A Creature of Discomfort

In one incident a grizzly bear pulled a woman out of her tent at night and killed and partially consumed her.  - Yellowstone National Park Service website 

Sometimes an idea skitters across your mind like a South Carolinian 'palmetto bug' (their made up name, we all know what they really are) across the kitchen sink when you make the mistake of getting up for a glass of water in the middle of the night. You think the idea is gone, but you missed it taking a hard left into the depths of your subconscious. It hides there for a while, unbeknownst to you, maybe poking its head out briefly now and then, and then months later, because of it, you're heading off to somewhere you've never been, with people you don't know, doing things you don't have the foggiest idea how to do, for reasons you can't understand.

The Inaugural Cycle Greater Yellowstone cycling tour: "The First Great Ride in the Last Best Place", is sponsored by The Greater Yellowstone Coalition as a way to "bring people into the heart of the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem, to experience firsthand the wonders of this special place". Capped at a cozy 1000 people, it's an almost 500 mile camping and cycling trip through Wyoming and Montana - the towns of West Yellowstone, Ennis, Livingston,Gardner, Silver Gate, Cooke City, Cody and Red Lodge.

All part of the ecosystem. - From the Yellowstone National Park Gallery

I know how to ride a bike. And that's where my qualifications for this trip end. I haven't camped in 15 years - since I lost all the camping equipment in my divorce (it didn't make the long list of things worth arguing about). I should have fought for that equipment, I realize now, because it was damned near brand new having been used a grand total of 2 times: Once was camping at multi-stage rock-band all-weekend-long drunken broohaha somewhere up in the hills of Maryland (I couldn't even tell you where) where hotels didn't exist yet and it hailed and rained the entire time. I remember marveling over how a two person tent could actually hold 6 people if you packed yourselves like Vienna Sausages, and hearing the quiet ripping sound of the tent fabric along with the drip-drip-drip of rain as it found it's way inside. I didn't sleep much that weekend. The other time was at a State Park an hour from home. What I remember of it was the infinite parade of LARGE animals clearly tiptoeing across sticks and leaves all around the tent in an effort to deceive me into thinking they were small cute woodland creatures innocently foraging for food. I wasn't fooled. I didn't sleep much that weekend either.

Sleeping in a tent. Something I have never successfully done, but hope to experience on this trip. Note: feet will NOT be left dangling outside of tent like bait.

Given the extensive breadth and depth of my camping experience and skills, a 10 day camping trip in Yellowstone, with travel done via exhausting, challenging, daily bike rides of 60 to 116 miles, seemed right up my alley. I mentioned the trip to a couple people, who, having met me, laughed a little and changed the subject. I am admittedly a creature of comfort - I despise (and might even be afraid of) bugs, I like soft beds and 400 thread count sheets, air conditioning, and indoor plumbing, and I love ice in my drinks. The palmetto bug slunk back into the dark.

Weeks later some folks in a local cycling club mentioned as a footnote in a group-wide email that they were going on this trip ... I didn't know any of these people, and have barely had time to ride with the group, but nonetheless the palmetto bug crept back out into the daylight. I don't know why I didn't just turn off the lights and go back to bed ... but I didn't. When things like this happen there's always a reason. I rarely know what that reason is until much much later (if I'm lucky enough to learn it at all), but I know it's there ... just like the palmetto bug ... and once you know there's a palmetto bug running around in your kitchen you simply can't just go back to sleep.

Thinking it unwise to do this trip with 999 total strangers, none of whom would probably even notice if I accidentally rode my bike off a mountain, or got dragged from my tent and partially consumed by a bear, and even if they DID would only be able to say 'Uh huh. A female. Yep. I think she might've had dark hair.' ... I asked a couple more friends if they were interested. Most thought it sounded like a grand adventure, but either money or schedules, wouldn't allow it ... only two wanted to know more. One, my friend Todd (from previous CO adventures), seemed pretty sold on it ... but until work schedules are considered and money is paid you never really know. One other friend was interested and we started talking details ... and then a luxury bike trip with five-star hotels and semi-private SAG support (with only half a dozen other guests) appeared in front of her. She, perhaps wisely, turned the lights off and went back to bed (she DID go on that luxury trip, afterall, and loved every minute of it!).

When the deadline approached I asked myself: 'If no one else you know actually goes, can you really still do this trip alone?'. It was a big question for a comfortable city girl. And a hard one for a city girl who fancies herself Little Miss Independent. The answer came as a semi-solid, slightly audible, 'I think so'. It was good enough.

I registered and being an ex-girlscout and a 'What's the worst thing that could happen?' logical kind of gal, immediately started researching how to survive a bear attack. Now no, I don't SERIOUSLY think I'm going to be a victim of a bear attack - my odds of being hit by a bolt of lighting or having my plane drop out of the sky are much much higher. I can however, now tell you how many bear-inflicted human injuries and fatalities there have been in Yellowstone since 1980 (43, plus the 2 that occurred yesterday - yes, YESTERDAY - not even making that up!) and how many were female (9, including the woman who was dragged from her tent and partially consumed - whyyyyy only partially??). I can also outline for you in detail, with diagrams, my bear escape plan which includes bear spray and cutting myself out of the back of my tent with a hunting knife. All kidding aside, I have an enormous amount of respect for Mother Nature and all of her wildlife minions - most of which have large teeth and powerful jaws and an unstoppable instinct to use them whenever they feel it's necessary. I hope to see many of them ... just from a distance much much farther away than bear spray and hunting knives can reach. 

I'd like to see a calm and happy bear like this. It would also be great if he could give a friendly smile and a wave as I ride by.

Standoff between an elk and a pack of wolves. Wow. - From the Yellowstone National Park Photo Gallery

My bike is rolling its way across the country, with 17 of his new found friends, in the bike club's luxury cycling trailer as we speak. It is accompanied by my camping gear: a fluffy new 3lb sleeping bag and self-inflating pad (a lot changes in camping technology in 15yrs), the aforementioned bear spray and hunting knife, and all my cycling gear and nutrition, including Honey Stinger Waffles (in odor-proof, water-proof, bear-nose-proof bags - yes, because I grew up on Pooh Bear and thought 'Honey. Honey? HONEY! But bears LOVE honey!!!).

If they'll dangle from a balloon and brave a tree full of angry bees, to get to a handful of honey ... they'll surely go into a tent for delicious individually wrapped Honey Stinger Waffles!

I also have a headlamp and a battery operated clock with temperature gauge. The temperature gauge is so if it dips anywhere near the 20degrees that my sleeping bag is rated for I'll know the appropriate time to panic (or at least put on my long underwear and unfold my silver emergency blanket). The headlamp, obviously, is so I can see the temperature gauge. Temperatures at night are expected to be between the low 30s (which I instantly equate with freezing to death under many feet of snow) and high 40s (which is still significantly less than the consistently comfy 68 degrees set on my house's thermostat). I have unscented baby wipes, and tissues - for the inevitable times when I fall apart sobbing in my tent at 4am because I hear something outside that I shouldn't. And earplugs and my ipod for when my sanity demands that I just stop listening. As my friend Steve (also from previous CO trips, as well as a recent trip to ride bikes in The Adirondacks) would remind me, 'It's all part of the adventure'.

The group from the bike club did get out for a ride a few weeks ago - and of course were a great bunch of folks - how can you NOT like people who love to ride bikes up and down mountains with bears? They are a whole cast of characters including one race car driver, a father-in-law/son-in-law duo, a lady who has worked at the same company as me for many years (we've never met), a lady who does bike touring across the country - sometimes solo, and a fellow who promised to wear the same green jersey every day so I'd be able to recognize him - and many more. And my traveling buddy Todd (aka Lightspeed)! Whose work schedule DID work out - I'm grateful to be sharing yet another adventure with him (I've already promised not to show up at his tent door at 3am unless it's truly a life or death situation).  

It all starts tomorrow ... I know I'm going to be uncomfortable but I still don't know exactly what the REAL adventure will be: if it'll be walking into a mob of 1000 strangers 2000 miles away from home, or riding my bike with free-roaming wildlife who could maul me to ribbons if they wanted to, or pedaling almost 500 miles and 20,000 feet, or roughing-it in the wide open outdoors where the light and the warmth go down with the sun. Maybe all of the above ... but more likely, I suspect, something I haven't even thought of yet.

Experiences. Not Things.