Mile: 1,977
I was feeling good cruising down the dirt trail. My shoes clipped in giving me some additional power but also making things a little bit more sketchy when flying through creeks trying not to hit the big rocks and fall over without being able to get my foot out of the clip-ins fast enough. Worth the risk. Although I did almost eat it a handful of times when my balance got wonky and I didn’t unclip a foot quick enough to catch myself.
Mostly cruising the path alone and occasionally passing a hiker or a group on horseback, I made my way to Upper Brooks Lake. Purposefully not bringing my fishing gear this was to be solely a mountain biking trip not his day. However, pulling up and seeing trout constantly surfacing made me second guess my decision to leave all fishing gear behind. I rolled up next to a lady sitting in the shade watching a man stand on the shore casting out. “Pretty good view ehh?” I spoke up. She turned, “not bad, not bad at all.” Her name was Sharron and we talked for fifteen or twenty minutes and watched John, her boyfriend, catch three or four trout. As a bald eagle flew over Sharron shouted down to John, “Put one of those trout out for the eagle. Let’s see what happens.” John obliged and I think was excited to do so but took the one big trout he had on the stringer off and laid it on the rocks thirty yards away. I continued speaking with Sharron about Yellowstone and Glacier getting suggestions from her of good hikes and places to get away from the masses. Yet another person excited to give me suggestions of what I should do and where I should go.
I made it out to the Continental Divide and turned around. I hadn’t made it far when I hit a steep incline and quickly shifted to counter the steepness. Pedaling hard I wanted to conquer the hill and not give in to walking. “POW!” My pedals flew around in a quick circle having lost all resistance. “Nooooo.......” I muttered knowing something had gone wrong. Looking down I see my chain laying on the ground in one long line no longer a completed loop. I had broke my chain and I was still four miles from making it back to Pearl. “UGGHHHHH!” I let out some frustration with a yell. Taking off my clip-one I exchange them for Chacos and begin the trudge back to Pearl. My bike was now truly a downhill bike. I’d jump on and try to pick up as much speed as I could any downhill I had and then as it flattened I would jump off and walk her. I felt like a little kid I had seen back in Casper, WY with his grandma as he mounted his pedal-less bike and began Flinstoning his way along the trail. I gave it a try. The juice wasn’t worth the squeeze so I kept with my walking.
A couple hours later I reached Pearl and heard a familiar voice, “Hey Bud! You comin’ up for dinner? We’re about to throw some $&#@$#*$ chicken on the #$%#*$@ grill! You’re a good ole boy! You can join.” I laugh to myself, grab some sweet potatoes and fresh trout and head up the hill to join them. Not a bad camping meal that evening. Fresh trout with seared sweet potatoes and BBQ chicken. Not bad at all. Roger and Riggs are some good company as well. To hear them tell stories will cause you to sit down and shut up excited for the next ridiculous story. I added a few myself to the mix. They especially got a kick out me walking my bike four miles back down the trail. We got along just fine.
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