunting of the animals. This was up close and personal. There was no mistake that we were not wanted, no matter how gentle our pace, how peaceful our manner. And it was a bunch of them that took up the menacing the chorus, especially the Mom's. Stoically we peddled on and got through.
About 10 minutes later the road rose sharply and granola started sounding awfully good. A good trip back down to the campground, all flat or downhill would be the reward. The bison were sure to have moved off, right?
Wrong! Far from moving they had settled in for the morning, right where they had been. Another white knuckle, heart in the throat ride, slowly observing and listening for bad intent, riding with gears ready to sprint like a time trial champion. Once more through the gauntlet, successfully.
We ran into the guy who flagged us down coming back up the road on a bike. Turns out his is a middle school tech coordinator in the Chicago area. We had a nice conversation, pedaled on, then broke camp, and headed off to Montana.
You split a herd of buffalo? On bicycles? Twice?! You people are crazy. Love you and miss you
ReplyDeleteYou split a herd of buffalo? On bicycles? Twice?! You people are crazy. Love you and miss you
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