Day 11 - Cody, WY

Since Yellowstone is roughly twice the size of our home state, there was no possible way we could get even "a good chunk" of it covered in one morning/afternoon. We resolved to drive a major loop, and stop along the way to take in sights that were particularly magnificent (which says quite a lot when choosing stops in Yellowstone, which is itself one enormous tract of magnificence). The accommodations were overpriced - one queen bed and a tiny bathroom for $162, and it was Snake's turn to blow up his sleeping pad and occupy the floor, a situation which had only happened once prior. He was somewhat reluctant after, while reading the previous evening, he noticed a mouse scurry under his chair into a sagging floorboard, which he promptly repositioned after his little friend's disappearance. But breakfast was surprisingly reasonable, and delicious - certified organic fair trade coffee, the sweetest tune to my awakening ears. After breakfast, we checked out, and loaded our gear back into the car - a leisurely change of pace from the various bungees and ratchet straps. The clock on the adjacent wall to the lobby check-in was labeled "Next predicted time of eruption, +/- 10-15 min." The clock was set to a little after 9, and it was 10:15. I asked our check-out assistant how frequently the ol' geyser blew, to which she replied, "oh, about every 90 minutes or so." After dumping gear into the trunk and backseat, we pulled up a seat on one of the surrounding benches to witness the natural wonder. At that time, only about 5 or 6 other people were doing the same. Over an hour later, the crowd had assembled. We likened it to an experience of rock stardom, where the performer withholds taking stage until the audience is sufficiently present or the cheer is enthusiastic enough. At this point, having initially assumed it would be a matter of minutes before we beheld the famous spectacle, we were thinking, "dah, you're all washed up old man. Take the stage before the crowd demands a refund." During the waiting game, we had more lovely chats with folks, continuing the motifs of adventure and the road. Then it blew. Hooray! Wow! Isn't it amazing? A natural wonder! Let's go. Something about the circumstances made the event much less eventful than my moment of zen 12 hours prior.

Our cruise through Yellowstone was as marvelous as one would expect. Herds of bison grazed the plains, and one herd was particularly close to the road - we didn't realize their prevalence, but it did not detract from their majesty. It was self-evident why the Native Americans had so revered them by their very presence alone.

We ditched the rental, picked up our faithful steeds, and were back on the road, but only to downtown Cody. I had two fresh tires - the front replaced upon a closer inspection at the recommendation of James - and they stuck to the road like Velcro. Snake informed me that this was what tires were supposed to feel like. Right on.

We booked a motel, dropped our gear off (after strapping it in minutes prior), and parked the bikes as we set out for downtown Cody by foot. At the recommendation of Jason, the other excellent individual at the repair shop, we stopped in the Silver Dollar for a burger and a beer. The beer selection included many local brews, and the burgers were delicious. The ambiance was what I envisioned to be a modern saloon - fellas jostlin' with each other, big cowboy hats, butt-smoking conversation, and great tunes on the jukebox. Within 10 minutes, the speakers played Led Zeppelin, The Band, and Creedence. Right on.

As we returned to the motel, our spirits high and ready to tackle the duration of the voyage to the left coast, we came across a man with a long white beard and bandana talking on his cell phone in the parking lot. He was leaning on his white Ford pickup, which had an old but bold hog strapped onto it, flame decals scorching across the gas tank. "Nice bike," I said quietly with a smile, so as not to intrude on his phone conversation. He held the phone away from his mouth, and replied, "Thanks - 30 years old and still running." "Nice!" I exclaimed en route to our door, "the one here in the corner is 33, and still going strong!" I emerged from the room 15 minutes later with a large trash bag full of what was about to be our first (and necessary) laundry load, and he called me over for more chatting. When I asked him if he was riding around the area, he returned, "Nah, coming from Boston. Headed back to California for the winter." "Boston?!? Get out! We're from there!" A kinship was instantly formed. His lady love was born and raised in Revere, just north of the city. She was inside getting ready for their dinner date. "I bring the bike out to Boston and ride all over New England in the spring and summer, and then trek it back to Long Beach, and ride all winter." He had gone cross-country 5 times, as well as several trips up to the Yukon and back. This man was a bona fide road warrior. He was eager to give us recommendations on good cruises, and began the bombardment of great rides when his love came out to join the conversation. Her sons were musicians, so the conversation continued on with livelihood. The road warrior used to be a bouncer at Harper's Ferry (a local spot in Allston where musician friends of ours have played, worked, laughed, cried, and drank beer), but when it was still a biker bar. This man was a hero. "Where you headed next?" he asked. "I - we don't know. Yellowstone has wet snow on tomorrow's forecast, so we're in the process of re-evaluating." He said he might swing by after dinner and knock on our door. It is after midnight, and the door has remained silent. Perhaps tomorrow. It is no matter, as our introduction alone was inspiration enough. We evaluated the game plan for the days to come, and it was even more favorable than we anticipated. All the excitement and enthusiasm of the excellent adventure returned stronger than ever, as it was revitalized now with all we had taken in thus far. The plan: San Francisco or bust in 4 days. Weather pending, of course.