There are amazing roads and a lot of bison in Wyoming.

It got very frigid in the hammock last night. I guess it’s to be expected when camping at an elevation over 8000 feet. The view this morning of the two trees I’m suspended between is nice to wake up to.

[bedposts]

The thermometer on my bike reads 49 degrees as I head down route 14 towards Greybull, WY. The ride down the mountain is a great way to spend the morning. Once I hit the bottom, the earth turns deep red and the temperature escalates to 93 degrees.

[heading out of Big Horn]

[red rocks]

Based on the recommendation from the chipper host at the Wyoming visitors center yesterday, I’m headed for what she called “the best road for motorcyclists in the country.” I wasn’t getting my hopes up, but have heard people tout the Beartooth Highway before. I cross into Montana to ride it from the beginning in Red Lodge to the end in Yellowstone National Park.

[headed for Montana on route 120]

[crossing the state line]

I hit the Beartooth Highway and what starts out as a beautiful mountain road with gorgeous scenery, quickly turns into one of the best roads I’ve ever ridden on. The road climbs very rapidly to an elevation of 10,947 feet. On the way up, the switchbacks are diverse and numerous. Just when I think I’m at the top, I turn a corner and there are another series of tightly wound turns climbing the side of the cliff. This is the first time on the trip where I couldn’t help turning around and doing sections of the road twice. The temperature plummets as I climb and when I finally reach the summit, I’m shocked to find large patches of snow covering a blossoming tundra. There are scattered crystal clear lakes everywhere. I can’t help but ride off the road to check out the mid-July snow.

The ride off the back side of the mountain is just as amazing. The tight curves are all slightly banked, just begging me to carry excessive speed through them. I can’t get enough and it quickly becomes later than expected to make it to Yellowstone. The woman at the visitor center was right, Beartooth Highway is a must ride for motorcyclists.

[headed for Yellowstone]

Just as I reach the park entrance, it begins to drizzle. When I pull up to the ranger booth, the friendly ranger tells me that all of the campsites are full for the night, but because I’m on a motorcycle and it’s getting late that I could use on the hiker/bicyclist spaces about and hour into the park. I’m thankful for her generosity and head for the site.

[entering Yellowstone]

The landscape is absolutely beautiful and the rain quickly subsides. As I’m riding along and enjoying the scenery, I spot a large herd of bison very close to the road. They don’t seem bothered when I pull up next to them, so I stop to take a photo. Suddenly a mama bison and her calf walk out into the road right infront of me and start walking towards me. She doesn’t seem overly friendly and it’s a little intimidating to be this close to her while on a motorcycle. I begin to roll backwards a bit to give her more space. I look over my shoulder to find that a huge bison bull is headed down the hill right behind me. He steps onto the road and locates me directly between himself and the mama bison giving me dirty looks. I sit still and look back and forth at them like I’m refereeing a tennis match. My mind is blank and my palms a little sweaty inside my gloves. Luckily they both dismiss my presence on their turf and continue across the road to join the herd.

[riding in Yellowstone]

[bison herd]

[mama bison and her calf before they started walking towards me and I put my phone away]

[posing tatanka]

I eventually make it to the campsite the nice ranger told me about. Upon arrival, another ranger approaches me and I immediately notice the big can of bear spray he has holstered on his belt. He describes that the site is for hikers and bicyclists only, but because no one is using the site tonight, that I was welcome to camp there. I set up the tent and make dinner.

After I eat my camp food, I lay down in my tent to look at the map of the park. As I’m reviewing the options for my morning ride, I hear a strange crunching sound just outside my tent. I unzip the door to investigate and find myself eye to eye with a massive bison grazing on the tuft of grass a few feet from my tent. I quickly zip the tent back up and sit very quietly. The thin fabric wall between us doesn’t give me a lot of confidence. There is nothing I can do, but sit and wait. I hear the crunching slowly begin fade as he continues to graze his way through the campsite. He seems fairly docile, but given his size and shifty eyes, I’d rather not provoke him. He eventually wanders away.

[grazing outside my tent]