Day 38 Hot Springs eternal

Cody, an aircraft engineer, and his second wife Heidi were in Greybull for their wedding anniversary. He’d been born there, not easy given the proximity of the town of Cody and his name. He had spent time in Afghanistan working for Evergreen Aviation maintaining equipment for the Special Forces, he didn’t leave the base but was mortared constantly and said that the 120 day wind drove people mad. He also told me that my planned route over the mountains was crazy until the summer, I listened and adapted, opting for Route 20 to the south and then eastwards.

The road was long but she’s running well and the new tyres have improved her stability, except on the center stand. Their high profile lifts her and makes it easier to get her on the stand but also easier for her to topple on less than level ground. DI tried riding with noise cancelling ear-buds for the first time and although Modern English ‘After the Snow’ left me smiling the noise cancelling eliminated the engine sounds that she uses to communicate her moods and ailments. I put them away again but not until I’d shared some precious moments with the mountains. Films have soundtracks with good reason, the power to stir emotions is a potent one.

The World’s, and Thermopolis’, largest hot springs’ 127 degree water didn’t tempt my aching joints. Chief Washakle of the Shoshone and Chief Sharp Nose of the Arapaho traded the sacred site to the US government, a big deal, hopefully a good one involving more than a 24 hour casino.

The Wind River Canyon did my head in, the road appeared to be descending but must have been climbing because the Big Horn river was coming right at me. Disappointed that my previous attempts with a go-pro had resulted in a detailed study of the tank bag, I had not deployed it again however the necessity to stop and the limitations of roadside camera work persuaded me to try again. I deployed the vacuum cup mount, attaching a camera to the front of the small wind screen and hit record. The resulting video is time consuming to process and a little shaky but some of the frames are pretty.

Casper WY served up a turkey dinner at the ‘Johnny J’s’ diner, I vowed to hit more diners and less fast food chains. This Ford Model A was in the parking lot, a lot different from the one that I had had the privilege to drive in Concord CA.

Too big for me I left Casper behind for another 50 mile hop to Douglas, the horizon filled with dark clouds and the wind threatening to blow us over. There was no room at the Hotel Labonte, which looks great. Patrick a fellow biker told me outside that the town was booked up because of a recent boom in fracking oil and kindly offered me a room at his place in Casper. Not wishing to offend or retrace my steps I politely declined and phoned the moist remote motel in town to secure a room. Perhaps a mistake I thought as I walked the two miles back to find a bar tucked in the back room of a liquor store.

I drank bottled IPA and jotted down some of this nonsense then watched a baseball game with ‘wrong way’, an ex-miner (uranium, oil shale and coal) with 3 ex-wives and arthritis from the jack hammers. At 72 he was long retired and travelled the country in a mobile home towing a Nissan. He liked my stories and I liked his and we watched his team tie in the ninth, we left before the extra innings because Chuck, his friend, had drunk his fill and ‘wrong way’ was giving us both a ride. The air bag light was flashing, the seat belt light was always on (he didn’t use one) and, more worryingly, the engine warning light but she ran fine and got me, and hopefully them, home.